Au revoir mes amis!

I'm having difficulty finding the words to describe how I'm feeling right now.  But I'll try:

• Like I'm back in the 3rd grade, it's the last night of summer vacation and the first (daunting) day of school is tomorrow. I've checked and rechecked that my glue sticks, scissors, paper towels, crayons, and compass are in my brand new Lisa Frank backpack. My  first-day-of-school outfit (which I'm so excited to wear my mother had to fight me not to sleep in it) is laid out carefully on my desk. And there's no way in Georgia that I'm going to fall asleep tonight because my mind is racing. Frazzled. Ecstatic. Slightly queasy. Wondering who my classmates are going to be this year. Hoping Mrs. Locke is as nice as everyone says she is. Praying I can remember all the multiplication tables and cursive letters I've forgotten over the summer, that I raise my hand at the right times, that my teacher thinks I'm smart, that my classmates want to play with me at recess.  

• Like I'm 12 years old living in Hawaii. It's a gorgeous summer day and my family has decided to venture out to Hawaiian Waters Adventure Park. I'm covered head to toe in sticky, coconut scented, SPF 80 sunscreen. I'm standing in line to ride the Shaka, the second-most fearsome ride in the park. Thus far I was able to fanangle my way out riding any of the scary rides by keeping my brother distracted by the safe ones, like the lazy river and the wave pool. But eventually Michael, and admittedly I, became weary of the safe rides and had to move on to bigger and steeper territories.  Now I'm standing at the top of a giant staircase, only one person ahead of me in line. Soon I will take a seat in a garganutan inflatable raft and, with a swift kick from an over-eager waterpark employee, hurtle down a giant, slippery, plastic punch bowl. My heart is beating at  ten thousand beats per second and I'm desperately looking around to see if maybe it's not too late to walk back down the stairs. But the stairs are crowded with hundreds of impatient thrill seekers. There is only one way down.  I swallow a deep gulp of air and try to remind myself, I really do want to do this. It was me, after all, who got in this line in the first place. Me who handed my ticket to the ride operator at the bottom.  I try to gain confidence by thinking of my parents who will be waiting at the bottom for me, of my brother behind me in line who has reassured me several times that the ride was built by intelligent engineers and is safe.  With a scream, the person in front of me, now in the raft, drops out of view. I inch ahead in line, step to the edge, and try not to look down.  This is it. 

• Like it's September 27th and I'm reporting to the MTC in 6 days. 
•  Like I'm getting set apart as a missionary in 4 hours and it's my last night in Montana. 
• Like my dad, Amy, and I are driving to Utah tomorrow and I haven't even started packing yet. 
• Like tomorrow morning is the last time I'll get to enjoy the hilarious and spiritually-uplifting privilege of joining my brother for seminary and it'll be the last time I see him for 18 months.  
• Like I'm less than a week away from embarking on what will probably be one of the most incredible journeys of my life and will hopefully go on to bless not only my life, but the lives of many others as well. 
•  Like I've been dreaming of this milestone in my life since I was 13 years old, sitting in Beehives, listening to my YW's leader talk about her mission. 

This is it. It's the night before the big day and I can't sleep. I'm at the top of the stairs looking down. And with the help of the Lord, a good attitude, and hard work, this next 18 months is going to turn out just like the year of elementary school that ended up being my favorite and the intimidating ride at Hawaiian Waters I'll never forget.  There will be nerves, difficult tests, trying homework, unexpected bumps, and slippery slopes. At times I may trip on the playground, or it may even be a little bit nauseating and I may find myself wondering, "How did I end up here?" But it will also be a time of great joy, many miracles, laughs, new friends, and testimony-strengthening experiences. 

Friends, family, readers, 

I'll see you in 18 months! Keep reading my blog for updates, pictures, and excerpts from letters home posted by my dad and Amy.  And don't forget to write me! 

Waking Up is Hard to Do

Yesterday I crossed another day off my self made mission-count-down-calendar that is hanging above my desk in my bedroom.  Seeing that the count was down to 10 days, I realized something really important.  I'm going to have to start waking up at 6:30 every morning in ten days.  This realization was actually crucial because it meant for the next week-ish I can start forcing myself out of bed that early in hopes to start forming the habit and make the transition into my new and upcoming life less painful. By that I mean that the transition stage is going to be painful, not mission life. Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited!  I mean, let's face it.  Waking up before 7:00 a.m. just isn't a talent I was blessed with.  (A lacking gift that I think can be traced back genetically....dad) I guess you can't have it all. Some people just have to work harder at certain things. Like my brother who will have to labor extremely hard to ever sing on pitch (sorry Mike), or our dog who must fight against her appetite for human food with everything she has in order to smell socially acceptable (ew Molly).  I guess what I'm trying to say is: 

I will never be able to wake up before 10:00 am and have a smile on my face unless I practice.  Endlessly. 

Phew. Now that that's off my chest...

But seriously.  I just can't help it if I have a natural affinity for soft, snuggly sheets, maleable mattresses and cozy comforters. And let's not even get started on waking up early in the winter.  Who can resist the warm goodness of sleeping-in when it's frigid outside? Needless to say, I should have started this habit forming process months ago.   Actually, I did try to.  Most week days for the last month I've been setting my alarm. But my slumbering self kept sabotaging my efforts by hitting snooze.  Pesky self... Either way, all of this thought on my inability to be "early to rise" brought me to this morning. Yes. This morning I did something unheard of.  I woke up at 6:00 a.m. Then hit snooze and rolled back asleep. Only to wake up again at 6:22 and drag myself out of bed and into a half-awakened stupor.  I'm pretty sure if you ask my step-mom Amy or brother Micahel, they'll attest that I looked something like this when I came hobbling down the stairs this morning:

How did I do it, you ask? The answer is simple really. I had something to wake up for as motivation.  Somewhere to be.  And boy was that somewhere interesting.  I'll let you have the enjoyment of figuring out where I was yourself from the following clues:

• I sat around a table with a handful of awkward, angsty, members of society
• Several of these society members spent their time coloring pictures with crayons
• One of them spent it eating chips (and occasionally feeding them to the person next to him) and bursting out randomly with obscure, slightly humorous, but very distracting, commentary
• This "meeting", if you will, was led by an older member of society, sweetly and desperately attempting to hold the little attention of these younger people
• At first everyone was pretty much confused why I was there, but seemed otherwise uneffected
• Except for one girl who was irrate because I sat in her seat and the change was apparently too much for her to handle
• The conversation was mostly earnest struggles (of the older one, trying to relay a story to the younger ones), flagrant giggles, thoughtful questions, thoughtless answers, and unnecessarily voiced yawns
• The story was a Biblical story
• Which then became insights on the wonderful gift that bodies are
• Which then became a video on the law of chastity
• Which then became more flagrant giggling
• And ended with a brief but precious moment of a heartfelt message, sincere understanding, and a warm spirit
• It all began with a conglomeration of voices feebly making their way through "Master the Tempest is Raging" (a capella)
• And all ended with a cheerful "have a nice day guys!"

Can you guess where I was?

 

That's right. I went to seminary with my little brother.

 



Go ahead...give yourself a pat on the back if you got it right.



 Once I explained to Mike's seminary teacher, Sister M., that I thought it would be good practice for waking up early for my mission, she was totally game.  I must tell you, going to seminary this morning was like a weird blast from the past: a little bit of tender nostalgia mixed with a lot a bit of frazzled horror/realization that I used to be just like these kids.  (And I don't mean that in an insulting way, just that I was a puzzling teenager once and took seminary for granted) All in all it was a very humorous experience (teenagers are hilarious, and genuinely sweet deep, deep down), and a great way to start the day. I'm looking forward to a few more days of seminary before I leave for Provo, and kinda wish I had started doing this earlier.  Funny what you'll put yourself through for self-improvement.  Hopefully by the time I'm back from my mission I'll come out on top of this war against mornings.

 

 

"Earthquake, earthquake!"

Whilst in the Asian aisle at the grocery store about a week ago, shopping for some Sweet Thai Chilli sauce to go with the coconut shrimp I was making for dinner that night, I spotted this lovely gem of a package:



Since they were only like a dollar something, I bought them, thinking, "what the heck, they'll be fun and go well with dinner."  And fun they were indeed. From the moment I got home and more closely examined the packaging on these bad boys, I realized these were going to be legit:

  

You heard it straight from the Chinese: fortune cookies are not only great for camping, parties, and picnics, they're good for anytime.

I wish I had been saving my fortunes from these cookies all week and could post a picture collage of all of them, because they truly were like nothing you could ever imagine you'd find in an oriental dessert. But, alas, I threw most of them away.  So I can only share with you my favorite one; one that I loved so much, in fact, that is taped to a notecard and hanging on my wall as we speak you read:

An alien of some sort will be appearing to you shortly!

Now, I don't know if maybe there was some kind of deeper, metaphorical meaning that was lost in translation or something, but....that's almost as good as those little fortunes kids come up with when they make these things:

I'm sad to report that I have yet to have any extra terrestrial appearances thus far, but....I'll keep you posted. 

P.S. ten points if you can figure out how the title of this post is relevant. (I know it probably seems like they're sometimes random, but I assure you, this one isn't!) 

Not For the Squeamish! (seriously)

***WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS POST IF SQUEAMISH. IT HAS PICTURES!***

There I was minding my own business, having a perfectly enjoyable Saturday morning with lots of goals in mind for the rest of the day. Then I remembered my dad asked me to clean the bathrooms before my grandparents got there that afternoon. (They were coming into town for my mission farewell talk in church)

Uggghhh, I thought to myself, how can I get out of this.... when a lightbulb came on in my head. Michael! I sauntered over to my younger brother's bedroom and woke him up.  "Hey! Don't you know grandma and grandpa are coming to today?!" I said. "Don't you know you're supposed to clean the bathrooms before they get here?" Michael groaned. "Hey, don't sweat it," I said (all the while thinking I was so smooth), "I'll help you.  I'll even let you choose which bathroom you clean and I'll clean the other one."

It was settled that Michael would clean the downstairs bathroom and I would clean the upstairs.  I felt so smart for having tricked Michael into thinking it was his chore, cutting my work load in half.  I made my way to the bathroom and looked around. How can I do this in the fastest way possible, with the least amount of effort?, I thought to myself.  Clorox wipes! I sped my way past the tub, threw some cleaner in the toilet and started on the sink, wipe in hand. After giving the counter top a quick swipe, I moved in to dust off the backsplash and ledge underneath the mirror.  Little did I know something horrible was waiting for me there:

The nasty culprit

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain go through my finger.  Reacting from the shock of the pain, and thinking it was just a papercut-like wound, I shook my hand quickly up and down.  Blood flew everywhere.  I looked down at my finger and my stomach turned.  This was no papercut. 

"Ahhh...." I said. "I've cut myself... I've cut myself really bad!"  (I only vaguely remember saying these words, but apparently, according to Michael, my initial reaction was very calm. So calm, in fact, that he thought I was joking at first.)  I looked at my finger again and ran down stairs. "AHHHH," I said, getting a little louder. "I cut myself really bad and I don't know what to do!"  My dad ran up the stairs from the basement into the kitchen where I was standing.  "Ah!" I said.  My dad looked at my finger, thought for a second, and grabbed a paper towel to wrap my finger in.  "Here...just...put some pressure on it." Before I could blink, Amy was in the kitchen too.  "What happened?" Amy asked.  "I cut my finger on the mirror!" I said, sobbing now and hopping around the kitchen.  "We need to take Anne to the emergency room," my dad said.  "Can I see it?" asked Amy? "It's really deep, we need to go now," dad replied.  And the discussion was finished.  We jumped in the car, drove twenty minutes at 80 miles an hour to the ER in Great Falls and the rest was waiting.



this is after an hour, when we finally got into a room to be seen




then she left me to just bleed on this towel for 30 minutes



finally, the doctor came in and stitched me back together

After 8 stitches, the doctor informed me that part of my finger was just missing and she couldn't stretch the skin to completely sew up the wound, so part of my laceration was just left open.  Then, the doctor left and the nurse came back into the room, handed me a pack of gauze and said in 10 days I'll be able to get the stitches out and should be healed.  I'll get to keep a really cool scar as a souvenir from this cleaning-gone-wrong-escapade, but otherwise, I'll be fine.  Still....it was  is really painful. If only there had been a sign:

there is now!

But, I suppose it's probably karma for tricking Michael into thinking he had to do my chores.  That'll be the last time I ask someone to clean the bathroom for me. Heck, that'll probably be the last time I clean a bathroom myself.  Or at least a mirror.  Ew. 

Can I just say...

I can't believe how fluid life is. It is no joke ever changing. This time last year I was in Hawaii, starting my first week at a new campus (and just for the heck of it!). Now, I'm preparing to go serve a mission in Canada. In French.  If you had asked me last year what I saw myself doing in a year, it would not have been this. And if you had asked me that same question two years ago, I would have never dreamed I'd end up in Hawaii for a semester.  Life is  just one incredible journey that I will never be able to wrap my head around.  This week itself has been a strange grab-bag of emotions and events that reach far beyond any possible descriptions.  And, it's all going to culminate with the Sunday to top all Sundays. That's right. It's my farewell- talk-Sunday (I know, I'm not leaving for another 2 1/2 weeks, but, this is how it worked out).  But the pot just keeps on getting sweeter, because not only am I giving a talk this Sunday, but...you guessed it...I'm giving a special musical number as well. Woo... (thanks dad!) AND (I feel like we need a drumroll at this point)...the branch is throwing me a potluck after church. Oh boy. I seriously lead a very special kind of existence.  I would be excited about Sunday, especially considering that I normally love giving talks and playing the piano in public (when it's a song I've practiced). And heck, I also love food and social gatherings. But this week has just been so emotionally draining that I'm just hoping I get some coherent words out, that the Spirit is somehow present as I speak, that I figure out a song to play (I was just asked to play yesterday), that it sounds decent and that I'm still standing by the time the potluck starts.  Can I just say... I'm feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Look up ____ in the dictionary and there'll be a picture of you next to the definition!"



These are the patterns of obesity 



glut-ton-y ['gluht-n-ee] noun

1. excess in eating or drinking

2. greedy or excessive indulgence

synonyms: gluttonousness; overeating

see also: anne or michael

Ex: Anne and Michael piled left over birthday cake and ice cream onto their plates with such gluttony last night. Luckily, they felt sick after only a few bites and threw the rest away. 

Announcement

People,

23 days till I go to the MTC!

In correspondance with that, this blog is going to transition into my mission blog.  (As you can see)

I'll probably post a few more times before I leave,  but I was in a blogging mood today and so I thought I'd take advantage of that and just make the changes already and save myself time and energy  in the future. 

That is all. Carry on.

-Anne

So this is what I call mission prep...

Today I spent the day making a YouTube video.  Actually, I've been wanting to make it for quite some time now. A while ago I got the idea to remake this song by Lulu and the Lampshades into a mission farewell song.

 After quite some time thinking of applicable new lyrics, I finally set out to record the song and upload it on YouTube.  But between all the takes and retakes, I got carried away with the bloopers.  In the end I think the blooper reel was twice as long as the actual song. And I liked the blooper reel more. Anyway, I wasn't gonna post this until like right before I leave (28 days!! Eeeep!), but I couldn't wait.  So, without further ado: