It's not the Gilbert Arizona Mission

  

Were you aware that the last time this bad boy (El Misti) erupted was  between the years1438 and 1471? Accordingly it has been declared inactive by Wikipedia (a website you can trust). Pretty though...
Oh yea did I mention that this is where I am serving my mission? No, not in the volcano, just the volcanic people surrounding it. Or maybe they're a rather docile bunch- I don't know because I've never met them. According to a family friend from this country the city in question is a lot like Scotdale in wealth and heart and the people of the surrounding areas are Indians, but not India Indians- American Indians. I've never been to Scotdale. as far as I'm aware of so I can't make a comparison.
Oh P.S., this is Arequipa Peru and it's where I will be serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (with my primary responsibility to be the mission nurse specialist)  starting Sept. 5.
Understandably (at least I understand) I'm rather overwhelmed with excitement and joy.
But I'm not going to get into the mushy details in this post:
To all my faithful blog followers (all 5 of you) I'm be sharing more emotion detail in the next post
To all you facebook visitors- thanks for flying and have a safe trip home.

Why did mom run away?

Lately I've been hearing a radical idea spread around that mothers should take a day off every now and again. Let me put everything straight for you: moms may need some time off but we should never give it to them. Never ever let your mother leave the house without you. We children run a muck on our own. Just because I'm 21 doesn't mean I can take care of myself... and my brothers.... and my dad. These people require a professional. I haven't even reached the amateur level- I'm just an apprentice! I can't run a home on my own, I can't even make reasonable decisions without executive guidance.
So, my mom took a week off to travel up to Montana so she could help her parents out. What? Trust me they are all grown up, they're fine- I need you! But she left anyways. During this critical time I received a job offer for a home health agency that works with disabled kids. Accepted- this job was perfect for me. Great way to spend my time before the old mission. Training was an hour and a half away in Northern Phoenix, but that was no big deal. I only got lost one time before I got there! Training went great. I headed back to my car, but as I going I realized I locked my keys in the car... again. So my dad drove out during rush hour and brought the keys. When we got home I walked into the house (late and having missed my institute class again) where the aroma of orange blossoms mingled with the stench of my burnt slow cooker chili. I found an email for another job offer as a nanny. It looked suspicious but I didn't want to go back training in northern Phoenix. So I quit respectable job one for fishy job two.
And it's a good thing I did! On the day I was supposed be at training I was cleaning the kitchen when I walked passed the laundry room. I glanced a something on the ground that resembled large wheat grain. On closer inspection I realized they were moving. They were super sized maggots. ALL OVER THE LAUNDRY FLOOR, creeping into the kitchen, crawling around the sewing room and eeking their way into the bathroom. And there was me. I stared at them, they crawled around. I wondered what to do, they multiplied. I tried to find maggot killer, they moved their furniture in. Then my mom called.
She asked "why aren't you at training?"
"Because I took that job you told me not to take, but I've got bigger problems right now. Listen- there is an invasion of  these alien worms in the laundry room and I don't know what to do about them"
"Oh dear, get the vacuum and hose them up"
Genius. I love that lady.
I think they grow out of the walls. I spent three hours vacuuming them up. Then I pulled everything out, smoked our stuff in the sun, and Cloroxed the floors. I am so glad I was home that day.
Eventually my mom came home so the boys and I decided it was ok to breath again.
So I started a long correspondence with my new employer. Allegedly he was a man named Mr. Gruny from Scotland who was moving to America to work on a project for the Witness Protection. I told him that I didn't live in the area (he said he was moving to Phoenix), I lived in Gilbert. So he said he was moving to Gilbert and he was sending a check. Part of it I was supposed to deduct for my pay the other part I was to pay to Western Union. Did I mention he had horrible grammar? The check came in an envelope without a return address. And it was NOT from Scotland. The addresses on the check made that clear. No worries I didn't cash the check. I work for Kumen learning center now. It's a very respectable establishment. I grade papers and tutor kids. Yes, I've been duped- but I haven't been beat. Who has the last laugh now Mr. Gruny? Me that's who because I did get a job and your check is still waiting for a home. Ha!
Ok, so I was really stupid about that, but if my mom had stayed home none of this would have happened!
I'll let you know when I get my mission call.

Eat my Sterile Dust NCLEX

Really big news. I passed my NCLEX exam. Some reading this blog may say to themselves- I knew you would. May I remind you: you had no idea!
I suppose we all have gone through stressful events where we wondered whether we would make it through and our kind friends confidently assured us of their faith in our capacity. We are always so grateful for their positive vibes but I would submit that we are also feeling the pressure to succeed build with each well meant reassurance that we would.
Each time someone said: "I know you'll succeed, you always do" or " everyone passes", "it's so easy", and so forth you quietly imagined the shame you would feel if you didn't succeed. Does anyone else feel this way?
Never mind that, I did pass- and I know why. Divine intervention, I am very grateful for my Heavenly Father's help. I know I would have never have made it through school at all without His help. It was so hard for me, and I know I needed heavenly help which I was graciously given.
So you may be wondering, what's next Novice? Well I'll tell you-
As of late I've been working on my mission papers. It's very exciting. Of course I'm feeling some wonderful emotions on the subjects, but I have no intention on going into detail on the subject on a webpage. I'll let you know when I get my call. 
So on to other news. There is one event that has had a big impact my life, though I am loath to share it. Nevertheless, I know that my readers are dear friends- loyal comrades- who deserve know what's occurring in my timeline. After all, if your going to take the time to read I might as well give you something to scan.
My tale begins simply enough- I went to hike Prealta Trails with my Young Single Adults ward. It is important to note that although I had no desire to drive, there was little choice in the matter as I was charged with bringing the snacks. I loaded Skippy with snacks and YSA's, and headed out. The hike was pleasant enough. The day was beautiful, the desert gorgeous, the YSA (bless their hearts) friendly and genuine. Personally I think everything went off rather nicely. Look at me standing on this rock, don't I look happy?

Well I was happy. When the hike was over we loaded ourselves back into Skippy ready to head back home and share our little adventures with friends and family. Oh, it might have been such a nice day. Poor Skippy.
As I was driving down a dirt road I went too fast round a turn, hit my brakes, lost control of the car, over corrected, hit the side of the bank, over correct again, hit the other side of the bank, then stopped. No one was hurt- thankfully- except pobre Skippy and my inner vessel. I was, and am, mortified by what I had done, how I put the lives of others in danger through my carelessness. How could I be so stupid?!?!
Everyone was very kind and helpful. I would like to publicly thank Seth, Fezzik, Steven, Jeremy, and Brian for fixing my tire, driving my car to the main road and  giving me advise. Greatly appreciated.
After they got me to an elementary school parking lot a tow truck picked me up. The driver was a really nice guy and we had a pretty deep conversation about death. If I hadn't been so rattled up by my own close encounter with death I might have been better apt have the discourse, but I think we got on well despite it.
That's that. Other things have been happening around me but I haven't the heart to write about them. Relating the woeful account of my car accident has taken all the spunk out of me. I've got no heart to spring anything else on you. Hopefully next time my adventures will only be mildly embarrassing.

Valentines Days? big deal. Happy Birthday Arizona- my one true love

Take a look at this photo:

and this one:

you gotta appreciate this one:

just one more:

People, this is where I get to live and it is gorgeous. Today I just want to first spit on Valentines Day (not spitefully mind you, just to make a statement) and second say I love you Arizona. You are the life blood of me.
On the subject of Arizona I decided with my long time pal Ashley Zollinger, to make it a special goal/project/adventure to explore Arizona. A few weeks ago we set out on our first quest. It was a modest first adventure- we went to Apacheland Days which was being held at the Substitution Mountains Museum. I was driving, so naturally we got lost twice before reaching our destination. You can hardly imagine our anticipation. You may also be surprised by how thoroughly we enjoyed ourselves- for truly, Apacheland Days main attraction seems to be the booths where Native Americans sold their jewelry and other wares. Fortunelty we were not to be deterred from our plan of enjoying ourselves. We gathered a plethora of information about varying Indian cultures from the vendors. They also had a band playing made up of elderly gentlemen cowboys playing elderly cowboy songs. Lovable.
The museum was pretty fun to see too. We didn't go inside the museum but there was a lot of stuff on the outside. Giant ore grinder, Sheriff's office, Wells Fargo office, and (this is the topper) the Elvis Memorial Chapel. Take a look:

That chapel seems to me to be desecrated.  At one time this chapel was built by faithful men and women intent on finding their fortunes out west and serving God. Now it functions as a shrine to a man that really knew how to shake it- shameful. But that's life, and what can I do about? Only this: take a picture

This was also taken in the chapel- the once windows now house photos of famous western actors who shot scenes in the Superstition Mountains. This is Micheal Dante. I have no idea who he is but I am determined to see one of his movies. After all, I do have a picture with him.
Ashley really did come with me but we don't have any pictures together so these pictures will look like one girl spending the day alone in a crowd of Native American Vendors and patrons who wish they were Indians.


I am so glad we went to that.
I favorite part was the Drum Circle. I cannot describe it. If you want to experience it follow the link. Be warned I only watched clips of it myself so I can't vouch for its cleanliness.
So what will be the next adventure? I don't know. But I intend to something... bigger.
P.S. not all of you may know this but Skippy (my HHR) once upon a time had a Decal that said "Denver Broncos" with a lovely backwards 'R'  on the 'Broncos' part (thanks again for my 'R' John). 'Tis no more. Vasa (out of the goodness of his heart) wash my car this weekend. He used the power washer... on the Decal. The remains of my Decal are splattered along the driveway. However the "R" remains- a true blessing.
Sweet Vasa.

Profanity at the Pulpit

"Men must quit swearing"
                            -President Brigham Young
Sunday I presented to my singles ward, a talk on the Book of Mormon. Sweatin' it at the pulpit brought to mind another fond memory I have involving a microphone and a dedicated building- namely the very last time I bore my testimony in the BYU-I 12th ward 2nd stake. Truly a moment that ought not to be trusted quivering, wavering memory alone- but footnotes in the pages of history!
As I said early: this was to be the very last time I would ever call upon the Hinkley Building microphone to grace my ward with quotable words of profound depth. I was graduating.
For any of my readers unfamiliar with BYU-I traditions (aka nobody- that would entail I had readers) the last fast Sunday of the month graduating students alleviate their guilty conscious' by finally bearing their testimony. This last testimony makes up for all the fast Sundays they shirked the pulpit. Not me,I had borne my testimony 2 months before. I was not due for another long walk through the aisles for some time. Yet without my permission my psychotic feet dragged me to the stand where my unruly tongue defiled that sacred overflow/gym/chapel.
Here is exactly what I said:
"Hello everyone blah, blah, blah... I know I already bore my testimony this semester, but I am graduating, so I figured, what the hey- I'll say it again..."
I continued to bear my sweet testimony but the rest of the room was unnaturally silent. I was noticing a lot of gasping and dropped jaws. Then Bishop Forebush busted up. His laughter was permission for the rest of the room to giggle and whisper. I was completely oblivious to the joke. When I sat down (looking rather rather perky, content and naive) my roommate informed me that although she knew I didn't say it everyone in the room was under the impression I had exclaimed "what the hell!" at the pulpit when I had really said "hey, I'll".
So now I hunch over in a fit of hysterics while everyone within viewing distance stares me down.
After sacrament I gave my tithing to the Bishop who informed me my testimony really woke everyone up (particularly Brother Brown who looked a lot like he was snoozing before hand). I apologized and told him what had actually happened. He really thought I had blasphemed, not that it bothered him. He had told the member of over Stake Presidency who was setting next to him "She's quite a character." The reply was "I can tell!".
Brother Curbs told me that he had someone ask him if I was raised on a ranch. The next night Bishop told me he woke up in the middle of the night laughing about it.
When they came to deliver oranges and wish our apartment good luck with finals they used the phrase "hey I'll" to an excessive degree.
I'm really glad they'll have something to remember me by.

The Story of the Three Little Roommates and the Big Bad Feline

    Once upon a time in a iceberg land marked  Rexburg there lived 6 little roommates. One Sabbath night when only three of the roomies were home they heard a voice at the door purr "little girls, little girls let me come in". The roomies promptly replied in unison "not by the hair of pale skinny legs". So the mysterious voice jumped on the window sill. It turned out to be a calico mini monster. It shivered and meowed pathetically "oh please let me come in, I'm afraid that my chattering will cause your house to tumble in! I've already shuck up a straw house and stick house. I'd hate to make your establishment to come in too!"
So although the roomies knew the small underfed terror wouldn't be able to make the bricks on their apartment quiver, they decided to open their homes and hearts to the demolisher. She quickly scurried in. Suddenly the roomies realized this spastic act of generosity could cost them their endorsements at BYU-I . They thought to themselves: "Well, I've made better decisions in my life." After making that mistake they decide to make another by naming her.
As Willemenia perused the apartment, the 3 culprits pondered how to get themselves out of their predicament. They tried kicking her back out into the snow when they went to a church meeting. Unfortunately the girls had very tender hearts and it hurt them to see her in the cold.  So the opened their neighbor's and let her in.
When they returned home they found their charge waiting for them outside their door.
The let they fur ball stay the night. Then as 2 of the roomies went to sleep the other decided to make their third mistake and feed it. When they were all three snugly under their covers Willemenia made her rounds to their beds were she made sure to keep them up for at least an hour or two. The last victim was to kind-hearted to evict the unwanted bed companion so decided to wake up every 10 minutes and fuss about the cuddlier whom she worried would roll over and suffocate.
When her alarm went off the mooch decide to get up to and follow her around the bathroom and kitchen, meowing and begging for food. The irritated guilt ridden girl shared her breakfast with Willemenia then hurried off to school to fret about the cat and her own possible eviction from Rexburg. She came home ready to vanquish that havoc to the pound. Much to her relief the 4th roommate informed her that she would be taking Willemenia home with her over Thanksgiving break and leaving her there. The roommates rejoiced over their fate and the cats destiny. And they all lived after.
The moral of this story: never let a cat in the house or they will eat up your food storage, thereby dooming you for the apocalypse, and will curse you with insomnia.Only allow foam mouth dogs in. They are safe.

Defeating the Hamburger

It was a cold and snowy day. I could feel the icy air traveling down my trachea weaving its way to my heart where icicles were already forming. My cold heart was fettered to its path while the rest of my body begged I relent from this foolish endeavor. "Turn back while there's still time!" my mind warned; "spare me, I cannot bare the load!" my GI tract pleaded; "have pity on those who have worked tirelessly in your service, use us to walk another path- don't make us take another step in this direction!" was the haunting of my feet.
Still I pressed on. Against all logic I called upon the strength of my unwilling arms to push the doors open. I stepped in. The smell of frying atheromatous plaque reminded me that this was exactly the place I should not be. I sat down. I placed my order. I waited. Pictures of past fools were hanging on the wall of fame to my right. "The 1 Pound Challenge", "The 2 Pound Challenge", "The 3 Pound Challenge" it read all the way up to 6 pounds. I was already sick.
But what could I do? To turn back on was cowardly- I could not. What was taking them so long to bring me my fate? Then it came:
The hamburger, stared up at me mockingly. There was only one way to wipe that smug smile off it's taunting face: eat it. So with great bravado I hid my intimidation and bit in. One bit was followed by a second until it was the burger that wore the look of fear. But words are meaningless to describe such a battle. See the highlights yourself:
 I ate a ¾
 ½ gone
 Indeed, it was barbaric.
1/4 is all that remains
 Vanquished
I won. My body hates me. I go to the gym and run 6 miles. My body labels me repugnant to its sense of wholesome decorum. The end result: I vow to never again to embark on the quest of fools. What are they trying to prove by eating more then we’re given natural capability? Does it prove valor, courage, or tenacity? No it proves you’re a monster. A fiend of the fast food chain. Big Judd’s has conquered me- I am now on their wall of shame, but I can promise this: that is the last time I will take on such a dare.