Sunday, February 13, 2011


Not going to lie, I thought this blog's existence was in mortal peril again. It had been a long time since I felt motivated to come up with anything that might be remotely interesting for the random reader. But there's a reason that last sentence is all in the past tense. There's a reason I no longer fear the death of this blog. Leave it to Indiana to hand me an experience that is definitely blog worthy, right in the nick of time.

So I have been in desperate need of new scrubs for awhile. Such desperate need that it was way beyond time to bite the budget bullet and finally buy some. So yesterday was the day the figurative bullet was to be bit. Mitchell and I went to the one scrub store in Bloomington hoping to have some luck. Mitchell was parking the car when I walked inside and was presented with the most unlikely setting in which to buy medical supplies. You'd expect white walls, cleanliness, maybe even an ironic feeling that the place is sterile? That might be fitting for hospital clothing, right? Not in Bloomington. I walked into the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke, random American pride posters on the wall, and a conversation between the store owner and a customer insisting the store begin selling her line of camo scrubs. My thought- "This should be promising."

I quickly walked away from the camo scrub conversation before my urge to laugh beat my sense of politeness and began perusing a sale's rack. As I was looking at the clothes, I noticed they all seemed to be covered with animal hair. Kind of weird, but I guess not totally unexpected in a store like this one. All the sudden, the animal hair made a lot more sense. How come you ask? A dog came jumping out of the sale's rack right into my legs, almost knocking me into the next animal hair covered clothes rack. My gut reaction was to exclaim my shock and say, "Oh my gosh!! Why am I being mauled by a dog in a clothing store?! Could somebody please get this dog off of me?" But I needed to react in a more socially acceptable way, like pet the dog and say, "Hey you cute thing! What are you doing here?" But in the middle of this response I realized there was nothing normal about this situation and I decided the "socially accepted" response could not be required of me. So I interrupted the camo scrub conversation by saying, "Hey, I don't know if you know this, but there's a dog in your store." What did she say? Exactly what I should have expected in this bizarre situation- "Oh don't worry. That's just my dog, Spirit. But if he's bothering you I can throw him his pig's foot to get him away from you." Umm, no. That's ok. I'll be leaving now. So lovely to have met you, Spirit. Oh, and good luck with the camo scrubs; they sound suuuuper professional.

So there you have it, Blog. You owe Spirit a big thank you. He basically saved your life.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Go Colts!

I just have to acknowledge the elephant in the room before I go on- sorry that it's been over a month since my last post. Shame on me, I know. But let's move on with it and attempt to let it go. Onto happier things!

Like the Colts! We went to the AFC Wild Card Game and it. was. AWESOME! I never knew how amazing football could be. Everyone should go to an NFL game. I promise, you will not be disappointed.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010


These are the things I miss about home today, in no particular order: mountains, family, friends, Cafe Rio's pork salad with black beans no cilantro and tomatillo sauce, snow and the crunch it makes when you step on it, temples in every direction from my house, the countdown-to-Christmas mouse calendar that's been in my parents' house every year for as long as I can remember, radio stations that were presets on my car since I got it, the BYU-Utah rival, the flashing of porch lights to say goodbye as we drive away, IMSU and telling Mitchell, "Saved babies' lives" when he'd asked me, "What did you do at work today?", and a whole lot more.

Love you and miss you.

Friday, November 12, 2010


Today, I had a very revealing trip to the grocery store. See if you can guess why after you read this.

"Are you finding everything alright, ma'am?"

"Let me get that for you, ma'am."

"Ma'am? Would you like paper or plastic?"

"You saved $3.56 today, ma'am."

Still wondering? Can't figure it out? Everything sounds pretty expected for the grocery store, right? WRONG! Ma'am? MA'AM?! Seriously? Someone please tell me when I crossed over into ma'am territory. I thought that word was reserved for women whose hips and thighs are evidence of the 5 kids they have at home; women who shop at Christopher Banks and Chicos; women who make sure they take a multivitamin every morning because they're worried about osteoporosis. to Am I already there? Is that who I am in the general public's eye? Please- someone, anyone- say it's not so!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Eggplant Experiment

When you think of traditional Italian food, what comes to mind? I think of things I've see on an Olive Garden menu- spaghetti and meatballs, ravioli, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, eggplant parmesan. I have tried and love every one of these meals, except for eggplant parmesan. I've always wanted to, but eggplant? Who is possibly tempted by a word like eggplant? Is it an egg? Hardly. A vegetable? Maybe. Some weird hybrid? Quite possibly. All I know for sure, is that it sounds absolutely horrid. But have you ever seen an eggplant? It's intriguing- its unique dark purple hue, its curved shape, its smooth outer casing. Eggplant always has appeared to me to be a very sophisticated choice, even if its name makes me want to gag a little.

One of my goals on this Indiana adventure has been to learn to cook. It's going well so far. The other day I decided I wanted to try a new pasta, but pasta is pretty basic. I mean, boil some noodles and chop some tomatoes, right? How can you make cooking pasta difficult? I don't think you can. So I decided to try a new ingredient- the eggplant. I would make sausage rigatoni with eggplant, and it surely would be phenomenal.

It was only after I bought all my ingredients that I realized I had no clue if I even liked eggplant. I'd never even tried it. It was only then that it dawned on me that it might be a bad idea to cook something with a main ingredient whose only appeal is that it appears sophisticated. Sophisticated? Who eats something based on criteria like that? Only crazy people, I'm sure. Perhaps my whole dinner was doomed to be a disaster because of a faulty connection my brain had made with sophistication and deliciousness.

But make the pasta I did. I was quite surprised to see what an eggplant looks like on the inside, and even more surprised to try a bite and find it was absolutely vile. Well, it was too late to turn back at that point. All I could hope was that it would taste better cooked and covered with lots and lots of salt, pepper, and anything else I could think of to mask that disgusting taste.

End result- not too bad. Thank goodness the rest of the recipe was marvelously delicious. I think I'll actually make it again some time, only next time substitute the eggplant with mushrooms, artichokes, or anything else that I actually know to taste good. This is the last time I will be tricked by the fascinating violet of a name-confused vegetable.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

We're Not in Utah Anymore

This morning I drop Mitchell off at school, come home, and turn on my beloved Law and Order: SVU to watch while doing some dishes and folding laundry. Not too far into it though, my show is interrupted by a phone call from Mitchell. That's weird. He's supposed to be in class right now. Why would he be calling? Well of course I answer it. He asks me if I'm at home. My first thought is that he must have forgotten something and needs me to bring it to him. Umm, no. He's calling to tell me that right now our city is in the middle of a tornado warning. The law school has locked all the students in the basement until further notice. He's just calling to make sure I'm ok.

Umm, I guess so. I mean, at the moment I'm not whirling around in the air with trees, cars, and cows shooting by me. And I definitely don't see any witches, flying monkeys, or lollipop guilds nearby. Oh wait, are those descriptions part of Twister and The Wizard of Oz? Of course they are! Because those 2 movies sum up all my experience with tornadoes! I'm from Utah for crying out loud! The only natural disaster I've ever been prepped for is an earthquake. Hello! We had mountains to protect us from the wind!

So what am I supposed to do? Get in a basement? We don't have a basement! After brainstorming with Mitchell, the only other thing we've been able to think of is maybe lay in the tub or something. Is that what you're supposed to do? (Seriously, if someone knows, please pass it on. Apparently this is knowledge I need to have). Well the house isn't shaking yet, so for now I've decided just to watch the weather through the windows... which are made of glass... which can easily shatter... oh boy.

Fo about 5-10 minutes the weather was crazy outside. Pretty much I thought I was watching a tornado form in my backyard. But then again, I don't really know what a forming tornado looks like, so it might have been my fear telling me what I was seeing. Luckily though, things soon died down. Although our patio furniture is still scattered out on the lawn. I still haven't worked up the courage to go outside. I mean, what if a tornado suddenly decides to drop down? I've heard they can do that.

But you know what the one nice thing is about a tornado warning? You find out you're incredibly cared about. Apparently Mitchell texted his family to tell them what was going on here with the weather. Within 2 minutes of getting off the phone with him, both of his parents and sister called me to make sure I was safe. They truly are the best. Thank goodness for family.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Date Night with the Law

It's 8:00 on Wednesday night. Just finished work and have nothin' to do. Don't even have to go to bed early because I don't have to work tomorrow (praises!). What does this mean? Freedom! An opportunity for fun! The night is young (well, not really for me. Because even though I'm only 24 and by most people's standards that qualifies me as young, this spring chicken is yawning for her bed by 10:30. Call me lame if you want to, but it's the truth). So what am I going to do with my big night off? Let me tell you.

I'm going to pick up some food from our new favorite Chinese place (can I actually call it "our new favorite" if it's the only Chinese place we've eaten at since moving here?), meet Mitchell in a study room of the library, eat dinner and talk about the days we've had, and then proceed to update my blog while watching episodes of The Office while he reads out loud to himself, without realizing it of course, his "Civ Pro" assignment (that's "Civil Procedure" for those of you who are out of the law school jargon loop).

And you know what? I couldn't be happier about it. Because after 15 hours of being away from him today, nothing sounds better than just sitting next to him, occasionally rubbing his back- if he's lucky. Yep, life couldn't be much better if he's by my side, even if I have to use my library voice.