The perils of being a grown-up

It's Friday night, so you'd think I'd be out doing something to amuse/entertain myself, right? Nope, not in the least. We've had yet another leak in our pipe, so I'm waiting here at home for the plumber to come and fix things. Seeing as how this is the fifth or sixth time the plumber has had to come and fix a leak in our apartment in the last six months, one would think that it would be a good idea to replace and or renovate the plumbing here, right? Nope, not at all. It's apparently easier for the tenants to notice and/or call when trouble arises. Somebody from the management company came and turned off the water, and now we wait. At least I was home to hear the water running this time around, so it looks like there's no flooding and no seepage of water to the apartment below us. And I don't have to move all of my stuff so the carpet pad can get dried out. Ironic that the condo I live in is for sale, isn't it? I wouldn't want to buy it.

Maybe I should go train as a plumber, though. I'd certainly have job security.

Okay, the plumber just came, did an estimate, and left to get his tools. I think it's a bad thing to be on first-name terms with the plumber. At least maintenance now comes right away if we call them about a problem. Because, you know, we're really just a bunch of exaggerating women, and our maintenance requests really aren't that serious. Can you tell I'm still bitter about previous experiences (see my post from October)? Well, at least there's one good thing about all of this: I don't have to pay for it!

Happy news

For all of my faithful fans, I am happy to say that I am neither dead nor completely buried in piles of school work. I've been back at school for a little over two weeks, and I am happy to say that my latest thesis draft has been both submitted and returned. And, lest I keep you in suspense, I will just say that I am doing a happy dance over the feedback. My references check out (phew!), my content is good, and I have a pretty clear explanation of what I'm studying and why. Now, on to the fun part of analyzing the data.

At any rate, now that that's out of the way, I can return to the fun-filled world of posting my thoughts online for the world to see. I don't really expect that the world is reading them, but I do know that they are available. And that's enough philosophy for now. I will shortly be posting a few of the funny pictures from my last adventure in being a soccer mom, but I have to find my camera cord first. I haven't quite finished unpacking everything, but I did find one of Max's socks and a pair of Grace's tights. Remind me never to pack when I'm in a hurry. :)

Uses for rubbing alcohol

1. When a two-year-old steps into a sticky mouse trap and then limps around the house with sticky stuff on his feet, rubbing alcohol does help to take it off.

2. When a seven-year-old is coloring with a paint pen and leaves spots on the white paint, rubbing alcohol can take most of it off.

I have decided that my new career description shall be one of professional wiper. I can wipe dishes, noses, eyes, dirty rear ends, counters, tables, floors, and many other things. Who knew I had it in me?

Waiting

Well, I haven't heard back from my fourth school yet, and I don't know what to make of that. However, since I've had some other circumstances come up lately, I'm not sure it really matters right now. My dad had surgery on Friday, and my sister was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday several states away. She is on complete bedrest until her baby is born, so I flew out of Utah on Friday to come and help for a few weeks. Aside from keeping the kids alive, I've also managed to change a few diapers, give three children baths, make chocolate chip pancakes, do laundry, feed the children, watch lots of Tom & Jerry and Scooby-Doo, and load and unload the dishwasher several times. And those are just the things I remember. :-) I am in awe of my sister's ability to run her house and balance so many things all at once. I am also incredibly grateful for cell phones with long-distance plans and for the reminder that whatever happens school-wise, my family is still more important to me than any rejection letter. My priorities haven't shifted; I've just been reminded of them. :-)

Career suggestions?

Well, since I'm now 0 for 3 for grad school applications, I'm currently taking suggestions for other career choices. I haven't ruled out joining the circus, but since I don't have very good coordination, I don't think that one will fly. Does anyone have another recommendation for me?

I really need to work on my titles.

I forgot to turn off my cell phone before I taught class tonight, and guess what? It didn't matter because nobody called me. Sad. It just kind of adds to my overall feelings of rejection at the moment. I've gotten two rejection letters in two days, so I'm feeling a little down right now. At least I've talked to a few of you in recent days, so I guess I'm doing okay. I realize that it'll be okay in the long run, but I'm still waiting to hear back from two schools. Here's hoping I don't go 0 for 4, eh?

In other news, with the passing of President Hinckley, I'm reminded of an experience I had several years ago. A friend was giving my roommate a ride up to the airport, and since I was leaving the same day a few hours later, he offered to take me, too. Michelle, do you remember this one? It was a Sunday morning, so we went up to Temple Square in Salt Lake and listened to a Christmas performance/broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Afterwards, we went to church at the Joseph Smith Building, with the ward my friend's grandma happened to be in. As we were waiting in the lobby before the meeting started, someone said, "Oh, look, there goes President Hinckley." Being the non-gullible person that I am, I thought it was a joke until I turned around and saw that, lo and behold, the prophet was actually walking into the same meeting. And then, a few minutes later, President Faust came into the meeting, too. I was in the back, of course, but I can actually say that I went to church with the prophet. How cool is that?

And it's back. . . .

After spending several days (and with lots of help from my dad), I am happy to say that my computer is now running again, finally. I think I have the basics re-installed (included the entire Windows operating system, installed twice before it worked!). At least I have Internet access and the use of my printer. Such things make me happy. So, to celebrate, here are a few pictures of our Christmas festivities. Enjoy!

Caitlin and Philip

Going sledding (it was cold!)

Caitlin's birthday cake (cardamon, made by

yours truly, with crazy candles)

This one's entitled, "Waiting

for cake." :-)

Sorry. . .

I would have posted pictures or other funny anecdotes except for the fact that the computer, which crashed at the airport, is still crashed. I'm making do on the school computers, but it might be while before anything worth reading gets posted. My apologies, but I'm trying to get this dang thesis done!

I am hereby refusing to use the airport ever again.

Whew. What a whirlwind these past few weeks have been. I had a very nice Christmas, but the days before and after it were quite the adventure. Let's get started from the beginning, shall we? My worst ever travel experience started on the 23rd, two days before Christmas.

I left on Sunday because I had had to pick up exams to grade from the testing center. Since they only give you the tests a day after the test ends, and the last day of finals was Friday, it was a special occasion that the testing center was open on Saturday for two hours. At any rate, I got the exams, and I left the next day. My shuttle to the airport was supposed to come between 6:30 and 7 am, so I was up bright and early to wait outside. It came about 7:15, and then had to make another stop before we left. The driver couldn't find the next person's apartment, though, and we ended up not leaving Provo until about 7:45. I got to the airport, through security, and at the gate. I got on the plane, took off, and then the fun started. We were almost to Minneapolis when the pilot announced that the airport was delayed and we'd be circling for a while. Half an hour later, we landed into almost white-out conditions. I got off the plane to find that my next flight had been cancelled, and I'd been re-booked onto the 10:30 pm flight. Well, after some phone calls and my dad's amazing computer skills, I was re-booked onto an earlier flight. Plane after plane continued to get cancelled, and finally, the weather started to lighten just a little bit. But, 7:30 pm comes around (my re-booked flying time), and they announce that the flight was cancelled because they couldn't find a pilot. They rebooked me for 7:30 pm the next day, the first plane available. At this point, all the shuttles down to my parents' town were full, the roads were still bad and everyone was trying to get down there. But, being the sissy I am, I called my parents and they left to come and get me. In the mean time, while I was waiting, the airport announced about 11 pm that the 10:30 pm flight hadn't even left Grand Rapids, Michigan, yet, and they were projecting it to arrive about 1 am so they could leave about 1:30 or 2 am for the final destination. It was about midnight when my parents called to say they were there, so I got a ride back home. I had to pick up my suitcases at the town's airport the next day (along with what seemed like a billion people, which was in actuality only about 15 or 20 while I was there).

Coming back to Provo two weeks later was also somewhat of an adventure. My first flight, at the regional airport, got cancelled due to fog. They had a bus going up to Minneapolis that was leaving about 11 or 11:15, but that would have been put me there without much time to catch the next flight. My mom was kind enough to drive me up to the Minneapolis airport, but I got there to find that the airline people had not only cancelled my first flight, they had re-booked me on a flight to Salt Lake that left about 9 pm. The check-in person put me on standby for my original flight, and said I'd probably make it. So, I went through security and up to the gate, and started waiting. At 2, the original flight time, the plane got delayed for an hour. At 3, it got delayed again. At 4 pm, they started asking for volunteers to give up their seats for vouchers because the plane was overweight and oversold. Out of those seven volunteers, they gave vouchers to five. Finally, at about 4:40, I asked the desk person if there were any flights earlier than 9 that I could get on. After realizing that I had orignally been on the flight that had just left, she offered to put me on stand-by for the next flight, leaving at 5:25. Then, miraculously, she was able to book me a seat.

It was now 4:45 and boarding started at 4:55, so with boarding pass in hand, I ran to the new gate. I was able to get on this flight okay, although it was completely full. I think I got the last seat. :-) Then, we waited for about twenty minutes to find out our number for the runway, and then we waited to actually take off. The flight was a little bumpy, and rather uncomfortable because I kept getting bumped by the stupid drink cart, but I was in the air. We finally arrived in Salt Lake, and I was able to get my luggage okay. I'm actually surprised that it made it on the flight, but I guess the delay in Minneapolis worked out to my benefit. Anyway, luggage in hand, I went over to the shuttle service to check in. Once there, I found they had no record of my reservation, and when I went to look up my confirmation number and receipt on my computer, my computer died. They had neither my new or old cell phone number, but after I insisted I had come two weeks earlier they finally found my reservation. My name finally got called to go at about 9:30 pm, and I got to ride in a squished van with 9 other shuttle passengers down to Provo. Anyway, I got home about 11, ate something (I hadn't had the time or opportunity earlier in the day), and crashed. However, I am firm that the next time I have to travel, I'm going to drive. Grr. I hate airports.