20. From Corn Fields to Mountains

     The process of writing this blog has allowed me the pleasure of understanding how I have changed  since I made the trek from Indiana to Utah.  I remember after three weeks of college, I said to a friend, "I don't think I'm the same person that I was three weeks ago."  I wonder if when I go home for Christmas if my family will even recognize me.
     I'm still Rachel; what would be considered the major components of my character are still the same:  I love to laugh, exercise, play the piano, and learn.  I love the gospel.  I am still determined, resilient, goofy, and hard-working.  My family still means the world to me.  On the other hand,  I have changed so much.  I have become a more agreeable person.  I feel that I have become a more kind, loving, understanding individual since I have had to learn to live on my own, a truly humbling experience.  I am different because my roommates have rubbed off on me.  I sometimes worry that I will go back to my family with a combination of my roommates' accents; a Chicagoan, Utah, southern accent might throw my family for a loop!  In all seriousness, though, I like to think that I am developing some of the positive qualities that my roommates have--because I am with them so often.  They are thoughtful, serviceable, funny, and goal-oriented.  More importantly, my commitment to the gospel has increased at what seems to be an exponential rate.  I have never read the scriptures on such a regular basis in my life.  I have been able to go to the temple more times this semester than I probably had in all years prior to that, mostly because of temple proximity.  I have become excited about genealogy and finding my ancestors.  I am forever changed.
     Although trekking from Indy to Provo was arguably the most difficult undertaking in my life, I have grown so much and experienced such a great joy.  I absolutely know that BYU is the place I most need to be right now in my life.

19. Top Ten: Facts about BYU That Cannot Be Gleaned from byu.edu

     When choosing to come to BYU, many factors motivated my enrollment:  gospel-centered learning, location, strong education, and many more.  Throughout my high school years, I studied the BYU website, planning what classes I wanted to take, what activities I would participate in, and even which Freshman dorms seemed the most appealing.  Since I am so familiar with byu.edu, I have compiled a list for future students of ten facts not readily accessible to the earnest BYU applicant.

      

                                                                    Pros

1.  The Best Part of Homecoming Week is "True Blue Foam."  At this event, hundreds of students gather at Helaman Fields to participate in a soapy blue slip-n-slide down a fairly large hill.  I would compare it to a Color Run but without the running and a greater adrenaline rush.  Hair, skin, and clothes will be dyed completely blue.  

2.  BYU likes to give out thousands of free shirts.  At three home football games, ten thousand free shirts were given out, many of which were in the student section.  If you like shirts to work out in or even pajama shirts, BYU football games have you covered.  Just from the first semester, I have accumulated nine free t-shirts!  

3.  Do you remember being a dorky fourteen-year-old and going to EFY?  BYU is the perfect opportunity to become reacquainted with all of your old "COWs" (Crush of the Week).  Likewise, many of the counselors you looked up to still attend BYU.  Many times as I walk through campus, I see familiar faces and wonder, Where have I seen them before?  After several minutes, I usually answer my own question out loud, "EFY."

4.  You will love your roommates at BYU.  Yes, every apartment usually ends up with one roommate who chooses to avoid everyone else in the apartment.  However, the chances are that your roommates will be a lot more like you than you think.  While you might come from different states or even countries, have different accents, or enjoy different hobbies, most students seem to connect with their roommates because of mutual goals and beliefs.

5.  The inside of the Testing Center looks like the testing room in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.  When you first arrive at the testing center, you may feel intimidated by the lines and normal test anxiety.  However, after picking up your test and sitting down, many think, "I can do this.  I'm in Harry Potter."  Also, if the aesthetics of buildings make any difference to you, the Hinkley Center resembles Hogwarts.

BYU Testing Center

Harry Potter Testing Center

                                                               






                                                                           Cons

6.  As I have mentioned before, just because you attend BYU does not mean you will be going on dates every weekend.  If your goal is to be married quickly or at least by graduation (not your first priority), do not live on campus.  At least for the first semester, your goal will likely be enjoying the new friends you meet, not spicing up your romantic life.

7.  A portion of your grade in many classes will be determined by I-clicker questions.  "What are I-clicker questions?" you may ask.  An I-clicker question is an autonomic nervous system stimulator and method used by professors to see how much of the material you know right after he lectures on it.  These questions are scattered throughout lectures and actually count for a portion of your grade.  If you end up like me and have 8 AM Chemistry, do not plan on ever feeling safe in class.

8.  As summer transitions to fall, the trees outside the JSB (Joseph Smith Building) create a loathsome odor.  On the bright side, the location of the majority of classes allows students to avoid this area of campus.

9.  BYU loves acronyms and nicknames.  Before you can go anywhere, you must memorize a set of about 20 acronyms that stand for building names.  Before going to your 8 AM Chemistry class, make sure you understand that the BNSN is the Benson building.  Yes, JFSB, JSB, and JKB are all very different but important buildings.  If you don't want to starve or need to buy textbooks, look for the WILK.  If you desire to exercise or sign up for intramural teams, you must locate the RB or the SFH.  To an incoming freshman, the acronyms might be the scariest, not meeting roommates or completing schoolwork.

10.  This fact is a pro and a con--really.  If you do not want to exercise, you're in luck!  To get from student parking by the Richards Building to the majority of your classes on campus, plan on walking up 107--or is it 108--stairs.  Most likely, you will blame your breathlessness on the altitude.  I exercise six days a week and these stairs get me every time.

18. 5 Eighteen-Year-Old girls + No Parental Law = Moderate Anarchy

     Coming to college brought many new freedoms that my roommates and I had never experienced before.  Obviously, since we attend BYU and keep the honor code, our excursions have been quite subdued compared to other universities.
     In high school, I had a curfew of 11 PM.  I had concerned, loving parents who hated to stay up late but could not go to sleep without knowing I was safe within the walls of home,  As a result, when I came to college, I took immediate pleasure knowing that I could stay out as long as I wanted.  Frankly,  my lack of night life was so extreme before coming to college that getting groceries from Macey's and going to Roll Up Cafe after midnight on a Thursday night provided a great adrenaline rush.


     Another college activity that would have gotten my knuckles rapped at home relates to our treatment of furniture.  Since residing in Heritage Halls, we have found great joy in dancing on the backs of couches and climbing kitchen counters to find food.  One weekend, my roommates and I decided that we had not seen enough of each other during the week.  To mend our separation, we carried all five of our mattresses into the living room to have a comfortable sleepover.  Since the end of September, our "adult" sleepovers have become ritual.  On another occasion, some of the guys in our ward discovered we could all see the TV better if we piled one of the couches on kitchen chairs and put a second couch in front of the "high rise" couch.  In comparison, at home, my siblings and I only can use the ottomans if our shoes are off; never would we climb on the backs of couches.
     Some of our college kitchen ventures would have been forbidden at home.  One night, with no better ideas for dinner, I tried spaghettios with tortillas.  I thought it was disgusting.  Surprisingly, I have not been the only one in my apartment to experiment in the kitchen. Bailey, has found solace in Kraft macaroni and taco meat and cream cheese with apples.  Katie has thoroughly enjoyed brownies in a cup, and McKenna often finds happiness in a plain tub of frosting and unbaked cake mix.  The worst kitchen undertaking was Kierra's goldfish and margarine.  Obviously, our parents would be ashamed if they knew the junk we were subsisting on.
     Lastly, at home, watching TV and movies was an activity to complete in spare time, usually in the company of others.  Since coming to college, seasons of Netflix have been completed between the hours of midnight and 2 AM.  Sometimes, all of my roommates will sit in one room with our laptops and watch different shows on Netflix.  

     For now, we are enjoying the process of living on our own.  The regime of the parents has been obstructed.  (Moderate) anarchy reigns...at least until next summer when we go home.

17. "Buddy the Elf! What's Your Favorite Color?"

     After a crazy Friday night at my aunt's house in Salt Lake, I started to gather my things together.  Unexpectedly, I the phone rang.  It's just Bailey, I thought.  She's probably worried that I won't get back before the storm hits.

     "Rachel, when are you coming back?" she asked, leaving no room for a hello.

     "I'm headed back now.  Why?  Is it snowing in Provo yet?"  I worried.

     "No, but I need to ask a favor of you.  When you come back, can you stop back at my parents' house.  They have a Christmas tree for us."

     "I don't know, Bailey.  My mom is pretty insistent that I book it back to Provo.  She doesn't want me driving when its snowing."

     I left it at that.  I thanked my aunt for dinner, the shopping trip, and other ways she had succeeded in spoiling me.  As I entered I-15, I began to feel guilty.  They just want to decorate for Christmas.  They miss home too, even if it is only 20 minutes away.  A quick detour to Bluffdale won't kill me.  It isn't even snowing in Provo yet.

     I yanked out my phone.  "Bailey, tell your mom I'm coming.  I'll get the tree."  

     "Okay!" she shouted enthusiastically.  I could hear a bunch of giddy cheers in the background.  My little elves.

After successfully achieving my mission, gathering the tree, lights, and tinsel from my uncle's house, I continued my trek back to Provo.  To my surprise, no one was home.  I decided to go for a quick run. I guess I won't be missed.

     After I completed 5 miles, I came up to the apartment, only to be attacked by my roommates.  

     "Can we get the tree from your car?" pleaded McKenna.

     "We were so worried about you!" added Katie.  I peered over into the living room.  On the ground were dozens of Christmas ornaments, nick-naks, and a long strand of garland.

     "So, you guys have been busy today," I said.  "I'll get my keys."  

     Within an hour, I had been converted to their goal.  We were going to have the "jolliest" apartment in Heritage Halls.  Everything must be perfect.

     After sticking cookies in the oven for our new snowman cookie jar, we delved into our work.  Within the next six hours, we had turned a Charlie Brown tree into a masterpiece, hung a Santa Hat from our glowing Y, cut out dozens of paper snowflakes, hung Christmas signs on the wall, hung tinsel from the ceiling, and strung garland above our window.  The later we worked, the more elaborate our plans got.

     "I wish we had a fireplace," Bailey said.

     "Let's make one!" exclaimed McKenna.  "We can use construction paper."

     After annoying our R.A., we came back with butcher paper for our task.

     "We forgot the reason for the season!" Katie cried.  "We need some type of nativity."  We got together a list of all of our desires.  In addition to the fireplace, we would add a paper snowman on the fridge, multi-color lights hanging from the entryway, and an advent calendar.  After returning from a quick trip to the store, we were exhausted.  Maybe we aren't quite elves after all.

     

We were not defeated, yet.  After church the next day, we returned to our task.  We finished the fireplace and many of our other goals.  Our paper fireplace even had stockings with candy canes, a framed picture of the six of us, and a paper nativity made by Katie.

     "We did quite a job," I said, snapping pictures of the apartment on my phone.  "I don't think any other Freshman apartment looks quite like this.  How much did this cost."

     "Altogether?" Katie asked, raising an eyebrow.

     We all looked at each other in fear.  Did we go over the top?

     "Between our trips to the D.I., Dollar Tree, Big Lots, and Walmart, we spent $120."  

     "Eh, at least we will have it all for next year," shrugged McKenna.  

     "I think we should leave it like this all year," Bailey said.  And no one protested.

     We had been listening to Christmas music since September.  Of course, we had to go all out.

16. Why I Take Prenatal Vitamins

     Before coming to BYU, I had never given blood.  I had organized several blood drives for student government, but never had I actually given blood.  When I was called to be a Service Co-Chair in my ward, I felt like a hypocrite trying to coerce others into giving blood for the stake blood drive, so I finally wrote my name in on a time slot.

     The day of the blood drive, I took extra care to go running in the morning, since I would be unable after donation.  I even made sure to eat a full meal at Chick-Fila before heading to my appointment.  As I entered the blood drive in the Wilkinson Student, I felt uneasy and nervous.  You want to be a nurse someday.  You can do this.

     I started to go through the process of giving blood.  I read a lengthy pamphlet telling me about the risks of giving blood.  To my dismay, I weighed enough by one pound to give blood.  As I sat waiting longer, I started talking to the other donors about their past experiences.  Every experience went something like this:  "My first time giving blood was rough because such-and-such went wrong.  Overall, though, I love giving blood.  That's why I'm still here."  Obviously, this information did not reassure me.

     Finally, my turn to give blood came.  I went into a booth so a worker could ask me health questions.  I passed with flying colors, until the worker decided to check my blood. 

     "I'm just going to prick your finger," the guy said.  

     "Will it hurt?" I questioned, shifting in my seat.  

     "Only a little bit," he said, sticking something into my finger.  I winced, but then it was over.

     "Can I have a band-aid?" I asked sheepishly.  He looked at me and chuckled, as if I was supposed to just sit there with a bleeding finger.  After I had administered the dressing to my wound, the worker   started to test my blood for low hemoglobin.

     "For women, a healthy range of hemoglobin is 12.1 to 15.1 grams per deciliter.  Yours looks like...oh my gosh...that's the lowest I've ever seen.  You're at 9.3 grams per deciliter.  Do you feel okay?"

     "I mean, this is how I've always felt."

     "You need to eat a lot more red meat and spinach," instructed the worker.

     "Okay, so do I get to give blood now?" I asked.  Now that I've at least sat here for 45 minutes, I at least want to give blood so I can say I did.  Yes, not the most altruistic reason, but I want to now.

     The worker laughed at me again.  I guess I seemed funny.  "You can't give blood today.  You would feel absolutely terrible afterwards if we took your blood, and it would not be safe."

     I left the booth in shame.  I looked down at my twig arms and used my phone as a mirror to look at my face.  Do I look unhealthy?  I guess I've lost a little weight since I've got here.  My hair is thinning.  Maybe I do have a problem.  I should call mom.  She will know what to do.

     I pulled out my phone and speed-dialed my R.N. mother.  "Mom, they wouldn't take my blood.  They said I have low iron, like a 9.3.  The guy said he'd never seen iron that low."

     "That doesn't sound good," my mom said.  "How much red meat have you eaten lately.

     "Well, not any...really.  I get Chick-Fila once a week, but that's not really red meat."

     "Okay, well, you need to go buy some meat.  Make tacos or stroganoff.  Right now, I want you to go eat a burger or something.  And go buy prenatal vitamins.  If your deficient in iron, you're probably deficient in other vitamins too."  She's probably rolling her eyes at me...

    I said my goodbyes and trudged up to my room.  Bailey and Katie, two of my most trusted roommates, were giving blood, at my request.  I hope someone's home.  I don't want to be alone right now.

     I strolled into Bailey and McKenna's room.  McKenna glanced up from Pinterest.  "Do you want to go get a burger?" I asked.

     "Right now?" she asked.

     "I have low iron.  I need meat.  Want to go to the Creamery?"

     I was so grateful when my go-with-the-flow cousin agreed to accompany me on this drudgery.  We trekked down to the Creamery on 9th.  "Let's get you some red meat," McKenna said.  I had never bought meat before, so I was grateful for her assistance in picking out a good package.

     "My mom said I need prenatal vitamins too," I said, hanging my head in shame.

     "They probably have some over there in that aisle," McKenna assured me.  Sure enough, I found a big bottle with 100 tablets.

     We subtly made our way to the line.  I stood there as a couple next do us glared at me.  I wanted to say, "Yes, I am buying red meat and prenatal vitamins.  No, I'm not pregnant."  But I just stood there.

     "McKenna, everyone's staring at me," I whispered.  She quietly slid me her ring to put on my left finger.  She knows me too well.  Unfortunately, her ring did not fit, but it was still a nice gesture.  Soon enough, I had swiped my student I.D. and bagged my loot.

     We ordered burgers and sat down.  "I don't think I'm going to forget this," McKenna said.

     "I know, this is ridiculous.  I thought I was healthy," I complained.  "Who knew a greasy burger could be a remedy for an ailment?"

     I glanced down at my phone.  My dad had sent me ten pictures of gourmet, juicy steak.  I laughed to myself.  My family is always there for me, everyone in their own way.  I can always count on them!    

15. Top Ten: What High School Students Take for Granted

1.  High school students fail to recognize all the support gained from living in a loving home.  Before coming to BYU, I failed to recognize how much work went into feeding everyone, completing chores, and finding fun, wholesome activities.  While living at home, parents can be a huge support during busy weeks.  At college, though they still love and encourage, they cannot be there to make you hot chocolate at 2 AM or reassure you that your ideas are unique.

2.  Parking at college brings its own challenges.  Instead of parking in a nice, warm garage, or even in front of your house, an individual could very easily be walking three-fourths of a mile to get to his or her car.  Every time you need another gallon of milk or laundry detergent, one must make a serious decision:  to trek to the Creamery or to the car.

3.  High school students don't appreciate school supplies, like a printer or a stapler.  Unlike in high school, one cannot simply walk into the library and print an unlimited amount of items for free.  Each page of print costs $0.07, which really adds up over the course of the semester.  Even if blessed with a printer, ink cartridges must be replaced, often at odd hours of the night after completing a tedious assignment.

4.  High school students fail to enjoy the amenities in their own homes.  Pianos must be sought out to ensure that many years of practice do not go to waste.  To guarantee that one does not gain a "Freshman 15," new running routes must be mapped out, or one must journey all the way to the Richard's Building to lift weights.  No longer can one rely on a family gym membership to stay healthy.

5.  High school students fail to appreciate "blow-off classes."  In college, they don't exist.  Even in STAC classes, equivalents of gym, one must go to the testing center and take an exam.  Likewise, even the 100 level classes have bell-shaped curves after tests.  Individuals who had never accepted anything lower than an "A" in their lives realize that a "B+" might be the best they can do, even after hours of study.

6.  With a few exceptions, the class sizes in college are much larger than in high school.  Most classes are in huge lecture halls.  Some professors will take the time to learn names, but the majority will just point when students have questions or answers.

7.  Although being at BYU offers huge opportunities through its diverse student body, sometimes one just misses close friends from high school.  Luckily, many grow close to their roommates.  Still, I find myself missing some of the friends I knew since elementary school and the inside jokes I had with my cross country team.

8.  Although freedom is often a wonderful part of college, no one is there to take care of you when you get sick.  Even during the past summer when I got my wisdom teeth out, I had parents who served me food and siblings who fulfilled my every need.  In college, even when faced with a cold or the chills, one must be brave enough to continue in one's busy schedule or even braver:  taking a day to rest.  If one chooses a day of sleep, one still must consider what to eat and how to alleviate various symptoms.

9.  High school students fail to appreciate the leverage of the phrase, "My mom said no."  In high school, I was governed by many rules, one of which was no sleepovers.  At first, I was flabbergasted by this rule, which was not imposed until middle school.  However, as I grew older, I often found relief in the fact that I didn't have to spend the night at some of my friends' houses, especially those who had parents with questionable standards.  Now, if I feel inclined to say no to any invitation, I have to give my own excuse instead of relying on the laws of my parents.

10.  High school students fail to recognize the significance of family traditions.  Even when I am having fun with my friends here, I wonder, "What is my family watching for movie night?" or "I wonder what faces my siblings are carving on their pumpkins this year."  Even activities as small as gathering for family prayer or family dinners make such an impact on daily life.  Taking all of these events away at once brings quite a change to the college student's life.

14. Relationship Realities

     Growing up with few LDS boys to date, I expected to be bombarded with dates.  In fact, I planned to never have to worry about food for Friday or Saturday nights.  I mean, with so many boys, shouldn't there be ample opportunities for free food and a good time.  Wrong!
     I am not the only one to experience this sad tragedy:  dating failing to live up to its potential.  Of my five roommates, one has been on three dates, another on two, and myself on one.  This semester, three of my awesome roommates haven't seen one free ice cream cone.
     We have two theories about our epic dating failures.  (1) We are all terrible individuals with no social skills (False).  (2)  Our dating opportunities are limited due to the fact that most of the boys in Heritage Halls are leaving on missions in a few short months, and our ward is a 1:3 boy to girl ratio.  Most days, we select theory 2.
     Like all girls, we have come up with various methods to combat our lack of dating.  Our first tool was a blog we found written by boys who attend BYU about dating, "Brother's Guide to Guys," which gave hilarious, but surprisingly useful dating advice.
     Our second tool has been Facebook.  My roommate, Rose**, has been crushing on this guy in one of her classes for weeks.  However, recently she has been working on talking to him and making eye contact (advice given from the blog).  However, I bet Rose could tell you everything about this boy, including his hobbies, how many siblings he has, and what he was doing in 2009.  Our next goal for her is to add him as a friend on Facebook or just bite the bullet and ask him out.
     Our third and final tool has been the BYU Directory.  Another roommate, Sarah**, was at a church activity when she came across a new dating lead.  His name was Brother Johnson.  Unfortunately, Sarah did not have the opportunity to introduce herself before the activity ended.  Now, left with only a very common last name, Rose set off to find out who Brother Johnson was using the BYU Directory, looking up every "Johnson" in the directory on Facebook.  Unfortunately, she was unable to locate his information.  However, phase 2 of Sarah's plan was to get Ann**, another roommate, to ask her friend who works at the library to get Brother Johnson's class schedule.
     For now, the six of us are not succeeding in the dating world; however, we believe we will be more successful next semester, after we analyze the most fruitful sections of the library to study.  Obviously, girls at BYU will go to extreme lengths to get a man.


**Names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved

13. The True Superheroes

     With Bailey and McKenna in my Jeep, we trekked from Thanksgiving Part 2 back to Provo.  To be perfectly honest, I was happy to be back in the bubble.  As we neared the exit--2.5 miles away to be exact--tragedy struck.  All of a sudden, we felt my car tip sideways.  "Get over to the left," directed Bailey.  I followed suite, not even checking to make sure the HOV lane was clear.  "Put your hazard lights on."  I started to breathe really heavy.  

     "It's okay," soothed McKenna from the backseat.  

     "I'm going to go see how bad it is," my voice quavered.  I opened up my front door, peered down, only to see a shredded wheel.  "It's totally shredded.  I can't just spray the seal-tight stuff my dad gave me, if this were to ever happen.

     "I'm calling my dad," Bailey said.

     "I'll call mine too."  I said.  As I called my dad, he didn't answer, but I did get a text back.  

Dad: Can I call you later?

Me:  Well, I have a flat tire...on I-15

Dad:  Call AAA.  They will send someone.  Did you pull over and put on your hazards?

     He’s doing tithing settlements.

     "My dad's going to come help us,"Bailey said.  We are so lucky he's already out driving back from Syracuse.  I'm so glad they live in Bluffdale.  

     "That's spectacular," I said.  "I'm going to call Triple A.  My dad said to."  I went through the routine, getting my card from my dashboard.  

     "I have a bad feeling," Bailey said.

     "I usually trust when Bailey has a bad feeling," McKenna said from the back seat.

     “What are you suggesting?” I asked.

     “Maybe we could pull forward a bit.  I mean, I don’t want to crush your tire even more or get the car caught on fire, but we are hanging over this HOV lane.”

     “Let me see what I can do,” I said.  I brought the Jeep to life, and inched forward, wincing at the scraping of metal.  “I’m going to get out of the car,” I said.  I wish I would have paid more attention when we learned to change a tire at mutual.

     “No, my dad said to stay in the car,” Bailey said.  I acquiesced.  Don’t mess with Bailey.  We waited for about 10 minute in silence.  Every time a car whizzed by, our car lurched sideways and back again. 

     “Bailey, do you still have that squirt whipped cream from Thanksgiving Part 2?” I asked.

     “Why certainly.”

     “Pass it over,” I commanded from the driver’s seat.  I slowly inched the nozzle to my mouth, tilted it backwards, and started to squirt the empty calories down my throat.

     “Pass it back,” called McKenna.

     We sat there for ten more minutes, feeding on the whipped cream; suddenly, Bailey’s phone started to ring.  “Hello?”

     “Is that you guys stranded on the road back there?” asked my Aunt Shennon.  She, too, was coming back from my grandparents’ house to Provo.

     “Yeah, we got a flat,” Bailey said.  “My dad’s coming to help us.”

     “Hang on just a sec, we’re turning around,” said my aunt.

Two minutes later, our first rescuers of the night came.  My tall, skinny Uncle Eric hopped out of his SUV with his church suit on.  “What did you hit?” he asked, almost in a comical way.

     “We didn’t hit…anything.  It just…exploded,” I explained.

     I proceeded to spend the next ten minutes following him around like a puppy, trying to be helpful.  I felt humbled when he got down on his knees in his suit and started changing my tire. 

     Soon, Uncle Shayne, the twins’ dad, arrived.  Both of my uncles were bent down, changing my tire. They would send me off with little tasks.  I felt utterly useless; I like to be self-reliant, and there was not much I could do to be of help.  Bailey and McKenna stayed in the car, Bailey manning the phones and McKenna shifting luggage while we searched for items we needed to change the tire.  After about twenty minutes of labor, the AAA worker showed up and finished the job. 

     After hugging both of my uncles and thanking the AAA worker, we were headed back on the road to Provo.  I felt sheepish as I got back on the road.  That tire was shredded. If I would have lost control, we easily could have been killed tonight.  And the fact that two of my uncles came to my rescue.

    After we safely arrived at Heritage Halls, I got a call from my dad.  “Are you guys okay?” asked my dad.

     “Yeah, I’m surprised.  The Jeep is fine, and we’re fine.  I’ll have to send you a picture of the tire…I don’t know how we made it out of there unscathed.

     “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to change it myself,” my dad said.

     Few events will get me to choke up.  One is when I am angry.  The second is when I am overcome with gratitude.  That night, I felt gratitude to my Heavenly Father for keeping us safe, and for two uncles, who could be my dad away from home. 

12. The Movie I Will Never See Again

     When I lived at home, my family's favorite show to watch together was The Middle, about a family that lives in Indiana.  In the show, usually a lot of bad things happen.  In one episode, the mom says, "You do for family."  That phrase has always stuck with me because the particular episode was very funny; however, the Thanksgiving Break gave me a unique opportunity to understand this saying.
     The week before break, my roommates and I anxiously bought tickets online to go see Mockingjay Part 1 on Friday night.  We were super excited because we had read the books.  After a quick trip to Cafe Rio, we set off for the movie theater.  We accidentally drove to the wrong Cinemark.  Who knew there was one in Orem and Provo?  Thankfully, we still made the movie before the previews.  Besides that minor inconvenience, we enjoyed ourselves.  We had all read the book, and the movie producer had not strayed from the story we loved.
     Fast-forwarding to Tuesday morning, I arrived at my grandma's house in South Jordan.  "We should go see Mockingjay!" I quickly acquiesced to my grandma's request; I love my grandma, and she does so much for me.  I could go see a movie I enjoyed twice.  "Let's go see it tomorrow; I think your Aunt Lauren will be somewhere else.  It will just be us.
     Wednesday morning rolled around.  "Rachel," my grandma said, "It looks like I'm going to have to stay here and wait for the guy to come turn on the fireplace since it's Thanksgiving tomorrow.  Lauren and Paul would love to take you to the movies."  I agreed.  I had nothing better to do anyway.  I was slightly nervous.  Even though my Aunt Lauren is very nice and fun, she married a jerk.
     We set off for the movies, just my aunt, uncle, and me.  I sat in the back seat like a child.  When we got to the movie, Paul started to pay for my ticket.
     "Paul, I can pay for my own ticket, it's no big deal," I said.
     "It's fine, I've got it," he shot back.
     "No, really," I said.  He bought my ticket anyway.
     "You can get drink refills," he said.  "They're only like a dollar each."  He was referring to the giant reusable mugs we had brought with us from my grandma's house.
     We walked toward the theater, getting our tickets ripped; we continued to the concession stand, easily the worst possible way to spend money as a college student.  "We should get a large popcorn!"  Lauren said.  Now I was confused.  Am I supposed to pay for the popcorn too?
     I sheepishly handed the worker my sleek orange debit card.  There goes a whole hour of head lifeguard hours.  
     "Paul, no," whined Lauren.  "We were going to get the popcorn."  That's right.  My uncle stood there motionless, like he was watching paint dry.
     Lauren repeated herself several times.  We just slowly walked toward theater #12 and found our seats.  Finally, my aunt felt so guilty that when she went to refill the popcorn, she came back with money to pay me back with.  "Now I can enjoy the movie," she said.  The whole movie I just wanted to cry.  The day before Thanksgiving, I was spending the afternoon with almost complete strangers.  Yes, I had grown up knowing all of my aunts and uncles, but I only saw them sporadically, maybe once or twice a year.  I just wanted to be home, not watching the same movie again.

     I barely got through Thanksgiving alive!  Friday morning, as I was doing yoga, I got a call from my loopy aunt.
     "When are you coming up to grandma and grandpa's today?" she asked.
     "Well, when I'm done working out, I'll drive up," I said.
     I can't wait for you to get here so I can tell you about how we're going to be bad on Saturday morning.  In Aunt Shirene language, "bad" does not really mean bad.  Bad means lame or pathetic.  I still love her, but that is the nicest way of putting it.
     I was cautious as I drove up to my other grandparents' house.  I feared the worse for my Saturday morning.  I arrived, and not ten minutes later, my crazy aunt came into the kitchen.  "Did you tell Rachel about Saturday?" asked Shirene.
     My grandparents hadn't had the heart to tell my what awaited me the next morning.
     "We're going to go see Mockingjay.  I'm going to come pick you up at 6:40 tomorrow morning.  The realtor that sold me my house rented out the theater, and if we get there really early, we can get a bunch of free stuff.  You should have seen it last year, they had those free mugs and draw-string bags.  Are you kidding me!  On my last real day to sleep in before finals, you want me to go see a movie that I've already seen three times--at 6:40AM!  This sounds like one of those things where she's already gotten tickets and I can't say no.
     My aunt continued her monologue.  "I know you've already seen it.  But it will still be fun.  Seriously, they have great free stuff.
     I couldn't believe my ears.  I felt melancholy the rest of the evening.  I already felt like I could quote the movie.  I couldn't do this again.

Dutifully on Saturday morning, I arose at 6:15, putting on my most comfortable pair of running tights.  My bones groaned as I walked upstairs from the guest bedroom.  And at 6:38, there she was, picking me up just like she promised.  I trudged out to her old green car.  I wish Shirene would get a boyfriend or some friends that she could do nutty things like this with.  I'm not cut out for these shenanigans.  
     After we arrived to the movies, she grabbed the reserved tickets.  I watched in shame as she bought a large, refillable popcorn, at 7:00AM.  One wasn't enough though, because she pulled out a plastic Walmart sack.  Right in front of the cashiers, she dumped the bucket in the bag and asked for a refill.  I think you really can die of shame.
     "Stop looking at me like I'm crazy, Rachel."
     Then you shouldn't be acting crazy.  I'm not sure how my dad was raised in the same family as you.  I mean, he's basically normal.  
     I followed her to the theater.  Luckily, these seats were electric recliner seats.  I sat down, turned the chair into a bed, sent some "your sister is crazy" selfies to my dad, and zonked out.

Shirene kept coming out and in the theater with random free junk.  Eventually my grandparents showed up.  She dragged them into this too.  After being borderline unconscious for twenty minutes, the movie was starting.  I went back to sleep for the first quarter of the movie, until all of the action
woke me up again.  At least by now I knew where all of the explosions where and when Peeta decided to strangle Katniss.
     Before I knew it, the show was over.  We walked out of the movie and used the bathroom.
     "We should go to Sills and get scones," my grandpa said.
     There's justice in the world.  And I bet I can take a nap when grandma does later.

     On Sunday afternoon, Bailey and McKenna, my roommates, cousins, and best friends showed up at my grandparents'.  "You didn't know she was going to do that?  I'm sorry hun," McKenna started.  "Everyone else knew.  That's why we didn't show up until Thanksgiving part 2 this afternoon.
     I think I'm having a brain aneurism.  You do for family.  You do for family.  You do for family...