Juice-buying heebie jeebies

I parked on the street when I got home from my evening out, because I had the intention of running my rent check to my landlord's house and stopping by the store. However, I found that I was very tired. Tired enough to fall asleep awkwardly on the couch. You know, mouth agape. No drool this time, surprisingly.

Well, I woke up just after midnight, remembering that I promised my friend I'd buy some juice for Sunday Conference breakfast. I felt weird about leaving the house. I couldn't figure out if it was because I was tired or if my subconscious was trying to tell me that it was technically the Sabbath Day and the need for juice was no ox-in-the-mire.

I left for the store anyway.

The whole time I was gone, I felt weird inside, like something was wrong or something bad would happen.

When I got home, I parked in my usual spot in the back. As I was pulling in, I noticed that the door of the neighbor's car was open. I was sufficiently creeped. I wasn't sure if I should pull back out. I tried to look in the car to see if the neighbor was in it. I couldn't see anyone.

I sat paralyzed for several seconds trying to decide if it was safe to get out of my car.
Fortunately, there were two women on the porch of the next door neighbor's house. I figured if something went wrong, they'd hear my scream and call the police. Unless of course, they were involved in the crime scheme.

I considered knocking on my neighbor's door, but I figured it'd be safer to go straight inside.
Not sure entirely what to do, I called the Salt Lake City Police non-emergency line. I explained the scene and told them my car had been broken into last week. They sent a patrolman to check it out.
I heard the officer knock on the neighbor's door and ask him about his car. The neighbor sounded panicked and went out to his car. A few moments later, he returned to his apartment and closed the door, and the officer left. I assume that means that nothing was stolen.

I am trying to tell myself that it was simply an error on the part of the neighbor. He left his car door open on accident.

But, of course, I've watched enough crime dramas to imagine otherwise.

Now, my mind is imagining that someone was breaking into my neighbor's car. The deviant saw my headlights pulling in and hid behind one of the open carport storage doors beside the abandoned bbq grill or in one of the empty storage rooms. Fortunately, this deviant is non-violent, non-confrontational, so he/she waited for me to go inside and then left non-chalant, with the two women being unphased by his/her exit. (My short haircut made it impossible for them to know if driver of the vehicle that had just pulled in was a girl or boy. So the deviant could've been either sex and the women would've assumed that he/she was the car driver walking out of the alley.)

So, my conclusion. I am a hero. I stopped a burglary in action. My neighbor will never truly understand how blessed he is that I kept his vehicle from being robbed, stolen, or vandalized.
But my hero status doesn't make me any less scared. I wonder if Batman was scared every time he was involved in stopping a crime or remedying criminal action but followed through anyway because he's a hero and that's the expectation.

Thanks for listening (reading would be more appropriate unless you use a text reader and have the computer software read you all your internet text). This exercise helped me type out my fear and return to my sleepy state. Keep yourself safe this weekend, because this hero hasn't honed all of her superhuman skills yet. I don't know if I can do much beyond startle a would-be thief with my timing.

Memorial Day Memories

It was on this day back in two thousand and nine that I experienced Tooele for the first time.

After accepting the position at Excelsior Academy, my next step was to secure a place to live. I searched the internet from top to bottom and was only finding houses for rent. I didn't want to fork out that much money for just little ol' me.

I knew the only way to find a place in the area was to network.

I had already contacted a few people on facebook. (I sent a message to a girl who had hosted a News Year's Eve party. She had to be cool. It turns out that she also happened to be the Relief Society President of the Singles Ward in Tooele.) But the sense of urgency wasn't there. They were all willing to keep me informed about what they heard, but were they really listening out? I knew if they met me, they'd be more proactive in helping me in my search.

I made a trip up to Tooele on Memorial Day 2009. (I was already almost in the area for the weekend anyway.)

Megan, the Relief Society President I mentioned earlier in parenthesis, offered to show me around and help me locate some places and introduce me to people. I called her on my drive to Tooele and she mentioned that she was headed to a barbeque and that I was more than welcome to come with her there.

We agreed to meet at a central location. The local Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart should've been easy to find. And most people would've found it immediately. I figured it was on Main Street, but no matter how many times I drove up and down that road I couldn't find it. I sent a text Google's way and got the address. Even with the address, I knew where it should be, but I still didn't see it when I drove past. I was too distracted by taking in the sights I guess. I finally saw it tucked away behind a front row of shops and restaurants.

I was early for the designated meeting time. Of course. I was nervous, and I had nothing else to do. And I feared getting lost. I waited for what seemed like forever before Megan showed up.

She still had brownies in the oven at home, so we got in her car and went back to her place. I met her mother. So far, my impression of the town was very positive.

We headed to the barbeque. I met a handful of girls who would be in my ward. None of them were helpful in suggesting places I might be able to live. Turns out, they weren't being rude; there just aren't places to rent in Tooele.

After the barbeque, we headed up the street to a local park to play volleyball and kickball. As much fun as I was having, I didn't want too much time to pass because I was determined to find a place to live that day.

I met many of those who would become my closest friends that day. I like to reminisce with a few of them about that day.

I texted one friend today to remind him of our first meeting. "It was on this day in 2009 that I first met you. And it was because you didn't remember meeting me that you later labeled me a stalker." Hahahaha. Good times.

Casey, my sister, and I drove the back way to Tooele, which was the way I took one year ago. We arrived at the same park where I played kickball on that fateful day. After an hour of Ultimate Frisbee, I returned home to the apartment I secured on this day last year.

Ah, the memories.

A dream is a wish your heart makes

I hope that Cinderella wasn't right. I have strange dreams all the time.

I'm still at the dorms for a few weeks. I noticed yesterday that there were still several bikes left in the bike rack. I wondered what the housing director would do with all those bikes.
I dreamed last night that he clipped all the locks and gave the bikes away. I was so frustrated, since one of the bikes was mine, that I stormed into his office and yelled at him until I cried.
I just sent him an email (in real life) requesting that he save me the embarrassment and realize that one of those bikes is mine and not to give them away just yet.

And the night before (Saturday to Sunday), I had a dream that I was playing the organ for church services. My voice was hoarse from being so jubilant and silly on graduation night, so I couldn't sing while I played. I noticed that no one else was singing, either. I was so saddened that I started to cry. I couldn't be consoled. (If you know me, then this would be no surprise. Okay, maybe the crying would be a surprise, but the fact that I was so upset that no one was singing shouldn't surprise you. I love nothing more than the singing of the hymns.) Then some young man had the audacity to add to my grief by blaming me for playing poorly.
It was an awful dream.

I don't know why I've had two frustrating dreams the last couple nights. Maybe it's due to the fact that my family and I went to Outback Steakhouse on Saturday night. I used to have frustrating and stressful dreams all the time when I worked there. Serving in a busy restaurant is very stressful work. If you don't believe me, try playing Diner Dash.

Random post is now ending.

On this day of Valentine

I was scheduled for rounds on Valentine's Day. I made sure the boy who I was rounding with knew that it was Valentine's Day and that I expected flowers and chocolates. He then suggested we have candlelit rounds. We even got it approved by the Resident Manager.
I decided that I couldn't expect all that from him if I wasn't willing to do something as well. I wrote him this poem and regifted a box of chocolates a fifth grader had given me.

Dustin oh Dustin
You are so incredibly kind.
I cannot imagine
A more perfect Valentine.

When I saw that we were scheduled
My heart skipped a beat.
An evening spent with Dustin
Is always such a treat.

A romantic moonlit stroll
As we round past every door.
Great conversation and some laughs--
I could not ask for more.

We reach a door and you pause
Just two hims and not a her.
I'm always so impressed.
You are such a great listener.

We are forced to stay up late,
But I see each minute a treasure.
Any time spent with you
Is always my pleasure.

I sometimes pray we have a problem
So we have no other resort
Than to spend ten more minutes together
Filling out an incident report.

Dustin, oh, Dustin
I hope that you'll be mine
As we round the dorms together
On this day of Valentine.



He loved the poem.
Alas, he showed up empty handed. Men.

Slightly stalkerish love note finds its way under my door

My Sweet little dove,
Like the sweet little morsel of chocolate wrapped in tinfoil covering, you melt my heart, & inspire my soul, w/ your soothing words of wisdom.
I would love to take off your "tinfoil" covering & read whats written on your heart about us. i would really like to kiss you...:) lol ha ha Just kidding, but seriously I would.
When I think of you, no, when I think of us, I think of a beautiful painting by that famous painter...I think it was Van Gogh. He's the one who cut off his ear right? All the swirling colors vibrantly dancing across the canvas like we would, no wait! Like we most certainly will one day!
Well, now on a less serious note, I don't think I can live w/ out you. I dreamt of you last night my darling. It started off at the table, you were sitting in cowboy pj's eating a bowl of capin crunch, you spit your cerial out into your bowl and said, "silly rabbit, tricks are for kids" Then your head turned into a flies head and you tried to fly outside but the window was shut... Then I woke up, I don't quite know what it means, It was really creapy actually, but I still dreamt of you. it's the thought that counts.
I don't know how much longer I can hold myself back watching you as you go to desa and RA meeting. the way you tossel your hair. And when you clean your glasses...That's when I stare the hardest, and begin taking pictures. Well, see you during round
kisses and chapstick
Love you lots
love/ me


My comments: I must say, I quite enjoyed this little letter. There are a number of people who could have left it for me. I'm not worried, despite the fact that my Resident Manager creeped us out tonight informing us of the real and potential happenings (including criminal) around here. I won't go into any detail, but I will say this isn't the sunny St. George I still naively believe exists.

Movin' on up to the East Side

I don't know that I would say this is a deluxe apartment in the sky. It is on the east side of campus, on the third level and nice enough especially for its age.
I got a phone call a few weeks ago from the Resident Manager of the dorms offering me a position as Resident Advisor (RA). (Why does advisor get the red underline? It is spelled correctly.) I moved my stuff over the last couple days. I'm still unpacking.
I'm excited for this opportunity.
I'm excited to learn/develop some valuable skills. I'll be developing skills in communication, advertising, time-management, intervention, problem-solving, etc. All of these can easily be applied to life and my future career.
I'm excited to meet some new people. I go to class with the same 33 other people all day everyday. I like my classmates, but I'll be happy to meet some new people as well. Most of these people will be freshman, but that's fine with me.
I'm excited to live right on campus. This means I will attend more sporting events, spend more time in the library, and likely never miss a rehearsal.
I'm excited to having my housing expenses paid. My room and a meal plan is paid for the school year. I'm sad that I won't get to cook, but I'm glad that I don't have to spend the meal prep and cleanup time. I can spend more time doing the other things I love.
I'm excited to park my car for the most part. Living on campus, I won't have to commute to school any longer. My apprenticeship is only two miles away. I plan on riding my bike every day it's not forecasted to rain.

Bugged by recent discovery

I arrived home in the wee hours of the morning after babysitting for a friend. I opened my closet to pull out some pajamas. I was bugged to discover an infestation of ants. (Pun intended.)
The ants were marching one by one up the corner of my closet. They had reached the first shelf of clothes. As you can see, they were making themselves at home. I am normally a great hostess, but ants are not welcome house guests.
I considered waiting until after church to take care of it since it was such a late hour, but I just kept having visions of a scene from the latest Indiana Jones flick. Although I knew these ants couldn't pull me into their hill, I didn't want to know how many ants would be around after so many hours.
Begrudgingly, I drove to Wal-Mart and purchased ant spray and deterrent traps. Even now, my closet and clothes smell of that awful scent.