Shaking hands with the important people

Kyler and I are getting closer to moving: less than two weeks, and next Sunday is our last in this ward. Crazy. I'm going to miss nursery a lot... they are so hilarious! Speaking of moving, though, earlier this week I got a call from our future landlady. She started the conversation by saying not to worry, she has a solution so just listen as she tells me what's going on. Not a very comforting thing to hear, but that's all right. Apparently, they'd been doing some landscaping around the apartment complex, and the sprinklers were on and things, and they noticed that there were puddles inside the apartment we're supposed to be moving in. So they investigate further and discover cracks in the foundation and the sheet rock needs to be completely replaced. Needless to say, that apartment will not be ready for us to move into. So, instead, we're going to get a different apartment, one that is 200 square feet larger than the original, for the same price. Kyler's pretty happy. He's talking about having room for a nice new (big) TV. Keep dreaming, kid. ;)

In other news, Liz had a bridal shower yesterday, which was fun. Before the shower, we got together, with caps, gowns, and our faithful photographer, Kyler, and walked around campus taking pictures. So what if graduation was a month ago? No one needs to know that! We got a few strange looks, a few cars honking at us, and some sore feet, but the pictures turned out great. Kyler is such a nice guy, he didn't complain even though I volunteered him without asking first, and he did a great job. Don't you agree?

It's a long weekend! This means no work tomorrow! Kyler and I really should use the time productively and pack and prepare to move. We'll see if that happens.

As seen on TV! (Or, in my apartment after graduation)

And now, I proudly present to you for your viewing and gustatory pleasure, the Chicken Corn Sauté! I will list the recipe as it is in the book, but also make my comments about how Kyler and I do our own thing.
Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, cut into bite-sized pieces (about 1 pound)
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 1 cup chopped onion (Kyler and I never measure, we just use a medium sized onion or so. I like onion.)
• 2 medium green bell peppers, cut into strips
• 1 medium red bell pepper, cut into strips (A few things about the bell peppers: 1) Kyler and I generally only use one because it works fine. 2) If you don't like green or red peppers, kind of like me, try the orange or yellow/gold ones. They're not as contrasting in color, but they taste better in my opinion.)
• 1 package (10 ounces) frozen whole kernel corn, thawed (Kyler and I just use a can of corn. We drain it and call it good)
• Hot pepper sauce (optional)

Kyler and I like to eat it on rice, but that is also optional, and not mentioned in the recipe.

Directions:

1. Combine chili powder and salt in shallow dish. Add chicken. Turn to coat. (This does not make it as spicy as it sounds like it will! It's just really good!)
2. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in large skillet on medium-high heat. Add chicken. Cook and stir until no longer pink in center. Remove to serving dish.
3. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in skillet. Add onion. Cook and stir 2 minutes or until tender. Add bell peppers. Cook and stir 3 to 4 minutes or until crisp-tender. Add corn. Heat thoroughly, stirring occasionally. Return chicken to skillet to reheat. Season with hot pepper sauce (and serve over rice?) if desired.

Enjoy your tasty, tasty meal! Approved by Kyler, Jeanette, Maria, Karina, Richard, Debra, Loradona, and Maurine, to name a few!

Can you feel the futility of it all?

The last few days, I've felt like nothing really goes how it should.

Tuesday, we knew there was a mastectomy we wanted to collect tissue from at the University Hospital. So we called over there, they said the breast was in the fridge ready to be picked up and taken to pathology, but we could come and pick it up if we wanted to. So I gather up my LN2, ice bucket, paperwork, and vials, put on my lab coat, and trek over to University Hospital. Upon arriving, I ask the OR front desk where the breast is, we look for it, but we can't find it. We call the OR and they confirm it was in the fridge we looked in, so the courier must have picked it up and taken it to pathology back at Huntsman Hospital. Because that's where the breast went, that's where I go, with my LN2, ice bucket, paperwork, and vials. I get to the gross room at Huntsman Hospital and lo and behold the breast is there! But... it's in formalin. It's already being preserved. We can't collect tissue from it. And so, dejectedly, I walk back my lab in Huntsman Cancer Institute.

Wednesday, there was a breast reduction at, surprise, surprise, University Hospital. We were really wanting to get tissue from it, because it's normal. Not cancerous, not "normal" but from a patient with the genes, but straight up normal. The researchers are running low on that stuff, since here at the cancer hospital, we don't get a lot of it. We called the nurses station, begging them to make sure we got consent. We called the OR, making sure they'd send it out fresh, not in formalin. The surgery is scheduled for 12:50. At 1:30, the surgeon is getting to the room. We figure it'll take 1.5-2 hours to remove the breast tissue, so we call back at 3, only to find they have barely made the incision. We scramble, trying to make sure the people in the lab will be able to take care of it and know what to do, and then I leave at 4:15, wondering if we'll get it or if everything will be screwed up. As I'm on the bus, I get a page at 4:40. The breast is out and ready to go. Finally. At least we got tissue from it. Now I just need to figure out the paperwork...
My life revolves around breasts... and prostates. And maybe blood, too...

However, good news: stay tuned for the recipe you all have been waiting for! The amazing Chicken Corn Sauté Stirfry!

All alone in a big city

While I was waiting to catch my bus to go home on Friday, a guy sat down next to me and asked if I knew how to get to a certain place. I did not, as I only know the bus routes I ride, but directed him to the sign that says which buses stop at this stop. He then tells me how this is his first time in a big city, and that it's so different than life on the reservation. I nod and politely make a little small talk. Next he tells me that he just got out from being incarcerated, and is trying to get to his sister's house. He doesn't know what to say to people and just wants to be left alone. Again, I'm polite, but wondering why he is talking to me then, and also when my bus is coming. But, lucky me, I see it down the road. I wish him good luck and step onto the bus. Interesting fellow, that one. I can't say I was sad to leave him.

Kyler and I are thinking of names for children (no, not for any particular reason, just for fun) and we're trying to think of a good Scandinavian name, since we have a nice Latin name. We want to honor both of our heritages. Sadly, Kyler's not particularly fond of Brita, he says he'd think of the water filter all the time. Anyone (Mom) have any suggestions (especially names of my ancestors)?

Good night, y'all.

Because everyone needs a good drive-by f#@$ing now and again...

So this weekend was Women's Conference at BYU, which meant, of course, that strange things had to happen. For one, there was a traffic cop actually directing traffic at the Crosswalk of Death that I usually have to cross unaided twice a day. This was refreshing. I enjoy not taking my life into my own hands when I cross the street. I should get thousands of aging, gospel-starved women to hang out around here more often. That would, however, require us to put up signs like the above. I'm not sure I could take that.

However, as I was standing at said Crosswalk, waiting for the traffic cop to get around to trafficking, a small car drove by. As it passed, the rear window rolled down, revealing a clear cut young man, who flashed me a smile, and said, in a very polite tone, "F&%$ you."

I had been drive-by f*$#ed.

I gave the boy a smile and a nod, continuing on with my life, but couldn't help think about what possibly could drive someone to direct such malice in my direction. As a missionary I had experienced this more times than I could recall, but in those scenarios my Mormonness had been especially salient. To pick a random guy on the side of the road, make some very base assumptions about both his religion and his character based entirely on proximity to a Church sponsored University, and then decide him worthy of epithet seems rather hard to justify. Then again, I could be the one making base assumptions. Maybe a BYU student kicked him really hard in the shins one day without provocation. Maybe four letter words of any sort carry positive connotations in his particular idiosyncratic world. Maybe a vortex created by the swirling air around the open window transformed what he originally said into something he actually didn't.

In the spirit of the latter, I'll prefer to think he said "f&$* me".

If that is what he said, I think I'll prefer to pass on that offer.

TLDR: Refrain from committing the Fundamental Attribution Error, and keep your f*$#s to yourself.

Graduation and blood.

That's right: graduation and blood. Could this blood refer to the relatives that came from various places to see me walk the walk in an ugly blue muumuu, or the blood that I process day in and day out? Either way, it exists.

So, last weekend, only four months late, I finally dressed up in an ugly robe and funny hat, listened to random people reminisce about the good ol' days of our college years, had one of my favorite professor read my name, walked across the stage (chanting in my head, don't trip! Don't trip! Don't trip!), and got my fake diploma. Quite exciting.
By far, the best part was just seeing family. My mom, dad, grandmother, sister, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law all came. It was really nice. Graduation was fine, but my favorite time was the Friday night they all came to our tiny apartment and had dinner and just hung out. So nice to see them all. I'm so thankful for all of their support.



Oh, and we totally got a digital camera! Hence the ability to post pictures! YAY!

After all the family left, things for Kyler and I went more back to normal. We've officially started packing, as of yesterday: books were the first things put into boxes. Now we have a whole pile of boxes in the computer room. As we slowly pack each week, I anticipate that room getting so full of boxes we can no longer get into our drawers or to the computer.

Work is going well, but busy. Friday I was busy all day, from the minute I got there (well, before, actually, but who's counting) until after my late lunch. Busy is good, though, it means the day goes by faster, and because I was so busy and took such a short lunch, my boss told me to go home early, which I consented to without too much argument. Why should I argue with my boss? She knows what's right...

Kyler has said he may post about an interesting incident he had a few days ago. You all should encourage him in this.

Currently listening to Kyler's raid talking in ventrilo...