Holy quick trip Batman!!!
Time in Montana: 32 hours
Entire round trip: PDX-Hamilton = 40 hours
The bride and groom (duh) in front of their getaway car.
Two nerds about to enter the reception.
Monday, June 30
Friday, June 27
Fight Club
Last Friday night I went to a MMA thing. What? You mean you don't know what that is? Oh my gosh, you are so not cool. For your information, MMA stands for Mixed Martial Arts. And it's a thing because I don't know if it was a match or fight or event. And let's be honest with ourselves, does it really matter and do I care. OK, that's a bit harsh. I do care solely because someone I care about, cares about it. So basically, here's what went down. Guys beat each other up all night. MMA, I didn't see. OK, so I have no clue what a MMA move would look like, so it's quite possible that I did see some MMA but I still don't think I did.
I did see a lot of blood. We were in the 3rd row so ideally I would have come prepared, the way people in the 80s prepared for a Gallagher concert. Seriously, the blood. It was out of control. I felt like I was at a Red Cross blood drive. People were just giving it away. The most common place it was donated from was the nose. No, no, it was above the eye. It actually might have been the cheek. Actually, I don't even know because it was just coming out everywhere. It didn't gross me out (which is good, being a nursing student) but I wanted to run up there, apply pressure and stitch everyone up.
I think the greatest part of the evening was when the fighters were introduced by the announcer and strutted down the walkway toward the ring. What made this so great? Each dude had their own walk (strut, if you will) and most seemed to have water in their ears because they shook their head from side to side coming down the walk. They also must have just finished rock climbing because they were shaking their arms out. Hey, reality check. You're in Portland, Oregon with a couple thousand people cheering. Oh, and let's not forget the entourages. You know, you've seen the show. The guys who really can't survive in the work world and are constantly telling the fighters how awesome they are and how rad they look and how they're going to pummel the snot out of the guy in the blue corner. Most of these guys were short. Just my observation.
And now let's discuss who I was sitting around (with a few exceptions). (Disclaimer: these are simply my observations.)
I was perhaps the only natural blonde. I had perhaps the only silicone-free chest. I had perhaps the only lower back not tatooed with butterflies, asian writing or flowers. I was sober, but I'm sure a lot of them were sober also. It's just most of the time, I couldn't tell. I had a hunch I probably wasn't the target demographic for this event by simply walking through the Rose Garden lobby. I was a girl in a khaki shorts & a white sleeveless blouse. Clearly, in the minority. Clearly, I did not know I would be attending this romp when I dressed that morning. I had actually dressed for a church celebration.
Would I go back? Probably not. Am I glad I went? Yes, now that it's over. I was cultured, expanded my horizons and as the saying goes, you gotta try everything at least once, right? Right! Even MMA.
And now let's discuss who I was sitting around (with a few exceptions). (Disclaimer: these are simply my observations.)
I was perhaps the only natural blonde. I had perhaps the only silicone-free chest. I had perhaps the only lower back not tatooed with butterflies, asian writing or flowers. I was sober, but I'm sure a lot of them were sober also. It's just most of the time, I couldn't tell. I had a hunch I probably wasn't the target demographic for this event by simply walking through the Rose Garden lobby. I was a girl in a khaki shorts & a white sleeveless blouse. Clearly, in the minority. Clearly, I did not know I would be attending this romp when I dressed that morning. I had actually dressed for a church celebration.
Would I go back? Probably not. Am I glad I went? Yes, now that it's over. I was cultured, expanded my horizons and as the saying goes, you gotta try everything at least once, right? Right! Even MMA.
Thursday, June 26
Long Live the. . .
Several years ago, I was telling a friend (OK, many years ago because I don't even remember what friend I am referencing and it's quite possible they are no longer my friend) that I had to go to a dentist to get a crown. "That just means you're a princess!" they replied. Alright! I like that kind of thinking! (Actually, I hope this person is still my friend because I like that kind of optimism and silver-lining thinking.)
Well, 2 days ago I was dethroned, if you will. There I was, reading away like a good nursing student, getting ready for the first day of class, and chomping on some gum like the gum addict I am. I had started chewing when I felt something hard in my piece of gum. "Well that's odd", I thought. "Maybe the gum didn't get cooked/baked/made correctly because I can't get this one part to be squishy." So I kept chomping and chomping, still the whole thing wasn't chewy. I wanted to see what hard, unchewed gum looked like, so I pulled it out, moved it around in my fingers and saw that it was GOLD. I can't type my immediate thoughts because my grandparents read this on occasion, so assume it's a word or series of words I would never say in front of my grandparents. (I'll let you be the judge of which words they actually were.)
So I spent an entire day with half a tooth in my mouth and half a "tooth" in a plastic ziplock on my bathroom counter. I had to only chew on my right side (I don't believe I've ever done that), keep my tongue from drifting over to touch the half-tooth (gross!) and be petrified that a nerve would suddenly become exposed and send me into orbit if anything got near it. (I don't care how much I learn about anatomy, my imagination will probably always be bigger and more rediculous.)
But the best part of this entire experience was going to the dentist and having him chip away the old cement on the half-tooth and then some. There's apparently decay still going on, so he drilled and picked and chipped some of my half-tooth off. By the way, that's not fun, nor does it feel good.
But my crown was cemented back on which means I am, once again, a princess. Which is great because I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I probably will not marry Prince William.
Saturday, June 21
My Best Friend's Wedding
I am now officially ready to head off and perform the duty of MOH at my best friend's wedding. I've got the dress, shoes that will kicked off promptly after walking back down the aisle, camera with fresh batteries, hotel reservations for the city of Hamilton (yes, we are big enough to appear on a map dang it!) and Missoula (yes, we are big enough for an international airport dang it!), flask for reception, a car with 125 free miles to get me everywhere, pedicure (perhaps the most important item), plane ticket to get me shuttle me around the northwest (did you know Horizon serves free beverages?! this is great news!) and my sense of adventure (I'll be calling on this shortly after I begin driving in the dark through rural Montana. Was that a cougar I just saw? Nope, just a big apple tree.)
HAMILTON, MONTANA OR BUST!!! WOO-HOO!!!
Monday, June 16
Sunday, June 15
Freaked out
Have you ever been freaked out about something? I don't mean nervous or scared but totally and completely petrified out of your mind thinking about something that you will have to do. There's no way out. No going back. Go straight for nerve jail. No passing Go and no collecting $200. How do you deal with it? Well, I'll tell you how I dealt with it: yes, crying, duh. But also gritting my teeth through the tears and, in the words of my former employer: Just Do(ing) It.
I skied down Mt. Hood yesterday. Wait, let me start at the beginning. I hiked Mt. Hood yesterday. Not all the way to the top, thanks to a certain Mr Sleeping Beauty, but 3/5 of the way up. Not being a watch-wearer, I don't know how long it took us. If I had to estimate, I'd say somewhere between a long time and a really long time. Let me describe the weight of the pack I had to carry on my back because it weighed somewhere between extremely heavy and you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-there's-no-way-I-can-stand-in-the-parking-lot-with-this-thing-on-let-alone-climb-several-miles-up-a-mountainside. Inside were 2 ski boots, 2 skis, water, extra clothes, snacks, my mountain locater beeper and probably a couple of sets of Encyclopedia Britannica and water buffalo. On the way up we met some friendly folk due to the fact that I was hiking with He Who Chats With Everyone. (Sleeping Beauty's native american name. this is a good thing by the way - I've met some fun people and had many laughs thanks to Chats.) We met Mr. & Mrs. Rich Old Couple, Single Dad who is contemplating going back to school to teach, Acquaintance From the Lodge who practically ran right past us and Two Guys With Same Pace. If you've never hiked Mt. Hood, don't. If you do, you might as well go all the way to the top. There's no sense in going halfway. You're going to be knocking on death's door no matter how far you go, so why not have the best view possible while you're knocking?
So 2 pieces of bread, a Zone bar and half of a Chips Ahoy 100 calorie pack later, we had finished our approximately 1.5 mile hike. Water was consumed. Oxygen was inhaled and prayers of gratitude were expressed. As hard and horrible as it was hiking up, the worst was yet to come. Now was the part I'd been dreading since I heard the answer to my question: how do you get down? The answer was what I was about to do: just ski down. I'm sorry, just? I don't just ski down a mountain. Cats don't just swim and Ashlee Simpson doesn't just sing. These things are not natural and do not often happen unless the universe sails through a twilight zone or worm hole. Forgetting everything about the actual equipment and the actual act of snowplowing, I forgot to pack my pants, so this was already off to a horrible start. Not to mention the fact that an employee of the moutain was standing right there watching us. When confused about what to do first, Mr. I'm Super Good at Snowboarding told me nonchalantly to "just put on the boots & skis." Uh, I don't just do anything that comes to skiing. I don't even really remember how to put them on. I know my foot goes in the foot hole because it looks like a big boot and I know how to put my shoes on each morning but beyond that - I'm clueless.
With the boots on and left ski locked on, it came time for the right ski to be put on. I couldn't do it, fell on my butt and popped out of my left ski. That means I have to put the left one on again too. Great. Great start. Meanwhile, let me give you a picture of what's going on in the background on the actual run: a competitive ski group has been swishing by and going in between the red & blue gates and basically looking like Olympians in my eyes. If I get this snowplowing down, I'll be happy.
With all equipment attached correctly, poles in my hand and my bag on the back of Mr. Man With the Patience of Job, I headed down the mountain. and I fell. shocker. let me just give you the rundown of the next 5 minutes: crying behind my sunglasses, falling, trying my darndest to make sure Mr. I Have an Insane Amount of Patience doesn't see that I'm crying, more falling, verbalizing my timidity by saying "You have no idea how far out of my comfort zone I am!", falling, repeating my favorite phrase "ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh" (must be said in multiples of 3) and falling some more. Whether it was intentional or not, Mr. Amazing always let me get up by myself & start again.
I can't describe to you my intense dislike for just about everything during those first 5 minutes. Maybe if I had skied more than twice in my entire life, and if the last time wasn't more than 10 years ago and if I had left the bunny trail at least once during those 2 times I wouldn't have minded. But for someone with ego problems who thinks they have to be an expert at everything they do, this was very humbling. I disliked that stupid mountain, I was mad at myself for not being able to do it, disliked all the Olympians I had to share the mountain with, disliked the people on the chair lifts who were obviously staring at me, laughing and then talking about me the rest of the day, I disliked the sun for being way too bright, the elevation for giving me an insane headache and even Mr. Amazing for talking me into doing this ridiculous adventure. Oh, and did I mention the 6 year olds in racing gear that were swooshing by me at 200 mph? I was so terrified, at one point I think I actually started to pray I would pass out from altitude sickness. Then again, there was a lack of oxygen flowing to the brain, so I may be making that up.
Goal #1: snowplow straight down. Once I mastered this, I started going faster downhill which I wanted to avoid at all costs so I would turn right and stop myself. When Mr. I'm Still Amazing reminded me that I was only going 1 mph and everything was fine because he was literately right behind me, I reminded him that I had never been down something so steep before and it was fast to me. Now, I don't know if you've ever being sking but, the thing with ski runs is, they don't span the entire mountain. They have boundaries. So the snowplow straight/turn right plan worked for a while but sooner or later I was going to run into some barriers so I had to learn to turn left. I completely empathize with Derek Zoolander now. First attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. Luckily by now, I was most accomplished at getting back up. Second attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. I did eventually turn left without falling but I'm pretty sure I still screamed or made some noise that sounded like a swear word. It must have been a noise because I never swear except in traffic. But it may be justified because the Olympians were now taking their second pass down the mountain and threatening my life by flying past me at 90 mph several hundred feet away from where I was on my butt.
OK, so now I can snowplow straight, turn right and turn left. One more factor that I had to get down: the poles. Apparently I had been crossing them in front of me when I would turn. Apparently that's not what you're supposed to do. I'm not sure my brain is capable of thinking about skis AND poles at the same time, so I basically kept them dragging in the snow at all times. If I was about to fall, I'd forget about my snowplowing and dig my poles into the ground. I'm sure at this point I looked really awesome.
At this point I had convinced myself that hiking down would have been WAY faster. Maybe one of the elementary school-aged Olympians would mow me down and then I could just roll all the way down to the parking lot. Then I could sue for damages, buy my own mountain and never have to worry about anyone knocking me over again. Wait, that would imply that I would actually desire to go through this again. Yep, brain is definitely oxygen deficient.
With all of this chatter going on in my brain, somewhere along the way I had stopped crying and I was doing multiple passes before pausing and then I would remain upright when I was paused. Wait a sec, I may be able to do this. I don’t know when the switch flipped, but it did. I remained petrified and the family of butterflies living my stomach must have been [insert religion/culture that encourages big families] because they had been multiplying like crazy but I wasn’t falling down. Mr. I Have a Cute Snowboard Because it Has a Turtle on It But Don’t Call It Cute Because I’m a Dude could even board away from me, get a few airs and hopefully enjoy himself a little because I was alright on my own.
Yes I made it down to the parking lot and no, the snow didn’t melt and go through my clothes.
So, what do you do when you have to do something that you don’t want to do?
YOU DO IT!!!
I skied down Mt. Hood yesterday. Wait, let me start at the beginning. I hiked Mt. Hood yesterday. Not all the way to the top, thanks to a certain Mr Sleeping Beauty, but 3/5 of the way up. Not being a watch-wearer, I don't know how long it took us. If I had to estimate, I'd say somewhere between a long time and a really long time. Let me describe the weight of the pack I had to carry on my back because it weighed somewhere between extremely heavy and you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-there's-no-way-I-can-stand-in-the-parking-lot-with-this-thing-on-let-alone-climb-several-miles-up-a-mountainside. Inside were 2 ski boots, 2 skis, water, extra clothes, snacks, my mountain locater beeper and probably a couple of sets of Encyclopedia Britannica and water buffalo. On the way up we met some friendly folk due to the fact that I was hiking with He Who Chats With Everyone. (Sleeping Beauty's native american name. this is a good thing by the way - I've met some fun people and had many laughs thanks to Chats.) We met Mr. & Mrs. Rich Old Couple, Single Dad who is contemplating going back to school to teach, Acquaintance From the Lodge who practically ran right past us and Two Guys With Same Pace. If you've never hiked Mt. Hood, don't. If you do, you might as well go all the way to the top. There's no sense in going halfway. You're going to be knocking on death's door no matter how far you go, so why not have the best view possible while you're knocking?
So 2 pieces of bread, a Zone bar and half of a Chips Ahoy 100 calorie pack later, we had finished our approximately 1.5 mile hike. Water was consumed. Oxygen was inhaled and prayers of gratitude were expressed. As hard and horrible as it was hiking up, the worst was yet to come. Now was the part I'd been dreading since I heard the answer to my question: how do you get down? The answer was what I was about to do: just ski down. I'm sorry, just? I don't just ski down a mountain. Cats don't just swim and Ashlee Simpson doesn't just sing. These things are not natural and do not often happen unless the universe sails through a twilight zone or worm hole. Forgetting everything about the actual equipment and the actual act of snowplowing, I forgot to pack my pants, so this was already off to a horrible start. Not to mention the fact that an employee of the moutain was standing right there watching us. When confused about what to do first, Mr. I'm Super Good at Snowboarding told me nonchalantly to "just put on the boots & skis." Uh, I don't just do anything that comes to skiing. I don't even really remember how to put them on. I know my foot goes in the foot hole because it looks like a big boot and I know how to put my shoes on each morning but beyond that - I'm clueless.
With the boots on and left ski locked on, it came time for the right ski to be put on. I couldn't do it, fell on my butt and popped out of my left ski. That means I have to put the left one on again too. Great. Great start. Meanwhile, let me give you a picture of what's going on in the background on the actual run: a competitive ski group has been swishing by and going in between the red & blue gates and basically looking like Olympians in my eyes. If I get this snowplowing down, I'll be happy.
With all equipment attached correctly, poles in my hand and my bag on the back of Mr. Man With the Patience of Job, I headed down the mountain. and I fell. shocker. let me just give you the rundown of the next 5 minutes: crying behind my sunglasses, falling, trying my darndest to make sure Mr. I Have an Insane Amount of Patience doesn't see that I'm crying, more falling, verbalizing my timidity by saying "You have no idea how far out of my comfort zone I am!", falling, repeating my favorite phrase "ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh" (must be said in multiples of 3) and falling some more. Whether it was intentional or not, Mr. Amazing always let me get up by myself & start again.
I can't describe to you my intense dislike for just about everything during those first 5 minutes. Maybe if I had skied more than twice in my entire life, and if the last time wasn't more than 10 years ago and if I had left the bunny trail at least once during those 2 times I wouldn't have minded. But for someone with ego problems who thinks they have to be an expert at everything they do, this was very humbling. I disliked that stupid mountain, I was mad at myself for not being able to do it, disliked all the Olympians I had to share the mountain with, disliked the people on the chair lifts who were obviously staring at me, laughing and then talking about me the rest of the day, I disliked the sun for being way too bright, the elevation for giving me an insane headache and even Mr. Amazing for talking me into doing this ridiculous adventure. Oh, and did I mention the 6 year olds in racing gear that were swooshing by me at 200 mph? I was so terrified, at one point I think I actually started to pray I would pass out from altitude sickness. Then again, there was a lack of oxygen flowing to the brain, so I may be making that up.
Goal #1: snowplow straight down. Once I mastered this, I started going faster downhill which I wanted to avoid at all costs so I would turn right and stop myself. When Mr. I'm Still Amazing reminded me that I was only going 1 mph and everything was fine because he was literately right behind me, I reminded him that I had never been down something so steep before and it was fast to me. Now, I don't know if you've ever being sking but, the thing with ski runs is, they don't span the entire mountain. They have boundaries. So the snowplow straight/turn right plan worked for a while but sooner or later I was going to run into some barriers so I had to learn to turn left. I completely empathize with Derek Zoolander now. First attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. Luckily by now, I was most accomplished at getting back up. Second attempt turning left resulted in screams and a fall. I did eventually turn left without falling but I'm pretty sure I still screamed or made some noise that sounded like a swear word. It must have been a noise because I never swear except in traffic. But it may be justified because the Olympians were now taking their second pass down the mountain and threatening my life by flying past me at 90 mph several hundred feet away from where I was on my butt.
OK, so now I can snowplow straight, turn right and turn left. One more factor that I had to get down: the poles. Apparently I had been crossing them in front of me when I would turn. Apparently that's not what you're supposed to do. I'm not sure my brain is capable of thinking about skis AND poles at the same time, so I basically kept them dragging in the snow at all times. If I was about to fall, I'd forget about my snowplowing and dig my poles into the ground. I'm sure at this point I looked really awesome.
At this point I had convinced myself that hiking down would have been WAY faster. Maybe one of the elementary school-aged Olympians would mow me down and then I could just roll all the way down to the parking lot. Then I could sue for damages, buy my own mountain and never have to worry about anyone knocking me over again. Wait, that would imply that I would actually desire to go through this again. Yep, brain is definitely oxygen deficient.
With all of this chatter going on in my brain, somewhere along the way I had stopped crying and I was doing multiple passes before pausing and then I would remain upright when I was paused. Wait a sec, I may be able to do this. I don’t know when the switch flipped, but it did. I remained petrified and the family of butterflies living my stomach must have been [insert religion/culture that encourages big families] because they had been multiplying like crazy but I wasn’t falling down. Mr. I Have a Cute Snowboard Because it Has a Turtle on It But Don’t Call It Cute Because I’m a Dude could even board away from me, get a few airs and hopefully enjoy himself a little because I was alright on my own.
Yes I made it down to the parking lot and no, the snow didn’t melt and go through my clothes.
So, what do you do when you have to do something that you don’t want to do?
YOU DO IT!!!
Thursday, June 12
And just when you think life can't get any better. . .
IT DOES!!!
I thought officially being a PCC alumni alone would make a day excellent (and it totally would.) But then the night brings a looooooooong nap, a burger with avacados, the joy of eating artichokes AND Planet Earth on the "big screen."
And a story told in third person, which after 3 glasses of wine, I had no clue what third person meant. . .I'm pretty sure June 11 is going down in history (even though it did include 10 hours of studying.)
Wednesday, June 11
Monday May 20th blog
I found a sheet of paper in my A&P notebook today with some scribblings on it. I obviously wrote this down while a certain student in my class ("the talker") was telling a story about how a friend of hers had the certain disease we happened to be talking about or a patient at work came in with a certain condition and it was treated differently than what was listed in the PowerPoint. Everytime she talks I swear I'm listening to Charlie Brown's teacher.
Anyway, the headline on this ripped out piece of notebook paper is:
"Reasons to be happy and/or thankful today"
Actually, now looking at the title, I may have been totally lost & confused and needed reasons not to walk outside & jump off the HT building. (exaggeration - I promise!) And now for your viewing pleasure, the reasons I found to be happy and/or thankful for back on Monday, May 20th.
*Sun, sun & more sun
*I don't have to run today
*double chocolate brownie ice cream is in the freezer (yes, excellent marathon preparation)
*my puppy loves me. He really, really loves me!
*The fire drill at work, that turned out to be real, happened on a sunny day
*Thanks to the 20 mile runs & outdoor study sessions, my Bare Escentials foundation has progressed from Fair (polar bear white) to Fairly Light (dirty polar bear white)
*For a job that allows me to google chat as much as I want
*for someone to Google chat with
*for the impending sob fest that will be taking place at work in __ days because I don't want to leave (apparently I was unable to do math at that moment)
*air conditioning
*that I only have ONE A&P lecture left
Tuesday, June 10
Ode to Procrastination
It’s the night before my last PCC final
And I’m feeling a little sad thinking back on all the times I’ve had.
I started with Bio and Athropology
And now I’m ending with Anantomy & Physiology.
I started in my apartment in L.O. and working at Nike.
Now I’m back in a house in Tigard and working at Nike.
I’ve been to college once before but this was not the same.
I don’t live on school grounds and I don’t know anyone’s name.
There’s definitely more extra credit and it’s easier to get an A,
Except in A&P where the only way to earn it is to study night and day.
I’ve had some great professors like Tara and Larry
But this year it’s been only Ed and he is quite scary.
It would be nice to have the summer off, yes, that would be quite good.
But I’ll have to settle for using to weekends to do stuff, like climb Mt. Hood.
Only one more day left and then I’ll be done.
I better suck down this Diet Pepsi, and then drink another one.
Otherwise I won’t stay awake to learn about heredity & lactation.
I can’t wait until Friday because that kicks off 10 days of vacation!
I wrote this thing in all of 5 minutes flat
But now it’s back to the reproductive flashcards and all ‘dat.
The Good, The Bad and The Finish Line
Nicole and I totally rocked the North Olympic Discovery Marathon on Sunday. We ran 26.2 miles from Sequim to Port Angeles up in Washington. Definitely a blog is coming about the whirlwind weeked (trains and ferries and cars, oh my!) but that will have to wait until after finals (and my choc/vanilla swirled TCBY w/butterfinger topping & several glasses of Ste. Michelle reisling.) So the rule of thumb is, you're never supposed to ask a marathoner what their time was, just if they finished. I will spare you from having to ask and just tell you:
4:44:59!!!
And may I remind you, the first person to ever do this DIED!
Feeling good before the halfway point!
In the words of Dory, "Just keep running. Just keep running."
I didn't die!!! This is great news!!!
Wednesday, June 4
We're having a fiesta!
Seriously, where else can you do this at 10am on a Tuesday?
Melissa smacks it as I look on in awe.
The poor burro after we were done with it.Sunday, June 1
It's all in the Attitude
I had to read this yesterday morning to get me through the day. . .
ATTITUDE
by charles swindoll
The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.
It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do.
It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.
It will make or break a company... a church... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.
We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way.
We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude...
I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.
And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes.
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