Four Wheeling (or Fourlin', If You Will)

Before Saturday, I had never been on a four wheeler before.

But, you know, I had never rolled a four wheeler either.

I was in town to be at my grandparents' homecoming from their LDS mission to Armenia. While we were there, my uncle was super stoked to take all the nieces and nephews four wheeling.

I was hooked instantly.

On my first ride, I drove with my mom. This stressed me out a bit, but once I got going I was surprised at how much I loved it. I felt so hardcore... though I was only going like 15 MPH.

Once I felt more confident, we went back to pick up some of the younger cousins. With my 9 year-old sister and 7 year-old cousin on the back of my machine, I followed my uncle for my second ride.

After a while he warned me that we were coming up to a really steep hill. He gave me some instruction and went down the hill.

At the top, I felt scared. I didn't want to do this. But that feeling of invincibility that we all get between the ages of 16 and 30 kicked in, and suddenly I was willing to try anything.

Probably shouldn't have tried this though.

Going down, I gassed it a little too hard. I hit the brake and felt the machine tip a bit. Instead of leaning, I automatically turned in the opposite direction.

That's when the four wheeler flipped.

My cousin, my sister, and I all were thrown off the machine. It rolled over us and landed at the bottom of the hill.

As soon as I could, I jumped up and checked that the girls weren't trapped under the machine. They weren't. I don't think I've ever been as appreciative of the fact that my uncle is an EMT as I was in that moment. He checked on Sara, and I checked on Bella. They were both fine, just shaken.

Once we got back to the house, my other sister and other cousin who were riding with my uncle had a total come apart. I guess watching us tumble was scarier than actually tumbling. The parents were all stressed, and so was my uncle. I was just embarrassed.

This morning I woke up bruised and beaten. I don't think there is a part of my body that doesn't feel sore.

Still- this all makes for a good story, right?

...Right?

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

There are so, so many problems with the way BYU does student housing. For example, their policy that all students have to live in "BYU aproved housing" or the fact that they charge us by room.

But I think the worst housing policy is the cleaning checks.

Since coming to BYU in 2009, I have lived in four different apartment complexes, each with their own version of cleaning checks.

Some were great and acted more as a routine maintenance check.

Some just sucked (ahem... Bountiful Court).

This month's cleaning check at the Riviera was the most ridiculous yet. When we got back from break, we found a notice on our door saying that cleaning checks were going to be super strict from now on and "Happy New Year!"

Last week we got our cleaning check forms in the mail. We were scheduled for checks on Tuesday between 8 and 9 p.m. At 8 o'clock sharp, we were ready. The apartment was immaculate. We waited until 9 to touch anything.

We didn't eat. We didn't shower. We didn't go to sleep.

9 o'clock came... and went... so did 10... and 11.

Finally we all just called it a night and went to bed. Before I fell asleep I put my cleaning check form on my desk.

At 9 a.m. the next morning, I woke up. My first conscious thought was, "I wonder what's going to happen with cleaning checks?" Automatically, I looked over at my form.

It wasn't there.

I didn't think too much of this. Grabbing my computer, I proceeded to check my Facebook, Twitter, email, etc. That's when I saw my roommate's status:

Waking up to a strange lady in your room. Creepy! Can I say, cleaning check lady, your're almost 8 hours late!!!!! And we are all sleeping!!!!!! Gosh! I had more time to sleep! This was not ok. .... Not ok at all.

Slowly, it began to dawn on me. About two hours before I woke up there had been a complete stranger in my bedroom poking around for signs of dust and dirt.

NOT OKAY.

A few of my roommates and I went over to the office to discuss our concerns. They apologized profusely and swore it wouldn't happen again.

Still- there's got to be a better way, BYU.

A Few Post Alt Summit Thoughts

I will never not go to Alt again. Seriously. But I'll probably be more assertive next year.

No more wimping out on myself. Tomorrow it's time to get my rear in gear. The Rex Lee 10K is on March 17. I have until then to be better, stronger, and faster. Bring on the intervals!!!

I need to be writing more. Not just for the Daily Universe. I mean, I have a blog and like 4 empty journals! I need to stop being chicken. I need to just write my thoughts, and the poetry and stories I have contantly rolling around in my brain. Because I'm freaking good at it! Most of the time, anyway. And all of these potentially great writings are going to waste, lost in my mind. Not anymore.

I need to buy a car, find a new apartment, get stories for the Daily Universe, and catch up in classes. Hot mess! But I'm going to do all of that and be more positive.

Carpe the Hell Out of This Diem

Yesterday, at about 5 PM, I was walking out of the Harold B. Lee Library and walking to my Doctrine and Covenants class. I had just finished a 5 page research paper on Lucy Mack Smith that I had only started that morning at about 10. I had achieved this, while still maintaining perfect attendance for the day, taking a Spanish Exam (which I got an 85% on), and going to work for 4 hours. As an added bonus, I had my gym clothes packed in my bag, so there was a very high chance I was actually going to work out later that day. As I made my way to the Joseph Smith building this image came to mind:

Thank you, Pinterest. I think I just did.

I was feeling pretty invincible. I got my phone out so that I could tweet my awesomeness to the world.

That's when I caught sight of my reflection in the window of the building I was walking past. And then I remembered, I looked like a hot mess.

My hair was in a nasty ponytail that was somehow both greasy and frizzy at the same time, which went well with the previous day's makeup. I was wearing an old pair of jeans, vans, and possibly the most unflattering sweater in my closet. Why the ugly clothes? I hadn't done laundry in a couple of weeks. My mind didn't stop there. I contemplated how my breakfast and lunch consisted of a single can of Pringles, and how I was on my way to grab some pretzels out of the vending machine to go with my diet Dr. Pepper. Dinner of champions.

In that moment, I was reminded of my own mortality, or Liz Lemon-ness if you will. Life is a great exchange, and you can't have everything. Yesterday, I guess I chose grades over beauty.

But, since I didn't run into anyone important and I did make it to the gym, I'm still going to call yesterday a success.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree

Have you seen the Google today? I ran across it at work and I teared up a little.


Almost 5 years ago my mom, my siblings, and I spent a Saturday morning tying yellow ribbon in the four trees on our front lawn.

We filled every tree, using a ladder to reach the highest branches.

We did this because later in the week, dad was finally coming home from Iraq!

A year before, we were getting ready to say goodbye. My mom remembers...

The worst part of Paul's deployment to Iraq was the weeks leading up to him leaving.  I started clenching my jaw.  I could hardly open my mouth which turned out to be convenient because I wasn't hungry.  It was terrifying to me to try and plan for every possible eventuality.    "What if I need a new car?" "What is the plan if I am hurt or killed while Paul is gone?"  "What is the plan if . . .?"  It was too much.   In a way it was a relief the day he left.  Finally!  We can get on with this and get it over with!  I dropped him off at the 4th Infantry Division Building, drove home and slept for four hours.  
 
It was about a week before dad was leaving, maybe it was just a few days.  Paul and I drove to Ft. Hood.  We were running errands and taking care of last minute things.  I think that day we needed to update a power of attorney or something like that.  Anyway, we were at the intersection just before the train tracks on South Ft. Hood Street and Business 1-90.  Before the light turned green the railroad crossing bars came down and we knew we were going to be sitting there awhile.  On the radio the DJ announced that the next song was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".  Bing Crosby sang and we were sad.  What we were enduring didn't feel little or merry.  Then he sang the words.  "A year from now our troubles will be out of sight."  It is a powerful but unhappy memory. 

I remember the train and the song and the pressure and crying into my hands, praying that Paul and I would be up to the tasks we were facing.  

That year we decorated our house in blue and silver for Christmas, instead of red and gold, and had a Blue Christmas. It was a rough year, but it ended with the safe return of our soldier.

So, on Veteran's Day, I think about those who have fought and who are fighting. But I also think of the wives and children who are eagerly counting down the days, those who are saying their goodbyes, and those who are in between, just praying not to hear bad news today.

But mostly, I think of my dad.

In the Home Stretch... and it Kind of Sucks

I remember when I was about 12, my family lived in Kansas. Our house had a giant, open basement which had a bad habit of getting RIDICULOUSLY messy in a matter of days. About once a month, mom would drag us downstairs and together we would organize and clean that monstrosity.

It would take forever.

There would always come a point where we literally only had to straighten-up before we were finished. But at this point it would seem like a totally insurmountable task. I would ask if we could take a break (translation: call it a day), but mom would make us push through. Cheerfully, she would say, "We're in the home stretch!"

I hated the home stretch.

There's about two weeks until my first half-marathon. Up until now, I have been a total beast about keeping up with my training. But today, I just cannot face my run. I'm totally in the home stretch. I've worked so hard and I'm totally ready for this race! The only problem is, if I want to stay ready, I have to keep working... and I've lost all of my motivation.

Any suggestions on how to beat this???

In the mean time...

Thoughts During a Slow Day at Work

So I've decided I'm a lot like Elizabeth Bennett.

I'm sure I'm the billionth woman to think this... but here me out.

I'm a cynic who avoids serious conversation and prefers to laugh at everyone and everything. I also think I'm a lot smarter than I actually am. I love traveling and hiking and don't mind walking distances that others insist on bumming rides for.

My closest roommate is in a serious relationship with a really great guy who is kind, but also kind of a goober. He makes her very happy, however, so I accept him.

I've dealt with several Mr. Collins's and one or two Mr. Wickham's, but for the most part I avoid being "crossed a little in love".

However, if I am a lot like Elizabeth, it's comforting to know that I will one day be whisked away by some tall, dark, and handsome man with loads of cash.