When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May

The wind is out in full force today, seemingly in a hurry to kick Fall out the door and introduce Her Majesty WINTER. The wind, coupled with a general feeling of restlessness is turning my attention to the grand fact that I'll be in Argentina in 2.5 weeks. Hello Southern Hemisphere and the fact that sunny 80-degree days await. The opposite of November is May, and who doesn't love May (or counter-clockwise flushing toilets)?

Colleen and I got brave and decided to rent a loft instead of a standard hotel. For roughly the same price, we get to stay in this funky, eclectic little home with a full service kitchen and living space instead of touching elbows and knees with each other and our luggage. The Loft is owned by three of the friendliest folks--I've exchanged several emails with them and am excited to get on down there.

Also on our Spanish-speaking sojourn we're spending two days in La Ciudad de Mexico. What are we going to do while we're there? Hmm, good question. Maybe it's time to figure that out. And did I mention our flights start from New York City? Believe it or not, we're going to touch three of the top four most populous cities in North America in less than a week. (Guesses on the 3rd most populous? Whose ready for another geography quiz?!)

This afternoon I booked a hotel from a site solely in Spanish. I was rather pleased with myself, but I guess there's a slim chance I just ordered a sombrero-wearing donkey delivered to my doorstep. My travel-planning skills are getting a little out of control.

I've got the blues.

I miss the tan M&M's. The blues just don't taste the same.

Why I Believe: The Beginning of a Spiritual Explanation

More often than not, this blog serves as a secular space for the stories, musings, and phrases that strike my fancy at any given moment. In the past three and a half years, I’ve chuckled good-naturedly as I’ve penned embarrassing confessions or delighted in new ways to poke fun at myself. On occasion, I’ve cried tears at life’s confusion or in frustration at my inability to stop the world from turning and changing the things I love at that very moment. All of these experiences are memories or thoughts important enough to be remembered—things I want to remember—be they clever, painful, or nostalgic. I’m happy you’re accompanying me on this ride.

For whatever reason, conscious or not, there’s one area of my life I haven’t shared as freely on this blog as other areas of this circus I call daily living. If you’re at all familiar with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), or “The Mormons”, my references to visiting teaching, stake conference, or singles’ wards means something to you—either personally or by association. If you haven’t been able to read between the lines in the last 700 blog posts, I’ll spell it out very clearly:

Yes, I’m a Mormon.

Being a Mormon is more a part of who I am than any number of grand metaphors or similes could ever explain. At the very center of who I am, lives the knowledge that God has a plan for me—and for each of His children. We belong to Him, and he loves us divinely; because we are divinely His. The teachings of Christ’s ancient church have been restored again to the earth, and they offer all of the happiness and hope and joy afforded to mankind both in this lifetime and in the one to come. My inner light and positivity are deeply rooted in knowing where I came from, why I’m here on Earth, and the paradise and rest that await on the other side once this life ends.

I’m going to start a tagged series called Why I Believe. In 700 posts I haven’t once tried to explain why I do certain things (three hours of church, 10 percent tithe, callings, temple attendance, etc.) or why I don’t do others (smoke, drink alcohol or coffee, engage in pre-marital sex, etc.). Considering that being a Mormon is who I am first and foremost, this blog hasn’t been a completely accurate portrayal of who I really am, has it? I've been thinking about this reconciliation for quite some time, but the scales have finally tipped to include the spiritual aspect of my life in this little corner of my universe. I’ve been inspired by a post written by a good friend entitled “I’m a Mormon?”, a magnificent Education Conference with Elder M. Russell Ballard (who we believe is a called Apostle of Jesus Christ), and Fiddler on the Roof.

That’s right, Fiddler on the Roof. Last night, one of my best friends and I were able to attend the Broadway show downtown in the historic Boston Opera House. I’ve always loved the story of Tevye’s family and village as they struggle to maintain lives of spiritual tradition in a world of conflict and change. The moment that struck my heart was during the first act as the families all over the village of Anetevka were gathering at sunset on the Sabbath. I don’t profess to know anything about Jewish tradition, but in this moment of swelling music, I was afforded a brief inner glimpse at the spiritual customs and beliefs of a religion that were lived so completely and thoroughly that they governed every aspect of Jewish life.

Occasionally, I’d like to afford you a brief inner glimpse into the LDS spiritual customs and beliefs that are lived so completely and thoroughly that they govern every aspect of the Mormon life. Because as zany a picture I’ve painted of myself in the last 3.5 years, all of it means nothing if you don’t know who I am and why I believe.

Le'Chaim.

All around the world statues crumble for me

Today, I tested my geography and felt sorely lacking in my knowledge of the countries of the world. Fifteen minutes, and I could only name 77 of 195 (~40%). When my time was up there were several "duh" countries I missed, but I was pretty maxed out. Here's how I failed:

So, without looking at a map, what countries did I miss that you know? Did you fair any better in 15 minutes? Take the quiz here.

Working the Poll

From a post on August 29, 2009:

I think my next poll will attempt to gather the stats on the marital status of my dear readers. If I had to guess now, I'd wager 65/35 in favor of the marrieds, if not higher. Which is odd now that I think about it, since my daily 24/7 is surrounded by single people.

Well there you have it. As far as blogs go, married is the new single.
Also, I can see the future. Or close to the future.

Also, it's time for a new poll. Anyone have any dying questions they need to know the answers to?

trick her treat

Are you annoyed with photo posts yet? I can't help it. It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Presently, I'm laying comatose in my bed. As previously mentioned, I hosted a group of 11 for a church Education Conference this weekend. Pre, during, and post work were more than I cut out for -- but I thrive on stressful challenges. More to come on this weekend, but I wanted to give you a lil sneak peek to wet your whistle. (Also Ryan, one of my houseguests, informed me November is National Blog Posting month. A blog post every day this month? No promises, but we'll see.)

This photo is my new header image, but for posterity's sake (should I ever happen upon some), I'll toss it into this post. Gorgeous huh? A Friday morning spent at the Old North Bridge at the tail end of Fall.



And also. Here's what's left of my Halloween costume after the Masquerade Ball hit me with its best shot and melted my face.
Lemme get back on my feet and I'll shoot some more goodies your way. Hope your Halloween was more treats than tricks!

Rating this month a 10

Last year, I claimed that December is my favorite month of the year. Well watch out 12, there's a new name on the ballot. October has been a whirlwind of visitors, Saturday get-aways, and leaf viewing. One of my major projects has been in QA and development, so I've been working a ton and spent a few quick days in meetings in Portland.

Here's a sample of my last week--pretty indicative of how all of October has been:
Sunday night: fly to Portland
M, Tu, Weds: project management meetings; after hours socializing, working from 8-1:30 most nights to get actual work done
Thurs: fly back to Boston--a man on the plane had a seizure onboard in the first hour so it was a pretty dramatic flight, get picked up by my mom at the airport (in Boston. it was trippy as it was a complete polar opposite of what happens when i usually fly.), drive to NYC to stay with my Dad in his hotel (there for business). That's right. Portland, Boston, NYC all in one day.
Fri: work from the hotel in the AM, Canal Street, the MoMa, Olive Garden in Times Square, West Side Story lottery (Dad won!), a piece of cheesecake with Whitney while the parents were at the show, and to sleep on the ground. (Night six not in my own bed.)
Sat: flea market in Chelsea, pizza on the Upper West Side, and a drive back to Boston in the back seat of a convertible Ford Mustang. Pouring rain, so the top was up. Dinner at "Jimbo's Roast Beef and Seafood," the hole-in-the-wall restaurant near my house that's a new favorite I take all of my visitors too. 100% success rate so far. Grocery shopping. Bed.
Sun: Sleep in. Oh so glorious. So so so glorious. Church with the parents. Tacos and mexican chuttney. Another "most gorgeous day of the year" so this time we get to ride with the top down. Looking at leaves and visiting Concord and the Old North Bridge. Took these photos:
I love having my parents in town. They do a good job of keeping themselves busy, but also including me! It was nice to know somethings never change--for instance.... we were nearly late for church as mom was trying to get the roll dough made. (On the plus side, I now know how to make the best rolls in the history of the world. Surely this is a marketable domestic skill!)

This weekend is the every-other-year Education Conference in Boston; and I have quite a few folks coming up from NYC to stay with me and attend. The go go go continues... Sorry I've been inconsistent, I hope you're all happy and well!

fall: food and photos

Last week it was corn; this week it was pork salads. The day dawned against-all-meteorologist-odds sunny and bright and I knew we couldn't spend the day at home cleaning my room and packing for a whirlwind work trip to Portland, Oreg. tomorrow. Instead, I convinced Colleen to drive to Portland, Maine with me this afternoon for some leaf peeping. And of course I snuck in a trip to good ole Costa Vida. (Raise your hand if you think Costa Vida deserves its own blog label.) Colleen's first trip, and I'm pretty sure it was a success.
The leaves were perfect. Portland is about 90 miles north of Boston, so their leaves are a titch ahead of ours in terms of loveliness. How can you not love New England this time of the year?

Our Fall Photo Shoot was taken outside the South Portland Fire Station. Hey. It was off the main road and right next to the Costa Vida. Pardon all the singular photos, but if there aren't people in them, who's to say I didn't just poach them from a Google image search?
I'm still the world's worst poser. It's cool; I'd rather be a perpetually poor poser than have perpetual conjunctivitis. It's all about priorities people! So there are still several good solid weeks of leaves left. It's not too late to come visit...! Though between the parents next weekend, and a host of NYCers the next; you have to be cool with a full house.

PS -- in a crazy twist of events, the single readers have pulled even with the married readers in the blog quiz. Way to come through singletons! The married were winning by a landslide a few days ago. Make sure to cast your vote in this life and death poll!

Children of the Corn

It's raining today. Dreary, windy and wet. (Oh my.) The kind of day that necessitates both rubber boots, an umbrella, and a dedication to your job that forces you to bite the bullet and commute to the office instead of working from bed in your pajamas from 9am-8pm (like you did yesterday).

The good news is that this last Saturday was the kind of day that's quintessential New England Fall. The sky was piercingly blue with scattered clouds and the leaves are changing into a postcard palette of oranges, yellows and reds. Each year we take a Fall outing--an unofficial kick-off to the holiday season with drives through picturesque towns and trees AND IT USUALLY INVOLVES FESTIVE SNACKS. Festive snacks people!

This year's Fall Fest brought to you courtesy of the Davis Farmland MEGA-MAZE; a corn maze with 8 acres of corn, 2.65 miles of mazed pathways, 10 bridges, 1 zipline, and inter-maze putt-putt, slingshot activities, water stations and restrooms. The path out of the maze changes every day, so suffice it to say, the maze was pretty intense. We made it through in about 70 minutes but felt proud we'd never walked on the same path twice. It may not have been the quickest way out, but it was a way out.

Where we were really hoping for a piece of pumpkin pie, we settled for a tasty brick of cornbread. Here's some photos we took:

October is my favorite month in Boston, there's just so much going on. And the good news is that it's still early in the month; I'm sure plenty o' Fall activities are still on the menu! And so help me, pumpkin pie better be too...

Dear Mallory

We've watched enough Dance shows since 2007... My lines could be much cleaner and body could have better extension. You however, bring a great personality to your performance, and you were really there for your partner, every step of the way! Yes you were! I think we'd be much more graceful should we give it another go when you come visit again.
PS--Thanks for the Cinnamon Satans. I'm embarrassed to say I ate all but four and am paying for it in el estomago. The Devil made me do it.
PPS--Come visit again.

the swine flu, central europe, and you

So it may not have been a tumor, but this morning I discovered that I survived the swine flu outbreak of 2009. In fact, I'm pretty sure I brought it home from Portland post-Kendall's wedding and proceeded to spread it throughout my office. I'm rather persuasive you see.

My coworker Heather and I spend quite a bit of time together. We sit feet from each other every day of the week, and oftentimes shop, eat, or see movies after work. Our lives run a different track, but we get along smashingly. Earlier this year, we decided it'd be fun to skip the country for a few days. (Post-time-off approval, the higher ups realized we were both gone at the same time and had a minor meltdown at having no project management coverage in Cambridge. It's good to feel needed!)

Yes, I'm four months behind in posting more pictures. But better late than never!

Both Prague and Zurich were uncharacteristically warm for May (95 degrees?!); we'd packed for a spot of cooler weather, so we tried our best to make do with the rolling sweat and humidity. We didn't have any agenda items for either town (both of us were coming off crazy work quarters and were looking forward to just taking it easy) so we spent our time wandering around and eating wherever suited our fancy.

Before leaving the States, I read that Zurich is the most expensive city in the world. Boy howdy, reporters finally got something right. The 3-hour ride we took on the Zurich Lake ferry cost less than our lunch did--a $5 coke and $6 hot dog. We did some shopping (mostly window to be honest) and walked and sweat and walked some more. Glad I can check the Czech Republic and Switzerland off my list. Greece is now my last major European destination to hit--any one up for a little weekend getaway?

Interview with another lurker

Alternate title: Even though it may have jumped the shark, why I still blog

Two weeks ago, I posted my first interview with a lurker to great fanfare. Within minutes, I had several emails from a few other lurkers removing their cloak of invisibility. The stories and encouragement I'm receiving from perfect strangers was the balm of Gilead to a rather crummy week. People, I may have shed a few tears. Believe it or not, this lady is a bit of a softy.

I shared a few amazing emails with Gail, who runs a custom tack shop in Rice Lake, Wisconsin. How Gail stumbled onto this canvas of the wanderings of my mind is rather miraculous. Are you ready for the bacon-less degrees of separation?

1. A search for a website of a former classmate's daughter injured in a car accident lead her to
   
2. Cancer patient Johnathon Walls from Oregon and four years of following his blog where
   
3. A link was posted to Alexa Aigner in Texas where "I positively fell in love with this wonderful little girl and followed her story, shed a lot of tears and grieved right along with everyone else, in silence. I still follow Crys and have written her several emails about a donation of my custom horse tack for a raffle to benefit the Princess Alexa Foundation." Sweet Alexa is the niece of
   
4. My girl Colleen who "doesn't post often enough. Boo." (Yeah Colleen! Boo!)
5. "So, here I am, a devout fan of The Nat Attack. You give me inspiration with your independence and spirit of adventure and your dedication to your friends and family. I love how you fly off to another country to explore and take a drive 200 miles from home for awesome good food."

"Sometimes we humans are connected through trouble and sadness or joy and happiness and we are not even aware of it. It's a way to see that we are all alike and so different at the same time. We find humor and camaraderie in each other without knowing it or others and we also inspire others silently as well. "

The title of this post really should be "Gifts from Gail." What a sweet, honest, unsolicited email to receive. I promptly wrote her back, thanked her for her support and asked if I could use her story and words. She replied with the following:

"By all means, share my words. I feel for you, I really do. I gathered it was hard for you to be so far away but I do admire how you have plunged ahead and are carving out a nice life for yourself in Boston. You truly do not know how encouraging that is for me. Isn't it funny how lives are intertwined? I have to say I have felt guilty at times for peering into the lives of others and I have seen such sadness and also joy in those lives as well. We don't know how our lives or examples affect others along the way and that it really laces everyone together as a human race, most of the time we aren't even aware of it. There are so many things in the new technologies we are in to make things impersonal but maybe knowing that you are giving others strength and courage each day as well and that others are giving you a silent 'woot woot' is a good thing too."

Friends and readers. I don't know Gail (I hardly remember where Michigan is) and yet she spoke some of the nicest, kindest words of encouragement. And also defined why lurking on blogs is perfectly acceptable (all you silent viewers can rejoice!).

Gail touches on one of my favorite parts about the blogging community I've thought a lot about recently. I've been amazed at the way we're all connected as a human family--frankly who knew this little project started three and a half years ago would become what it has! Fifty people took my "How do you know me?" quiz and the results are fairly shocking. I've heard repeatedly in the last month how excited people are that I'm back to blogging (for the record, I'm thrilled to be back as well.) I don't take y'all for granted--I appreciate the response and comments and links and general support. After my post re: vertigo, I had an insane amount of gChats, comments, and texts with treatments and cures--true empathy displayed at its finest.

Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing this whole blogging thing right. Too many words, or too many photos, or being too braggy, or playing too much of a highlight reel, or being too downtrodden, or being too this, that or the other. Regardless, when I discuss frustration with life, y'all are some of my biggest supporters. When I achieve something great, you're the first to cheer with me. As one of my guiltiest shames claims, we're all in this together--and figuring it out together. And together, wondering why I'm still waxing nostalgic and sentimental and probably borderline cheesy, but it was General Conference weekend and I'm still riding the spiritual high... like I said, this lady is a bit of a softy.

So hold tight for the next ride, I don't have plans to go anywhere. As Gail so eloquently states, "we find humor and camaraderie in each other" and let's make it for several more years to come.

I once was a baby that looked like a dude

But really, is that a face only a mother could love or what?
Also, isn't it fun to see that I started as a natural redhead? Perhaps the year I spent dark was taking it back to my roots.

Clear!

My family is still fairly young; that's what happens when you're on the front end of the birth order instead of the back. We only have one baby in our family--and she turned three last week. For her birthday last year, I wrote one of my more introspective pieces about change and time and life stages--all of which has proven to be true in the following year!

But this isn't a somber, "let's analyze life, love, and the pursuit of happiness" post. Nope, not at all. This post is actually a video post. I know, I know. I try not to post videos, but this one is only 17 seconds long. Taken a few days after Adrie was born; I promise, no babies were harmed in the filming of this video:



Okay, but here's the funny part. For the last three years, I've been getting comments about this video submitted by the oh so intelligent and well-written users of YouTube. Viewed 13,540+ times, people have got something to say about my shocking the baby that way. Don't I know babies can die from doing that?

So. I shall hereby publicly apologize to my niece Adrienne. I'm sorry if I almost gave you shaken baby syndrome. And thanks Alaina, for not kicking a hole in my *** because I'm your **** sister who ****** to your baby.

Happy birthday baby girl.

uno, dos, tres, catorce

Long story short, I've had the vertigo. Boy howdy, it's not something I'd wish on anyone. Like child birth (I imagine), until you've experienced it yourself, there's really no way to describe it. The chasm between sympathy and empathy has never been greater than on the vertigo front.

I had three episodes in five days; bookending the weekend. (Awesome timing btw.) The onset was from 0 to 100 in about 3 minutes flat, so I was lucky to have been at home for two of them and able to quickly get home in the case of the other. My friends have been so kind in their offers to help and their checking-in-ingness.

So what is vertigo? Some of you may only have reference to Lucille 2 from Arrested Development. Some of you could sing me the entire U2 song. Sadly; it's little of either of those things. Vertigo is a wild carnival ride you can't escape; the worst motion sick you've ever been multiplied by 100. The tiniest movement; the tilt of the head, a lift of a finger makes you long for sudden death. It's pretty rad, friends.

Yes, I've been to the doctor. The silver lining is I'm going to have my hearing checked! Next month I'll finally know if I have a crummy left ear, or if I've been making it up in my head all these years. Won't that be a fun game? Some of you are anxiously looking forward to gender-identification ultrasounds--in like fashion, I shall look forward to my own exploratory medical procedure. W00t! Who said the marrieds have all the medical fun?

So lil readers. I'm sorry I haven't updated in the past little while. I've been too busy laying in my bed wishing for my world to stop spinning. You see, I'm at a place called vertigo. And hey, I'm a celebrity! Get me out of here!

Gimme a {mental} break

Before I continue the parade of lurker interviews, I thought I'd drop in a quick brain dump. It's been awhile, and I've got these things skulking around in the crevices of my mind.

• Getting back on the "eat less, move more" wagon is such a pain. I swear I never crave Good 'n Plenties until I know I can't eat them.
  
• At work, we have all kinds of drinks, snacks, cheeses, fruits, chips, etc. My breakfast every morning last week was two Diet Cokes, a stick of colby jack cheese, and a rice krispy treat. Awesomely terrible. (See: getting back on the wagon.)
• I really want to learn how to make these:
  

• I guess I kind of want that outfit above too.
• Two years ago, we had an Education Conference with Elder Holland, one of the leaders of our Church. This year, Elder Ballard is the keynote speaker. I've invited a few of my friends from New York (met on the Labor Day NH trip!) and I'm looking to the weekend for a host of reasons!
• I think the bullet above may have the most links in the history of this blog. Another NatA! first!
• Last December while snowed in in Portland, Mallory and I got kind of addicted to Beyonce's Single Ladies video. If you're interested in seeing a very cute baby bop along to this video, click here. Said video will open in its own screen, and this is cuter than you'd think. I got a kick out of the one leg kick and the shoulder shuffle. How I wish I knew this baby.
• Who loved the Emmy's this year? Brilliant. Neil Patrick Harris is pretty much my favorite; and he was aces this year. Hardly anyone I wanted to win did, but hey! I've got bigger fish to fry.
• I cleaned out my three closets this weekend and have a Goodwill pile roughly 4'x2'x3'. I wish someone would come take it off my hands; it's just sitting in a nicely folded pile waiting for you to come pick through it!
• Crazy happenings at work of late. Some wins, some losses, but I'm feeling pretty good at what I do. Good thing since my life is funded by my career. And unless the cashiers at Target are making more money than they used to, a career change isn't in the near future.
• Fresca + a splash of cranberry juice = the new best thing ever.
  
• I changed the knobs on my closet doors and felt like a real DIY-type person. It doesn't take much. Face plates are next!
• Also making feel adult-ish? Getting advice on what kind of investment options I have for the savings I'm squirreling away. Hello middle-aged, nice to meet you.
• I'm quasi obsessed with Jay-Z's latest two songs: "Run This Town" and "Empire State of Mind." I'm infatuated with NYC, so the latter of these songs makes me want to live in the City all over again.

That's all folks. And now back to your regularly scheduled lives.

Interview with a lurker

In three and a half years of blogging, one of my consistent themes has been my fascination with blog lurking. Everyone does it, right? --use the world wide web to skulk around in someone's not-so-private private life. Lurkers are passive, but typically avid, readers. They don't comment or participate in viral dialogue, but they're there. Creeping along. Like creepers do. Poll results show that 20% of my readership don't even know me! But give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free... all are welcome here.

So, cutting to the chase. Last month, when I asked someone to dare me to hurry up and write more blogs, a self-proclaimed lurker tore herself from the previously known sounds of silence and stepped to the the plate. I was, of course intrigued and asked "Moe" to reach out to me with her story.

In her own words:

So I feel like emailing you is taking de-lurking to a whole new level, but I think you'll appreciate the ridiculous nature of my "finding" your blog and continuing to read it. I used to work at an appallingly slow place of business and found myself with more free time on my hands than I knew what to do with. One day while chatting with my friend Amy I asked her what some of her favorite time-killing websites were. Her friend Amber had recently shown your blog to her and so she sent me the link. How this Amber character came about your blog I do not know but it took very little time for me to get hooked and I have been a faithful follower since that time. That time being...approximately February-ish of 2007. Good heavens.

Are you there Amy and Amber? It's me, Nat Attack. Are you still lurking around? I don't know any Amy's or Amber's, and have no idea how you discovered this pet project of mine, but I'm sure your stories are likewise fascinating. Random mcRandom.

The world is a small place. Moe and I most definitely don't know each other, but know mutual people--as discovered in a previous and heretofore withdrawn friends' blogs listing. Moe is originally from Oregon and had my sister photograph her darling son (oh the power of the blog!). And would you believe it? Moe and Alaina live across the street from each other in PG, Utah. We've since exchanged a handful of emails, and Moe is one fun gal. Oh that internet, bringing not just dead and needing to be genealogized people together.

And without prompting, Moe shares her favorite NatA! moment:

Since I have been reading for so long, I thought you might like to know which of your many posts was my favorite. I had to go back to check the date and post title to be sure: Fight or Flight (July 10, 2007). The story in and of itself was hilarious enough but the accompanying drawings were AMAZING. Tears may have been shed.

So there you have it folks. An interview with a lurker. There are at least eight more of you out there. Let's create a community. A community of recovering lurkers. Won't it be so fun?

**UPDATE: Stories from strangers are rolling in (including Amy herself!). Lurkers! Be brave. Join your comrades and submit your story to the email address in the comments section of this post. And if you'd rather the story stay just between us two, that's fine also. This is literally becoming the six degrees of separation...

ick-be-gone

Every time someone utters the word "ick" I share an internal giggle with myself. You see, in the Fall of 2000, my roommates and I found ourselves embroiled in a prank war with an apartment of boys in our ward. Save the time we poured liquid dish washing detergent in their dishwasher, most of the pranks involved food:

* A hair dryer blowing flour into a hallway vent from the lobby
* Watermelons ceremoniously chucked onto the kitchen floor
* Milk, sauerkraut, and eggs poured into the sunny patch underneath a kitchen window (that also served as an entry/exit to the apartment) etc.

You know how it goes. It's probably a miracle the dorms have held up as long as they have! All those newly independent pseudo-adults asserting themselves in ridiculously typical creative ways.

We'd all heard about the brownies you eat that make you pee blue. Everyone knows that prank, right? Well nine years ago it was still fairly new-ish. Knowing enough about how they were made (brownie mix + blue fish tank liquid), Aftin, Leslee* and I trucked ourselves down to the Walmart. To peruse the pet and aquarium supplies for the special sauce to put in our brownies. At 2am. (Because of course we're awake at 2am on a school night. We're free agents! We're adults!)

The elixir wasn't jumping out to us from the shelves. Asking the employees proved fruitless as the night crew's primary language wasn't exactly English. So we took a risk. We bought a blue liquid called "Ick-be-gone" from the fish aisle and smugly took ourselves home.

Needless to say, we ended up with the runs and several calls to Poison Control.

Moral of the story: If you think you're being clever, you're probably not. But your ick is probably gone.

*Hi ladies! Do either of you have photos from this? I know some existed... need to uncover.

Where I hang my hat

I don't know that I've ever explained my roommate situation. Linda and I were second-tier friends from the time I first arrived in Boston nearly three (wow!) years ago. We bumped up our commitment level one year and twenty days ago when we moved in together and created a home.

Without getting to sappy or ridiculously cheesy, Linda is probably the best roommate I've ever had. (Don't worry, I've told her in real, non-cyber life.) We share so many of the same ideas and upbringing and rarely disagree on things. Believe me, we both have strong opinions, but luckily they're rarely on the same thing; so we each take turns being the thought leader. Our standards for kitchen cleanliness are equal (read: clean) and we're both okay with the way the other person drives (read: more important than you think). She's in charge of getting the mail; I'm in charge of the DVR. We have a pretty great system worked out. Home is a safe place for both of us and we comment with quite some frequency how much we both enjoy being here.

I recognize I have some fun quirks that are probably annoying to everyone (including me) and I realized this last night as we were driving home from the ward campout in New Hampshire at 2:30am. You see, someone's (cough:cough) midnight moonlit canoe ride was sullied by a tip into the lake and a soaking wet torso and trunk. It being 35 degrees outside, the liklihood of sleep was looking grim so we decided to pack it up/pack it in [let me begin] and head home. During the 55-minute ride, Linda had to endure the cheesy music I played, the random signs I decided to read outloud, my damp feet on her dashboard heater and the general running commentary of whatever passed through my mind (no small feat as I'm sure you all know). I recognized I was being kind of ridiculous--and I'll try to blame it on the lateness of the hour and the fact I could.not.get.warm--but let's face it folks, this is just who I am. I had this surge of tenderness for this patient soul beside me and decided I would tell the world about it.

Now I just need testimony meeting to hurry up and roll around becaue boy do I looooooooove my roommate.

not so heavenly ham

Some would consider waking to the smell of simmering meat celestial. I can firmly attest however, it is most definitely in the terrestrial realm. In your head it sounds all well and good but in practicality just isn't what it's cracked up to be.

By a series of unfortunate events, a crock pot with a pork roast was started in our house at 9PM last night. The roast, marinated and bathing with three lovely onions, slow-cooked throughout the night. Surely its taste is heavenly, but the pungent aroma radiating from it all night was just too much to warrant undisturbed sleep. I woke several times to the meat's all-encompassing aroma; it's powers of attempted seduction created a rather sporadic sleep pattern.

This morning, post-shower, I climbed back into bed and draped my wet hair across my nose to block out the smell. It was just too, too much.

My roommate and I had this conversation today:

me: NO MORE MEAT AT NIGHT

1:50 PM Linda: yeah i know, sorry

me: it was cracking me up and grossing me out all at once

1:51 PM Linda: yeah, me too

me: it was SO STRONG

Linda: i woke up gagging actually

i've learned

Has anyone else experienced erratic sleep due to smell? What's the latest/earliest you've ever eaten pulled pork? When you get married do you ever start making wiser decisions?

cure to the monday blues

may you rest from your labors

This last weekend, I squared off against social anxiety and punched it clean in the face. As previously mentioned, I found myself on the receiving end of a 3-day adventure to a lakeside cabin in New Hampshire with a group out of NYC. Typically known as a planner 'round my own parts, it was a joy to ride the logistical coat tails of an activity--and a behemoth one at that.

Check it: 46 people (a dead even breakdown of gender) calling one tiny lakeside cabin home for three nights. One functioning bathroom. Three sets of bunk beds, four double beds, countless air mattresses, four tents, one shed loft and a hammock. There were people every.where. Everywhere. And somehow it worked. (It was probably the two port-o-potties we rented.)

I arrived in NH late late Friday night knowing two of the girls in attendance. Luckily for me, the entire group was a hodgepodge of people both new and veteran to NYC (I was the only non-Manhattanite), so everyone was in getting-to-know-you mode. Unbelievably, the getting-to-know-you started at 6:30 am on Saturday morning. Apparently that's what happens when you can't step foot without stepping on someone.

Saturday and Monday were nearly identical. The sunny days were spent lounging in chairs chit-chatting with new folks, eating from the copious amounts of food, or participating in any number of water activities. The house we were at boasted four kayaks, a canoe, several paddleboats, and a host of ski boat flavor: skiing, wakeboarding, tubing, etc.Probably my favorite memories from the trip involve our trips across the lake (once by canoe, once by half paddleboat, half swim) to the rope swing. A big group would make their way over (unintentionally--there were just so many of us!) and hang out; grading swings off the rope or jumps from the tree. Knowing my propensity for accidental personal injury, I designated myself photographer.

The Sunday we spent in NH was probably our most "different" of days. Unbelievably, nearly 30 of us were dressed (albeit not showered) and out the door by 9:10am to make a 10:00 church service a few towns over. We didn't quite outnumber the locals, but our numbers certainly made a difference in the branch. The fast and testimony meeting was interesting--always so when you're used to wards that are a) big and b) full of single people of similar age!

Once over, a few of us decided to head to Kennebunkport, Maine. (Linda, Meridith and I spent a weekend there in May. It wasn't blogged, because I was remiss in my duties back then.) We ate seafood, we overtook a small patch of grass to polish off some ice cream, we checked out the Bush's summer compound, and we rolled 18 deep everywhere we went. Our group attracted quite the number of stares. So many of us, dressed to our Sunday-nines, just wandering around this little tourist town. We were quite the sight.

We finally made our way back to the cabin. The evenings definitely had a strong hint of Fall to them; the weather was cold enough that we all jammed into the house and kept ourselves entertained. The groan-worthy activity of the trip that possibly turned into one of the funniest things ever, has to go to the Talent/No Talent show. Skits, songs, jokes, subject trivia, countries of the world recitation, laughing games, questionable story telling, etc.

Somehow, later in the evening, I mentioned buffalo kissing. Alaina and her friends talked and did it long ago; I brought it up wondering if I could convince anyone to give it a go, knowing full well it'd eventually get that far. (Confession: I've never given nor received a buffalo kiss.) To put it shortly, the giver of a buffalo kiss places their mouth over the nose of the receiver and blows air. The air travels up the nasal cavity and then out the receiver's mouth, resulting in a sound that sounds like a buffalo. The things people will do when it's bored and cold. This is the first of two kisses filmed--the second is longer, but the general shock and hilarity that results after the first experience is too funny to miss out on:

One of the other key highlights of the weekend was watching the BYU v. Oklahoma game. It probably wouldn't be much of a story had we watched at home; but get 20 BYU alum in a small NH town bar where you generally outnumbered the rest of the pub and hilarity kind of ensues. I could see the folks wracking their brains trying to figure out the geographic improbability of the whole situation. In fact, several approached us (at the end of the table) and asked how the heck it all worked out. Maybe they weren't used to seeing so many men give double high fives or folks get so worked up on Diet Coke?

All in all, the weekend was a major success. So many good, fun people in one place; bereft of the comforts of home and the connection of technology. I'll admit I felt a little reservation heading in (nerves will always be nerves) but am glad I keep pushing myself outside of that good old, warm, reliable, never-want-to-leave comfort zone. Sometimes you just have to go to New Hampshire.

Open, Shut Them

I've been thinking quite a bit about the idea of doors and windows lately. There's a Primary song called "Open, Shut Them" (give a little clap clap clap? no? am I making this up?) and I feel like I've been dancing around this tune most of the year.

This year, I've developed a routine. I'll head down a path I'm convinced will lead somewhere specific but will abruptly hit a massive roadblock that requires me to reroute my course. It's been frustrating, and at times I allowed my boots to fill with water. Lately however, my reflection on these points of frustration has allowed me to recognize the byways placed in my path as I'm forced to venture from that original destination I knew was going to lead somewhere. I've been able to strike off and forge a new path because windows are opening for me. Options are presenting themselves in ways I didn't originally foresee.

I consider this a pretty huge blessing in my life. It seems counter intuitive to feel like giant roadblocks are a blessing; and it is. Sometimes the windows that open aren't any better or more attractive than the doors that closed, and it takes faith to go to the window to even check it out. Despite that fact, I'm grateful for the realization that there's activity happening all around me all the time. I could dwell on the closing doors, and there are people who make a life habit of doing so, but I feel lucky that I choose to focus on the Open, Shut Them-ness of it all.

In January, I promised myself that 2009 was going to be my best year yet. Nearly three months sit between me and its close, but I feel I've made significant progress in myself this year. I've been let down by quite a few people, but I hope I've made up that share in my interactions with the people around me. I've made crucial decisions in several key areas, and I'm pleased with my ability to parse out what really matters long-term from what really bothers in the short-term. I've made good inroads into becoming a better version of me. I'm proud of that.

So come what may, I have key decisions to make in nearly every aspect of my life. One decision I'm sure of, however, has to do with a scripture I found in the Book of Mormon a few months ago:

"And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness." ~ 2 Nephi 5:27

It has to be a choice. And it's not an easy one by any means, but I feel prepared to keep finding the windows. After all, a house with all doors and no windows is lonely and dark indeed.

incestuous

happy labor day!

[stay tuned for more NH joy]

preparation for socialization

Through a series of invitations, I find myself queued to spend a long weekend at a lakeside cabin in New Hampshire with 48 folks from New York.

Through a series of offers to help, I find myself with a list a mile long of perishable goods to purchase at Costco and transport to the Lake. Solo. Because that's what I'll be. Alone. Sole Boston participant. I'm sure there will be stories to follow.

Are you bored enough to wonder what my list of Costco perishables to purchase contains? Hold on to your hats folks. And remember these are all polygamous-family-sized.

TO BUY... NAT
# item
2 Yoplait 18 count/ 6 oz each yogurt
1 Kraft singles cheese
2 potato salad
1 Hebrew National Hot dogs (32 pack)
32 hot dog buns
30 lbs Ground beef
3 3lbs sandwich meat
1 container of cookie dough
1 container of spread butter (country crock)
2 bags of ore ida fries
1 cream cheese
3 Hummus dip
8 tortilla chips
2 boxes of tomatoes (30)
2 sour cream
8 salad in a bag
4 lettuce
50 Hamburger buns
4 cupcake mix
1 canola oil
cupcake liners, pwdrd sugar, cinnamon, cream cheese
1 240 plastic cups
300 paper plates
500 napkins
eating utensils
more snack food
1 pancake mix

Because of my stocked kitchen, I'm also in charge of bringing cupcake tins, my hand mixer, griddle, waffle iron, knives, beach chairs, games, and anything else that may or may not fit into my baby sedan.

So the big discussion was on how much ground beef to buy for fifty people. We're grilling hamburgers one night and then doing taco salad/nachos the next. Complicated math equations were created in response to the elaborate word problem. Weigh in! Will 30lbs be enough? How many pounds will we be short/left over?

Did I mention I'm going on this trip with strangers? Ahhhhhhh. Let the nerves begin.

the $7.49 that changed my life

A CURE HAS BEEN FOUND! Beep beep boop bop bop boop hummm. A miracle! Wonder of wonders. Miracle! Miracle! A fifteen year mystery and quest for a solution found. HUzzah! Hooray! I have been healed!

Yes. I'm often prone to hyperbole. And prone means always. (See?) But I'm serious this time. A true cure. I have a whole new outlook on life, and it starts from the ground up.

Everyone has points on their body that don't operate on the highest level of performance. For me (and my mom, aunt, sisters, cousins, basically anyone with Wood blood in them), my heels are a point of major battle. Epic battle. Epic battle written about in every kind of epic war literature throughout the history of time. Epically tragic. To put it mildly, they crack. More or less an open sore from April to October with periods of brief respite in the winter. BUT IT'S ALL BEEN CHANGED.

Every cream, lotion, and dermatologist has previously been tested. Tried, tested, and failed. To put it mildly, I've given up the last few years. Until yesterday. One simple tip from a gal at the salon, one trip to the CVS, one lil $7.49 purchase and I'm a NEW WOMAN.

I recognize that 95.8% of my readers are women (men! identify yourselves or count yourself among the women) and wouldn't be too grossed out by my discovery, but I still have a level of modesty and decorum. No gruesome details here (find me another way. WINK.).

It's ridiculous how beside myself I am. BUT I'M JUST SO HAPPY. Come walk a mile in my shoes. It doesn't hurt any more.

Uppers

Dear Internet,

I had a rough 48 hours. Crummy for a host of reasons not even worth mentioning. And the good news is, I think the universe didn't want me to be unhappy any longer.

A few hours ago I received the sweetest text of my whole life from my lovely (and now married!) sister Kendall:

"I love you so much. I seriously think about you every day and how I could be more like you. Have a good day!"

I got home from work and was reminded of the sweetest post-it note of my whole life from my lovely (and now college freshman!) sister Mallory:

And then, I had the thought that's completely recaptured my good attitude. Nat, says the thought, Remember when you used to listen to Hairspray! all the time? Maybe it's time to resurrect the beat.

Woot. I'd forgotten how obsessed I was with Hairspray! It also brought back so many good memories. I saw Hairspray for the first time on Broadway with the SLC Holla House and then again with Julie last last Memorial Day. I'm now having a literal dance party with myself. But seriously, you should see my moves. I think I missed my calling in life.




So maybe I let the beat stop for a bit this weekend, but you'd better believe I won't any longer!

Take me out to the ballgame

Summer isn't summer in Boston until you get to see the Red Sox play. In a summer bogged down in torrential (and at times hurricane-al) rain, I somehow managed to be at Fenway Park the four most beautiful nights of the season. Lucky, lucky, lucky me. Click the image above to view in full-sized splendor. Or click on these to see my 2007 and 2008 trips to Fenway.

no touching: tender feelings and illegal activity

I think my next poll will attempt to gather the stats on the marital status of my dear readers. If I had to guess now, I'd wager 65/35 in favor of the marrieds, if not higher. Which is odd now that I think about it, since my daily 24/7 is surrounded by single people. But wow, this is neither here nor there. Have I ever actually started a blog on a tangent? A NatA! first? 665 posts in and I still have something new in me? I've impressed even myself.

I've had weddings on the brain in 2009. Clearly not my own, but two of the most important people in my life had weddings in back-to-back weekends, and I played a pretty major part in both. Hours were devoted on the phone to planning and support to both brides. WHO knew weddings were so much work? A: 65% of my readership, that's who.

Julie's destination Boston wedding gets the first heavy radio play--this post is going to be photo-heavy, apologies in advance. It's not often I have the opportunity to post pictures taken by a professional!

Ju left Boston one year ago to nab an MBA from BYU. In January, she met Greg and I knew from the get go that this was one to watch. Despite seeing Julie several times this year, I didn't meet Greg until they were staying at my house three days before the wedding. On the phone, Ju told me one of her biggest fears was that we wouldn't get along. Oh honey, no fret. This Greg is a keeper.


Seeing as my sister was the photographer, and I the unofficial MOH (shh. don't tell), I was put to work assisting the photographer. I like to think I was helpful, but I won't be quitting my day job any time soon. I think I distracted the Bride & Groom more than helped my sister. (Sorry Alaina!)
It wasn't my intention of turning this into a tribute post. But I guess your best friend only gets married once. I cried during my impromptu speech at the luncheon and am quite beside myself again now trying to accurately portray the relationship Julie and I have shared the last few years.

Regardless, here's my best attempt at describing our relationship.

Julie and I don't physically touch. Rarely, if ever. Not in greeting, not in farewell. Not in back-scratching during church or hair-playing while watching movies. It's never been an intentional thing, if anything the lack of touching is probably on me. We don't physically touch, it's true--but we don't need to. It's oh so cheesy to even say it outloud, but our brains and hearts touch in ways that would put physical contact to shame. One look or arch of an eyebrow communicates more than hundreds of words delivered by someone else. Our brains run at the same mental pace and make the same mental jumps--conversation flows at outrageous speed, and I just can't get enough.

The 2400 miles this last year hasn't destroyed our friendship, if anything it's strengthened it. Based on emotional support instead of social activity, our friendship has more than weathered the storm of distance. In fact, while traveling, we've checked in from Malaysia, Italy, Prague, Seattle, Hong Kong, and many a place in between. We spent Halloween and Christmas together--I told her it's probably a good thing she and Greg were getting married so people didn't think we were girlfriends!

Why wouldn't you want to be around someone who makes you laugh all the time?


Julie is smart and happy and beautiful and funny and generous and sensitive and positive and grounded. There isn't a person who doesn't want to be around her, she has an innate ability to make you feel like the very best version of you. This probably sounds like hero-worship, but I pretty much think Julie is the perfect person. It's about time someone snatched her up!

One last quick story (during a church talk, this is where you'd inwardly groan) -- While hugging Greg in the sealing room after the ceremony, he held me tight and promised me he'd take really great care of her. [Gosh, I wasn't crying until now.] I don't doubt that he will. Moved and a little taken aback, I hugged Julie(!) and unable to vocalize my true thoughts what this post is now doing, told her it was okay if her wedding day replaced the best day of our lives. She laughed and told me it was a draw, "I was more excited for that one but probably cried more for this one."

Then we went into the Brides' Room and shared a Diet Coke. (shh. don't tell.)

RALTs

I know one of the many perks of hitching your wagon to someone else's is the joy of registering and receiving gifts. Obviously, I haven't experienced that paramount moment yet; the wandering of the aisles with your paramour, wielding a scanner and picking china and a toilet seat cover. To be honest, I'm not too distraught about the registering that is. At this point in my life (26.75), I have a pretty comprehensive set of Real Adult Life Tools (RALTs) gathered in the last few years as a working woman.

A queen-size bed purchased my second day in the City? Check. A big flat screen TV courtesy of stimulating the economy? Check. A mickey mouse waffle iron, griddle, and food processor? Check. An industrial-sized Kitchenaid mixer purchased with Biggest Loser winnings? Check. Smaller ticket items culled from Target, IKEA, and the ever classy Christmas Tree Shops and AJ Wright? Check. I don't want for a whole lot folks, I recognize this. (But I'm alone you married people, don't get too envious.)

What has been missing in my life, and from our kitchen, is a decent knife. One. Decent. Knife. Sure, we have no less than eight non-stick cookie sheets, but trying to find a knife sharp enough to open a letter, let alone cut a watermelon? An epic tale of adventure and disappointment.

Cut to last night. There's a giant package waiting for me when I get home from dinner with the lovely Katie. Who doesn't love getting mail that's not a special credit card offer or Pier One Kids(?!) catalog? I have no idea what the special contents of this package could possibly contain.

Folks, this is what true love looks like:
As a "thank you" for my help with the wedding, Julie sent me a set of knives proportionally nicer than anything else I own. And a book celebrating what was until her wedding the greatest day of our lives. Um, who does that? Sending brilliantly thoughtful and expensive gifts two weeks after her own wedding? Amazing.

So. I've got knives to add to my RALT collection. Tonight, I shall try to find something to cut. And I should probably clarify that the cutting will not include me or any other personages.

Save a house and husband, I'm hard pressed to think of any RALTs not in my collection. Is that the new secular measure of a full and satisfying single life? Is it time for me to move on to the next step? And if/when it gets time for me to shack up with someone and register, what do you think I should register for? I'm thinking a lifetime supply of Skittles...

g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s

Having my photographer-extraordinaire sister Alaina in Boston was a boon on many levels. True, she came to shoot the destination nuptials of Julie&Greg, but some of us mostly me really benefited from her artful photographic skill.

Several days before the wedding we gathered for a pre-wedding Boston open house/family meet-n-greet dinner. Surrounded by the very best of my Boston family gathered together to celebrate such a happy occasion--I'm in love with this night.

Then, I saw the photos Alaina had been taking throughout the evening. Sure there are tons of the bride&groom and their families, but she'd also *caught quite a few shots that so beautifully reflect both that night and my overall feelings for this place I call home and the people who flesh out my East Coast family.

I think my eight, fourteen, and eighteen year old self would be pretty darn thrilled with how glamorous my life is now.

*The only staged photo is the upper-right "Saved by the Bell" or "Real World: 1996" class photo. Yes, we were trying to look cheesy, and mission accomplished!

Is it bad that...

• ... sometimes I'm excited to go to bed because there's a cold Coke waiting for me in the fridge when I wake up?
• ... I only started washing my face on a routine basis [read: ever] when I discovered wet wipes for adults pre-moistened face wash cloths?
• ... I print a receipt at the ATM even though I obsessively check my bank accounts online daily?
• ... last week at the grocery store, I caught a man rummaging through the trash next to the Redbox for receipts, and then gathering the high dollar items from those receipts and taking them to the service desk for cash and I didn't do anything except tell Linda?
• ... I check the mail and if there's nothing good or for me, I just leave it in the box?
• ... my internet super-sleuthing skills both amaze and terrify me?
• ... two and a half years later I still don't care?

But really Internet, most of the things on this list are pretty bad, there's no getting around it. But they're guiltily pleasurable enough to post, yah? Are there any here you're shocked by? Any you'd add to your own list?

Old dogs try new tricks

Tonight, I tried something new. Several new things actually. First, I decided that it's time to stop judging people who do things differently than I do (after all, no two people are not on fire), so I gave a few new things a go. Journey with me.

Primero. I just don't think I'm a fan of the forehead band. I want to be, because every time I try one on, I think it's kind of fun; but it just makes no sense. Granted, very little of fashion makes sense--and I count myself somewhat of a fashion risk-taker--but I have a hard time getting around the forehead band. To be fair some are better than others, but I felt kind of silly wearing this to Costco.
I am, however, pleased with the way I did my hair around the band. Put your hair in a loose pony-knob. The elastic should be on top of the knob. Roll it up and over the band and back down. Pin strays if necessary. I let some of my bangs loose, but could have rolled them up and over the band the other direction as well (in fact, did it when I got home and like it just as much). The good news in all of this is you can use the stretchy forehead bands to create the same look without the band crossing your forehead; just push it farther back. Super easy, people will compliment. Guaranteed.

Segundo. Tercero. Quatero. I wore brown flip-flops with a black ensemble. I shopped for frozen food at Costco. I got the hot dog combo instead of pizza. How do you people function? This is not a world I understand.

What other new things did I try this evening? Let's go ahead and add listening to commercials on the radio, not darting around in traffic, and deciding not to eat my standard box of Satan's Candies Good'nPlenties. How do you people function? This is not a world I understand.

The new me was a fun experiment in walking in someone else's shoes for awhile. And I may not have walked a mile--and there may have only been one set of footprints when the going got tough--but all in all, I'm glad for the old me. Maybe I will go get some Satan's Candies Good'nPlenties afterall.

It's not a tumor.

To those of you whom I a) haven't seen since Thursday, b) talked to on the phone since Thursday, or c) read my Twitter stream since Thursday, I've been baby-knock, knock, knocking on death's door.

Thursday morning I woke in Portland with a clogged head. Ears, nose, throat--the trifecta of summer head cold delight.

My bi-coastal flight on Friday stressed my ears; I was truly worried my eardrums were going to explode. Unable to pop them upon landing, my hearing was underwater for the next two days.

Saturday I was half-way into my swimming suit before that idea was tossed to sea. Back into bed where I spent the remainder of the day. May I present this travesty of a tweet:

Having only slept 4 hours the night before Sunday, I still managed to drag myself out of bed and to church for Sacrament Meeting. I sang two verses of a rather rousing opening hymn before the book was too heavy to hold up any longer. No more singing, no more book holding.

I'd had high hopes for Monday. Sadly, the cough, the running face, and the bass voice still wanted to hang around.

Okay, so Monday night, I hardly slept a wink. In fact, it was 6:45 am Tuesday morning before I even fell asleep. I just wasn't sleepy. Sleep wouldn't, couldn't come. I showered at 2:15am, took pills at 3:30am, and wrote an email to work at 5:06am.

Why? Well, a) I wasn't sleepy. And b) I was letting my overtaxed, overtired, overwhelmed brain create anxiety. You see, there's a symptom I haven't told you about. The hand tremors. Only at night, my right hand shakes. Sometimes, it spasms more than others, but enough that it's noticeable, and it freaked me out. That, paired with the control I've lost in my left hand:

Suddenly, everything made sense. I probably had a BRAIN TUMOR. Sleep? A possibility of the past as my mind raced in a hundred splintered directions. The only way I got the 90 minutes of sleep I did was to tell myself I'd see the doctor first first first thing in the morning.

Long story short. It's not a tumor. (Probably.) Hand tremors are a common side effect of antihistamines. My viral summer cold is working its way out the door. I'm not contagious, so it's okay for me to start coughing in your mouths again. Mostly, I can't wait until the man voice is gone. Wait, I take it back. I can't wait until the cankersores and swollen tastebuds are gone. (When it rains, it pours.)

Folks, this is what happens when you let an overtired mind wander and you watch too many medical shows on television.

But, the left still might have the palsy. Stay tuned.