Bigger or Better: Life outside of Texas

I had an epiphany last night listening to the traffic on the street. Despite the more or less monotone weather in Houston, we do have seasons. I know summer is here because I can hear the bug sprayer van out at night, keeping the mosquito population in check I will know fall's arrival mainly by summer's departure. the heat isn't as intense, and so more people will go outside during the day Winter manifests itself by the dead grass on people's lawns And lastly, Spring comes when the sidewalk, car, and even the house are covered with chalky, yellow pollen

As I mentioned here , I am a little directionally challenged. I mostly get myself around by leap-frogging to known highways. When I first walked around M.D. Anderson, I would point myself in the direction of a particular landmark, follow the signs to that point, and then find a new landmark that I knew was closer to where I needed to be. Elevator bank, to park, to skywalk, etc. It works for me. But I don't recommend it for life.  I wrote a paper in my freshman English college class about the perceived checklist that Latter-Day Saints give themselves in their lives. Get baptized. Graduate from high school and seminary. Go on a mission. Go to college. Find soulmate. Get married in the temple. Have babies. Graduate college. Get a full-time job, either as a parent or as the financial provider. Etc. I honestly don't remember what my conclusion was, but I'm pretty sure it spoke against these checklists. I find that I need a refresher course, because I had mentally put ...

'Babe in the Woods' could be the next film title for that talented sheepdog pig. I wonder why the producers didn't think of that. Anyway, I don't mean to talk about pigs, but about age.  I don't much like it when people ask how old I am, partly because sometimes I don't remember. I went to a church dance when I was in high school, and as this guy was slow-dancing with me, he asked me how old I was (probably just for sake of conversation). I had to think...so, I would not be attending a church dance if I were younger than 14, so I told him 14. Then I remembered that I had been going to these dances for a while, so I corrected myself and said 15. Then I realized that I had actually gone on a date recently, and as the recommended age for dating in my church starts at 16, I was, in fact, for real this time, 16. We didn't talk for the rest of the dance. The other part I don't like about the age question is that I feel the question puts me on a chart as s...

Sad to say, I don't even know what Patrick is the saint of. By going back several generations on my Dad's side, I can claim that I'm Irish. However, he never knew any particular traditions, and for a good portion of his life he didn't even know he was Irish, so when the blessed, jolly day of Saint Patrick comes around, I feel like an average American. Let me amend that: an average Mormon  American. But I made a few gestures of celebration, in my own particular way. aww, look at the little Irish girl dying melted cheese green and pouring it over cooked cauliflower wearing green (mainly because it's socially enforced) eating potatoes, cooked cabbage, and corned beef eating pistachio pudding (hey, it's green) indexing  death records from Ireland reading the Aubrey/Maturin novels by O'Brian (Maturin is Irish) Listening to The High Kings Watching How to Train Your Dragon  (my justification here is that Vikings were an important ...

This past weekend, right smack in the middle of 2 2-day back-to-back work days, I went to an ACLS class. For those balderdash fans out there, ACLS does NOT stand for Association of Claustrophobics Living Solely, the American Counsel against Love Scenes, or anything else my brothers could come up with. It is the Advanced Cardiac Life Support certification class. Which meant that I was trying to prevent my mannequin from dying on me. I have quite a history with mannequins. Okay, about 5 years. My nursing school instructors would give us a scenario and ask us to speak to the mannequins, which is actually initially really weird. After a year in nursing school, I could go up to a mannequin and talk pretty freely (they have the gift of silence). "Hey, Fred, how are you doing. The chart here says you hurt. Could you show me? Oh, are you paralyzed? Do you have something in your throat?" Etc. One of my favorite experiences was when our lady mannequin gave birth to our baby mann...

A good portion of my conversation with my family is through quotes, which sounds awfully un-creative of us, but it's not like I can guarantee that anything I say has never been said before. Monkeys on typewriter sort of thing. Besides, I really like quotes. A collection of my favorite quotes might tell more about me faster than anything I say, so I am considering rounding up my favorite one-liners one of these days. So, the real-life application of the quote of the day: I don't know many people who like making mistakes. I am not one of them. But sometimes the fear of making a mistake forcibly limits my progress in what I'm trying to do. As a minor example: since junior high, I have wanted to become fluent in Spanish. I took a Spanish class every year through junior high and high school, took the AP Spanish Language and Spanish Literature tests, and took the necessary classes for a Spanish minor in college. I read my scriptures in Spanish, sometimes I pray in Spanish...but...

Sometimes I would really like a random name generator for my titles. I think it would also be helpful for when I start having kids. Ohh, my kids might hate me. I've got to confess that speaking is NOT my strong point, due to several factors. One, I actually have a hard time forming sounds. Something about having ear infections during a crucial language learning stage as a child. Anyway, I had to attend speech class until I was in 8th grade so that I could learn how to say 'r' and 's' instead of 'w' and 'sh.' Saying the word 'sit' has come with some interesting results. Or rather, interesting reactions. My apologies, BYU Morris Center. Two, I have stage fright. I get nervous speaking in front of people. Even to the point that when I make a comment in class, I will turn red with the sudden attention. Unfortunately, as a fair-skinned red head, I tend to blush very easily and it is very noticeable. My skin is just desperate to match my hair....