You're Harry Freaking Potter!

I love a LOT of things about this school, which I'm not going to even bother listing. One of these things is our bell tower. I have always had a love affair with carillon bells, to the point that one of the things I'm looking for in a future home is close enough proximity to a church that I can hear the bells. I expect that conversation will be interesting with the Real Estate Agent. "If it's close to a Mormon church, that'd be really excellent, but can you just get me near some non-mormon church with an old bell tower? No, no, I'll be attending the Mormon church. Half and hour to the nearest stake center? No problem. Five minute drive from the catholic church with the bells? Uh, that's a little far..."

Back to our carillon bells! Every hour on the hour they play Come, Come, Ye Saints and then at other times they have little mini-concerts called programs where the organ majors get to rock out to a large variety of different songs. Last year I actually got to go in to the belltower during one of these programs and played a few notes! Very poorly, but I still played them, which counts!

Yesterday, as inspired by a rather brave facebook event and some likewise gutsy organ students, the belltower chose to honor Harry Potter's 7th film release instead of the normal regimen.
This was what we heard every hour, on the hour:


Ohhh BYU. You are so weird and nerdy and AWESOME. :)

And by the way, I wasn't able to go to the midnight premiere. Sadness, I know, but everything was sold out within weeks... however, once I find someone with a car, I WILL see this. It WILL happen. Until then, I'm satisfied to go to a school where random students are STILL walking around in Hogwarts robes and where the hour was rang in with movie music for an entire day. It's almost as good. :)

"Harry Freaking Potter" is from "A Very Potter Sequel", which can be found on YouTube as a sequel to "A Very Potter Musical", which I recommend.

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye

Aimee moved out about an hour ago.
No, she doesn't hate us. Not THAT kind of moving out! In fact, everyone here is pretty much torn apart.

She's a very talented gymnast and while practicing, a long time ago, she fell and broke her back. Competing has been basically a nonoption and it flares up sometimes, but for the most part, her back has been just dandy. However, about 2 months ago (in a spot of terrible irony on the birthday of Kaitlin, her very best friend, if you do recall), Aimee was involved in a terrible, 4-car accident including a semi. She very well could have died. Thankfully beyond all thankfuls, she didn't. She did seriously injure her arm, including a nasty scar from her seat belt, and totalled her car. Oh, and her back got a lot worse.

Aimee lives in Lehi, so she took a bit of time off to see doctors and things. Then, about a few weeks ago, she was told that she would need to undergo surgery on her back, which would put her in bed rest for months. They scheduled it for the beginning of winter semester so she could stay here until then, but, of course, things don't always work out that nicely.

Aimee's doctor was worried about her having permanent nerve damage, so they moved the surgery up to next Monday. So she had to move out this afternoon (she's babysitting tonight and tomorrow) for the rest of semester, leaving our apartment very empty and without a very crucial piece of our family. On top of all that, she had to drop all her classes but the two that have teachers willing to give her do-at-home work.

We're all hoping and praying that the 2-3 months of bed rest will only be 2 months, so that she can come back winter semester and especially come back HERE, where she belongs.

She's coming back on Sunday for Sunday dinner...well, technically she's visiting Sunday...so it's a little easier to not freak out about. Aimee goes home often enough on weekends that this one will seem only a little stranger than most. But I have no idea what it'll be like after she leaves us Sunday night.

probably terrible. And I probably won't have the heart to write about it then.

Aimee's like our mommy. She makes sure we go to classes, lets us know when we're being weirder than we need to be, tells us what to eat when we're too hungry to choose food, makes all our birthday cakes, and gets mad when the kitchen isn't clean. She watches House during FHE, plays music on her iTunes that I thought nobody else had heard of, makes cute charts for cleaning the bathroom, makes us laugh when nothing else is really funny, and I don't know what we'll do without her. Especially Kaitlin, bless her heart...

If you don't mind, please join us in praying for Aimee's safe surgery and quick recovery. This next few months (and possibly all the way until Spring if things don't work quickly) are going to be worse for her than anyone else.

"It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday" can be found by Voice Male if you use my version

All I Can Do Is Just Laugh

Tiffanie and I don't get our homework done until far later than we should. I'm not quite as bad as her, as I don't take a nap at 11 pm for to have energy to do more homework at 2 in the morning, but still. We're always the last asleep in our dorm family.

Yesterday gave us a little insight as to why you ought not do homework at such a late hour.

I was working on an English assignment, getting close to completion but still frustratingly far. She was doing I don't know what, most likely Chinese as that's all Tiffanie ever seems to do, and she stood up to grab an orange juice bottle.

Let me set the scene for you. Our bedroom has a shelf that runs all the way from the window to the door, a few feet above our desks and quite a few feet below the tack-strip, which is immortalized in my current header. On said shelf we keep things like books, movies, jewelry, and in Tiffanie's case, lots of orange juice. Our desks are crazy messy because we're bums like that, and so I keep all my electronic chargy-thingies, personal letters, important documents, and cookbooks in my pull-out drawer. This was, at the time, pulled out because we had needed a cookbook for to make chicken pot pie earlier in the evening, and heaven forbid I close a drawer 3 hours after I open it.

So Tiffanie grabs her orange juice with a little too much fervor and, for whatever terrible reason, it was slightly open. So, as Murphy would have it, the slightly open bottle of orange juice dives out of her hand and into my drawer filled with electronics and important documents. I didn't even notice until Tiffanie starts frantically apologizing and taking out dripping cookbooks and putting them on my towel on the floor conveniently right there. (And I thought leaving my towel on the floor was a bad idea!)

I look over and see my two old iPods swimming in an orange juice pool and everything just in the absolute worst location for a liquid spill and just start laughing. I helped her, of course, and we cleared the electronics and papers out, pushing the pendaflex hangers as far as they could go. But by the time we got to drying the drawer out and drying the electronics off for to avoid water damage, I was laughing waaaay to hard to be of any assistance. Tiffanie made some noise that was a cross between a laugh and a sob, asking me why I was laughing, which is understandable. I mean, I could have lost a lot of irreplaceable and/or expensive things.

Truth be told, I don't know why I thought it was so funny. But I couldn't start homework for about ten minutes afterwards because I was still fighting off giggles. I would say "I wouldn't have laughed if it had been more serious", but I think I might have, actually. Probably would have laughed even harder. Ideally, this is a sign that my sense of humor is awesome and that I will, in the future, be the kind of mother who laughs when her house is covered in marker, then clean up with the kids and teach them their lesson, as opposed to breaking down in tears or screaming. But that's probably not it, either.

I think we just need to get to bed earlier. And probably stop putting open bottles of orange juice on the shelf above our laptops and homeworks and beds.
"I Just Laugh" is by Never Shout Never. I've never heard the song, but the lyrics seem wonderful.

I See the Winter, She's Crawling up the Lawn

Seasons here are AMAZING.

One of my very favorite things about Earth is observing the changing of seasons. It's great in Illinois, especially driving down Liberty street, which is lined with trees that blossom, fill out, change color, drop their leaves, and catch snowfall all with each other. And while I like to say that I would be happy to live anywhere on this awesome planet, living without the changing of seasons would probably depress me a little.

I had no idea how beautiful it would be here.

I LOVE mountains and trees and, by virtue of being both a college campus and located in the Rocky Mountains, BYU gets both. When I arrived in August, the mountains were stunning greens and rocky greys (green! I thought Utah didn't like being green!) and the trees that dot campus were all awesome and huge.

Have to admit, I was a little worried about autumn. Things die and tend to get gross-looking, especially bushes and grass, but Utah proved me wrong- the mountains were only yellow for a matter of days before they lit on fire. The campus trees all change at different times and to different shades, the leaves all cover the grass, and those mountains...what stunning contrasts of red, orange, grey, and awesome!

Plus, it rains in autumn. Yes, even here! On days like last Saturday when I'm on campus and no one else is, it feels like a little piece of heaven, or at least a scene in a movie...the quiet, the rain in the puddles, and the awesome trees. And when it's not raining, there are always small children running around collecting leaves, reminding you in case you forgot that it is a dang magical season.

And now the next season change is upon us. Today, most of campus were wearing coats, even a few winter hats and gloves. And the mountain tops are all snow-peaked. Not just Timpanogos, which collects snow like it's its job. Y Mountain and Squaw Peak, which I'm photographing 3x daily for my Atmosphere and Weather class, are as beautiful as I expected they'd be.

Snow! Where I can see it all the time, where it is awesome, where it won't get splashed on by car tracks, and where it won't make us any colder than we already are. Best of all, the weather here loves to fluctuate and it might snow in Provo this week and then we'll all be in T-shirts by the start of November. And still, that snow is going to stay stuck in the mountains! None of that "oh let's snow a lot and then have it all melt as if it never happened" crap that Illinois likes to give.

I cannot wait for it to get even prettier as winter keeps creeping down Y Mountain. I'm yet to be disappointed...so Jack Frost, you can do your worst! We're* ready!

*By "we" I mean "me and everyone else crazy enough to like being frozen as long as the calendar says it's okay"

"Winter is Coming" can be found by Radical Face.
on an unrelated note, I should have asked for iTunes money for my birthday. Youtube is wearing thin when you meet so many new people with awesome taste in music.

Do the Cooking By the Book

Yesterday, I was in a terrible mood for no real good reason. I know everyone has had those before...but it was particularly odd. I wasn't angry, or sad, just...terrible-feeling. Nothing was helping. So, I decided to do some cooking.

I have discovered, out here in BYUland, that I love cooking. I already knew I liked cooking, and I've always enjoyed baking desserts and things, but here I've really realized that making a full-on meal is one of the most wonderful things. I'm not awesome or creative at making particularly inexpensive, unique, OR healthy things, but I LOVE following recipes, combining ingredients, mixing, making smells, making meals, and making myself feel instantly at home.

Not even necessarily "oh mom used to make this I can taste my childhood" at home. More like "look, I just made something amazing that my mother made once (or not). I'm my own adult!" at home. Making things like Chicken Cordon Bleu, various casseroles, Apricot chicken, and other fancy-sounding recipes is the most adult thing I've done here and, frankly, the aspect of college life I feel most confident in my personal success.

Even Pasta-Roni and Easy Mac is a wonderful little adventure when I get to think "now which meat would make this more a meal? Which vegetable??". Cooking is the BEST way to distract myself from homework, and makes me feel productive and adult, instead of facebook or silly little websites that make me feel like I have no motivation to learn (even if that is sometimes very much the case).

As such, yesterday, when I was in this disgusting mood, I figured the best thing to do was cook. I pulled out my cookbooks and scoured them, but as I refuse to buy chicken until it comes down from $6 for 3 breasts and I had already ran out of hamburger meat, my only meat option was stew meat. And I really didn't want to just make pasta-and-sauce. Nothing in my cookbooks looked good...probably because I was in such a disagreeable mood.

I decided, somehow in some way I don't remember, that I was going to MAKE MY OWN RECIPE. This normally fails. Hard. But I was in such a disagreeable state that I figured even if it bombed, I couldn't feel any worse, so why not.

I decided to combine my stew meat with some green peppers I had frozen, which made me decide I should just go ALL OUT and make a shish-kabob-syle-pasta-type-thing. I didn't know what to do for a sauce, but everything worked out AWESOME.

So, below, is my "recipe" that I have created and approved (as have my roommates) C:.

Ingredients- Keep in mind these are all VERY rough. Regarding the salt, pepper, and spices, I really just poured stuff in when it looked like I should, then added some more at the end. So I'm probably way off. Anyway! You'll need about 1/4 pound of stew meat or other thinnish slices of beef-type-meat, a few good handfuls of Penne (I used half a bag), a can of pineapple (the wedge kind... I actually ended up eating about 10 of the pieces afterwards, so you can use a little less than the whole thing, depending on preference), half a green pepper or so I would guess...it was what I had frozen :P, 1 tbsp of salt, 1 tbsp of pepper, and 2 tbsp 1 tsp cajun seasoning or whatever "throw-in" spice you have around, like Emeril's BAM! or maybe you're awesome enough that you can make your own using...uh...I don't know how spices work so I'm not going to pretend. Also, vegetable oil.

Directions- Boil the pasta according to directions on the box. After this has been going a little bit, preheat a saucepan with oil, then begin to cook up the meat. It will bite you, as hot oil always does, and you'll be stirring the pasta, too, so you're going to look REALLY COOL during this part while you do the crazy "I don't want to get burned but neither does my food" dance.

Add the peppers to the meat so they cook up nicely, then pretty soon afterwards, pour in the pineapples. The juice from the pineapples combined with the juice from the meat and the oil are going to make a delicious sauce, which was a huge relief to discover. Keep this on about medium heat; it has an awesome bubbly, frothy kind of look at this point.

Once your pasta is done cooking, strain the pasta and add it to the sauce. That sounds backwards all typed up. Add the spices, then stir well. Season to taste because I don't trust my "directions".

It's very tasty! The cajun spices, whatever the heck that is, made gave it an almost barbeque-y flavor, which is perfect because I was going for a "kabob-type" flavor. Also, the meat was a little tough, but that's because I don't know how to cook beef that's how it tastes on a kabob.

Also, I vote someone else should try this and tell me if my roommates could just sense my bad mood and didn't want to perpetuate it or if I ACTUALLY thought of something tasty. :)

At the very least, it cured my bad mood.

"Cooking by the Book" is from Lazy Town

From my Washing Machine

I am not afraid to admit that I am weird. For many, many reasons; more than I would ever have time to explain. One reason I'm very well aware is "stranger than strange"- I love doing laundry.

Unlike the dishes, which I ADORE putting away but hate putting in dirty, laundry is the opposite. There's few things better to me than pretreating a stain and having it disappear, making me feel like I'm in a commercial for Resolve fromerly Spray and Wash, or putting our filthy filthy rug in the washer and having it come out as clean as it looked in Ikea. I just don't like putting the laundry away afterwards.

Laundry adventures at BYU are wonderful, as well. Our Heritage washers are 75 cents a load and the MASSIVE dryers only 25 cents a load. When I do two loads, one colors one whites (they only have three settings- colors, whites, and wools. I weep at night for my poor jeans, ripped from their loving home in Aurora where the washer could give them a load of their own.), I can dry them together and save myself a quarter. And the laundry room is spacious, making it great for homework or hanging up delicates.

Today's specific laundry adventure has yet to conclude, actually. It started when I stripped my comforter off my bed, peeling the sheets individually and putting them in the basket. Then I plucked my towels off their hanging places, carried the things to the washer, and went on my merry way while they washed. Nothing strange, right? WRONG.

The timer went off, so I opened the washer and much to my horror, saw some terrible, mysterious white thread wrapped around all my sheets and towels. My first thought was "why on earth is there so much floss in here?!", which I quickly dismissed. There wouldn't be floss in my sheets and towels...it must be the elastic of the fitted sheet.

Thinking the worst, I started taking the thread off, trying to find the spot where the sheet had begun to unravel, and trying to remember what I'd ever done to hurt my sheet's feelings (besides spilling Woolite on it that ONE time). And then, I found the truth. I was right the first time. The thread was, in fact, floss. It was all there, the massive spool of dental floss that I got in my stocking last Christmas or so, and the floss cartridge was wedged in the corner, trying to look innocent.

I cleaned up the floss and threw it out and transfered the sheets and towels to the drier. Problem solved. But I have to wonder...how on earth did floss get in my sheets? I can promise it wasn't one of the things I so carefully put in the laundry basket. What would posses dental floss to so terribly want to end its stay on earth by leaping into my pile of dirty sheets? My breath can't be that bad.

I'll certainly never figure it out, but I know that I've got to go get my sheets from the dryer now...and check if my toothbrush has joined the movement.

"Washing Machine" can be found by Michelle Branch

How Great Thou Art

Tomorrow is my first French test. And while I could come out of it extremely joyous, pleased with my knowledge, and thrilled for my grade, my hopes aren't quite that optimistic. As such, I want to share with you my favorite bit of French linguistic "trivia", before I end up hating everything from french conjugation to french fries.

A few years ago, I picked up a French Hymn book, and at that moment, realized that the French use the "tutoyer form" (Tu, ton, tes, etc) to address Heavenly Father in prayer and praise, as opposed to the "vousvoyer form" (vous, vos, etc). The difference is simple: You use "Tutoyer" to address one person who you know quite intimately. A child, a peer, your parents, or your friends. You use "Vousvoyer" to address one person formally, such as a boss, teacher, or superior, or to address multiple people at once.

This BLEW MY MIND. It meant, basically, that the French address our Father in Heaven as our Father. He is our God, He is our Maker, and He is the literal Best of all. And yet, they address him as affectionately and personally as you would your friend, or your earthly father.

I've always loved that. I thought about it constantly, comparing it to the "we adress Heavenly Father formally, with respect" that we learn in Primary. I didn't stop using "Thee, Thine, Thou" in prayers, but did think about it...my attitude in praying changed, and my personal testimony and relationship with Heavenly Father quite honestly grew.

NOW are you ready to have YOUR Anglo-Saxon mind COMPLETELY BLOWN?

This morning in French, while reviewing for our test, our teacher reminded us the purpose of tutoyer vs. vousvoyer. He told us, "In modern English, we use "you" to mean both singular and plural, formal and informal. English speakers used to have two separate terms-" (I know what you're thinking. Thee, Thine, Thou is formal, right? WRONG!) "-'You' was only used for plural or formal addresses, and 'Thou' was used for singular, affectionate people."

Now you can clean your bits of brain off your keyboards, wipe the drool off your face, and be amazed with me. As we pray to Heavenly Father, using the language we've grown up using in the Church, we're not being overly formal. We're being incredibly personal! We address him in our prayers as our Father, Friend, and Helper. Who also happens to be Almighty God. We pray in utmost humility and worship him in our unworthy state, yes, but ask his loving favor as his children, who love him as a Father first.

Goodness Gracious. I just...wow. C: He is so...unbelievable. It's true, what He said, that every thing testifies of him. Even in the very language we use every day of our life. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have one Awesome God on our side.


"How Great Thou Art" can be found in the hymnal

We're Happy Together

Seeing as I haven’t updated my blog for nearly half a year, I would not be surprised if no one noticed the sudden change in background, layout, and header. If you haven’t, take a moment to scroll to the top of the screen, be fantastically impressed, and swoon in adoration.
This week is my third week at BYU (in case the T-shirt and cougar you were swooning over weren’t a big enough clue, I picked the Y for my Higher Learning), and by now I would consider myself “in the swing”. As such, I have run out of excuses as to why I should withhold the college freshman of 2010 experience from the world (especially since mine will probably be pretty different from most).

Today, I’m just going to introduce my lovely roommates. I have FIVE of them, so it will take long enough.

First of all, my camarade de chambre (The French are terribly lucky for to have only one phrase for bunkmate/person you share a bedroom with/and the ever awkward “person you sleep with”) is Tiffanie. Tiffanie and I have known each other for a terribly long time, becoming real friends around freshman year or so. She told me (I think Junior year) that her Dad had this lovely idea that we should room together at BYU. The idea kind of stuck, and VOILA. Now I get to see her lovely half-asian face every morning, night, and bizarre hour in between.

Tiffanie is a lovely, wonderful person. She’s honest, generous, and very humorous, and studying English. Last night, when we had both finished our homework and experienced the odd sensation of not needing to stay up until past midnight (but deciding to anyway), she helped me decide what the header should be, immortalizing our ugly brick wall and a few of our strange “decorations”. Beyond ideas, we also share meals often enough, and seem to be equal levels of messiness (A huge embarrassment for me as before college, her room was to the point where you literally could not see the floor. To have apparently sunk to her become her equal? I shudder at the thought!). She has a boyfriend, Connor, who visits us quite often. Okay, actually, who visits Tiffanie quite often. Connor is also from home, and he’s a really funny guy. Not my type, but that’s a very good thing, seeing as I shouldn’t be favoring my roommate’s man anyway!

Next door to us are the beautiful Aimee and Kaitlyn. They met during Spring/Summer semester as each other’s roommates. Although they never knew each other beforehand, their dorm clicked like lego bricks, and act as if they’ve been BFFs for life. Their other past roommate, Jenna, basically lives here. Launa visits often as well. And though she shares a name with my sworn nemesis, Lana Lang, she’s quite the opposite. I could spend forever explaining Launa’s zaniness, but she isn’t my cocolotaire, now is she? Nope! It’s nice that they attended over the spring/summer because they seem to know EvErYtHiNg.

Aimee is from Sandy or Murry or Lehi or some nearby UT city like that, and as such, her mother comes up to take her shopping/bring her things quite often. She’s studying Elementary Ed, along with about 14 other majors (okay, two, but STILL). And as crazy ambitious as she is, Aimee is very down-to-earth, and at the same time pretty darn hilarious. She’s also a genius at cooking and is around whenever anyone has questions in our kitchen. She rescued the hard-boiled explosion eggs, probably could have prevented the enchiladas-in-the-rice-cooker ordeal, and convinced me to not use an entire garlic when the recipe called for a clove. Who knew a garlic clove was those crazy bumps hugging the center of it? Aimee did!

Kaitlyn is a neverending spring of joy and laughter, I swear. She’s from New Mexico, and brings with her lovely personality a stunning array of enchiladas recipes. Kaitlyn is looking to go into the nursing program, which is crazy hard, by the way. She always has something hilarious to add to any conversation, and is just the sweetest girl I’ve met at BYU. She’ll be your friend before you even think about not liking her, and while the rest of my roommates are quickly becoming accustomed to my voice becoming white noise, she’ll often pipe up “Alaina, I would LOVE to hear whatever words you are saying”. Let me tell you, I do not hear that often enough!

Aaaaand at the end of the hall are Rorie and Rachelle. Neither of them knew each other (Aurora came to BYU knowing no one at all from home!), but if I ever see proof that you don’t make roommates by coincidence, that Heavenly Father sets us up with who we need (for better or for worse), it is these two ladies. They are soul sisters completely. I love going in their room (especially when Tiffanie is off gallivanting with Connor) because it is just such a friendly, content zone. There is so much confidence in their friendship, you could cut it with a knife.

Rorie hails from The United States, and is roommate #2 studying Elementary Ed. She is fantastically dedicated at all she does, and is such a great example and open girl. She always lets us know what’s up, and never fails to include herself. I wish I had that kind of spunk! Rorie somehow ended up with all the teachers at BYU that love to give readings and homework as if it was their job (oh WAIT!), and as such is often confined to read behind her books. And while she’d love to be going out more often, she still makes every moment like a party.

Then there’s Rachelle. Oh goodness, Rachelle. Who couldn’t love her? She’s from Oregon and, although she’s “of Latino decent”, we’ve all agreed Kaitlyn is more Mexican than Rachelle will ever be. She is the third and final Elementary Ed roommate, making it a full half-population in our lovely dorm. Rachelle is just plain hilarious. Anything she says is almost guaranteed to be funny, and she’s so easy to be friends with. Not to mention she seems to share an ice-cream addiction with me, so it’s nice to have someone to run to the Creamery with. (Be very proud! I’ve gone only twice so far! I’m shocked myself.)

I really, really love our roommates. So…much. Unlike most of my friends' rooms, we don’t seem to have any odd-ducks out, and we all get along famously. Of course, it’s possible that I’m the odd-duck out, but thus far, it doesn’t look that way. It’s a charming cast of characters, and we’re all pretty fond of each other. Hopefully, and you can stay tuned for to find out, this mutual appreciation won’t change anytime soon.

“Happy Together” was first recorded by The Turtles

Beyond the Barricade

Yesterday, my mom came home from her lovely trip to Utah. She and Dad were both out of state for their various reasons, leaving me home alone with Sami. Now, I know I've told you about Sami before (she has her own tag and everything), but it's worth detailing her again for you to fully grasp this story.

Sami is very old. And I mean very old. She's been around since Michael Jordan played for the Bulls and the Super Nintendo was still the coolest thing a kid could own. (Okay, so one of those is still true...) As such an old lady, Sami is mostly deaf, almost blind, sleeps 80% of the day, and needs bathroom breaks a lot more than she used to. She also thinks she's the bee's knees.

My life is apparently just another unfortunate addition to today's situation. Because, you see, I actually have one. This weekend I was hardly home- I generally had seminary, school, Les Mis practice, some sort of social outing, and church everyday, meaning I wouldn't be home for sometimes twelve consecutive hours. This does not bode well for a dog that needs to be let outside every two hours (or every 30 minutes, if she's feeling ambitious).

So Mom got this brilliant idea to barricade all the carpet off. Sami LOVES carpet, which means she also loves to poop on it. Mom set up her short, human-accessible but Sami-denying barricades on the stairs and in the living room entrances.

You might see these itty-bitty walls and think "Oh garsh, that would never stop a proper dog from getting in that room!" And it probably wouldn't. But Sami's not a proper dog. Not only is she a sissy, she has an irrational fear of anything that poses itself to be a wall. Bad past experiances with breaking limbs and angry mallards have trained Sami to fear walls even just a few inches high. So imagine my surprise Thursday evening when I was cleaning up Sami's expected poop and saw her chilling in the walled-off living room, like it was where she belonged her whole life. After staring at her for a little bit in confusion, I coaxed her out the way she'd gotten in...taking a little step up and walking directly on top of the wall.

"Aight," I told her, as home-alone people are overly apt to talk to their pets, "that one wasn't exactly rocket-science. But let's see you tackle the stairs." As I got over it and taunted her with the wall that she couldn't possibly get around or over, she was not amused. I wish I knew how to illustrate what this puppy managed. It was like watching a sick combination of some Mission-Impossible scene and a contortionist act as she liquified herself and slid between the stairs and barricade's feet and low-hanging top. I have full faith she could get her entire self into a bottle if her lonliness depended on it.


So I, of course, reinforced the barricade.Okay, that's a little exaggerated. But not much.

A few minutes after doing that, I went upstairs (leaving Sami the Dog Wonder downstairs) to brush my teeth. It took about 45 seconds before I heard a ridiculously loud crash-and-tumble, followed by a very nanchalant pitter of paws and jangle of a collar.

I look to my right and who prances into the room, but Sami herself. She sits on the floor, watching me brush my teeth, like completely demolishing the barricade with most likely just a threatening glare was more boring than my daily hygeine. No big deal.

From this, I've garnered two conclusions. First, Sami clearly has alzheimer's to add to her list of signs of old age, because not once did she show an ounce of mallard-driven fear. Secondly, I believe she's going to be cast in the next Matrix film, or at least an episode of Chuck.

Guess getting old doesn't need to be so bad after all.

Do You Hear the People Sing? can be found in Les Miserables, which is going to be at WV April 29-May 2

If I Must Go, I'm Going Out in Style

I recently gained myself three new fish to make Fernando less lonely, so I thought I should take time to honor one of my favorite pets, now lost to our family.

At least four years ago, we bought Papaya from "Bird is the Word", a hand-raised bird store in Batavia, Illinois. She was just a bunch of pink skin with some bitty, yellow, baby feathers, and I loved her right away.

Papaya quickly became a real member of the family. She's the best bird I've ever encountered, let alone had as a pet. She lived a few months in my bedrooms until she was finally allowed to live in the kitchen, and that's how Papi really joined the family. By the end of her life, I think she was more Hendricks than bird. She'd always rather sit on us, try desperately to have conversations with us, eat the same food as us, play with whatever our hands were using, and explore the things we liked.

She also learned her limits. Well, to an extent. She liked to give me kisses, nibbling my cheek or lip, and she liked "knocking" my cheek, too. With Mom, who I still think she liked best, she would chew on her hair and, as much as Mom hated it, her skin, sometimes, too. She tried to avoid Dad for the most part, but occasionally would land directly on his face or his head. I still haven't figured out why she ever thought that was a good idea. And Sami and she loved to play. Sami got as close as sniffing her multiple times; quite brave for our little Courage the Cowardly Dog.

But when it came to the things our hands were occupied with, Papi had no limits. No keyboard would go unchecked, no magazine page unchewed. If we had crackers in our right hand, she'd eat them. If you got a new, sanitary one for your left, she'd eat that, too. Cheerios in our bowl would be devoured. Anything that wasn't meat or spicy was free game as far as Papaya considered, and that honestly probably attributed to her shorter-than-average lifespan. Especially cheesy products. Of course, she also loved more natural foods, like house-plants and flowers. I'm not sure if she'd rather have a Dorito or a Daisy, but the choice would inevitably be a tough one.

And Papaya made the best noises. Unlike our previous budgies, that let us know they existed by screaming almost constantly, Papaya would only chirp happy gibberish. She also had the remarkable ability to "purr", particularly when she found an inanimate object she loved. Her favorite toy, the decorative plate above her cage, my dangly necklace from Forever21; she had quite the array of favorite things. She'd nuzzle them, chew on them, or just play with them and always purr in delight.

Sometimes, we would swear we could hear actual words amid her babble, and she did completely pick up on her favorite expression, "Pretty Bird" (and its many variations, such as "pretty pretty pretty birdy"), and "Papaya". She was getting fantastically close to "Merry Christmas" as well.

I read once that birds, especially budgies, will copy the squawking and words that their mates say to try and solidify their union and make sure they can find each other. I'm certain Papaya tried desperately to say English words because nothing would make her happier than to solidify her union with our family.

But I can't possibly forget her love of showers. My biggest regret of our years together was never filming her showers- I have a recording on my phone of her eating a peanut-butter sandwich, but never the America's Funniest Home Video (or at least Cute Overload) worthy practice of her using the sink faucet to bathe. She'd sit in our cupped hands, turning her head as to douse her entire neck, lay down to wash her belly, stretch her wings to dampen her feathers, and prance through like a duck. We always knew when she wanted one, because as soon as the faucet went on, she'd start squawking and as soon as it shut off, she'd go silent.

The day I walked by her unusually quiet cage to say hello and saw her on her back, I felt my blood run chill. I ran into one of my parents' arms and began to sob...I don't even remember who it was holding me. Papaya's death was the most unexpected pet death I've ever had. She was literally chirping, flying, and singing to her last day, just as cheerfully as she had been two years before. She never showed a feather of aging.

Mom helped me make the best casket for her imaginable, and she was laid to rest with her favorite toy in her feet and her ball alongside. Her pine box was decoupaged with all her favorite foods, people-toys, and flowers. I'm positive that, had she been alive to see her finished box, she would have nuzzled and purred to it, or maybe even tried to eat the food pictures, as she's prone to do. The idea made her burial much happier. Such an amazing bird didn't deserve a shoe-box, she deserved her own idea of a heaven on Earth.

I still miss her. But mostly, I'm just glad I got to raise her. And she is going to frelling love all the things to chew in heaven.

"Going out in Style" can be found by Kellie Pickler

This Year is Gonna Be the One

I am, as you may have noticed, a fan of holidays. Especially the widely-celebrated ones...and what's more celebrated than the calendar's holiday based not on religion, country, or tradition, but the calendar itself?

This holiday that connects the world, at one-hour intervals, is the New Year. At the very smallest sense, the holiday is one of our most pointless. It's basically a global party because the Disney Princess calendar hanging in my bedroom ran out of Princesses, and I get to put up my Princess and the Frog one instead. Nothing happens in outer space, that glorious moment when your spot on the planet is as far from the Sun as possible as it's been billions of times before and at the place it was exactly one rotation ago.


When I was younger, that was my opinion of the New Year. Maybe not in quite so many words, but enough that I thought the parties, while a fun reason to stay up later than normal with the kids of my parents' friends, were kind of overrated. Ten years ago, I don't think I cared much about the New Millennium at all. But with each year, I get a little more sentimental. And this year is PROBABLY going to be the most sentimental year of all.


Do you remember that time in elementary school where someone's brother or sister was graduating high school, so you and your friends, or maybe even the teacher, helped figure out your year of graduation? I remember thinking 2010 must be the COOLEST year to graduate EVER, barring 2000 and 2020 alone. I still hold that opinion very strongly. My friend once told me that she got the chance to skip a grade, and the reason she didn't was because she wanted to be in the CLASS OF 2010. The Sen10rs. I don't know if I believe that was her only reason, but knowing her, it was definitely a deciding factor.


Now, after 18 years of life and quite a few years of waiting, the calendars all agree that that time has come. Nothing earth-shattering has happened yet, I don't feel any different than I did yesterday, but every calendar, clock, and TV episode summary I look at makes me shiver a little. That year has come. This is the year my life changes...forever. This is the first time I can say with certainty that there is no certainty, come roughly nine months from now. I don't know where I'll be, who I'll see every day, what I'll do to feed myself, or what kind of person I'm going to shape myself into.


It's scary, guys. But that's what this holiday is really, truly, for. It may just be an excuse for some to drink different drinks, wear much-too-small hats, watch Justin Bieber perv on Selena Gomez, pay more attention to a clock than anyone ever does at a good party, and time a much-anticipated kiss. Or, it may be an opportunity to reflect on what's happened in the past and get riled up for a wonderful year ahead.


Happy New Year!

This Year can be found by the A*Teens