Friday, August 31, 2012

What’s up, Doc?

I find I start to reminisce at the end of the month. Tomorrow is September, which is crazy to think that summer is pretty much over. Not that summer means the same thing now when I work 80 hours per week and hardly get outside than when I was a kid at home for almost three months, but still, it’s a seasonal milestone.

So, what’s new here?-Abe is finishing the last hour (or at least I hope he gets home soon!) of his second month of intern year. He’s been very busy and it makes me feel like I have a lot of free time (gratitude, right?) when I am home for hours before he gets home. This has given me a little more time for myself for things like studying and exercise (and dumb tv shows, sleeping, eating, etc).

--I exercised 5 times in the past 7 days. I know this isn’t a big deal to some people, but it is very hard for me to find the time and mostly the energy to exercise. But, I have a new exercise buddy that meets me right after work for spin class or Zumba. I feel so dead after spin and I feel a little silly shaking my booty (literally) at Zumba, but it’s been fun so far. I hope my schedule will permit me to keep at it.

--I made Quinoa for the first time. And I liked it. But I’m still a little intimidated. Doesn’t it seem like all of the organic, healthy, yoga-ey people eat Quinoa? I don’t know if I fit under any of those criteria but I’m trying, at least in the healthy part. If you have favorite ways to eat it, let me know because I’m still a little unsure of myself on this one.


(Quinoa mac n cheese, source Pinterest)

--After weeks of delay, we finally started our basement remodel. This means after weeks of going without, we finally had an electrician come and fix our oven/stove (hoping for some Labor day baking from my husband!). It also means we have no washer/dryer for who knows how long. Evidently we can only have one important working appliance at a time.

--Costco arrived in Iowa City a few months ago. This was a surprisingly big deal for our town. And a big deal for my wallet. I think I’ve only escaped once with a bill of under $80. Deceptive, when you only have three items in your cart. But when those items are 50 lbs of craisins or 20 cans of refried beans, it really adds up.

--I’m reaping the benefits of finally being a “senior resident.” I am getting to do more procedures and am taking less call. Hooray for real three day weekends! I hope one day Abe and I will be able to do this together. We can’t seem to match up on this.

--I got a “cleaning lady.” Love that term, doesn’t it sound powerful to be able to possess a cleaning lady? Anyway, I finally found someone to come help around the house for a few hours a month. I think calling her a friend who happens to come over to clean for me makes me feel a little better (and her, too). It was nice to come home today to a clean bathroom. I think that will help me overcome some of my feelings of guilt/embarrassment (having someone clean your bathroom just makes me feel a little sheepish) seeing those shiny floors and sinks that I didn’t have to do myself or guilt trip myself for not doing.

--We killed our mole (2 years in coming), my brother left back home to Utah, I chopped my hair last month.

What’s not new?

--No matter how hard I try, I still can’t manage to shave every hair off my knee. Silly, I know, but it’s a real problem for me. My leg hair is so fine I can’t feel it well enough to tell if I missed a spot and I certainly can’t see it until I am sitting in the middle of church.

--Abe’s still working long hours. And he still hasn’t come home from his last day of his second month of intern year.

On to September!

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Put a ring on it


When I married Abraham, I knew he was a good looking guy. As a future doctor I knew this was a risk, because as everyone knows, doctors and nurses have a stereotypical relationship which is often romantic. I knew I’d have to work harder to keep him around with all of the temptations at work (I’ve seen the doctor shows on TV!).

About 2.5 years ago Abraham lost his wedding ring. I was of course disappointed but I tried to remember, “it’s just a ring.” We moved shortly thereafter into our house without any sign of the ring. After that I figured it was gone for good.

I let him roam around ringless for over two years. But when graduation was upon us, I knew this better change as he was suddenly that much more irresistible to women. I had to make sure the other ladies at work knew this good looking young doctor was already taken (although I know sadly this sometimes makes some women more attracted to a man).


I ended up buying him a new ring. I didn’t spend much on it as I figured we better test out his ability to keep the ring in his possession. Within a few short weeks, he amazingly found his old ring! (Glad I didn’t spend much on the new one!) It was in a drawer in our entertainment center that holds our tv. A strange place for it in my mind, but a great surprise over two years and a different house later.



I was very glad he now has his ring when he sent me this text message yesterday:

--A couple of nurses just said that I look like the 50 Shades of Grey guy would look. They said it’s a compliment. Maybe I should hurry home before they say much more!

Yes, run home! and don’t take off that ring. Ever.


(PS this just reminded me of Joseph running away from Potiphar’s wife. Glad I have a husband that is looking to run away from trouble instead of into it.)

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Not talking about cocktails…

Vineyard Elementary school in 1988 had an epidemic: little girls were making messes in their pants – on the playground, in the cafeteria, during class. This was becoming a huge problem. What kind of phenomenon could be causing all of these bladder mishaps?

Bloody Mary

picture: search-q=bloody+mary&view=detail&id=C21A8457EDA0C7943800E3C7ABA71A425DA3AFFD&first=1

Are you familiar with Mary and her bloody bloody game?

I wasn’t really either. At least not back then at 5 years old. Here is what I did know: every day when we’d go into the bathroom there would be a large group of older girls in there. They would instruct us to scream and run away. I never understood why I was supposed to scream but I would usually half heartedly do so, with the other little girls in the bathroom. They would yell things like, “Bloody Mary, Blu-de-y Mare-y.” I think sometimes they would even turn the lights off in the bathroom and try to spin you in circles.

I don’t remember ever peeing my pants or even really being afraid (just confused!) but evidently a large number of girls were so terrified they would avoid the bathroom at all costs. Thus the large amounts of yellow body fluid found frequently throughout the school.

As I got older this seemed to be a continuing bathroom theme for elementary school, even after changing schools multiple times. I never tried to summon Mary but it was well into my adult life before I could look in a mirror in the dark without feeling the creeps.

Did anyone else ever go through a Blood Mary phase?

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Minority Report


Erin, Herky, David Haderlie –another LDS Mormon Dental student-- at a Hawkeye Football game my first year of dental school

When I first moved to Iowa I felt like I was “famous.”

I met people and they would automatically say things like, “Oh, you are the girl Mormon dental student. We knew you were coming.” This happened surprisingly often.

Need a little background as to why?

At BYU there was a very large pre-dental club. Over 200 people from my graduating class went to dental school when I started (that’s a lot of Mormons going into dentistry in one year, just from BYU, not including the other colleges in Utah or other places). I was part of the pre-dental club and I was the president of the “Women in Dentistry” club. I looked all over for other girls like me on campus but I found only a small handful (less than 5, and only one or two others who were actually applying with me).

Being a girl going into dentistry at BYU was weird. And not always accepted.

  • A religion professor told me that Satan encouraged me to go to dental school.
  • Boys I dated asked me how I was going to “possibly do dentistry and be a mom.”
  • Another dentist asked me if I was applying to dental school “just to see if I could get in.” Yup, I spent thousands of dollars on application fees just to satisfy my pride and tell everyone about how I “could have gone to dental school but decided not to.”
  • Men in my classes would tell me if they were me, they wouldn’t even study because “no matter what, you are going to get in, anyway.” They didn’t have to tell me the rest of their statement which they kept to themselves, “And you will probably take the spot of a deserving man like me who is trying to provide for his family.” (They also didn’t understand that outside of BYU, there is a huge percentage of women going into dentistry.)

To be honest, I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about the whole thing by the time graduation rolled around. Can you blame me?

I was doing what our church leaders told us to do, to seek all of the education I could, but because I was pursuing a demanding education it was assumed by many that I automatically was choosing not to have a family and this was frowned upon. Maybe at this point if I had a family I could have chosen them, but at this point they weren’t making themselves known to me (ironically I met my husband as a dental student in Iowa).

There was another female LDS student at the dental school when I started. In fact, I credit her with getting me interested in Iowa and applying in the first place. But she was from Iowa and often flew under the radar as another Mormon. I was the Mormon girl from Utah. People noticed the large number of LDS guys in dental school but I got a lot of questions about why I was the only girl. I was kind of special. And often a surprise.

This past Sunday I met a girl at church about to start dental school. There are two girls ahead of her already that go to my church. And there may be another girl from our church starting this year as well. That is 3-4 LDS girls at the school at the same time, plus me as a resident.

I don’t feel so special anymore.

But I’m glad to forfeit that part of my uniqueness. Times are changing maybe…

As a side note, now my identity is more based on being the only girl (the Mormon part is less interesting now that more than half of our residents are LDS) in my program currently, and the fourth female ever. This will probably be harder to change.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Fun House

Do you ever wonder how other people see you?


Maybe being an identical twin has made me more aware of this concept. Growing up with an identical sister always at your side gave me an increased (but maybe false) sense of self awareness: the ability to essentially see “yourself” from the outside, doing things you normally don’t get to see yourself doing. Maybe in this time of youtube and camera phones this has changed, but I think we generally have little idea of how we appear to others as we go about the tasks of our daily lives.

Having my sister to stare at every day growing up provided a fun-house like mirror for most of my childhood experiences. It was hard not to assume that everything I saw in "the mirror” my sister provided was in fact only a warped view of myself. Ironic, since I tried so hard to assert my separate identity but also was perhaps hypocritical in this way of assuming we were “the same” for my own comparisons.

In some instances, I found this to be a confidence booster. For example, there were clothes I wouldn’t wear until I saw how cute they were on my sister, Amber. And at other times, I think it made me more self conscious. If my sister looked a little awkward doing something, it would make me embarrassed that I looked awkward as well. Have you ever had times when you leave the house thinking, “I look GOOD today,” only to pass a mirror later and be horrified by your appearance (“I looked like THAT all day?”). Being a twin, at least for me, I didn’t always have that naive confidence. It’s kind of like having a mirror in front of you every time you dance, walk, run, smile, whatever. It may not be an accurrate mirror, but it is pretty close. And it is close enough that you are harder on that mirror than you would be on someone else. If someone else is a funny dancer or has a weird walk, you wouldn’t notice much. But if it is your identical twin sister you notice. At least I did. (Did you have similar experiences, Amber?)

Through the years I have been surprised to learn some of the impressions people have of me. A dental student rotating in our clinic told me she remembered me from helping her with the local anesthesia practical a few years before (the dreaded day in dental school when you learn injection techniques on fellow classmates). I asked her how I was and she said, “Intense.” One of my assistants told me she was afraid of me, that I was “very serious.” I gave a speech after my intern year for my department and people told me how surprised they were at how funny it was and “where did that come from!” I was at an interview for dental school and the dean told me a few minutes into our conversation that I was “very quiet and not a leader.” I know a lot of people who know me would be surprised to hear I am quiet.

I don’t feel super serious. And sometimes I can be funny. I know I can be intense sometimes but I never thought of myself as “scary.” Even growing up with a (fun-house altered perception) mirror in front of me, it can be difficult to be fully self aware of how you are being perceived. I am going to try harder not to judge those around me and to give off the reflection of who I hope people are seeing.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

More on identical twins

(No idea who is who in this!)
I’m amazed I have forgotten so many things about being a twin. After my last post I started remembering some more common things people say to twins (and some of our common responses). It seems people have a twin fascination so I thought I’d share them as well.
1. *”Are you twins or sisters?”
“Both!” (People always had a puzzled look after this one)
2. “Are you guys twins?”
“No, we’re identical cousins -- Our dads are twins so we are identical cousins.”
“Oh, that explains it!” or “Wow, I could have thought you were twins.”
Or, “No, no we never met until we were at this summer camp and all of our friends said we looked alike. She didn’t like me very much so she cut my skirt and I put a bunch of honey and bugs in her cabin…” (ala “Parent Trap movie, funny what people will believe!)
3. “Wow, are you guys EXACTLY alike?”
“We’re similar but different.” Twins aren’t ever exactly alike. We even have different fingerprints (although we share DNA).
4. “How do you tell each other apart?”
“It’s easy, because each we wake up each morning and decide who is going to be who that day!”
Honestly, we never felt like we looked very much alike. It isn’t hard for us to see our differences. That’s why it can be weird to see pictures and sometimes be confused.
5. “Are you identical or fraternal?”
This isn’t an overtly funny question, but it is very common (and can get old) and sometimes people like to argue about it. I wonder why they even ask if they “know the answer.” It’s usually something like, “No, you aren’t identical because you have a mole there and she doesn’t!” We know we are identical so we really aren’t taking a vote or poll, no matter how hard you insist upon it.
This doesn’t apply to us, but I know a lot of boy-girl twins also get this question. Funny!
6. “Which one are you?”
I liked this response found at another website sited below: “This is an offensive question to twins. It diminishes them as individuals. They're not simply one of a pair. Most twins genuinely understand if you mix up their identities, as long as you make an attempt to recognize their individuality. Rather than saying, "Which one are you?", a preferable alternative would be to say, ‘Forgive my ignorance. I get confused because you look so much alike. Are you (insert name here) or (insert name here)?"’
This was so true! I so craved to be called my name growing up because it so rarely happened outside of my home. And more than that, just to know people had an idea who I was made a big difference. Being called, “Hey you,” or “Twin” my whole life, I wanted to know I had an identity and being called “Amber” meant you at least knew the options.
7. “What’s it like being a twin?”
“What’s it like NOT being a twin?” This was always a puzzling question – I never quite knew how to respond. What is it like to be a single-birth person?
8. “When is your birthday (right after asking hers)?
Me: blank stare
9. “Where’s your twin?” or “Do you feel pain when she is in pain?” or “Can you read each other’s minds?”
“Sorry, she must be out of range right now. The ESP only goes so far.”
(The dimples are still a dead give-away)
Other things people say to twins:
“I wish I had a twin (esp if you add in …to do my homework, chores, etc)” Please just don’t say the alternate version, “I wish I had another ME running around.”
Some people really don’t seem to understand that twins are two separate people who happen to look a lot alike.
“Look, we’re twinners!” When wearing the same color shirt or some other minor coincidence.
“No, no we’re not.”
“You’re lucky you don’t need other friends, you have a built in best friend.”
While this is kind of true, we still felt lonely (even when together!).
“We wanted to choose you for this award, but couldn’t decide which one of you to choose so we gave it to someone else.”
It’s a little sad not being selected for things simply because you are a twin. I always wanted Amber to win.
“I’ll never be able to tell you guys apart so I’ll call you “the twins.”
It would be nice to try…or ask. I guess I wont worry about learning your name, either.
Here are a few websites I found with very similar experiences if you are interested in how to prevent twin faux pas:

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

FAQ about twinners


(My twin sister Amber, the prettiest girl I know!)

People don’t always know that I am an identical twin. This seems funny because the first 18+ years of my life, this was probably the biggest part of my identity.


In fact, people often get angry. “You never told me you were a twin!”

Sorry. Next time I will introduce myself in the following manner, “Hi, I’m Erin. I’m a twin.” --Don’t blame me for thinking I’m weird, though. You asked for it.

Anyway, now that you know, we can move on to more of the juicy details that everyone wants to know.


(One of the weirdest things about being a twin is not always knowing who is who in pictures. My parents are better at this than I! I am confident that I am on the left and Amber is on the right in this one – and that’s Brenna, love the face!)

1. What if you were switched while you were babies and you are really your sister? People seem fairly traumatized by this thought.

-- I guess either way, I’m “Erin” now. And actually, I could never really be my sister now, could I? --Could I?

-- And besides, my parents attempted to prevent this by piercing our ears early on, thus preventing bathtub mix ups.



(I think this was one stage where Amber was the “pretty twin.” I think we are now the “equally pretty” twins)

2. Did you guys always switch places to trick other people?/take each other’s math tests?/do each other’s chores?

-- First, it’s only fun to switch places if someone else knows. I guess there could be some satisfaction in knowing between the two of us, but it didn’t feel like we were getting away with anything when we were so identical a single soul had no idea. Besides, it was hard enough for people to tell us apart, we didn’t think tricking people would help us in any way in establishing our identities.

--Secondly, yes, we did try. The requisite twin switch first occurred in kindergarten. We were pretty smart and getting away with it, but then I also wrote my name on “Amber’s” art project (in very small, five year old handwriting so I’d remember it really was my picture—yes, I was very proud, it must have been quite lovely) my teacher caught on to us. I think we were traumatized (she was mad) because we didn’t try again until junior high school. We switched every class, even band where we played each other’s instruments. Still, wasn’t as fun as you’d think. It was still school. Just more confusing.

--Thirdly, I had my own math tests to take, chores to do, etc. I must not have been smart enough to trick my sister into doing it for me. People forget that having a twin isn’t “having another me running around.” And besides, it’s still cheating, even if it is by the person who shares your DNA!


(I dunno in this one, I would guess I am the “angry twin” in this one. Amber is very rarely the angry twin.)

3. Were people able to tell you apart growing up?



(Luckily my mom didn’t always dress us the same!)

4. Really, they couldn’t?

-- I think I could count the people who could (outside of family), at least until later high school when I had a more established friend circle. For a long time it was Amber, Cami, Miranda, Dan, Andrew, then Rachel, Aaron, Ryan, etc…Some people never could (even after 7 years). Sorry Esther!

Don’t believe me?

At BYU I spent a summer term in Monterey, CA. One of my friends from there ran into “me” on campus afterwards. He was excited to see “me,”

“Erin, how’s it going?”

“Oh I’m sorry, you must know Erin. I’m her sister Amber.”

“Erin, you joker! You are so funny.”

“No, really, my name is Amber, we’re twins. I’m not joking.”

“Whatever, you prankster!”

This went on for some time until I’m told another friend walked by.

“Hey, Erin keeps saying she is her twin sister. Funny, eh?”

“No man, this isn’t Erin. You didn’t know she was a twin?”

I’m sure he felt dumb. Again, my failure to introduce myself as “Hi, I’m a twin” caused an awkward situation for the both of them.


(Doesn’t everyone in my family look alike? People always think Brenna is my twin now, too.)

5. So how DO people tell you apart then?

-- I’m told it’s much easier now (husbands and the whole ‘Amber being a mom and living 1800 miles apart helps’) But here are some things I’ve been told in the past:

Erin: dimples (we were always told, “SMILE!”), “happy” eyes, slightly taller, usually longer hair, green birthmark on forehead (yay, that’s gone!)

Amber: one dimple, “sad” eyes, slightly shorter, shorter hair

And there were other traits that kind of switched from twin to twin, including “the pretty twin,” the fatter faced twin, the quiet twin, the nice twin, etc.


And with that, I leave you with a little advice:

Even if you are trying to find your own special way of telling identical twins apart, it may not be the nicest to voice aloud all of the differences. No one likes being the fat, ugly, quiet, mean, evil, etc, twin.

And quite honestly, I didn’t like hearing those about my twin, either.

Monday, August 13, 2012

“Poke his eyes out.” Defensive strategies from a protective mother”

My mom is a fighter. I know this because she told me so. I knew as a kid she wasn’t lying when she told me about the fights she won when she was a kid, because she had that look in her eye whenever she told the stories.

I’m sure its the same look in her eye she had when Janice decked her.


Janice was the drug addict who decided to punch my mom with a sharpie when we were trying to move into the house her father had just sold to my parents. I remember the pen mark all the way down my mom’s white T-shirt.

Janice was the foolish woman who decided to throw a shoe at my dad. And let/encouraged her daughter to try to run over my little brother and sister.

And she is the woman my mom decked to the floor. Right in front of my little brother. (In self defense, of course. She’s not one to pick a fight, but when you stab her with a permanent marker, she’s going to come back with unequal force.)

Unfortunately I haven’t witnessed any of these events, but she’s tried to pass on the fighting spirit to me. Here is the typical scenario from my childhood:

As we pull up to the grocery store, “Here’s some money. Run in and grab us a loaf of bread.”

As I reach for the door handle, “Wait. What do you do if someone grabs you and holds a gun to you and tells you, ‘Come with me little girl or I’ll shoot you with my gun!’”

I reply (probably with a small eye roll), “I don’t know, Mom, what do I do?”

“You tell them, ‘Then shoot me now where there are witnesses because I know you’ll just drag me into the bushes and do it there anyway.”

This would happen fairly frequently. She would give me advice about where to hit someone if they were trying to grab me, to let myself go heavy like a dead weight if they tried to carry me, and most importantly, to “poke their eyes out.”

I always thought this was a disgusting proposition. “I don’t think I could do that, Mom!”

She would tell me, “I know! That’s why you have to practice in your mind. Use your thumbs to push, push, push, keep pushing to the back of their skull even though it is gross until they pop out of the sockets! You wont be able to do it unless you practice in your mind.”

She always had the look then. The look that said she had practiced this one hundred times in her mind. The look that said she would send any woman (or man) who threatened her family to the floor (or their eyeballs!) in one punch. The look of a fighter.

I always thought it was weird but I do try to think like her sometimes, particularly when I am home alone or walking by myself. “What do I do if someone jumps out of those bushes? or breaks into my house?”

And the first thing I think is, “Poke his eyes out.”

I’m still not sure I could do it (I have some more mental practicing to do—about 98 times more), but I hope to one day be a fighter like my mom; someone who isn’t afraid to stick up for herself or her family. Someone brave enough to defend herself even if it means hurting someone else or doing something scary (or gross). Until then, I’ll continue practicing.

Love you Mom, keep fighting!

Sunday, August 12, 2012

my horrible, awful, no good, very bad date

I’m a story teller. I can’t help it. It’s genetic. I come from a family of story tellers. And a large component of that is “the voices.”

That’s right, “voices.” Part of my story telling includes the use of voices and sound effects. This is not something I am aware of in the moment, nor is it something that I can control. And in fact, until college I had no idea I even used any voices. But as I’ve payed attention, I think everyone in my family has some version of the voices. Some may just be better at using them with discression than I.

Unfortunately, I only have a few voices. Three, actually, per my husband. The “dumb guy voice,” the “dumb girl voice,” and one other which I don’t remember what he has labeled it. He gets mad when I use the “dumb guy” voice to voice him or his family members. In their defense, I think that my “dumb guy"” and “normal guy” voices are the same, since, as a woman, I sound pretty dumb trying to be a guy, no matter what I do.

With that introduction, I thought I would share some stories with the caveat that these don’t have the voices or the sound effects. But hopefully you will find them just as enjoyable!


So to start off: Everyone loves horrible blind date stories, right? Here is my horrible, awful, no good, very bad date story!

My last semester at BYU I was living at home with my parents. I had just spent thousands of dollars on dental school applications and interviews. I didn’t have much of a social life due to my frequent travels, busy studies, friends getting married, and living in my parent’s basement really didn’t offer up too many social experiences.

Another pre-dental student I had a handful of classes with mentioned something about his roommate and dating. Somehow it got offered up that I should go on a date with this guy. I was pretty open to meeting new people and agreed to go knowing nothing about him although we did meet in the hallway before our date. He was moderately attractive and seemed pretty normal.

We went to Chilis. Things were going fine (for a few minutes) when my date asked if I would like to order a specialty drink or something. Remember, we were BYU students who agreed to follow an honor code which includes that we would not drink alcohol. I was trying to be agreeable and figured he meant something virgin so I agreed and said something like, “Sure, I’ll have a pina colada/daiquiri/margherita.”

At that point, he berated me and sternly informed me that “I will not buy you alcohol!”

I felt a little confused and decided I didn’t need a drink. I’d stick to my safe water which was my original plan anyway.

Our waiter came by and I asked about an item on the menu. He stated that it was spicy “so we can take the peppers out if you’d like.” I told him that I liked it spicy and that I would order the item with the peppers in. My date (who I just met) informed me then that I would not be getting a kiss that night then. At this point I should have realized that I should have asked for additional jalapenos.

Finally, our food arrived. He made us pray over our food in the restaurant. Some people in the BYU community do this and it isn’t unheard of, but has never been my cup of tea. Then he tried eating off my plate. I am a bit of a germ-a-phobe so this was taking a big liberty without even asking.

We finally made it through dinner and he decided to wow me with the local dollar theater. I have nothing against being frugal and I was a frequent patron of the dollar theater, but it just seemed to go with the date. There weren’t very many options that night at the box office and he really wanted to see Anchor Man (not my top choice). If you’ve seen the show, it can be a little raunchy. And going from praying over dinner and being berated about my alcohol habit, it was a bit of an awkward choice. For all I knew, he’d be yelling about my inappropriate movie choice during those moments of innuendo.

When we were sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start he told me that his family always did back scratches during movies. He asked if I wanted to do it. I feel really awkward and tried to say no but it seemed going along with it was the easiest way (I really had a lot of courage to stick up for myself!). I gave him what I felt like would be a good enough scratch to get him off my back (punny!). Then he told me it was “your turn.” I tried to say “No, that’s okay!” But he insisted. I really didn’t want this creepster touching me at this point but I let him put his hand on my back for a few minutes until I said thank you. He then informed me that it was his turn again. Weird!

Finally I got out of the back scratching routine (not sure how many rounds I suffered through) only to notice his hand placed strategically on his knee closest to mine. I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice. When I didn’t take the bait, he started thrusting his hand up and down at me like, “Here it is! Take my hand.” I finally gathered a little more bravery and said, “No, that’s okay!” I don’t think he liked that very much and must have lost all interest in the date because next thing I know he was asleep.

He slept through the rest of the movie. The lights in the theater came on and a couple sitting on the other side of us were trying to get by. I kept trying to wake him without success. I was honestly wondering if he was pretending to be asleep so I’d have to touch him to rouse him. I was embarrassed but finally he woke up.

Our drive back to my house was very awkward. I can’t remember what we talked about but I feel like he was complaining a bit about the date. I was really worried about what he would try at the doorstep, but thankfully I had had the jalapenos and he kept his word--He didn’t even try to kiss me. (See Abe, you should like that I like my food spicy!)

That was the weirdest and worst date by far of my whole single life. I’m just glad it didn’t turn me off to back scratching (or jalapenos). Maybe just to blind dates.

Next time: “Poke his eyes out!” Defensive strategies from an overprotective mom

Saturday, August 11, 2012


When I was single I think was pretty adventurous. For example, after graduation from BYU, I moved to Utila, Honduras to become a SCUBA Dive Master. I hopped on a plane and arrived by myself on a tiny island in Central America without a place to stay or a single acquaintance. I found a dive shop and a room to stay for $1 per night until I got more settled. For three months, I dove multiple times each day and completed vigorous dive training. Luckily I made some great friends but people often asked me how I was brave enough to go there all alone. I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time.
(Can you see me in the red bandana?)
During dental school, I decided I wanted to finish where I left off with my dive training and went to Thailand and Malaysia to become a Dive Instructor and do some traveling. This was a little harder for me as I not only knew no one, but the culture shock of Asia was much more than the traveling I had done in the Western Hemisphere (mostly not being able to read signs or understand anything).
Do you think it is just getting older? Or is it being married? Suddenly I feel much less adventurous or independent. I have vacation time that I can’t coordinate with my husband and instead of going somewhere myself like I would have done in the past, I sit at home bored. I realized this even more this morning as Abraham is at work today. I’m contemplating going to the IC Farmer’s Market downtown. On my bike. And I’m having a hard time sticking to my plan. What is the deal, I have a hard time going to the grocery store alone now!
Maybe I’ve just learned to become more dependent on him. I think sometimes he thinks I couldn’t take care of myself. I like to tell him, “I lived without you for almost 25 years!” But somehow the 5 five that I have lived with him have had a profound effect. I don’t think I could live without him anymore. Or I really wouldn’t like to.
Or maybe I’m just getting old and wimpy.
I think I better man up and get on that bike…