Lilo & Stitch

PROBLEM
Little Dave's passing was a tragedy. "...but it's not just tragedy, it's dementia, despair; it's this hole...in each of [my] eyes, where all the events that happen in this real world kind of just fall through. It's loneliness in it's most crippling form, the kind that no amount of love, or human contact, could ever mend... [I need] to try to fill those holes with something else. But with what? Hope? I can try to fill those holes with drugs, soothing words, but that's all. I hope [my] wounds will heal with time, but right now, things aren't looking good." Ok. That was a tad dramatic. But I DID need something to mend my broken, guilt-ridden heart. So where did I turn to fill the void? PetSmart, of course. Time to right my wrong.

SOLUTION
Simini was dying for a fish, and it turns out she's quite picky-- especially when it comes to her water-dwelling friends. We browsed the fish area for quite a long while, sizing up the fish based on recommended tank size, price, and aesthetic appeal. It was then that I spotted the magical tank... a tank containing underwater frogs! We couldn't see any in the tank, so we called a worker over and asked whether they were out of stock. She proceeded to stick her arm into the germ/scum/poop/dead fish/nastiness infested tank and grab the large rock structure resting at the bottom. She waved it around viciously, knocking into fish (and prolly knocking several unconcious) and stirring up roundabouts of 15 little frogs. I was excited for the .7 seconds it took before I realized that 13 of the 15 frogs weren't moving of their own accord. I'd never seen so many dead frogs. Simini and I exchanged horrified looks right before the worker set the rock structure down and walked away, leaving us to stare at the dead frogs and then notice that one of the two living ones had been pinned under the rock structure and was struggling to escape! We panicked for a moment. I don't know what Simini was thinking at the time, but I was trying to decide whether to call back the heartless, germ-loving worker or to stick my own precious arm into the nastiness to save the frog from his seemingly eminent death. I opted to call back the worker. Or was it Simini who did? It's all a blur... anyway. She came back and freed the poor dear and that's when I decided that I needed to save one of those poor creatures. I considered it a step towards fully repenting of the wrong I did Little Dave. Simini picked a guppy, we hunted for the best food (which included frozen bloodworms for the frog.... yum!), water conditioner and tank decor, then headed back to the studio with our new friends.

HAPPY ENDING
We made a very nice little place for our buddies to live. They sit on the window sill right next to my desk, overlooking Y mountain, among other things. The first few days neither moved much; they seemed a little depressed. Or scarred, perhaps. Eventually, though, there was noticeable improvement in their health and stamina. Because the decor of choice for the tank was an island accompanied by blue tank rocks, Simini suggested we give them island names. We settled on Lilo for the guppy (a male, we later verified) and Stitch for the frog. They are quite active and happy, and everyone in the studio loves them. Stitch, who sat in the exact same spot his first two days in the studio, now moves around freely. Sometimes he hides under the palm tree's branches, or swims around then freezes mid-action, floating along stiff in the middle of the tank... it kinda looks like he's rehearsing for an underwater Matrix movie. Anyway. Here's a tender picture of Stitch (Lilo is a bit harder to catch sitting still):
He's kind of like a quiet guardian... like Batman... anyway. I love him.

NEW PROBLEM
Simini also got a betta fish for her house that day. He died three (or was it two?) days later, so we got her another one. The new one-- Richt (pronounced Rick and short for Xyrichtus) fell sick recently and we returned to PetSmart to get him some meds. Of all the times I've been to PetSmart, that was the first time they had pythons in stock... and I wanted one. Kind of a lot. I've wanted a snake ever since high school. All my former roommates were strongly against the idea of me owning a snake while living with them. However, I think I'm moving next semester, and my will-be roommate is cool enough that she'd be ok with me owning a snake. Now I just have to figure out whether I can afford it and whether I can make that kind of commitment. And keep the poor thing alive... stay tuned to find out how that all goes.

the passing of a dear friend...

Meet Little Dave.
He's a tarantula. Natalie and I, with the help of one of our professors, caught him at the base of Provo Canyon (we were on our way home from a plein air expedition). We lured Little Dave into an A&W cup-- a surprisingly easy task-- and I took him home. He died later that night... right around the time I became a murderer. For me it was a costly lesson concerning the repercussions of succumbing to peer pressure. I still regret my foolish decision. Little Dave's burial will be taking place sometime in the next few days, now that rigor mortis has completely consumed his body and the decomposition of the same is causing an unpleasant odor in the vicinity of my studio space. He will be sorely, sorely missed. Rest in peace, my hairy little friend.

POST SCRIPT--added due to popular demand
We (meaning Natalie and I) gave Little Dave his proper burial last week. We placed him in a small, black box with a pirate-esque tarantula flag at the head. We cushioned the inside with tissues and lined the edges with matches. We lit the matches as the eulogy (you-goo-ga-lee) began, then set him afloat the botany pond. Once his body was reduced to ashes, we removed him from the pond and buried him nearby. It was an emotional time, but I'm confident that it enabled his spirit to move on...

back for good, it seems

Well. I got back from my last vacation for the summer on Monday night. Everything here is... pretty much the same as it's been since spring semester ended. Except that when I walked out to the truck to go to work Tuesday morning, I discovered that I must have made a couple friends. Apparently I was invited to a birthday party, but didn't get the invite since I was out of town. They were kind enough to save me the several-days old leftover cake... in the back of the truck... uncovered, except for the leaves and bugs and dirt and mold and germs and slobber and bird pecks and dust and seeds and water and skin flakes and diseases...
what pals! :)

brainwashed.... for $50

Remember that one episode in Lost, where Kate and Sawyer help Alex save Karl? They find him in a hatch, strapped to a chair with these glowing glasses on and pictures flashing on the screen in front of him. That's pretty much what happened to me this morning, minus the glasses (I got a lame salt-water-soaked-net-thing instead). I have this sneaking suspicion it wasn't really a "study"... but that it was, instead, where they send unmarried BYU students before they graduate. You know. To brainwash them. Obviously we missed a memo somewhere along the way...

my mother would be proud...

Mom! I learned how to separate an egg today! Quite effectively, I might add. I've broken it down into four easy steps so that everyone can reap the benefits of my hours of experimentation. They are as follows:

1. Put your egg in the backish corner on the rightish side of the middle shelf of your fridge, so that your egg slushifies. Once it's leaning closer to the side of frozen you're good to go. It should look like this
once you start peeling it.

2. Peel your egg. Be careful to peel fast enough that the egg doesn't have time to melt in your 86-degree apartment, but slow enough that you don't accidentally punch a hole through the tender ice-shell that surrounds the yolk. It should look like this once you're done peeling.

3. You can now safely begin breaking into the icy egg. Separate the clear, icy stuff from the icy yellow stuff. Be sure to do it over the sink, as it gets drippy and quite cold (you can run your hands under some warm water if your fingers get too cold). That looks like this.
4. Remember, the yolk is NOT a yolksicle, so try really hard to not just start licking it. And tada! You've successfully separated an egg using the Noggin technique (patent pending). Enjoy.

that time I barely made it out alive

When I was thirteen, Grandma and Grandpa Coombs flew me up to Utah to visit them for my birthday present. They picked me up from the airport, and we stopped at a McDonald's for lunch on the way home. I got a Big Mac and fries-- my favorite at the time. By the time we got back to their house I wasn't feeling well. I called my mom and told her so, and she advised me that often vomiting will relieve said discomfort. All that talk about it and... well... you know. I spent the rest of the day doing it. I developed a (food) aversion to McDonald's that day (I think it was the sesame seeds that really sealed the connection between throw up and McDonald's for me). To date, I have only had one piece of anything from McDonald's pass through my lips. It was a single french fry, and I did it for the sake of a joke. I still remember, I was in St. George with some friends and Burger King (and everywhere except McDonald's) was closed. I decided to starve rather than eat there. Bonnie held a fry in front of my face, in reference to a story she once told me, and I ate it. I still shudder when I think about it...

Well. I'm babysitting two of my nine favorite cousins this week, and McDonald's was on our itinerary. Rather than trying to trick Kallie out of wanting to go at all (yeah--prolly impossible), I decided we could just get it over with. So when she said she wanted to go on the first full day I was 'sitting, I agreed. The building was actually ok-- not as ghetto or nasty as many are. Kallie ordered for herself and I ordered for Kamden. We got their food and went over to fill the drinks. I had it in my mind to choose root beer for Kamden's drink and to share it with him, since Barq's root beer is obviously not made by McDonald's and I apparently wasn't eating dinner (I couldn't bring myself to order anything for myself). We sat down and I neatly arranged Kamden's nuggets and fries and opened his ranch, trying the entire time to not think about all the terrible stories and nasty images that I associate with McD's. I felt guilty letting the children eat it. Ew. After we were settled in for them to eat, I reached for Kamden's cup with the intention of partaking of the goodness that is Barq's. I couldn't do it. The cup didn't even make it halfway to my mouth. I just couldn't do it... not with that stupid clown on the cup staring at me. And another one sitting on a ski lift above our heads. And two more on their Happy Meal bags and another... and another... and another... they're everywhere! I forced myself to help Kamden finish his dinner then permitted the kids to play on the play place thing. I whipped out my hand sanitizer. (The restaurant was, of course, out of theirs. I've learned to be prepared, though.) I then put in my earphones and hunched over my sketchbook, drawing and trying to pretend I was anywhere but McDonald's. Needless to say, I survived and am now able to safely look forward to the rest of the week. :)

the roller coaster's peak...

Crap. I looked up from my Zune, a bit panicked, and quickly scanned the faces in the room. Could they tell I was panicking? They all knew-- they had to. They knew that we were only ten (maybe fifteen) minutes into the lesson, with twenty to go, and that I was nearly out of material. Crap.

I thought about my brief conversation with Mark right after sacrament meeting. "So... what time am I supposed to be done?" "Eleven." "Eleven? Not even, like, ten fifty or fifty-five?" "Nope. Eleven. On the dot. Oh, and you're teaching in the big room." Crap.

At first I thought maybe the big room would be better. A bigger room meant more people. I was already nervous enough that I don't think adding even several hundred people to my crowd could have made me more nervous. So a bigger room was good, right? More people means more comments. Right? Wrong. Crap.

I stared out across the room again. Waiting for someone to comment. I desperately tried to make eye contact with Mindy. Kim. Lowe. Steven. Tahna. Anyone?? It felt like I was up there for an eternity, just staring at them all and praying for someone to answer the question I'd just asked. I mean, it wasn't a hard one to answer, and I had said plenty of things before the question that would be equally easy to comment on. So why wasn't anyone commenting? I was already hot (I get hot really fast when I'm nervous), but I felt my body temperature jump a few degrees. Oh no! No one's going to comment, and this is the last topic of discussion before I'm supposed to end! If no one comments, I don't think I'll be able to improv my way through fifteen minutes to get to the closing thoughts I had prepared. We'd have to end early. But twenty minutes early? Really? That would make it painfully obvious that my experience in teaching is extremely limited and that I don't have the blessed skill of improvising under pressure. No one is going to want to come to my class when I teach. Crap.

I moved my bangs away from my eyes (something to do while standing up there, waiting for a comment). I think I remember feeling sweat beads on my forehead. Not only gross, but also visible to others! Oh no. I also ran my hand over the back of my hair for some reason (a fake itch? "adjusting" hair that had fallen out of place? just another something to do, most likely). The heat my nervous body was emitting was intense enough that I could feel it through my thick hair. I wondered if it would be wise to put my hair up next time. Maybe then I wouldn't feel quite so hot. I also realized just then that if my head is this hot, my armpits have got to have something going on down there, too. I, again, panicked for a moment. I had no idea what their status was. Tacos? Pancakes? Had they gone straight to full-out pizzas?? I didn't even think to sweat-proof my shirt, so who knows what it looks like! Ok. Note to self: keep arms down (that made for several awkward side-hugs after my lesson) and sweat-proof all future outfits worn on teaching days. Ugh. That's not something I've ever had to worry about! Crap.

I glanced at my Zune again. Oh no! It hadn't even been a minute!

My thoughts continued to wander. Luckily, before I could get so far as to seriously consider moving out of the ward, I saw a hand go up. Lindsey-- you are my hero. She made a comment and asked a question that spurred other comments and thoughts. The next time I looked at my Zune it was ten fifty-five. I tied up the discussion and said my closing thoughts and asked for a volunteer to pray. I can't remember the last time I'd felt so relieved. Happiness.

Upon thinking about the lesson a little more, I came to the conclusion that it was like a roller coaster ride. Almost exactly like riding the Colossus for the first time, actually. The analogy I did at the beginning with a volunteer was like the slow climb to that first really high part of the ride. You know--where you can look down into the parking lot and freak out because you realize how high you are. The moment I just went into great detail about was a lot like the moment where you pause at the top. You see the track ahead of you, and you know gravity is going to pull you in that general direction, but you're not 100% positive you're going to stay on the track and make it safely to the end. Sometimes freak accidents happen, you know? But then Lindsey's comment was like that moment right after the roller coaster starts on its way down. You're relieved to not be hanging out at the top anymore, but you're still not all the way ok. Then you make it through the first turn. Seems like easy sailing... until you hit the first loop. Someone makes a comment and it's awesome, but the ride slows down for a second on the underside of the loop and you're not sure the coaster's got enough speed to make it. It does, and you're relieved. Just to hit another loop! But you've already made it through one and you're more confident this time. You make it through the second loop and the rest of the track. The coaster pulls back into the stop area and you relax all those muscles you were tensing through the entire ride. What a rush. Wanna ride it again? Afraid I have no choice.