'Ain't That Just A Kick In The Head?'

I was listening to my newly set-up ipod and I discovered that song by Dean Martin on it. It's a cute song, and I love it, but I couldn't help but think to myself 'Wow. That would hurt!' As fate would have it, I was about to find out how much...

You see, on Valentines Day weekend, I told myself that I wasn't going to sit at home alone and hate my life like so many girls do. I was going to go out and do something that made being single fun! I did. I went country swing dancing. It was a great night, and I met several nice guys who came stag too. I was quite pleased with myself when I came home that night.
I was still under this spell when the next Saturday night rolled around. I wanted to relive that fun night and I thought I might meet up with some of the guys I met the week before. So, against all my friends' wishes I went dancing alone again.
This time it wasn't quite so promising. I didn't feel like the mood was as fun and as easy-going as it was last time. But I paid six bucks to get in, so by golly, I was going to get my money's worth! I started asking guys to dance, and I noticed this one guy who was clumped up against the wall with a bunch of his friends. I thought he was cute, and experience has led me to know that a grouping of guys like this meant that they were single and therefore safe. I asked him to dance and he smiled big at me, nervously. He led me out the dance floor and instantly started yanking me around like some kind of doll. He was over six feet and very well built, so I had a hard time putting up resistance. In country dancing, like all social dancing, it's important to stay tense with your partner, because looseness makes it hard for her to follow your lead. But this guy was like a charging rhino. He could tell that he was being a little rough on me, so he kept on apologizing. He told me he hadn't done this for a while. I found out later that 'while' meant two years. Yup. He was a freshly returned missionary. He told me he had just returned from his mission in Chile this past Tuesday. No wonder he was so uptight! Leave it to me to pick out the most scared guy on the dance floor!

I don't remember what happened next, I just know that I was coming out of some sort of spin, when WHAM! Something like an elbow hit me HARD on my face, right above my left eye. My body jammed up, my teeth clenched together hard. I remember seeing black and hearing a vague apology. I shook myself off and told him it was okay. And it should've been. I finished the dance with him and went off to find someone else to dance with. After a while I began to notice that I felt nauseous. I started dancing sluggishly, and couldn't respond in time like I should've. My head started to ache. Finally I gave up and decided to go home. I noticed that I was having a hard time walking and was feeling disoriented. When I came home, my room mate Judy noticed instantly that something was wrong. She had me elevate my feet and gave me a cold glass of water, but I didn't feel better. I went to bed early that night (by early I mean midnight) but not before I got a look at myself in the mirror and noticed that my eyes had dilated.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night and when my room mates went to church, I told them to go without me. When she came home Judy convinced me to go to the E.R. to have my head checked out. I made several phone calls but no one picked up, and since the hospital is only a block away from my house, I decided it wouldn't kill me to walk there. Well, that was relative. It was freezing outside, but I arrived at the E.R. without a hitch, and they actually got me in very quickly. The doctor was kind, but he didn't think there was much wrong with me. Because it was a head injury, he ordered for a CAT scan, just to be safe. After the scan he sent me back to my room and set me up with an I.V. that would inject anti-nausea anti- pain medicine. I sat there, hooked up to this I.V. for over an hour while I waited for the results of the CAT scan. All I wanted to do was sleep. Finally the doctor came in and told me yes, I had a minor concussion, but he didn't see anything too dangerous at this point. He told me to get some rest and sent me home with a single, piddling sleeping pill.

The pill worked for five hours, but when I woke up, I couldn't get back to sleep. Not only was I restless from the symptoms of the concussion, but my little jaunt to the hospital cost me dearly and I developed a cold. My nose ran like a faucet the entire night long. Obviously when I woke up, I wasn't feeling any better, but I thought I had to at least try to get to my classes. But when I looked in my mirror, I noticed that one of my pupils had dilated. I remembered that being one of the warning signs the doctor told me to look for, and sure enough, when I consulted the hospital, they told me to come back in. So, back out into the snow I went. I saw a different doctor this time. He looked like one of the Beatles with his shaggy hair and goatee. I felt instantly comfortable around him, and he and I were joking around in a matter of minutes. He made fun of me for going country dancing in the first place. I told him how I still felt sick and how I noticed my eyes were different. This doctor told me that the odds of a CAT scan missing something was like 1/1600. But, he was concerned that my neck may have been injured when I got hit, so he said we'd do a more in-depth CAT scan, this time injecting my blood with a solution called contrast, which which would dye my blood a certain color in the scans and make it easier to see the activity of the blood vessels in my brain. This turned out to be quite a trip. I'd never had a CAT scan before two days ago and I was apprehensive that it would be as bad as an MRI. It wasn't. It was quick and painless, like x-rays. However, the second time around, the contrast in my blood had this crazy effect on me. I felt heat rush through my veins, like a hot flash. I also felt like I was wetting myself. The technician warned me that I would feel this way, that it wasn't real, but I was alarmed at what a real sensation it was.

Once again I was sent back to my room to wait for the results. They didn't hook me up to any medication, but they left the contrast needle in me while I waited. This time around it was better because they let me watch T.V. There weren't very many stations, but I did manage to find the Cosby Show. Always a classic.

The doctor finally returned and told me he couldn't find anything wrong either, but he was concerned about my eyes freaking out, so he told me that he wanted me to be monitored through out the night. Have one of my room mates wake me up every couple of hours just to see how my brain is functioning. Then he asked me if I wanted a note for school and how long I felt I would need it. I ended up with a glorious get-out-of-school-free note for three days. Because he wanted me to be able to wake up easily, he didn't want to give me any heavy duty sleeping pills. I asked him if I could take something to ease my cold symptoms so I could sleep at night. Sure, he said. Benedril would be just fine! I headed home once again. I had to get to campus to talk to my teachers and buy medicine, so I gathered up my stuff and went to school. I found the medicine aisle in our little bookshop store, but I didn't see any night time Benedril. I did however, see Nyquil, and I figured it was probably the same stuff. I'd seen people get sloshed while on Nyquil before, but I thought that since I was small, it would just knock me out. The alcohol was supposed to put me to sleep. That night, I had a rip-roaring headache and a nose that wouldn't quit. I decided to take a couple of pills before I went to bed. Now I have had awful, restless nights in the past, but this one was a doozey. You see, when you can't sleep, your thoughts become confusing and frustrating and anxious and you're just sick of thinking. My thoughts stopped resembling thoughts. After a while I began to see literal sentences flash across my brain that looked like this:

>> cODElbjf8r475$^YSawtj i4tu9u49Help!n49r n&w3iv448kraken
<<

It was like I no longer had any grasp on English anymore, my thoughts were coming out like some kind of twisted computer code. And I knew, in a very hazy, slurred sort of way, that I was drunk. Sure enough, when I tried to lift myself up on to my elbows, I couldn't do it. I was too weak and I fell down in a slump. What surprised me is that it didn't feel good at all. Being drunk is supposed to be a relaxing, enjoyable feeling. I just felt dazed and bewildered. And what's more, it defeated the purpose! Yeah, my nose stopped running, but it started up again the moment I got out of bed. Plus I now had to deal the morning-after effects of drunkenness along with my cold and my concussion. It was an enlightening experience and I learned a lot:

1. No more of that Devil drug for me!
2. I can see where the term 'pink elephants' came from. Only mine were teal and they were sheep.
3. Because it made me cry, I've learned that I'm not a mean drunk, or a sweet drunk. I'm a sad drunk.
4. The morning after is NOT worth it.
5. I probably couldn't hold my liqueur very well if two gels caps are enough to take me out.

When Judy came to wake me up at 4:00 am, she could see that I'd had a rough night, and since we determined that my motor skills were up to par, relatively, she let me sleep for the rest of the night.

So there you have it. My girl-nite out turned out to be an adventure. I'm a little superstitious of Dean Martin songs now. I still like him, but I think I'm going to listen to songs about lovers in passionate embraces before I listen to anymore that mention head injuries

My First True Love

I know Valentine's day is over and done with, and I had a great time, despite the fact that I'm single. I feel like I spent that weekend the right way, but that is a story for another day. Before anymore of this month fades away, I wanted to take this opportunity to pay a tribute to an aspect of my life that has always been a part of me. My siblings will tell you that from a very young age, I felt a passion for my fellow living creatures on this planet that has impacted my philosophies and perception of life. So, without further ado, I'd like to give a little shout out to all my fellow creatures, great and small:*

* 10 points to the first sibling that catches that reference

Both the Bible and the Doctrine and Covenants mention the creation of the earth and all who lie on it. More then once, God mentions that he created animals to be for our use. I'm no vegetarian, but nothing makes me angrier or crazier then cruelty. Especially when there are so many instances when animals help us survive and live our daily lives. We live in a time when machines do most of our chores, but look at history: Where would the cowboy be without the horse? Or the farmer? Would the Middle East have ever been explored without camels? Without chimps, rats, and other lab animals, our medical knowlege would be almost non-existant. Every day dolphins, horses, and dogs bring healing to the injured and emotionally scarred. This is just a few instances of why we should go out and hug an animal today:

Picture like this always remind me of those funny Bradley Trevor Grieve books- you know, the black and white kind that have the funny pictures of animals with the witty text. But the nerd in me is touched by this; here is one the greatest and yet most threatened creatures of all time, raising funds for the desolate people in Haiti. This elephant may not be aware of the good deed it is doing, but it obviously loves some human enough to allow it to manipulate it into carrying around a plastic bucket all day. That's more then some people, who are more aware of themselves and the world around them, are willing to do.

Speaking of willingness to sacrifice, there are a thousand stories of animals that put their lives on the line every day. I'll start with the locals:

This just seems to me to be redundant. But I feel kinda strongly about it, because there was a story recently about the police dog in Layton that was recently shot and killed in the line of duty. The policeman who was his handler was devastated, but he also is very aware that if it weren't for his partner, the bullets would've taken his life instead. He gets to go home to family, because of his friend. I was very impressed by the community'response the death of this animal; Layton honored this dog as they would a fallen human officer.

No surprises here. No blog of mine would be complete with out my beloved huskies. I spent a summer in Alaska a few years ago and while I was there, I managed to find a tour of a sled dog kennel. That was when I learned about the Iditarod, the world's largest sled dog race. It is held in honor of the sled dogs that made that fateful run back in 1912, I believe it was. Anyone who has seen Balto is familiar with the story: the developing town of Fairbanks, Alaska was hit with a diptheria epidemic. Medicine was shipped to Nome, but getting the medicine to Fairbanks was almost impossible. (anyone familiar with Alaska knows the terrain is some of the most dangerous in the world). A dog sled team was sent. Those dogs faced all the perils of tempestuous weather, wild animals and every other dramatic obsticle you can imagine. It payed off. The dogs saved the town. It had it's cost, though. After the dogs arrived home, half of them died. That's the thing about sled dogs. If mushers don't stop them, the dogs will run until they die. They love what they do. The invention of snow mobiles has caused a decline in the of dog sleds as a means of transportation, but they definitely have their place in remote locations like Antarctica, where they are used for research and weather stations.

By the way, to all my faithful followers, I've found what I want for my birthday:

Isn't that awesome?!

Here is one close to home. America is currently in the middle of an extremely controversial conflict. What ever side you're on, there is one thing for certain: our soldiers deserve to be honored. Sending our sons and daughters to war is an unbearable concept, but while the death toll for this war is alarmingly high, the casualties on that list are less then then they could be because of the military use of animals. Dogs, with their sensitive sense of smell, are the obvious example. However, there are all kinds of creatures that work for Uncle Sam, including, I've heard, dolphins.

It is a well known fact that in any society, the comparision to an animal is insult. In fact, in some cultures, the proper name of an animal is a foul obscenity if applied to a human being. But I feel that sometimes, the fact that animals lack the characteristic foibles of humanity is what makes a relationship with them so special: sometimes you just need a snuggle buddy.

And last, but certainly not least, I cannot help but put in a plug for my own sweetheart:

WOOKIE POODLES!

Yes, this gorgeous German Shepherd mutt is my dog. He's become quite the presence in my life, and I can't imagine having my home without him. He's been a loyal member of my family for ten years, which means it's become painfully obvious that he's slowing down. But he's always so pleased to see me and he still takes his duty as protector and guardian of my family very seriously. To see him rush at you, or hear him, for the that matter, is enough to make any intruder piddle his panties. However, he has the sweetest heart and has been known to let babies and small children crawl all over him. He's my buddy. Happy V- day, Luke!

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing

I've always been a big fan of dances. It's been a big part of growing up in my family. Somebody would put on a great CD and we'd all go nuts. Some of my fondest memories are of my siblings and I dropping everything and rocking out to the Beach Boys, ABBA, Michael Jackson and so on. Nobody cared what we looked like; in fact, it was almost a competition to see who could come up with the funniest and craziest dance moves. Most of my siblings would never display this facet of our childhood in puplic, but I've never gotten over the rush of a dance party well danced. I've taken a class in everything under the sun, from ballet to bellydancing. (NO, I will NOT demostrate!) I've done it enough that I can get out on a dance floor and be 100% confident in my abilities-not that's in my nature to be self conscious anyway. I'm not a prima ballerina, but I do know how to move. Recently, my new favorite thing to do is country swing. Swing dancing in general is a flattering dance for short people because guys feel confident throwing you around. I've had some hair-raising expereinces, but all in all, I've had a ball.

This weekend my ward threw a special formal dance, with a black and white dress code and a 30's theme. It was whimsical and fun because half the dance was played with a 30's soundtrack. You know, jazzy, charleston-type stuff. The guy who asked me to this dance was a real sweetheart, a good friend of mine. He didn't know any of the dance steps, but he spent the entire night valiantly trying to learn. In the end, it proved to be a enjoyable alliance because others noticed me instructing him and came over to learn as well. By the end of the night, I was teaching several other couples. And anyone who knows me knows that I thrive of being in the limelight. So Todd, thanks for the dance, pal. You're a real peach.

He decided that he wanted to get a picture of the two us looking 'bad', but I think that just might be beyond both of us.

Mormons may be nerdy, but you can't deny that we love a good dance!

Bang!(s)

From the time I was in high school, New Year's has been my favorite holiday. My friends and I used to gather around at Jessie's house and watch a movie before switching over to see that giant diamond ball drop in Rockefeller Square. We never kissed each other; instead we all ran outside and a had a massive blood bath snowball fight. Due to my size, I was always harrassed and singled out. I guess I must've seemed like easy pickin's. But I ended up earning quite a name for myself and became quite the terror in the snow, the culmination of my battle skills being shown when I threw a 6'4'' Hungarian over my shoulder in the snow and proceeded to white wash him. HAH!
Once I started going to college, New Years died down for me. Even though I would keep up my tradition of wearing something sparkly and fluffy, and crimping my hair, I found myself with nowhere to go, no one to be with. My friends in college had all gone home for the holidays and were spending a well earned break with their own families. My sisters had their own friends to be with, and my high school friends were all getting married and had their own plans. This year I ended up watching the ball drop alone in my living room. But as that sparkling giant bubble fell down, I felt this strange sense of relief and excitement. I thought 'hey, 2009 was tough... let it rot! This is a new year, a new decade! This is it; this is my go year. 'And I've felt that way ever since. I decided it was time for me to make some changes. Mostly in my social life, but I had also felt the need for some physical TLC as well. So I went and had my hair cut. It started out as a typical trim with more defined layers, but suddenly I got daring and had my hair dresser cut BANGS! It's amazing to me how something so seemingly inconsequencial could have such an impact on my self image. It's like having a super power! I feel like I'm thinner, stronger and prettier. All because of a couple cut folicles in front of my face. But this is just the beginning. My new found self confidence has led me to feel like my instincts were correct: this truly is the GO year.

My Own Year in Review

About 6 months ago, my younger sister told me that I should start my own blog. I told her my life wasn't interesting enough to write about. But I've found that I've really liked reading the blogs my sisters post; it's a great insight into their lives and a fantastic way to stay in touch. I decided to go through my journals and see if I could find something that would be worthwhile. Turns out that a lot of things happened to me this year that I feel were actually kinda interesting, so among all the different countdowns and reviews of this decade, I decided to include my own review of the most note-worthy events of this past year:

Moab

A good friend of mine has this fantastic lifted red Jeep. He's the ultimate expert on Moab; he can tell you about every hiking, jeeping, biking trail open to the public. ( and some that aren't...) He took me down for the first time last may and I truly fell in love with the desert. I knew I had to go back there and see more, so when he invited me to come jeeping again this past February, I went for it. The weather was a little more chilly, but the sights, as always were worth it.

Here he is, the Master of Moab himself. Evidently, he's not afraid of the camera either.



Gorgeous, isn't it? I just love how peaceful and remote it is out there. It makes me feel like such a cowgirl!


My First Injury

February was jam- packed for me; it would hard to catalogue it all. But one incident cannot be ignored and that was my four wheeling accident. The first councilor in my bishopric is fairly well off and owns an extensive plot of land in the obscure city of Benjamin. He needed a fence built on his property, so he proposed that if the students in our ward would come and help him build it, he would build a bonfire and throw a huge party, with a hired band and fireworks. It was quite the soiree. I arrived early, but the job was done when I got there, so Brother O'Connell told us to entertain ourselves by taking out the fourwheelers. I climbed onto one with three other girls and we sailed off into the hills. At one point, we saw a ditch. Unsure how to navigate over it, the girl who was driving it decided that she needed to gun it in order to make it over. No such luck. We smashed into the ditch, and I, embarrassingly enough, flew off of it. Luckily-kay, no luck here, it was divine intervention, plain and simple- I land squarely on my feet. After recovering from the shock that I was still in one piece, I realized that my thumb felt all tingly. I looked down and it was purple, swollen and had a sickening bump at the base. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctors told me that I had at best, strained some ligaments, at worst, ruptured them. They called it gamekeeper's thumb. ( To my horror, I discovered that it got it's name from when gamekeepers would strain their thumbs ringing the necks of game birds. What a terrible name for an injury of a Vet!) I had my friend Jason take pictures of my thumb so I could document it (there ya go, Dad), but I didn't feel they did it justice. It truly was gross.





I actually did walk out of the hospital laughing, but it was for a good reason: After the doctor looked at my x-rays and diagnosed my hand, the nurses came in to wrap my hand in a splint 'til I could get in to an orthopedic surgeon. I guess the sleeves on my shirt were too tight, because they started stripping me down, right there on the hospital bed. It took a second before I realized that Jason was still in the room and sent him out before I became too obscene. Apparently the nurses thought we were married. We both got a good kick out of that one, and because he and I went right back to the party after ward, half the ward heard him tell the tale of his close call by the end of the night.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

My closest friends at the beginning of the semester were all guys. I spent every single night in their apartments learning and observing, hoping to store away some kind valuable knowledge that would help me with my quest to understand men better. One lesson I did learn is that when it comes to men, hunger knows no bounds. At this time, there was only one novel franchise of the famous In-N'-Out burger, and it was four hours away in St. George. But this was no matter for my beefily besotted brethren; one night they developed a craving for the legendary burgers,and no other restaurant could appease them. We all hopped in the car and yes, we drove the whole way there, ate our food and drove back. I had never tried it before, so I was expecting this other-worldly dining experience. It turned out that I just disgusted everyone by picking my hamburger apart, and avoiding most of the vegetables. I've always been a picky eater, but nobody, besides my mother, has treated me like it was some kind of felony. You'd have thought I vandalized the Mona Lisa.


They say music calms the savage beast; I'd say In-'N-Out just might have the same effect.


My Illicit Livestock
There's an apartment of girls in my ward that I'm incredibly close to. One night, one of the girls mentioned that she would love to have a pet duckling. All the other girls agreed that would be the ultimate in cuteness and dropped it. However, because this particular young lady, Molly, was graduating, her room mate, Kimber decided to fulfill her wish and buy her a duck. Her apartment was also close with my best friend, Quinn. He knew that I have a knack for knowing where to purchase various critters, so he, Kimber, another room mate, Becky and I all piled into his car and went all the way out to Draper to find ducklings. (This was in April, just after Easter, so we counted ourselves lucky to be able to find them all.) Once we got there and saw those sweet little balls of fluff, we were toast. The sales woman there told us that she wouldn't sell them to us one at a time, so I did the only thing I could: I bought one for myself, as a companion for Molly's duck. Becky ended up buying one for herself and another future room mate, so we wound up with four peeping ducklings trying to jump out the box on the way home. We were responsible pet owners; We bought top of the line bedding and turkey feed for the wee darlings, we just kinda decided to over look the whole 'no pets allowed' rule at our complex. In the end, the ducks were more messy then we anticipated, and it caused strife in more then one apartment. As soon as they were big enough, I dropped them off at the botany pond at BYU. As I drove away from my little babies, I thought (somewhat ridiculously) how it must be in some measure how parents feel when they drop off their kids for college. I came to check on them every day for about a week before they stopped trusting me and letting me hold them. Now they've grown up to be beautiful white ducks. I quite literally have Empty Nest Syndrome.




This one was mine. I named him Sir Ferdinand the Bold. Ferdie for short.



These guys are the ultimate bath toys. Can you see why we had such a hard time controlling ourselves?

The Final Countdown

About sometime in April, Jason and Paul (my jeeping friend) decided to play a little game of Ultimate Frisbee against another group of BYU students. The twist was that we played at night with a glow in the dark frisbee and glowing wristbands. It was so much fun that we decided to make it a weekly event. By the middle of summer we had a group of at least twenty of us meeting at 9:00 on Tuesday nights and carpooling to a park in Springville. One night, when we were all bored, Quinn decided that he wanted to throw a frisbee around. We borrowed Paul's glow in the dark frisbee and he and Jason made up their minds that they were going to teach me how to use it. (at this point I was one of those of girls who squealed when they actually caught the frisbee and threw it straight up in the air, both in fear of the rapidly approaching stampede of men coming at mach 3 in my direction, and a sense of bewilderment from not knowing what to do with the blasted thing.) The boys spent the rest of the night running deals and coaching me on how to catch it. I made them proud. This last summer I made my first touchdown.



Lady in Red
I know there are women out there who dye their hair as regularly as they change their clothes, but this was a bold step for me. I had always wondered what I'd look like as a red head, and I made the mistake of mentioning that in front of the guys. Jason even went so far as to go online and find the right kind of dye for me. I figured that because I'm in college and I'm single, this was the best possible time to take risks and be experimental. Although I'd wanted to try it last August, I finally got the guts and the right dye this past May. Quinn wanted to be the one to do it, so I let him. He learned that he really enjoyed it, and Salon Q was born. He now expects me to come to him for all my hair dying needs. Too bad it'll never happen again, because I learned that I do not like myself as a red head.

Not one of my most flattering pictures. But I hope the younger generation will learn from my mistakes.




My Sister the Model

Something wonderful that happened this past May was when my oldest sister Sharon announced that she was expecting! My other older sister Charlotte had her daughter, Amelia Rose in February, and my family is crazy about her. I will only post one picture of her, since Charlotte's blog is plentiful with pictures of the wee darlin'.


This is my all-time favorite picture of her. Needless to say, we were all pleased to hear that Sharon would be giving her a cousin in 8 months time. However, Sharon's baby, due in the first week of January, has already become quite a star in her own right. Sharon worked for an advertising company up in Salt Lake City and became friends with many of her clients. When one them needed a pregant woman for one of their campaigns, they called Sharon up. She had a sizeable bump, but was still extremely pretty, which meant she was perfect for the job. She went through with it, but she's thoroughly embarrassed about the whole business, and for that reason I won't post any of the magizine ads and commercials that we've spotted her in. I am awfully proud of her, though.


Murder Mayhem

My summer was filled with the usual wonderful adventures: concerts, star gazing, drive in movies, kareoke, eating out, traveling to beautiful Moab once again, etc. But one of the most memorable events of the summer was my neighbor's bachelorette party. Her room mate threw a murder mystery party, which is something I always wanted to do. My role was the bride's mother, a selfish, snobby, manipulative, greedy, shallow aristocrat. As much as I didn't want to be associated with any of these traits, I loved my role! It turned out to be a really fun night.



Because it was an all-girls party, the male roles had be played by women. All though my role called for an indifferent attitude to my husband, Nicole made such a charming husband that I couldn't resist!

and finally,

My Piece De Resistence: SAN FRANCISCO!
My youngest sister, parents and I traveled to San Francisco this past Thanksgiving to visit my other younger sister Kaitlin. She's studying to be a fashion designer a the Art Institute out there. The first 9 months out there were really hard on her, but it looks like she's had some recent luck in finding a WAY nice apartment, awesome room mates, a stable job, and some great friends in her ward. I didn't expect to love San Francisco as much as I did. After seeing the sights, however, I came to the conclusion that while I wouldn't choose to live there, Kait's neighborhood was actually kinda cute and I definately wouldn't mind coming back as a tourist more often. I loved Fisherman's Wharf!

Of course, one of the major appeals of San Francisco is going to be : the Shopping! Ally and I spent several hours at the Port of San Francisco, which was full of cute little booths and stores like this one.

We got to visit the Oakland Temple. The grounds are really cool, but they don't stop in the ground floor. On top of the temple is a gorgeous garden and a view of the 5 bridges.

This is my beautiful, metropolitan, worldly younger sister. Quite a lady.

It was breezy day on the Golden Gate Bridge! Ally was quite unkind to take this picture of me.







This is the Antique Coin Operated Aracade on Pier 49. It was so adorable! I could've spent hours there! It's true that you can have a good time for a dime!

I had to show this luchidor who's boss!

It's a shame that you can't hear this crudely carved, vintage barbershop quartet sing, but Kait and Ally make up for any lack...













There you have it. I've had my heartbreaks and frustrations, but as you can see, I've had many grand adventures and great people in my life. This Christmas season, I can truly focus on my blessings and look forward to another exciting year.




































































































































































































































































































































































































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