Shark music.

Do you ever have a moment in your life that fits perfectly with nearly all of the suspenseful soundtracks made for that creepy movie you don't want to see again? Well, as Josh and I made our way to the top of a very steep hill, I kept hearing the high pitched violin music that comes on right before someone dies. After breaking four bones throughout my short life, I have come to familiarize myself with said feeling of suspense.
During our month off between Fall and Spring semesters we spent a lot of quality time with our families, doing worthwhile things. But for some reason, I kept having an itch to do something adrenaline pumping. Unfortunately, it wasn't until the weekend before school started that I finally was able to scratch that itch. Josh and I went to Sports Authority and bought a two person sledding tube with a weight limit of 250 lbs. We asked the sales person if it would pop with both of us on it, and she said if the thing popped, we would get a full refund. I think that was the selling point for Josh, because secretly, I think he was hoping for some tube-popping jumps. I was sold on the purchase the moment I realized there was a ferocious Yeti cartoon depicted on the front of our tube;)
We drove quite a way up Cedar Mountain before stopping at the coveted playground hill. And it was not until we began the long, but thrillingly fast descent down that we understood why the weight limit on our Yeti was meant to be so low. With our weight distributed unevenly, we always wound up going down backwards...which was, for the most part, all the more thrilling. At one point, we got going so fast that Josh had to plant his arms firmly into the already packed snow to keep us from running into a telephone pole.
The peak of our tubing experience came when we went as far up the hill as we dared go. Looking down from our precipice, I could hear the suspenseful shark music egging us on. We went faster than Chevy Chase on his Christmas vacation. That is, until we came to the 8 ft snow drift blocking us from flying into the road, jumped it, and came to a halt only when we reached the other side of the road. Miraculously, both of us landed on the tube (which didn't pop!) and managed to sustain no serious injuries. Yeah! The best part was that when a man from a pavilion witnessed the jump, he stood and cheered for us. And it was like our Yeti and us were the stars in a movie about tubing.

One More Semester Down!

One more semester down for each of us! Yes! We each received good grades and are so happy to be done...for a little bit. One more semester left for me to complete my five year Bachelor's; three more semesters for Josh to complete his (seven semesters counting his Master's). It would be an understatement if I said things are much more peaceful around here without deadlines to meet.
Josh and I are so pumped for Christmas this year. As soon as I finished my last final last Wednesday, we bought some glitter pens and stockings from Wal-Mart. An hour later,we hung them from the chimney with care- Josh's with many zazzy blue stars and mine with fairly dull cursive. Since people can't see our lights from the downstairs window we decided to get some jelly window stickers; Josh had to remind me several times not to eat them (they looked so tasty, like gummy candy). Later, we drove to Duck Creek on Cedar Mountain and began our Christmas tree quest. The sad thing is, about five minutes out of Josh's cozy truck as we waded in snow up to our thighs, both of us were turning blue in the face, wishing we had worn boots...and several layers of clothing. Rather than be picky about it, we chopped down the first tree that could fit in our basement. To our dismay, when we came home and set the thing up, we found that our tree was a Charlie Brown tree with spindly branches and bald spots galore. Luckily it can hold up Christmas lights, and that is all that really matters since we will not invest in decorations until next year. The best part about our Charlie tree is that it is like adding a member to our family. Josh will laugh and say, "It's such an ugly little guy." And I will shush him and reassure our Charlie tree that Josh didn't mean it.
P.S. A big thanks to all who have said prayers for me during my time of struggle. They were really felt as I tried to make it through finals while in a lot of pain and I have great confidence the surgery (tomorrow) will go smoothly. I love my family so much!

Autumn Times

After the past couple of dreary posts, I have decided a more up-beat post is in order. We each deliberated over the hundreds of pumpkins outside of Wal-Mart (yes, Dad, Wal-Mart), before choosing a short, plump one for me and a tall, skinny one for Josh. These pumpkins are going to be carved and then smashed in the street. Well, at least I plan on smashing mine in the street; Josh would like to responsibly throw his into a trash receptacle;) Last weekend we went for a drive up Cedar Mountain and reveled in the beautiful fall leaves before church. When we got home, I was feeling oddly ambitious and made a fat filled pumpkin roll, and even more odd than my ambition to cook the thing, was the fact that it turned out okay; strange as it may seem, by neglecting my wifely duties to cook, I think(?) I am developing a desire to improve.
Yes, it is autumn and even though Josh and I both have allergies to the cold, the nip in the air means we are so much closer to the end of the semester, the beginning of Christmas and Thanksgiving (not necessarily in that order). We are so excited to spend a little bit of down time with our families and get caught up on the home cooking we have missed so badly. Now if I can just figure out how to incorporate pumpkin into nearly every meal until said time, we will survive.

Pirates and students say, "Argh!"

We had hamburgers for dinner tonight. While we ate we said, "Argh!" with all the ferociousness of pirates pillaging beef. I would like to blame the fact that it is Monday for our vengeful series of "arghs" but I think these symptoms are the results of hospital junk.
Last week I was incapacitated after severe pains/cramps throughout my abdomen. Josh took me to the Emergency Room early Tuesday morning and after twelve hours of having an IV stuck in my arm, blood samples, pee samples, and an ultra sound, the doctor discovered that I have ovarian cysts (the biggest one is an inch) and a severe uterine tract infection. Joshua waited on me like I was near death's doorstep, which was about the sweetest thing he has done in our four plus years of knowing each other. (Although the time he mopped for me while I was working at Arby's is a close second.) Ultimately, I am okay now.
BUT these are the gruesome facts of our situation. We are part of the massive population of students without health insurance (because we are supposed to be as healthy as horses and twice as strong). Poor Josh missed two mornings of Spanish because he was so exhausted, leaving him the dust for his upcoming test. I was on drugs for the majority of last week, leaving me with a platter of fresh served make-up work and a serious craving for extra credit. If people didn't know better, they might think we are good-for-nothing pirates! Argh.
This story has a happy ending. We are filing student health plan papers, Josh will do amazing on his test because he is smart like that, and I don't have to worry about scholarships for next year because...I will finally be done with this joint called SUU.

Can you die of being tired?

If there are misspelled words, utter nonsense, or any kind of emotional outbursts in this post, it is because I am inexplicably, incredibly, no-joking-about-it exhausted. If Josh were writing this, it would be that same kind of tired except doubled.
On average we both have been getting around five hours of sleep a night since school/work picked up. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but I think we have reached the point where, if we could stop and sleep, we wouldn't because we are too sleepy to sleep. Does this make sense? It just occurred to me that it will only get worse when we decide to have a baby. Gasp.
One of these too crazy tired to sleep nights happened last night. I was examining my toes, going cross eyed with the effort and lack of shut eye, when I asked Josh, "Could someone die of tiredness?" (Long pause while I feel my sleep devil prodding me awake with his pitch fork.) Josh went into a deep, sleepless stupor considering my question. I continued, "I mean, could your organs just get so tired they would cease to function? Would your heart and brain want a break so badly they would just take one without your permission?"
After we walked around Wal-Mart at midnight looking for a specific brand of granola bars for my nutrition class, Josh came to the sound conclusion that someone would pass out before their body would stop working.
I think I like this conclusion as much as he does. I think we are going to try and get some sleep...another night...maybe...if possible (please?).

The Plunger Incident

Note: This is a story of neuroticness on both parts of husband and wife.
Josh and I love our little apartment. Not only does it have more storage shelves than any other squishy apartments I have seen, but it has an arched doorway. (I still geek out about that part.) It is in the basement of an old house, and has been recently (we think) remodeled. However, in all of the painting and carpet shampooing, the landlord must not have used the toilet. Had he used the toilet, he would have noticed a serious discrepancy between the flushing mechanism and the feces actually going down. So our toilet does not work sometimes. I am saying this so that anyone who reads this does not wonder about our health conditions.
Anyway, about a week after being married, I saw the plunger sitting patiently next to our bathroom drain. Confession: I have a germ-phobia of sorts. Don't touch public restrooms without a paper towel- that sort of thing. When I saw the potentially feces coated plunger in the very same place where I wash, I demanded an explanation from Josh. Slightly taken aback at my sudden burst of hostility, he simply said that his father had taught him to put the plunger in the tub after using it to prevent it from drying on the wooden cabinet surface under the bathroom sink, causing a stench. After a good fifteen minutes of my disgust, and his calm reassurance that I would not be touching the place where the plunger dried in the tub (it being right next to the drain), we came to a somewhat shakey compromise.
We would buy a gallon of ice cream, and once the ice cream was gone, we would use it for the plunger, thus avoiding both the stench from contaminated wood, and my developing an ulcer over the germs touching my epidermis. This was supposed to be the end of our debate. BUT as things go, it happened again...with slight variations.
This time I heard the tub running at an odd time of day. I opened the bathroom door to find Josh rinsing the plunger off under the running tub water. Nearly gagging, I left the scene of the crime. According to Josh, he was complying to my conditions. The plunger was not drying in the tub. It was only being rinsed off in the tub. He had a valid point. The discussion is still up in the air to this day, but I did learn two very valuable lessons:
1. Little compromises are wonderful. We both felt like we had accomplished something small, but good, with the ice cream bucket solution.
2. Most likely, there is an explanation.

School Days

Kind of funny how things work out. I just get used to having someone next to me in bed and now I am supposed to get used to going to sleep without him. Thus, I am writing this rather than failing again at sleep.
Well, we had both better get used to this schedule as it is the one we will be living for the next two semesters. Our days have gone something like this: I wake up (?) at five and go to work at six. Josh rolls out of bed and then goes to his morning job at seven until his classes start at nine. We both work/go to classes until four and then spend two hours together before Josh goes to his night job at six-thirty and I study/go to bed. We are both taking fourteen credit hours of intense classes (since both of us are finished with our General Ed. requirements). We both agree that Spanish is the pits- the fly on the watermelon- the calories in the chocolate- the stain on the favorite shirt- the- you get the idea. Unfortunately, sixteen language credits are required for my B.A. I don't have much sympathy for Josh as he is being masochistic and taking this torturous class of his own free will and choice. Thankfully we are taking an institute class together on Tuesdays/Thursdays called "The Gospel and the Productive Life". So far it is a very applicable class with new spins on old ideas.
I was recently called as the Relief Society secretary. It is an exciting calling (yes, I am serious). Josh and I are both thinking something is going to have to go or we will both go crazy with my three jobs and Josh's two.
Anyway, this is not a whining post. We have been very blessed with FAFSA this year and Josh's scholarships. It literally pays to be a married student;-) Hopefully we will be able to take care of my student loans with the extra money. Go figure. Josh brought his brains into this relationship and scholarships and I brought debt and more laundry than is humanly decent.
If you should be wondering how this picture of my old roomie and I clinging to a bridge is applicable to this post, it is the beginning of the semester. Enough said.