I've got the itch

So, I went home a few weekends ago for my little sister’s birthday. At least that was the excuse that I gave everyone for going home. The real reason was to get my skis and board. Every year around Halloween I get the itch. This year it came way early and way strong. I have been wanting to go skiing/boarding since this semester started. There is just something about winter that is so refreshing to me. I love the cold, crisp air and how everything goes silent right before it is going to snow. I love hot chocolate and long johns and layering. I love going to the cabin with my family and cramming everyone in two rooms for Christmas. I love sharing towels with my Uncle Philip (long story) and watching my little sister almost break her neck (also another long story). I love our Charlie Brown Christmas trees, our gag gift exchange, and our Christmas song chime band.

But, the thing that I love most about winter is hitting the slopes. I love laying in the middle of a huge pile of pow and listening to the sound of snowflakes falling around me. I brought all my winter stuff back that weekend I went home. I was so excited that I brought it in and put on all my clothes, goggles and all and strapped into my skis. My roommates all thought that I was crazy, but pretty soon they were wanting to strap in too.

Snowbird opened up this last weekend. I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but skiing since I found out. I find myself watching skiing and boarding videos while I’m supposed to by studying. Diana and I are going this weekend. Hopefully after I go, it will be easier to concentrate on school and relieve some of the itch. But then again, maybe it will make it worse.

We've Had an Incident with Daisy

Last winter I spent with my family in Idaho. It wasn’t exactly what I would have thought I would be doing with my life at 22, but it was really a great winter. Besides the numerous trips to the cabin and incredible job, in February I got a new puppy. A labradoodle named Daisy. (I know, kinda a girly name, but it fits her). She was the center of my life. Living at home when you’re 22 is a little boring and I needed something to keep me entertained.

Daisy is the most well behaved puppy you will ever meet. She rings a bell to go outside and was my constant companion. She would sleep on the floor of my bedroom and at 6:30 sharp would pop her huge head right in my face and scare me half to death. She always wanted to play ball and kept me on my feet. It was great to have some kind of responsibility to look after and take care of.

When I left for school in April, I think I missed her just as much if not more than my family. I always swore to myself that I would never become one of those “dog people”. You know the kind. They always have dog hair all over and pictures of their dogs all over the house. As I got to school and was unpacking my things a dog bone fell out of my bag, there was hair on my favorite sweatshirt and the first picture I put up was one of Daisy and I. As I realized what was happening , I realized, “oh no, I may be one of those “dog people”.

Throughout the summer, my mom would call and tell me of the funny things Daisy would do. She would jump up on the couch and when my mom came into the room and told her to get down, Daisy would pretend like she was asleep. No joke, she is smart! Whenever I go home, she doesn’t leave my side. If I sit down on the couch, she thinks she needs to sit in my lap(she is 100 pounds).

Sometimes these phone calls weren’t about the funny things that Daisy had done. I could always tell that something was wrong because my mom would say, “Hi how are you?” and just pause. I would ask what was wrong and she would always say “we’ve had an incident with Daisy”. Most of the time these were small things like she got a rash from hiking with my dad or my little brother’s friends had yelled at her. But there was the day that she swallowed rat poisoning or the worst day, the day that she broke her leg.

She had been playing with our other dog, the cranky old man as we call him. He didn’t want to play with her and she was getting frustrated and running all over the backyard. Being the big clumsy thing that she is, she ran into our fire pit. Daisy never cries. My dad has stepped on her and she didn’t let out so much as a whimper, but my parents said it was horrible this time.

I felt like a mother being called by the school nurse. Something was wrong with my “child”. It gave me a little insight into what a mother must feel like when something happens to her baby. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach and I ached for my poor puppy.

She had to have two surgeries and a plate and screws all the way up her leg. It’s been almost two months now, but she still doesn’t use her leg. She has learned how to run on three and is just as fast as she was before. She is back to getting into trouble and tormenting the poor cranky old man. And she does it all on three legs.

Turning the page

Ok, so I have always been a little against the whole blogging thing. I have no good reason to be, other than the fact that it takes a lot of upkeep on my part. Or maybe it's the fact that I have read some amazing blogs and think that my life is pretty average and I could never be that creative...but I've decided to turn a new page of my life and with that comes writing a blog.
I took a semester away from school and moved home to Idaho to work as a dental assistant. It was the most amazing winter ever, filled with ski trips to the cabin, snow machining, sledding, and really bonding with my family. It wasn't exactly the most ideal of circumstances, but we made some awesome memories. Like the time that we crammed a big screen TV in our 12 passenger van and drove to the cabin. Now most people would cram it in there and think "hm...the driver can't see the passengers, and likewise, the passengers can't see out the windshield, maybe this isn't such a good idea" but not my family. We thought "sweet, a moving theater!" We plugged the bad boy in and watched Hot Rod on a screen that filled the entirety of the front windshield. I wish that I had brought my camera to capture the looks on the faces of the people driving by.
Or there was the time that my little brother and I convinced my mom that she should ski the sick pow under the lift with us. She would always tell us stories of how she used to shred it up with all the boys so we convinced her to show us her stuff. She fell right as we were going under the lift and couldn't get up. The whole time she was laughing like a crazy person. We had to sidestep back up to her and help her out.
Or there was the time that my dad and I got chased by the llamas. He had a huge pvc pipe and was warding them off while I ran for my life.
Now I'm back in Provo and trying to keep up with the craziness that my family had brought to my life. For the most part, I have been successful in my endeavors.