POTD

My awesome sister is posting a picture on her blog every day this month. She's amazing and I really hope to be like her someday. So today I decided to post a couple pictures too. The purpose of these pictures is two-fold. (1) be like my blog-tasticly amazing sister, and (2) if I die before tomorrow, I want you to see what killed me.

This might kill  me.
Homework.
Hard, graduate school, uber-confusing-for-Becky, homework.

If I die before 4:00 tomorrow, it will be this assignment that killed me. My teacher is sweet and adorable, until she begins to speak about statistical research methods in communication. And then I just cry.

On a side note, the $28 day challenge is going well. It meant a trip to the grocery store last night at 11:30pm, but I did it. I probably spent more than necessary, buying things like windshield wipers and fingernail polish remover in case I need them this month. But overall, I plan on success.

Not a dollar spent this far. So while I might lose in the challenge of my stats class, I'll win the 28-day challenge.

28-day challenge, 2012

Tomorrow brings February.
February brings a whole bunch of holidays and 28-29 days of pure, unadulterated fun. It brings weeks 5-9 of the semester and at least one three-day weekend due to Presidents' Day.

February will also bring a little thing the 28-day challenge again this year. If you'll recall, last year I invented The 28-day challenge based only on my own genius-ness. I have this strong suspicion that I spend way more money than I actually need to. I'm pretty frugal on my student-budget, but I can always be better. Hence, the 28-day challenge. The goal was to spend no more than $28 in the 28 days known as February. I went back and added a tag to all those posts from last year so you can read them all by clicking HERE if you so desire. I was successful last year. I made it with I think $4 to spare and I rewarded myself by buying a 9x13 pan. Wild, I know. I've only used it once or twice, so it was pretty darn frivolous, tamed by the fact that I only spent $4 on the cheapest one they sold at Wally World. Whatev.

So this year, February comes again with 29 days this year...I haven't decided if I still get $28 or if I get an extra dollar. Opinions? I'd also like your opinion on how I should reward myself if I'm successful.

The rule is I can only spend $28 dollars the entire month. This includes recreation, entertainment, shopping, food, beverages, and other frivolities. There are two primary exceptions: gas for my car (because that's a major expense for me and not something I'm willing to give up) and necessary bills (gas, electric, and phone). Last year necessary school expenses were also an exception because I was in the multi-hundred dollar process of applying to graduate schools. This year that's thankfully not a factor, so school is not an exception.

The nice thing is that I've been planning on doing this challenge since the successful completion of it last year. Planning is everything. I currently have in my possession a "FREE MEAL" card for Cafe Rio, two free combo-meal coupons for Arctic Circle (due to the embarrassing number of times I ate there over the summer when I was working at Granger and it was one of the only fast food places around. The Arctic Circle employees knew my name, order, and where I always sat. Embarrassing.). I have a $10 gift card to Great Harvest Bread from my dentist, a $10 gift card to Yogurtland from this fundraiser, over 300 points on my Subway card, and a gift card to Walmart from my dear Aunt Judy. I feel it appropriate to use any and all of those while still winning the challenge. It's all about preparation....sharpen that saw, my friends. Sharpen that saw. Gift cards aren't cheating because the money has already been spent.

The challenge is very possible, though not without great effort. For one, I have a tendency to shop when I'm bored meaning I'll need to not get bored for the next 29 days. Also, I'm in desperate need of a hair cut. I happen to have a full punch card for a free hair cut from the beauty school in Cedar City, but since the hair-tastrophe of last summer (visible in this post), I have hair-cut phobia and I'm not sure I dare to go to the beauty school. And finally, $28 isn't very much money, even if so many of my needs are already met. We'll see how it goes. I'm committed.

Tonight I'll make one last trip to the grocery store. Perhaps I'll get a Diet Coke for class tonight while I can still afford to guiltlessly purchase one. If I get desperate in the midst of the challenge I can always beg, borrow, and steal...though things like that don't really look good on me.

If I had planned better I would have blogged about this a few weeks ago and encouraged some of you to join me. It's not to late to come along. In the meantime, however, wish me luck. February begins tomorrow!

Current standing: $28 (unless you tell me I can have $29).

Seconds anyone?

Burrito Boy's little brother is in my COMM 1010 class.
Oh, and I see Burrito Boy everywhere I go.
He pretends not to know me.
I pretend not to see him.

I keep thinking maybe I should change that.
Maybe another day. Maybe now that his brother is in my class.

The story began to be told here, here, and here.
This story, however, will apparently never end.

Side note

Someday I'll blog about my beautiful children.
Until then I'll blog about myself and my childlike personality...
Because the world holds great wonder for me...

Because there are giant boxes of Cheerios...

And because Dora sometimes rides a unicorn...

That's all.

Joy despite the journey

I know they say you're supposed to find joy in the journey... but I feel like the last year has taught me that sometimes you have to find joy despite the journey. I hope that's okay to say. When my sweet nephew Jackson started showing symptoms a year ago, I don't think anyone suspected what kind of journey would follow. In the past nine months I've watched my nephew go through much more than any child should ever have to endure. Words can't really express it. Cancer has changed everything.

When I donated blood last week one of the screening questions was "have you ever had any kind of cancer." And when I just clicked "no" it felt like a betrayal. Because even though the diagnosis isn't mine, I feel like it's become a part of me. Cancer has become a part of all of us.

I've learned what a hero is. I've seen what it is to endure heartache, sorrow, worries, fear, pain, and suffering. I've been fighting on "Team Jack" as I prayed and prayed this sweet boy wouldn't have to endure such things. He has endured hell continually, and with dignity. He continually does what he has to do.

I've cried. Lots. I cry for Jackson. I cry for other cancer kids. I cry for the families of cancer kids. I cry for understanding and patience. I've cried with other people. With my sister, especially. I've cried to other people, cried alone, in the light, in the dark, in my prayers, to the Lord. I've tried to understand and only partially succeeded. I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand the why part of all this, but I've received lots of answers in the process.

Jackson, Connie, and Brian have taught me a whole new vocabulary. Words like neutropenic, Thiotepa, and engraftment have all become part of our every day conversations. We use lots of acronyms too: AT/RT, ANC, ICS, GFR, BMT, TPN, etc.  I know which button silences the alarm on IV pumps...a small thing, but all part of the journey. When I babysat Hailey and Jackson a few weeks ago Connie had to tell me things like, "If his central line gets pulled out..." and "At 7:45 please sanitize the counter and get out TPN, lipids, and..." and on and on.

There have been dozens of visits to Primary Children's Hospital and yet no matter how much I go, it doesn't feel like enough. I never got enough time with that sweet boy, never enough craft projects and games, never enough hugs. And at the end of each visit I always felt guilty that I got to leave but he had to stay. My amazing sister and brother-in-law have been taking turns sleeping in a chair every other night for weeks and weeks at a time so they can monitor things like vitals, chemo, chemo-showers, techs, nurses, doctors, child life specialists, mouth care, infusions, antibiotics, antifungals, and on and on.

And now, here he is. After a brain surgery, three rounds of chemo, six weeks of radiation, and three rounds of bone marrow transplants, he's still as cute as ever. There's still road left to travel...he's not done yet. But he's had his last scheduled treatment. Primary Children's has a special bell in ICS that kids get to ring at the end of their treatment. Connie told me about the bell long ago. Sometimes I would look right at it, excited for the day. On some visits I would absolutely avoid looking at it. Sometimes I would stare it down. But the bell is always there.

Jackson got to ring the bell on Wednesday. The end-of-treatment bell. Ringing a bell is small compensation for cancer, but is an awesome opportunity and I was so excited for him to have earned the right to ring! I was lucky that he engrafted when it was convenient for me...and without missing any classes or shirking any 'sponsibility I was able to drive up from Cedar City to be there for it.

When I got to the hospital Jackson was riding his wiggle-car around the unit. Brian had taped a syringe full of red liquid to the car so it looked like Jack was trailing something from his central line. It freaked out a lot of nurses, doctors, and other staff and Jackson loved that. :) This was part of the joy part. That kid is so freakin' awesome. Here's a bunch of pictures from the event. The bell ringing was part of the joy despite the journey.

Hailey and Jack...You should see the way she looks at her big brother: more awe and love than I've ever seen in a two year old.

Connie, Ashton, and Hailey playing with Jackson's "Beads of Courage." He earns a different bead for everything he goes through: pokes, tests, scans, chemo, hair loss, bandage changes, mouth care, days in isolation, morphine, steroids, etc. Seven long strands and growing. His beads almost begin to put it into perspective what this kid goes through.

Special sisters...scary faces.

Jackson standing on the new stool, getting ready to ring the bell, beads and all.

And then, because I was bawling my freaking eyes out, I didn't take any pictures of the actual bell-ringing part. But he rang it loud and proud.


The next 25 minutes was full of hugs and tears. Hugs from nurses, techs, staff, family, cancer friends, etc. He melts my lovin' heart.

"Ring this bell
Three times real well
Its toll to clearly say

My treatment's done
This course is run
Now I am on my way."

The bell is high on the wall so Connie and Brian arranged to have their friend Mark build an awesome stool to donate to the hospital so every little cancer fighter can reach to ring the bell. This is the plaque on the side of the stool. "Stand tall. Be proud." It's got Jackson's name and, my favorite part, "Cancer Survivor 2012."

Taking off his mask for a photo shoot on the stool...

Me and cute cousin Kaitlyn...

When we all finally pulled our emotional selves away from the bell it was kind of strange to be leaving. I've experienced a hundred million emotions in that hospital. In order to try sorting out what I was feeling, I had to stopping for a couple last pictures by the horse. I fed him some snow...

Then with Kali's help we made the snow into a horn. He's a unicorn now. :)
99% horse, 1% cooler horse.

Connie and Hailey were both sick meaning they can't live with Jackson because he's immunocompromised. Rather than keep Jackson in the hospital longer, C & H came to stay with my parents for a couple nights. Since I was home for the night, we got to have a sleepover. We did fun things like make muffins and hair bows. I sure love those girls.

And since my parents are usually under-represented in my blog, here's cute Ron.
First try, this shot was.

My mom and I struggled to get a good picture together....we tried about a dozen times. This was my favorite fail for obviously hilarious reasons.

Luckily we got a good one together.

Eight hours driving and 500ish miles that were so very worth it. I'm so happy for sweet Jack's bell-ringing self! This amazing boy in all his journeying has taught me how to find joy. He's taught me that we really can do hard things. He's taught me love on deeper levels than I knew were possible at this point in my life. He's shown strength and courage through it all.

I know a real-life super hero. His name is Jackson.

Read it and weep

"Blogging is a women's sport."
When a male friend of mine said that to me this morning on the phone, I couldn't help but agree. He was mocking. He mocks my blog, can you believe that? In fact, many of my male friends, upon hearing that I blog, make that throaty-scoffing sound. They often try to recover and say, "oh, uh, that's cool." But I recognize a throaty-scoff when I hear it. Rarely is my own personal webby-journal interesting to someone of the male gender. It's not something I put on my "resume for marriage," but something I frequently work to justify in the "interviews" known as dating. This blogging thing is good stuff.

Perhaps if more men saw blogging as a "women's sport," they'd understand my passion and talent. If blogging could be understood as a sport, maybe it would evoke something other than a throaty-scoff.

I'm not much for sports analogies, but watch this analogy. This is happening. Right. now.

Blogging: The Football of My World

I've been training my whole life for something. Something big. When I was just a small child (around 5 years old) my parents enrolled me in a special training academy that has taught me the skills of my sport. My instructors--coaches, if you will--taught me the basic things I would need to know for my sport. For thirteen years I labored, trained, practiced, and worked to be competent in the skills of my sport. I'll never forget when my senior English trainer, Mr. Carlisle, told me, "you've got a talent for this sort of thing, you know." I then moved on to a more advanced training academy for two years, eventually earning a award. After that, I moved to another conservatory of learning wherein I was trained even more specially. And now, even still more. Someday I hope to become a trainer myself. I want to teach future MVPs some of the skills and theories associated with this sport.

Now that I have a basic understanding of the needs in my sport, I work even harder at it. I've been working at the sport publicly for about two and a half years now. I've played well over 500 games, and counting. Some I've won, some I've lost. But the games have been part of my passion and have helped define who I am. There's a magical moment in every game that I know I'm onto something good. I crave that high to the point that I'm playing almost every day now. People ask me, "why so often?" And I can only respond, "because I love it."

My mom, my aunt, my sister, and many others come to my every game. They cheer me on, we often discuss it afterwards, and they support me in my sport. But even if I had no supporters, no attendees, no fans, I'd still play. I love it that much. I'm not in it for the fans; I'm in it for my love of the sport.

There are no fancy uniforms. No protective gear. No Superbowl. No World Series. No Championship Cup in my sport. Some give up because of that. But not me. I keep going. I keep playing. The more I play, the better I get. There will never be a trophy in my case for this sport, but I know I'm winning. That's enough for me.

I was originally brought into the sport by my sister and I've since recruited a few others to play with me. Very few stick with it. This ain't no sissy game; it takes true dedication. There've been tears shed in plenty of games: I'm not going to lie. Those tears are part of what make me a true athlete. I take this sport seriously. Every. Single. Game.

This is my sport. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to play along. You don't even have to listen to me ramble about how awesome it is. But understand it or not, you're always welcome to read it and weep.

The 'ole stay and play move

Every couple months I decide to actually spend a weekend in the town I where I live, instead of visiting my mailing address in Herriman. You'd think I'd stay more often considering how much fun I can have here. But I do really love going home...it's a true dilemma.

Last night I went to the SUU vs BYU gymnastics meet with new roommate Jen and friend Suzanne from OSU. We also took advantage of the free chili dinner beforehand. Gotta love free dinner!

I also ran into my cute friend Charlie. I love her all the time but sadly only see her occasionally.

And then I saw Jena who I also love all the time but she decided to graduate from SUU and move to Provo to work an awesome job she loves in the athletics department at BYU. Can you believe that?

And since playing on Friday was so fun, I also played a bit today.
Like a temple trip to sunny/rainy St. Geezy with Mustin and his roommie Louie. (Yes, Mustin's hair is blue.)

To top of the day's events we stopped at DI and also ate at Cafe Rio where I got a "FREE MEAL!"

So as much as I love going home on weekends, sometimes I pull the old "Stay and play" move, which obviously works out pretty well too. Happy weekending!