The Jackpot and a Temporary Tattoo

Provo Beach Resort not only has Blue Bell ice cream, a ropes course, an indoor surf arena, and a miniature croquet course (a 'unique' take on mini golf), but it's also the scene of the crime. What crime, you ask? The one where I scored the jackpot in an arcade-carnival-ish game. I've never seen so many tickets come out of one of those machines while I was standing right in front of it!! And just in case you don't believe me, here is one of the evidence photos taken at the scene of said crime.

As fun as it was to wear the lengths of tickets and make everybody else jealous, I cashed them in for a rubber ducky to "make [my] bath time so much fun", a mood ring to better interpret my emotions (heaven knows I could use a little...or a lot...of that), and some temporary tattoos. If you think this looks sketchy, you should have seen the goldfish on my date's bicep. Totally thug.

America, the Beautiful

So my love life is in shambles and I'm back to square one. It's summer term and very slow at the office. My teacher is at a family reunion and has cancelled class. I think the solution to all these problems is writing a blog post about how much I love America!!

I went to Stadium of Fire last night. Kelly Clarkson is mind-blowingly amazing live and seeing the fireworks from inside the stadium was AWE-some.

The choir behind Ms. Patti Austin sang America, The Dream Goes On, a song I sang in Westwood's Honor Choir. That, plus Kelly's rendition of America, the Beautiful and a wonderful display of the rich history of this great country, raised such a wave of patriotism! I had forgotten how very much I love Independence Day and the 4th of July holiday. It brought back memories of visiting Aunt Gail and Uncle Bill and listening to them play Stars and Stripes in the Richmond Symphony. After all of that, it almost makes me want to move out East to enjoy the rich atmosphere of our nation's capitol and settlement.

[polish the shoulder] psh

Yep, I still got it. That's right, folks -- I am eye-catching and quite charming. As evidenced by the boy who (though only visiting our ward on Easter Sunday) complimented me on my musical number, flirted with me for a few minutes, asked for my number, and then called for a date. We made cookies tonight and he loved every minute of my sass. Yes, I was sassy and teasingly insulting, but he stayed in the game and wants to see me again. I think he's the safe version of the bad boy I want to be my type but just isn't because I'm too smart for that. I think this could be a good compromise.

Then there's the second date (with a different boy) I'm going on tomorrow. You know you live in Hipster Provo when you get invited to Cheesecake Night -- a small, organized event where elite guests sample exotic cheesecakes for precisely one hour each month. And this one's more my style -- the one I know I will like after the other one gets old or I realize that's not really my type after all because he's what I want in the long-run.

I'm not sure where I landed when I deplaned the Un-date-able Intimidation Express, but I'm sure glad I got off that Untouchables Wagon. And I think I'm gonna like it here because, honey, when it rains, it pours.

Oh..and..uh..no big..but..I won the office March Madness Challenge and got a whole pound of sour watermelon gummies. How sweet victory tastes :)

Why I have trust issues

Okay so I don't really have trust issues....but kinda. Having been raised in Arizona, my first encounter with Daylight Savings Time didn't happen until I came to college. By then, I wasn't even using a real clock, alarm or otherwise. I woke up to my cell phone and I didn't start doing the wristwatch thing until last summer. Luckily for me, cell phones are set to satellite time, which means they "spring forward" and "fall back" all on their own. Or at least they SHOULD!!!!!!! I just about had a heart attack this morning when my roommate woke me up saying I had 30 minutes to get ready for church. It went something like this:

     "Impossible!" I told her. "My alarm hasn't gone off yet so I have at least an hour. I'm going back to sleep."
     "Katie," she gently reminded me, "it's Daylight Savings."
     "Yeah, and my phone is automatic, duh....." I retorted.
     "Hun, it's not 7:30. It's 8:30."
     "Then why does my phone say 7:30?"
     "Well obviously Apple products are superior." [insert shifty, sarcastic eye movement and shoulder shrug here]

Long story short, my freaking phone didn't switch to DST until I turned it on and off. And I got ready for church in record time. The punk piece of machinery!! My confidence in satellite-linked technology is shot.

Kind of like the day I found out that not everything on the internet is true. Universe shattered.

That kind of friend

There are about a million other things I should be posting about -- over the last two weeks or so I've had about twenty Oh-I-should-blog-about-that-! moments. But instead of spending so long gathering my witty thoughts that I lose excitement for even one of those brilliant posts, I have to interject this one.

Last Sunday was Stake Conference. Aside from the fact that my roommate might have a pseudo-crush on our Stake President (I can't blame her though -- he's the most adorable, Godly man with the corniest love of music ever to work with young adults). Aside from that perk of conference, we got to hear from Elder Terry L. Wade of the Seventy. I can't even try to relate how wonderful it was, but I took 8 pages of notes in my little scripture journal (don't freak out too much; each page is only a few inches square ;) . Anyway, at one point he talked about us being "mortal beings having a spiritual experience" and asked us to think of a time recently when we felt we were having a spiritual experience. He asked us to jot down a few notes right then, but go home and write it out in detail. I thought of a really simple one. It's nothing special, but in obedience to a servant of God, I relate the following experience:

One day last winter I was sicker than a dog. Not only was I sick, but I was also discouraged. What hope had a girl of recovering from a physical ailment with so much weighing on her soul? After exhausting all my own strength, resources and personal moxy, I decided to ask for a Priesthood blessing from the boy I was dating at the time and his roommate. Without speaking too much of a sacred experience, here are just a few of the minor factors that made that tender mercy so memorable:

- the boys showed up in Sunday dress (on a weekday)

- we opened with a prayer to invite the Spirit

- the room was filled with the words of a loving Father to his struggling daughter

- after the blessing, one boy offhandedly suggested I look up a line from a hymn he'd been thinking about

- the other boy suggested I write in my journal about my frustrations, the words of the blessing, etc.

They left me better than they'd found me. I did take my friend's advice and wrote and wrote and wrote. I think that one little action may have opened up a lifelong line of communication between me and the Lord. I get some of my best insights when I'm ready to write down what He's ready to tell me. The song was uplifting too and I'm glad he'd had it stuck in his head. After they left I just kept thinking "Boy, I am so blessed to be surrounded by such solid people!" Sure, they'd humbly shrug off the credit if I ever said anything to thank them. But I'm content to eternalize in a blog the fact that I am extremely blessed to associate with people who make me better, who build me up, who fight for faith and encourage me to do the same, who keep themselves close to the Spirit so that they can be first ones called to the rescue. I want to be one of them. I want to be that kind of friend, that kind of disciple of Christ. 

The ice gods hate me

What the...?? Hello winter anomaly!! I know this probably happens lots of other places, but it's not a terribly common occurrence here in good ol' Provo. Last Thursday was a particularly dangerous day here in the inversion-ridden tundra of Utah. There were at least three accidents within a half hour on University Ave and hurried students were slipping all over campus as they tried to escape the biting cold and deadly sidewalks. By the time I got to work in the afternoon, Facebook was blowing up with people posting videos like this and making jokes about wearing ice skates to school. This was shot on the pedestrian bridge from the Marriott Center to the Administration Building.

Funny story: I have been doing so well staying upright this winter. I've even avoided the windmill affect (where you stand there swinging your arms in giant circles, praying to every god you've ever heard of that you can find your balance sometime before your face hits the pavement). The worst of it was a 2-inch slip of the foot and a startled scream. I felt like I was queen of the ice. Especially compared to my roommate who walks like an 80-year-old woman who needs a hip replacement. Something about being scared of falling? ...paranoid. So here's the embarrassing part. Even the mighty queen of the ice was not a match for this deadly freeze on Thursday. I was running barely on-time for class (as per usual) and started trekking up the hill, passing the slow pokes on the left like a squatty little roadrunner when all of the sudden my quick steps are not finding the right propulsion and my boots (the cute kind, not the utilitarian kind) were finding no purchase. Each step I took was met with zero traction, which is not typically a problem on flat surfaces but is absolutely impossible on an incline! I saw my life flash before my eyes!!! Each step slipped back a few centimeters and I knew there was nothing stopping me from sliding all the way back down the hill and tumbling all the way back into my nice warm house and never going back up to campus ever again. So I didn't exactly make it all the way back down to the bottom of the hill, but I did make it all the way down to the pavement from my might perch of ice-walker. That's right. I fell. Right on my hands and knees. The nice boy behind me asked if I was okay and I gave him a joke-it-off "haha yeah I'm fine" while I screamed in my head "HOW THE CRAP AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT UP THIS DARNED HILL WITHOUT A SKI LIFT?????"

As if that wasn't bad enough, I fell again on Friday on my way out the door. In front of my own stupid house!!! Mine you, it rained Thursday afternoon, melted all the ice and turned everything to slush. But somebody decided it was a good idea to put a strip of ice on the sidewalk where the walkway from the front  door meets the sidewalk. Right where one would make a 90' pivot to turn and walk down the street. My feet were gone from under me, I landed on both knees, slammed both hands to the ground and my backpack's momentum (continuing in a nice little arc from five feet up to ground level) brought my face within an inch of the wet pavement. It felt like I was going to try to do a somersault -- but something went horribly wrong :( I jumped back up to find my knees soaking wet and screaming in pain. Later in the day, I found a small dark brown spot on my jeans and found out it was blood. The freaking sidewalk drew blood!! So now my knees look like this and I'm royally ticked at the ice gods for this little stunt. But hey, battle wounds are cool right? And needless to say, I'll be walking a little more slowly until spring comes.

But at least I don't have it as bad as these poor people.

Who needs a handi-man?

Not this girl! For I am quite the handi-woman, thank you very much. I had a very productive Saturday, I must say. After swimming a half-mile at the gym, I went to the gro-cer-ry store on a mission. Among ingredients for this week's cyoolinary adventure {pozole (Mexican soup), tortilla española (Spanish omlet), and sopapillas (Mexican maybe? -- fried dough covered in honey, powdered sugar, etc mmmmm)}, I picked up some AA and AAA batteries, super glue, WD-40, and water protector for leather/suede/fabric shoes. What did I do with all these magical items, you ask? Why, I did what any single, independent, handy co-ed would do. I fixed all my problems!

• The clock in our kitchen got stuck at 11:30 and my flashlight (by which I do Sudoku puzzles late at night -- don't judge me) was going so dim I started to get eye strain. Nothing that a couple new batteries can't fix. 
• The sole of my boot started to peel away at the toe, letting snow and drafty breezes in on my tootsies. Did I call the cobbler? Nah, I just used super glue. 
• My boots from last season were starting to leak and my socks got all wet :( Did I throw them away? Good heavens, no! I sprayed them with water-proofer! (those and every other pair of shoes I might want to wear in the snow/slush this winter)

• The doors on our pantry cupboard sounded like a witch being boiled in oil. It's especially great when you're trying to get a midnight snack without the rest of your roommates thinking you're a pig since you've already had three Star Crunches today. Or when you're home alone making dinner and you grab the rice but forget to shut the door, so you walk away and it begins to swing s..l..o..w..l..y closed -- talk about creepy! Take some of this WD-40, you spooky tattle-tale door hinges! Not so creaky now, huh?

Yeah, I'm pretty handy. Although, I can only take most of the credit. Last week, my Daddy suggested I keep a few things on hand, just in case -- duct tape: for things that aren't supposed to move but do, and WD-40: for things that are supposed to move but don't. My next project will be applying a garbage bag or some other protective layer to the outside of the cooling unit hanging from our kitchen window. Sometimes I stand at the sink doing dishes and get hit with a blast of arctic wind! This probably ought to stop since we don't exactly want to be cooling our house these days. Yes, I know, I should have done that 3 months ago when we turned it off in favor of open windows and fall breezes. But whatever.