Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
And the worst part this time around is limiting myself to the "essentials". My heart actually hurts as I regretfully remove pictures, knick-knacks, and books (Oh, the Books!) from my pile of things to take.
I realize that I'll be grateful when I don't have to pack lunches of fruit-scented candles or fashion a dress from the pages of Gone with the Wind (Yeah, right. Like I would reserve valuable space for that waste of a tree, but I'm sure you get my point). But on the other hand, I know how depressing bare walls and empty shelves in a university-style setting can be, so there are some "frivolities" that will edge out some socks and a shirt or two if need be. And my tiara tops the list.
Laugh if you will, but I'll wear that beauty on my head if I have to. I got my tiara earlier this year as a thank you for the work I did at a conference. It came with one of the nicest notes I've ever received:
I am writing to you today to express my gratitude for all of the hard work you did for us at the conference in Dallas.
The entire event was well-planned and executed, as always, and we could not have enjoyed such a successful meeting without all of the hard work that each of you contributed.
More specifically though, I wanted to tell you all just how much I enjoyed myself. The big suite was fantastic, and hosting the several functions up there was more fun than I’ve had in years.
I really felt special. Very special. So special that I probably annoyed a lot of people by telling them just how special I was. Ordinarily, I’m not the kind of person who spends a lot of time making herself feel special—I don’t do tea parties, or big fancy dress-up balls, didn’t have a huge fluffy wedding, don’t go to the spa—so it was a real surprise to me to totally love feeling special for a few days.
And I just want to thank you all for making me feel extra-special for a time. You have no idea what a remarkable gift that is.
In return, I wanted to send you each a little something special. So when you need to feel special, just put this on, and remind yourself what an extraordinary gift you gave me, and hopefully feel that I am returning it to you in a small way.
With kindest regards and great thanks,
Sweet, huh? And you know what, I totally pull it out whenever I need a little boost.
I don't know about you, but I think feeling special should be on every girl's list of bare necessities.
Monday, August 24, 2009
- "Most teams count points. We count first downs."
- "This BYU timeout will also be a media timeout."
"What? The media hasn't gone home yet?"
- "That's another Utah FOURTH DOWN!"
- "I think I just pulled something."
I really need to start keeping a journal. Life is just too funny to let all these gems go to waste (:
Friday, August 21, 2009
I also don't like shots, needles, blood, tourniquets, or extending my arms while someone kneads the heck out of the insides of my elbows.
- Being a lab rat
Unfortunately, Meagan also hates the idea of dying cold and alone in a foreign country, so to NIMH she went, just to make sure everything was in working order. Luckily, the Institute was on 800 North and not in some arachnid-infested field, so there could have been worse ways to spend a Friday morning. (Meagan is nothing if not optimistic.)
So off I went, bracing myself as I waited outside of the lab for Mary, the new technician, to call me in.
"Meagan, come on in. This will only take a second."
"That's what they all say. I have deep veins that take issue with being poked."
"Hmmm. Well I'm pretty good, so I'm sure I'll be able to handle them."
"Yeah, that's what they all say. But my veins really hate it when they're disturbed. It takes forever to find them, and they begrudge every drop of blood. Last time it took 10 minutes and five pokes in three separate locations to get even one vial filled. You should probably just start with my hand."
"I don't like starting with hands. It is more painful and leaves a bigger bruise."
"I know. That's what they all say, but I'd rather have one bruise on my hand than a bruise on each arm AND on my hand."
"I'm sure you'll be fine."
*sigh* "Yeah, that's what they all say." (Meagan is nothing if not a bane to every phlebotomist's ego through verbal hammer blows of annoying repetition.)*
Mary tied on the tourniquet and began kneading my left arm. Three minutes later, she let out a frustrated "hmmm". Wordlessly, I held out my right arm and tried not to let her see me rolling my eyes as she made her first prick on my right arm.
I'm not sure if the sudden widening of my eyes mid-roll caused the dizziness, or if it was the veritable fountain of blood spouting from my arm into first one, then two of the waiting vials. I was so shocked I momentarily let my gaze slip from the hideous cat-themed calendar and actually watched. That was how I caught the smug look on Mary's face before she turned away to label the vials.
"Wow. You are really good. I stand corrected." (Meagan is nothing if not willing to admit she's wrong.)
"Yeah. That's what they all say."
I couldn't have said it better myself.
*I realize I sound like a total snob in this conversation, but in my defense, I'd like to point out that getting worked over for blood work is only #2 on my list of things I hate in this world. And it would be #1 but for the breadth of two extra hairy legs stuck on a bug.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
If it keeps up, man will atrophy all his limbs but the push-button finger.
~Frank Lloyd Wright on Technology
And I'm pretty sure all my bruises, bumps, and scrapes are proof that my push-button finger might be the only limb atrophying (: