Amazing Happenstance

Some of you might know that I have about a million assignments due in the next few days. One of said assignments is a killer difficult paper for my evidence based practice class. So, here I am, Friday night 8:53 pm, working on said paper. I realize that I have about no time in which to do the paper, and I start to panic. The assignment is listed on my google calendar, which we all knows is the way I keep track of my whole life (see Freedom), as being due on Friday night at 11:59. At this point I decide to double check the online assignments folder and see this:

I wrote it in my planner due Friday at Midnight because I don't do homework on Sundays, but it was WRONG. Jesus loves me! And now my stress level has declined from about a 7.5 to about a 2. My life is amazing. 

FREEDOM!

In order to understand the basis for this post, you should first watch this video from 0:48-1:02.

This line is one that pops into my head every time I turn from University Parkway onto Freedom Boulevard thanks to one Brad Johnson. He, like me, loves Freedom (the boulevard, the line in the song, and the concept/human right). He, like me, will do everything in his power to drive on Freedom rather than Ave. [I didn't used to feel so strongly about Freedom until the summer I drove John's stick shift Toyota Tacoma truck. That summer I think I thought my car a). had a flat tire or b). was going to explode every time I got on Ave. (Interestingly enough, when I'm on my bike, I prefer Ave thanks to its nice wide shoulder, whereas, I'm afraid of dying on Freedom)].


Anyway, this week, FREEDOM has taken on a whole new meaning as I'm about to be out of school for the summer and only have two days of class all summer long. Freedom. Freedom. FREEDOM! See, it's even listed as an ongoing event on my google calendar:

Starting May 6, Freedom is something I intend to have a lot of.


Freedom, baseball, naps, and road trips.  


Did I mention I LOVE SUMMER?

What I Bought During My Lunch Break

Techna Glass and Scanners

Today I was at Techna Glass. Yes indeed, I broke my passenger side mirror off due to yet another "encounter" with one of the poles below The Avenues. (Bless my heart). Luckily, I found a really classy way to fix it until I could get to Techna Glass: 

Anyway, as I was sitting there in the waiting room, I picked up a magazine, and on the first page was this AT&T advertisement which I immediately fell in love with:

I asked Jon, the Techna Glass tech, (no pun intended) if I could make a copy of it. He said I could just take it. I liked it so much that I came home and did something I've put off doing for the last year: I learned how to use my scanner (by myself!). And here you have the happy result. Now isn't that good advertising? 

Stanford and Ninjas

(http://images.businessweek.com/ss/08/02/0204_financial_aid/source/24.htm)

Dear iGoogle, 
Thanks for allowing me to add gadgets to you at a rate of about 2 a year. I (almost) never, ever, look at you, but when I do, it always reminds me what I was excited about the last time I saw you. Today, I was surprised to see that you have a panel showing me the weather from Palo Alto, California, which, depending on the day, is a town I obsess about living in. Thanks for giving me an outlet for my whimsies.

                  Love,  Liz

 (http://shirt.woot.com/)

Thanks Taylor Skinner for the link to this awesome t-shirt in my gmail early this morning. 

Kids and Baseball Make Me Happy (Individually and Collectively)

Sam and I went to the BYU baseball game on Thursday.

Just as we were arriving, it got delayed due to a lightening warning. As we were sitting under the white tent cover at Miller Field, it started to rain. The baseball team ran out to grab the plastic cover to shield the infield from the weather. A little boy behind us, maybe 4 or 5 years old asked:

But how will they see the bases?

People always wonder why they don't play baseball during the rain, and the little kiddo has a great point. They just can't see the bases through the tarp. And that's that. 

Baseball season is upon us. The time of hot dogs and relish, Sweet Caroline and Take Me Out to the Ballgame, foul balls and home runs. April to October. The time of nearly everything I live and love for. Big Time Timmy Jim has already K'd 13 in one game, and we're only 10 days in. Ah, happiness. 


         Dear Baseball, 
         Welcome back, babe. Welcome back.  
                                Love, Liz. 

Dear Anything I Love About My Life

Dear Benjamin Gibbard,
Thanks for writing beautiful, evocative, lyrical, soul-catching music.
Liz


Dear Chlorine,
Thanks for not only protecting me from water bourne illness, but also for the way your smell is rekindled every time I wash my hands or put lotion on. I tried to wash you off, but instead you keep reminding me that I worked out today.
Liz


Dear The Scientist,
Thanks for not only being the best Coldplay song ever written, but also for having such a mind-blowing music video. How did they get it to go backwards while his mouth moves forward? As I said, mind-blowing, which is something I need a little more of in my life.
Liz


Dear Hug from Said Tall, Skinny Boy,
Thanks for being the first hug I got after I didn't get that job I wanted. Your unexpectedness and genuity kept me from crying in front of all those people.
Liz


(I'm aware that genuity isn't a word, but shouldn't it be?)


Dear Mustard Yellow Shoes,
Thank you for matching so many of my clothes. I appreciate that you are as versatile as black, but better because you match brown.
Liz

Superman Sleeps in a Jimmer Jersey

Last night, I was in the kitchen at a friend's making brownies when someone brought in a copy of Jimmer on the cover of Sports Illustrated. I started thumbing through it and came across an article with a picture of Gordon Hayward shooting that heartbreaking shot last year in the NCAA championship game against Duke. If you don't know what I'm talking about, please take a look here. My gosh. Doesn't that just break your heart? I seriously could have cried when that shot didn't make it in. Anyway, the SI article said that it was a shot that could have changed history or something super dramatic like that. I got to thinking about one of my very favorite history-changing sports moments, and I thought I'd share.

Did Matt Holliday Really Touch the Plate? 2007

I like to think he did.

And then, just for all you BYU fans out there, I thought I'd post this reminder of why we bleed cougar blue:

Harline Is Still Open 2006

I love the Greg Wrubell audio as well. In fact, maybe someday I'll make it my ring tone. Maybe someday when I no longer go to the U? :/

That being said:

March Madness is in full swing (not to use baseball terms excessively or anything), and let's hear it for BYU. 

(Rah rah rah rah rah. Rah rah rah rah rah. Rah rah rah rah rah. Go Cougars!)

What I've Been Up to Lately. Photo Style.

Celebrating the nephew's first birthday with these good-looking gentlemen who happen to also be my siblings.

Playing with my nephew. Maybe the cutest child in all of time?

Watching the Jazz get more or less slaughtered with Dad.

A party for Kim (back in Provo for Liv's blessing) and a reuniting of these good folks who I've known now for (get this) over 7 years.

Watching BYU not get slaughtered by Wyoming with my girl (but not my sister) Kaitlin. 

It's basically spring and it's practically baseball season and I'm biking outside in short sleeves. Life is beautiful. 

La Muerte

If you swing by my apartment anytime in the next 2 months, you'll probably hear my girl Kaitlin or me use the word muerte. According to google translator, muerte means death in Spanish. 


It all started when one time I put a paper towel on our stove top. Apparently the stove was still heated? It started smoking. Kaitlin yelled "Fuego!" And I responded, "Fuego. Muerte." Kaitlin got sick for a week, "Enferma. Muerte." Cute boy hasn't called yet? "Muerte." Running late? "Muerte." It's become the end-all, be-all, describe-all phrase for everything bad or scary or overly exciting. 


So last night our friend Scott came by and Kaitlin was telling him about her recent illness. I said, as per tradition, "Muerte." Scott, bless his heart, responded,


"La muerte. It'll kill ya every time." 


True that.