I just submitted my primary application for medical school. That's a nice burden to have lifted from the tired shoulders. I don't think I've ever been so meticulous or anal about anything in my life. I went through each piece of the application over and over, making sure everything was in order and entered in correctly. The worst part was punching in information from my transcript. All my AP, CE, and Foreign Language credits really made it painful. But it's done!
In other news, I got a road bike. That was technically last Wednesday, the 10th. It was a day of guilty pleasure. I ditched a training meeting at work to go up to Bountiful to celebrate the end of the MCAT with Andrew and Drew, and get a bunch of new music. We stopped at Pedersen's to see how much their bikes were. I'd been shopping for a bike for months, checking KSL and craigslist everyday, and I was tired of not finding what I wanted. Pedersens was selling the Fuji model I'd looked at for 120 bucks cheaper than anywhere else. Ashton gave me the go ahead, and I became the proud owner of a brand spankin' new Fuji road bike.
Tuesday was the first day I was able go out for a ride. Quinn, my cycling fanatic friend, had been wanting to go for a ride for the last week. I was a little hesitant to go with him, since he's a seasoned cyclist and I'm a wuss, but I really didn't have an excuse better than that. He rode down to my house, decked out in a Lance Armstrong racing suit that made my t-shirt and gym shorts getup look totally homemade. We headed up Canyon Road, and it wasn't long before Quinn and his grapefruit-sized gastrocnemii were leaving me in the dust.
Thanks to a couple red lights I caught up to Quinn, but the emasculation wasn't over. Quinn decided it would be fun to ride up Foothill Drive, an insanely steep road that wraps around to where Ashton's mom lives. After about a third the way up my legs turned to goo and I pulled into a random driveway in shame. Quinn raced up the hill at a solid pace, not even realizing I was still at the bottom. Following that thorough castration, Quinn had to head home, and I decided to go to Ashton's mom's a different way, since Ashton was waiting there. I road back down Canyon Road until I hit Quail and started heading east up the mountain. It turned out Quail was worse than Foothill, but I just had to make it to the top. Somehow I made it to the top, but I think I burned my entire glycogen storage getting there.
The following day I decided to take a shorter, less strenuous ride. I headed down the Provo River Parkway toward Utah Lake. Things were going great until I cruised through a swarm of swamp flies and took one in the eye. I thought I got it out, but two hours later I was enjoying "Obama's Rescue Plan,"an exceptionally delicious and cheap Mexican plate, and as I rubbed my irritated eye, the bug finally came out on the tip of my finger. No one else seemed as impressed as I was.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Lazarus
I know you're probably tired of reading about miraculous fish survivals, but when I find myself telling the same story to multiple people, I realize it's probably blog worthy.
A couple of weeks ago we had a barbecue at my biology professor's place. As part of the evening we were asked to share talents, for which we were awarded a betta fish. Byron had been keeping 38 bettas in his laboratory for his evolutionary biology class for some experiment with male dominance. I personally think they were having cock fights on the weekends. With the experiment completed, Byron had a lot of fish to dispose of, and one by one guests at the barbecue got up and performed lame-o talents to receive their gilled prize. I played an Avril Lavigne pop song on Byron's guitar and picked out a nice purple fish. As the guests dwindled and the box of fish remained relatively full, I felt it my duty to pick out a couple more fish, to ensure that they made it to a good home. I chose a healthy red looking fish and a feisty little guy named Franky Valentino, who apparently had proved his fighting skills earlier.
The fish sat in our kitchen for about a week before we had time to set up new homes for them. Each fish needs its own container, and we didn't have enough fish bowls for all of them. We went to DI and I picked out some plain looking vases, despite Ashton's protests (they weren't aesthetically pleasing). We only got two vases, so the red fish remained in the Petsco cup he was purchased in.
During our awesome baby shower on Saturday, Ashton arranged the vases and cup on the window sill above the sink, and she left the lid off the red fish's cup. A couple hours later we were scurrying around getting ready to attend a cousin's baptism, and we noticed that the cup above the sink had only water in it. We were very perplexed, and we looked all around the window sill and sink to see where the red fish might've plunged to. I sniffed around the drain and detected a definite fishy smell. I shined a flash light down the drain, and saw the unlucky pet, obviously dead. We have no idea how long he'd been there, but the aroma indicated it might've been a while. I sprayed water down the drain to dislodge his body and reached down with a glove to retrieve him. I dropped him in the sink and confirmed that he was dead. Not knowing what to do with him, I threw him back in the cup of water so we could take off for the baptism. As I washed the gloves off in the sink, Ashton noticed that the fish's gills were starting to move. The fish gradually began moving its fins, but it was tipped on its side. We left for the baptism, and when we got back, the fish was still alive, and looking pretty normal and healthy. We were completely amazed at his recovery, and I named him Lazarus. Those bettas are invincible.
Unfortunately Lazarus's tail fin has slowly deteriorated and fallen off in chunks. I think that while he lay in the disposal his circulatory system pumped all the blood to the core, keeping all his vitals okay but causing his extremities to die. It's definitely affected his ability to swim. He kind of looks like he's nodding.
A couple of weeks ago we had a barbecue at my biology professor's place. As part of the evening we were asked to share talents, for which we were awarded a betta fish. Byron had been keeping 38 bettas in his laboratory for his evolutionary biology class for some experiment with male dominance. I personally think they were having cock fights on the weekends. With the experiment completed, Byron had a lot of fish to dispose of, and one by one guests at the barbecue got up and performed lame-o talents to receive their gilled prize. I played an Avril Lavigne pop song on Byron's guitar and picked out a nice purple fish. As the guests dwindled and the box of fish remained relatively full, I felt it my duty to pick out a couple more fish, to ensure that they made it to a good home. I chose a healthy red looking fish and a feisty little guy named Franky Valentino, who apparently had proved his fighting skills earlier.
The fish sat in our kitchen for about a week before we had time to set up new homes for them. Each fish needs its own container, and we didn't have enough fish bowls for all of them. We went to DI and I picked out some plain looking vases, despite Ashton's protests (they weren't aesthetically pleasing). We only got two vases, so the red fish remained in the Petsco cup he was purchased in.
During our awesome baby shower on Saturday, Ashton arranged the vases and cup on the window sill above the sink, and she left the lid off the red fish's cup. A couple hours later we were scurrying around getting ready to attend a cousin's baptism, and we noticed that the cup above the sink had only water in it. We were very perplexed, and we looked all around the window sill and sink to see where the red fish might've plunged to. I sniffed around the drain and detected a definite fishy smell. I shined a flash light down the drain, and saw the unlucky pet, obviously dead. We have no idea how long he'd been there, but the aroma indicated it might've been a while. I sprayed water down the drain to dislodge his body and reached down with a glove to retrieve him. I dropped him in the sink and confirmed that he was dead. Not knowing what to do with him, I threw him back in the cup of water so we could take off for the baptism. As I washed the gloves off in the sink, Ashton noticed that the fish's gills were starting to move. The fish gradually began moving its fins, but it was tipped on its side. We left for the baptism, and when we got back, the fish was still alive, and looking pretty normal and healthy. We were completely amazed at his recovery, and I named him Lazarus. Those bettas are invincible.
Unfortunately Lazarus's tail fin has slowly deteriorated and fallen off in chunks. I think that while he lay in the disposal his circulatory system pumped all the blood to the core, keeping all his vitals okay but causing his extremities to die. It's definitely affected his ability to swim. He kind of looks like he's nodding.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Shadowing
In the last week I've had two opportunities to shadow physicians, and I've seen two very different ends of the spectrum. The first physician is a family physician down in Hurricane, UT. I've shadowed him before, and I always enjoyed the variety of patients he saw. In any given day you see everything from shingles to sunspots. True, many of the patients were on the crazy side or looking for handouts, but in general they were just nice people who obviously had a lot of respect for this doctor. I was impressed by his dedication to his patients, and how he always took as much time as each case required, until every question was resolved or a plan was set to resolve it. Ashton and I have been less than satisfied with the OB doctors she's been visiting. They're in and out before you can ask any questions, and often shut the door on you when you're mid-sentence, so it was refreshing to see a physician who cares about his patients and physicians who trust and love their physician. It's that kind of doctor/patient relationship that's making me gravitate to family practice.
On Friday morning we started the day a little unusually. Ashton and I were driving up from Vegas, planning to meet Danny before he left for the clinic. As we approached the city limits I gave him a call to confirm the time we were leaving, and he informed me that he was in St. George at Dixie Regional because one of his patients was in labor. "Do you want to come watch?" he asked. "If that lady's down!" I replied with excitement.
After dropping Ashton off I was speeding back down South I-15, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. I got there just in time, and Danny showed me all the monitors and graphs he was watching to make sure the baby was doing okay. Just twenty minute after my arrival Danny announced it was go time, and we went into the woman's room.
She's had an epidural, so she wasn't in any pain, but you could tell she was exhausted from all the contractions and pushing. This didn't stop the nurses from screaming like taskmasters, demanding that she push and push, "just one more time." Finally the baby's crown emerged from the (for lack of a better word) orifice, and I was surprised at how small it looked. I thought the head was a lot bigger than that, I said to myself, remembering a movie I'd seen in Biology class. Danny had to use the forceps to rotate the baby's head a little, and as he braced himself and started tugging, the baby's head stretched into a cone shape, until its little nose popped out over the lip. Danny quickly suctioned goo out of the baby's nostrils. Another push and the baby's entire head popped out. Whoa! There's the big head! The infant's head hardly looked human, and I fully understood Bill Cosby's comparison of a newborn to a lizard. She pushed again and the whole baby seemed to slide out of her. This was the most shocking moment of all. Like Mary Poppins pulling a lamp out of her purse, Danny carefully extracted the 5 foot long baby and presented it to a nurse with a towel. It looked like an inflatable blow up toy, and its chalk white rubbery skin looked like something from a Sam Raimi horror flick. Apparently while the baby is squished in the birth canal all the blood is forced to the core, like when you pinch your finger and it turns white. It also had a hint of blue in its skin from minor hypoxia. It didn't even look to me like the baby was alive, but a few squeezes from a suction bulb brought the monster to life. The transformation that happened next was truly incredible. As the nurses toweled off the placental goo, the blood returned to the periphery and the limbs took shape. Soon the baby looked perfectly normal, like any other newborn. What a bizarre first five minutes of life.
While the nurses were tending to the infant, Danny was holding onto the umbilical cord, waiting for the last push and the placenta. The woman summoned all her strength for the last heave ho and out came the large sack of blood soaked tissue. I was startled by how closely it resembled all the drawings I'd seen in my physiology textbooks. What a remarkable organ. I decided that this was the perfect primer for me, with just a couple months away from Ashton having our baby. The rest of the day I was pretty tired from waking up so early two consecutive days, and I followed Danny like a zombie from room to room.
Yesterday was also an awesome shadowing experience. I arrived at TOSH in Murray at 7:15 and changed into scrubs in the locker room. The OR was buzzing like a beehive, with techs and nurses and physicians running from room to room like everything was a race. I followed Kevin, an anesthesiologist, around, and he is at the top of his game.
In all I sat in on two total knee replacements and a couple of knee scopes. I was shocked at how brutal surgery can be. The surgeon was hacking off pieces of bone, pounding in pins and drilling holes in almost a frenzy. Most of the instruments he was using looked like any power tool you'd find in a garage. Everyone participating in the operation was wearing a sweet helmet getup with a special oxygen tank that made them look like something between a HAZMAT worker and a storm trooper. Blood periodically sprayed on their hands and face guards, and chunks of fat and flesh seemed to spill everywhere. Each knee replacement took all of 35 minutes to perform, and the patient was shipped out to the recovery room while the assembly line brought in the next lucky winner. I was amazed at how quick and efficient everything was, like an orthopedic factory.
Shadowing Kevin is always fun because he makes it a stimulating learning experience. Throughout the operations he would pose hypothetical threats to the patients and ask me how I would solve them. He was constantly drawing diagrams and explaining complex principles of physiology, or teaching me what all the different drugs did. Each patient became a case study as we monitored their vitals and periodically infused them with this or that to counteract any negative responses. He even let me insert the LMA into the last patient. I was a little nervous as I tried to open her clenched teeth and feed the tube down into her larynx. He then had me set up the IV drip with antibiotic, which was even more nerve-wrecking than the intubation.
I was surprised at how different my two shadowing experiences could be, and at the wide range of possibilities in medicine. Anesthesiology involves the thrill of the operating room, has great hours and pays exceptionally well. Family practice sees a lot more patients daily, requires constant problem solving and allows for lasting relationships with patients. I'm glad I have a few more years to decide what I want to do.
On Friday morning we started the day a little unusually. Ashton and I were driving up from Vegas, planning to meet Danny before he left for the clinic. As we approached the city limits I gave him a call to confirm the time we were leaving, and he informed me that he was in St. George at Dixie Regional because one of his patients was in labor. "Do you want to come watch?" he asked. "If that lady's down!" I replied with excitement.
After dropping Ashton off I was speeding back down South I-15, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. I got there just in time, and Danny showed me all the monitors and graphs he was watching to make sure the baby was doing okay. Just twenty minute after my arrival Danny announced it was go time, and we went into the woman's room.
She's had an epidural, so she wasn't in any pain, but you could tell she was exhausted from all the contractions and pushing. This didn't stop the nurses from screaming like taskmasters, demanding that she push and push, "just one more time." Finally the baby's crown emerged from the (for lack of a better word) orifice, and I was surprised at how small it looked. I thought the head was a lot bigger than that, I said to myself, remembering a movie I'd seen in Biology class. Danny had to use the forceps to rotate the baby's head a little, and as he braced himself and started tugging, the baby's head stretched into a cone shape, until its little nose popped out over the lip. Danny quickly suctioned goo out of the baby's nostrils. Another push and the baby's entire head popped out. Whoa! There's the big head! The infant's head hardly looked human, and I fully understood Bill Cosby's comparison of a newborn to a lizard. She pushed again and the whole baby seemed to slide out of her. This was the most shocking moment of all. Like Mary Poppins pulling a lamp out of her purse, Danny carefully extracted the 5 foot long baby and presented it to a nurse with a towel. It looked like an inflatable blow up toy, and its chalk white rubbery skin looked like something from a Sam Raimi horror flick. Apparently while the baby is squished in the birth canal all the blood is forced to the core, like when you pinch your finger and it turns white. It also had a hint of blue in its skin from minor hypoxia. It didn't even look to me like the baby was alive, but a few squeezes from a suction bulb brought the monster to life. The transformation that happened next was truly incredible. As the nurses toweled off the placental goo, the blood returned to the periphery and the limbs took shape. Soon the baby looked perfectly normal, like any other newborn. What a bizarre first five minutes of life.
While the nurses were tending to the infant, Danny was holding onto the umbilical cord, waiting for the last push and the placenta. The woman summoned all her strength for the last heave ho and out came the large sack of blood soaked tissue. I was startled by how closely it resembled all the drawings I'd seen in my physiology textbooks. What a remarkable organ. I decided that this was the perfect primer for me, with just a couple months away from Ashton having our baby. The rest of the day I was pretty tired from waking up so early two consecutive days, and I followed Danny like a zombie from room to room.
Yesterday was also an awesome shadowing experience. I arrived at TOSH in Murray at 7:15 and changed into scrubs in the locker room. The OR was buzzing like a beehive, with techs and nurses and physicians running from room to room like everything was a race. I followed Kevin, an anesthesiologist, around, and he is at the top of his game.
In all I sat in on two total knee replacements and a couple of knee scopes. I was shocked at how brutal surgery can be. The surgeon was hacking off pieces of bone, pounding in pins and drilling holes in almost a frenzy. Most of the instruments he was using looked like any power tool you'd find in a garage. Everyone participating in the operation was wearing a sweet helmet getup with a special oxygen tank that made them look like something between a HAZMAT worker and a storm trooper. Blood periodically sprayed on their hands and face guards, and chunks of fat and flesh seemed to spill everywhere. Each knee replacement took all of 35 minutes to perform, and the patient was shipped out to the recovery room while the assembly line brought in the next lucky winner. I was amazed at how quick and efficient everything was, like an orthopedic factory.
Shadowing Kevin is always fun because he makes it a stimulating learning experience. Throughout the operations he would pose hypothetical threats to the patients and ask me how I would solve them. He was constantly drawing diagrams and explaining complex principles of physiology, or teaching me what all the different drugs did. Each patient became a case study as we monitored their vitals and periodically infused them with this or that to counteract any negative responses. He even let me insert the LMA into the last patient. I was a little nervous as I tried to open her clenched teeth and feed the tube down into her larynx. He then had me set up the IV drip with antibiotic, which was even more nerve-wrecking than the intubation.
I was surprised at how different my two shadowing experiences could be, and at the wide range of possibilities in medicine. Anesthesiology involves the thrill of the operating room, has great hours and pays exceptionally well. Family practice sees a lot more patients daily, requires constant problem solving and allows for lasting relationships with patients. I'm glad I have a few more years to decide what I want to do.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Day of Reckoning
Today was the day I've dreaded for the last 5 years. And I'm so glad it's over! After six months of mind-numbing studying, and an especially grueling month of taking practice tests, I took the MCAT. It's pretty surreal that it's over. I feel like a new man.
I signed up back in January, which apparently was late, because the Utah slots were all filled. I was forced to sign up for a spot in Vegas instead. We drove down to Hurricane Wednesday night and stayed at the Worwoods. I was a little bummed to find that the ducklings, now fully grown, were eaten by raccoons the day before we arrived. We pulled up to the their house to find an animal control officer showing my Uncle Danny how to set a raccoon trap.
This morning we woke up early and drove the remaining two hours to Vegas. We checked in at a crappy motel and dropped by IN-N-OUT for some authentic Western cuisine. I did some last minute cramming and then we drove over to the testing center. The waiting room was crammed with nervous students, and I wasn't impressed with their choice of language. Seriously, these people want to be physicians? Probably plastic surgeons. Checking in required an ID and a biometric fingerprint scan and my mother's maiden name (minus the last one).
The test took 4 and a half hours. I'd taken 14 practice tests, and it didn't feel much different than those, except I'd never taken the time to do the written part. Halfway through the exam there are two writing samples, each a half hour long, and they drained me way more than the physical sciences section. They weren't incredible essays, but the graders don't expect much for a first draft. If it weren't for that dang written portion, I wouldn't have to wait a month for my test results. The biology part was more organic chemistry heavy than I expected, and I was shocked that the physical sciences portion didn't have much acid/base chemistry.
After the exam we drove around the city. Vegas is wack. We hit up H & M, which was pretty small, and got some food. We decided to try to find another mall, called Town Square, and punched the name into the GPS. It directed us to the outer city limits to a gas station that happened to be called Town Square. We decided it wasn't worth it to keep driving around and came back to the motel.
In other news, I milked a goat on Monday. It's harder than I thought to coax the milk out of them goat teats.
I signed up back in January, which apparently was late, because the Utah slots were all filled. I was forced to sign up for a spot in Vegas instead. We drove down to Hurricane Wednesday night and stayed at the Worwoods. I was a little bummed to find that the ducklings, now fully grown, were eaten by raccoons the day before we arrived. We pulled up to the their house to find an animal control officer showing my Uncle Danny how to set a raccoon trap.
This morning we woke up early and drove the remaining two hours to Vegas. We checked in at a crappy motel and dropped by IN-N-OUT for some authentic Western cuisine. I did some last minute cramming and then we drove over to the testing center. The waiting room was crammed with nervous students, and I wasn't impressed with their choice of language. Seriously, these people want to be physicians? Probably plastic surgeons. Checking in required an ID and a biometric fingerprint scan and my mother's maiden name (minus the last one).
The test took 4 and a half hours. I'd taken 14 practice tests, and it didn't feel much different than those, except I'd never taken the time to do the written part. Halfway through the exam there are two writing samples, each a half hour long, and they drained me way more than the physical sciences section. They weren't incredible essays, but the graders don't expect much for a first draft. If it weren't for that dang written portion, I wouldn't have to wait a month for my test results. The biology part was more organic chemistry heavy than I expected, and I was shocked that the physical sciences portion didn't have much acid/base chemistry.
After the exam we drove around the city. Vegas is wack. We hit up H & M, which was pretty small, and got some food. We decided to try to find another mall, called Town Square, and punched the name into the GPS. It directed us to the outer city limits to a gas station that happened to be called Town Square. We decided it wasn't worth it to keep driving around and came back to the motel.
In other news, I milked a goat on Monday. It's harder than I thought to coax the milk out of them goat teats.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Brazilian Tan
On Tuesday I decided to take a few hours off from studying to surprise Ashton and paint our bedroom. When we first moved in we painted it this horrendous blue color called "Summer Breeze." We were going for an icy blue that would seem almost white, but it ended up looking like a bedroom for a baby boy. We'd wanted to paint it for a while, but both of us have been super busy, and Ashton's at a point in her pregnancy where she probably shouldn't be hanging out in a room full of vapors. So after my lab meeting I made a quick stop at Honk's (88 cent Tuesday!) and picked up some painting equipment. I masterfully taped off the moldings and edges and got painting. I finished first coat just as Ashton got home. She was delighted, as expected, and we decided to head to the temple while we let the walls dry. The new color, "Brazilian Tan," matches our living room, and has a much more soothing effect than the poorly named "Summer Breeze."
On Wednesday we decided to put the crib together, to see how much room it was going to take up, and to see what our options were for rearranging the living room. The crib came with some pretty easy-to-assemble pieces, but the instructions were tiny and confusing, and what should've been a simple task became a four-letter frustration. Finally we got all the pieces to snap into place, and we were shocked to see how big it was. Suddenly our plans to put it by the stairs weren't going to work out. Last night we moved furniture around into a fairly comfortable arrangement, with the couch finally facing the television. It's not as accommodating for guests, and it's a little tighter on space, but it's all right. And it's always refreshing to move the room around.
On Wednesday we decided to put the crib together, to see how much room it was going to take up, and to see what our options were for rearranging the living room. The crib came with some pretty easy-to-assemble pieces, but the instructions were tiny and confusing, and what should've been a simple task became a four-letter frustration. Finally we got all the pieces to snap into place, and we were shocked to see how big it was. Suddenly our plans to put it by the stairs weren't going to work out. Last night we moved furniture around into a fairly comfortable arrangement, with the couch finally facing the television. It's not as accommodating for guests, and it's a little tighter on space, but it's all right. And it's always refreshing to move the room around.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tacos
We're developing quite the little garden in our yard. Ashton's planted numerous flowers, and I'm attempting to grow tomatoes, snap peas and bell peppers.
I got a 38 on a practice MCAT this morning. That always feels good. What if I did that well on the actual test?
My new climbing shoes came in the mail yesterday. I'm stoked to try them out.
The Shins switched out two of their members: Marty Crandall the keyboardist and Jesse Sandoval the drummer. They were replaced by Ron Lewis from Fruit Bats and Joe Plummer from Modest Mouse. Apparently James Mercer wanted to take the band in a different direction. This is really devastating to me. It's not the same band anymore; it's more like a James Mercer solo project. I'll never see the original Shins in concert again. I might be looking for a new middle name for our upcoming baby.
Apparently Sandoval is opening a taco cart in Portland, OR. I want to go get one and express my sadness.
I got a 38 on a practice MCAT this morning. That always feels good. What if I did that well on the actual test?
My new climbing shoes came in the mail yesterday. I'm stoked to try them out.
The Shins switched out two of their members: Marty Crandall the keyboardist and Jesse Sandoval the drummer. They were replaced by Ron Lewis from Fruit Bats and Joe Plummer from Modest Mouse. Apparently James Mercer wanted to take the band in a different direction. This is really devastating to me. It's not the same band anymore; it's more like a James Mercer solo project. I'll never see the original Shins in concert again. I might be looking for a new middle name for our upcoming baby.
Apparently Sandoval is opening a taco cart in Portland, OR. I want to go get one and express my sadness.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Eggs
Galya's been sleeping in this little space between a hedge and the house, protected by the back deck. Yesterday I looked at her back there and noticed three white eggs poking out from under her. Upon closer inspection we discovered that she had laid 17 eggs in total, and had been hiding them back there for who knows how long. She has been displaying some erratic behavior, like bobbing her head while darting back in forth in a zigzag "evasive maneuver," and puffing up her chest and ruffling her feathers any time anyone goes back there. Now that we know she's fertile, we might make more trips to the duck pond. . .
Friday, May 8, 2009
Another Funeral Postponed
A few nights ago I was sitting on my bed, studying for the MCAT, when I hear Ashton yell, "Oh no, it went down the drain!" Then she started yelling my name in a very panicky voice, bordering on hysteria. Oh crap, I thought. She dropped her ring down the kitchen sink. I came out into the living room and she explained, "I accidentally dumped Asher down the drain!" I'll admit I was relieved it wasn't her wedding ring. The death of a 15 cent fish just doesn't make me as squeamish as the thought of losing a diamond (albeit a small one). I could see that Ashton was really distressed, however, and I confess that there was a whole lot of sentimental value that went down the drain with Asher.
We've had Asher since November 5, 2007. He's survived 14 siblings. He officially received the title "Love Fish" when we were dating. I remember a particularly frustrating moment in our relationship, before we got engaged, when I declared that if Asher died, then I was done trying. God blessed that fish to live, and it seemed like he was going to live indefinitely, until a careless mishap sent him to "swim with the fishes."
"Oh wait! I can see him!"
Peering through the hole of the black filter in the sink, we could see light reflecting off Asher's scales.
"He's flopping around!"
He'd now been holding his breath for a good 60 seconds. I pulled the filter out, stuck my hand down the drain, and as carefully as possible picked Asher up. I brought him up and dropped him in a vase of water, and he began swimming around again. He's a tenacious little bugger. We still don't know if he sustained any permanent damage, but he seems to be doing fine so far.
This morning we went back to claim Red Slab. We found out the actual route we were climbing is called the "Mantle Route," and we decided in the interest of safety and time to just top rope it today. I got a couple really good climbs in though, and I came off the mountain a lot more energized than last time. And look how small Greg is in this picture.
We've had Asher since November 5, 2007. He's survived 14 siblings. He officially received the title "Love Fish" when we were dating. I remember a particularly frustrating moment in our relationship, before we got engaged, when I declared that if Asher died, then I was done trying. God blessed that fish to live, and it seemed like he was going to live indefinitely, until a careless mishap sent him to "swim with the fishes."
"Oh wait! I can see him!"
Peering through the hole of the black filter in the sink, we could see light reflecting off Asher's scales.
"He's flopping around!"
He'd now been holding his breath for a good 60 seconds. I pulled the filter out, stuck my hand down the drain, and as carefully as possible picked Asher up. I brought him up and dropped him in a vase of water, and he began swimming around again. He's a tenacious little bugger. We still don't know if he sustained any permanent damage, but he seems to be doing fine so far.
This morning we went back to claim Red Slab. We found out the actual route we were climbing is called the "Mantle Route," and we decided in the interest of safety and time to just top rope it today. I got a couple really good climbs in though, and I came off the mountain a lot more energized than last time. And look how small Greg is in this picture.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Cheng Day 2nd
Today marked two years since the baptism of Cheng and Jian, my Chinese brothers. It's crazy to think that that much time has already passed. And of all the holidays I created on my mission, Cheng Day is the only one I've remembered to commemorate, because it was quite the monumental day for me. It marked the pinnacle of my mission. Cheng and Jian were the humblest, most sincere investigators I worked with, and teaching them was bliss.
We celebrated by going to P. F. Changs, just like last year. Rather than gorging ourselves on Chinese delights (or their Americanized versions), we stuck with the staple chicken lettuce wraps and Great Wall of Chocolate. It's a tradition I wouldn't mind repeating every year.
God bless you Cheng and Jian!
We celebrated by going to P. F. Changs, just like last year. Rather than gorging ourselves on Chinese delights (or their Americanized versions), we stuck with the staple chicken lettuce wraps and Great Wall of Chocolate. It's a tradition I wouldn't mind repeating every year.
God bless you Cheng and Jian!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Auckland and Red Slab
My little brother got his call to New Zealand this last week. I must say it came as quite a relief. I would've been really jealous if he'd been called to anywhere in Scandinavia or Western Europe. Sure the work is hard in those areas, but they're a lot nicer than Ukraine! When he pulled his call out of the envelope he stared at it with wide eyes while everyone yelled, "C'mon, just tell it what it says!" We had some technical difficulties with the phonecall to Chicago and the webcam to Portland, and he wasn't about to announce it until everyone could hear it. Finally he spilled and we all erupted with congratulations. New Zealand. Snap. Talk about going as far away from home as is physically possible. And crazy that Ashton's brother is currently serving there. Hopefully he can resist the islanders' notoriously lackadaisical approach to the work and rules of a mission.
On May Day we went climbing at Rock Canyon. As we approached the canyon we noticed that, for once, Red Slab was unoccupied, and we decided to give it a try lead climbing. It turned out to be a little tougher than we'd expected. Lead climbing has a way of making a simple 5.8 become a lot scarier. Greg made it up about halfway and got stuck. Some know-it-all chattering moron (who happens to be in my ward) showed up and set up camp right next to us; he even plopped his tarp and rope on top of mine. This newcomer distracted me a little (I was belaying), and as Greg made the brave venture up, he didn't have enough slack. Suddenly he was slipping and yelled down, "I'm gonna fall!" I pulled the rope tight but he was a little higher up than his last quickdraw, so he fell a good 4 feet. He racked the family jewels pretty good on the rock, and came down in a lot of pain. He later told me that all his hate and anger were directed at the chatterbox (which made me feel a little better), but I could tell he was less than thrilled with my belaying. Accidents happen. I went up the wall next to see if I could finish the climb. I got to the tough part where Greg had been stuck and had to take a breather. I was able to get past it, but I only put in two quickdraws after it before I got stuck. The climb wasn't necessarily difficult, but just knowing that if I fell it'd be a good ten foot drop was kind of emasculating. I finally came down the rock, and had to endure the pseudo pep talk from our resident expert, the chatterbox. That guy was insufferable. Everything he said was self-praise or "FYI." Next we sent up Jesse, who had never actually done lead climbing before. He made it to the top like a champ, although he crisscrossed three different routes to do it. By the time he got up there everyone was too cold and tired to do any top rope climbing, and I wanted to get out of chatterbox's earshot. When I got home I was so bitter I shaved my beard.
On May Day we went climbing at Rock Canyon. As we approached the canyon we noticed that, for once, Red Slab was unoccupied, and we decided to give it a try lead climbing. It turned out to be a little tougher than we'd expected. Lead climbing has a way of making a simple 5.8 become a lot scarier. Greg made it up about halfway and got stuck. Some know-it-all chattering moron (who happens to be in my ward) showed up and set up camp right next to us; he even plopped his tarp and rope on top of mine. This newcomer distracted me a little (I was belaying), and as Greg made the brave venture up, he didn't have enough slack. Suddenly he was slipping and yelled down, "I'm gonna fall!" I pulled the rope tight but he was a little higher up than his last quickdraw, so he fell a good 4 feet. He racked the family jewels pretty good on the rock, and came down in a lot of pain. He later told me that all his hate and anger were directed at the chatterbox (which made me feel a little better), but I could tell he was less than thrilled with my belaying. Accidents happen. I went up the wall next to see if I could finish the climb. I got to the tough part where Greg had been stuck and had to take a breather. I was able to get past it, but I only put in two quickdraws after it before I got stuck. The climb wasn't necessarily difficult, but just knowing that if I fell it'd be a good ten foot drop was kind of emasculating. I finally came down the rock, and had to endure the pseudo pep talk from our resident expert, the chatterbox. That guy was insufferable. Everything he said was self-praise or "FYI." Next we sent up Jesse, who had never actually done lead climbing before. He made it to the top like a champ, although he crisscrossed three different routes to do it. By the time he got up there everyone was too cold and tired to do any top rope climbing, and I wanted to get out of chatterbox's earshot. When I got home I was so bitter I shaved my beard.
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