DST

This semester has comprised of many early mornings and even more late nights. I can probably count on one hand the number of times Andrew has gone to bed before midnight. I can also probably count on one hand the number of times Andrew has slept in past 8:00. Or 6:00 for that matter. In short it has been mass chaos and this past week has been the worst.

He sheds his suit right before going to bed and leaves it crumpled up on the floor so he can step right back into it the following morning. He's had presentation after presentation, paper after paper, project after project and everything culminates today in what shall hence and forever be called "mega-presentation/paper/project day."

What is mega-presentation/paper/project day? I'll tell you.

It's a twenty-five minute powerpoint presentation followed by an open Q&A session explaining the five "phases" of a project with an accompanying 10-20 page paper per phase. That's what mega-presentation/paper/project day is—a whole lot of work.

When Andrew rushed through the kitchen yesterday, pecking me on the lips on his way to the office, and exclaiming, "Man, I'm so busy!" his sister asked if he had procrastinated. No, no procrastination here. Just business. Andrew put the girls to bed last night shortly after I left for the theater and he didn't even notice when I came home (at 10:45 PM). Seriously. He was working that diligently. It's like he's not even here. I am so happy for the end of the semester. No, really.

Anyway, we went to bed late last night after he had finished with everything he could finish and this morning...he slept in. Big time. He woke up when he should have been gone. So he jumped out of bed, into his suit, and out the door before I could even say "Good Morning!"  

After he was gone I got the girls up for the day, rushed Rachel to school, took out the garbage, ate breakfast, and then checked my email. There was a short message from Andrew:

So during one of our practice presentations just now, I was presenting and suddenly felt something crawling down my leg. It was freaky. I rushed through and finished my part to discover that it was a dirty white sock.

That email alone proves the chaos that reigns in our household but even funnier was the subject of his message: DST.

DST is a family joke—it stands for "dirty sock treatment." Andrew's dad has long-standing tradition of threatening to rub his dirty socks on his children's faces. And sometimes he does rub his day-old socks on his children's faces. And sometimes when they come home to do laundry he puts his socks in with their clothes so that they have to come back home again to give them back to him.

So Andrew just gave himself the DST. I wonder whose sock it was...

Free ticket to that thing you love

Tuesdays are like Mondays in our house. You might get a bad case of the Mondays but we...we get a bad case of the Tuesdays. This is because Rachel doesn't have school on Monday so it's just a Sunday-recovery day. Tuesdays, though, are bad.

Rachel has advanced enough in her school-going career that she no longer wakes up at 4:00 in the morning  all eager-beaver. She still loves school but has come to understand that no one wants her waking up the whole house at 0'dark-thirty. This morning we slept in until 8:30 which is bad because we must be out the door by 8:50 if she's going to get to school on time.

By some miracle (aka: Grandma) we made it and had a relatively blissful morning until I picked Rachel up from school. Then things got ugly.

Nativity at the Bean Museum

For Family Home Evening we went to the Bean Museum with my parents and siblings. My mom knew that Auntie Josie wanted to come because she "hasn't been there for years!" Uncle Patrick coming, though? That was a surprise. Uncle David even showed up in the middle of the reptile show. It was a nice surprise to get to spend the evening with them as well.

The main reason we wanted to go was to see the nativity that is apparently an annual tradition, though I don't think it could be too annual since I don't remember it being a tradition when I worked in the Integrative Biology department—we even held our department Christmas dinner in the museum and there wasn't anything quite this festive in the museum. I think it's a wonderful tradition, though. 

When we're helping we're happy

This morning Rachel and Meme teamed up to empty the dishwasher. Miriam was taking the silverware out one piece at a time and handing them to Rachel, who would put them in the drawer. It was so cute to watch them working together so nicely.

 

I'm not sure what Miriam's main motive was, though, because she seemed rather intent on closing the bottom rack. Rachel kept having to pull it back out and demand that Miriam hand her more silverware. Miriam would then obediently hand Rachel another piece or two of silverware before trying to close the bottom rack again.

It might be because on Friday she discovered that the door of the dishwasher makes a mighty fine platform. *sigh* This girl will climb on anything. 

But at least she's helping with the housework...

Have a holly, technological Christmas!

We've been enjoying getting into the Christmas season in spite of our colds. On Saturday we went up to Temple Square to view the lights, which I will post about after I get the pictures off of Andrew's computer. He's currently working on his final project—it's due on Wednesday—and then he will be free, at least relatively free. He has two finals to take after he turns his project in but those shouldn't be too intensive. I can hardly wait!

Anyway, he had loaded up his iPod with "rockin' music," and said we were going to be the party car. Unfortunately for him, none of the songs he put on his iPod were Christmas songs so we held a vote and quickly ruled him out. Luckily Auntie Sarah was in the car with us and she knew exactly which radio station had Christmas carols playing. We never listen to the radio anymore.

On the way home we turned the Christmas carols back on.

"Daddy," Rachel requested, "Do you have Frosty the Snowman?"

Mechanical Turks

I stayed up late last night finishing up a project and I actually finished it. This is a very good thing because for the last few days my to-do list has been exactly the same. Everyday. I hadn't finished any of the projects that I started but last night that changed, which made me very happy.

Andrew stayed up late finishing a project, too.

When we finally went to bed I said, "Oh, man! Tomorrow is Monday. That means I have to work. I don't know that I have any motivation to work."

"You're working to send me to Ghana! There's some motivation!"

"Oh, goody. I get to work my tail-end off so you can go to Ghana. See how motivated I am about that?"

I showed him my best that-doesn't-motivate-me face.

"You're working to take our whole family to Washington, DC, for an internship this summer!"

Hopefully. But have I mentioned we've been passing a cold around our family? It's my turn with it.

"That's a little more motivation. But I just don't feel good."

"But you're a Mechanical Turk! You have to go to work!"

"You probably should just give up trying to compliment me," I told him, "Ever."

A visit with Santa

The ward Christmas party was last night. The main event was  a talent show in which I led the primary children in singing Christmas Bells and Away in a Manger because the primary chorister wasn't able to come. Rachel came up to sing, too, though she won't technically be in primary until January. She even got to shake some bells during Christmas Bells—she was so excited!

Later I told her she did a good job and she said, "I know. That's why I'm a big kid now."

The highlight of the evening for many children—but not for my children–was a visit from Old Saint Nick, himself. A throng of children enveloped him when he walked through the door ringing his sleigh bells but Rachel wasn't among them. She froze on her chair, a look of panic frozen on her face. 

Somehow or another we convinced her to get in line to visit him. Her past visits with Santa haven't gone well but she decided she would be brave enough to stand beside him—sitting on his lap, however, was entirely out of the question. We told her that would be fine but she was still a little nervous so when we got to the front of the line Miriam went first.

Grammar

On Monday, Andrew chatted to me over IM to let me know he'd be later than usual. He tried to use his code-word but since he was typing with auto-correct on it came out all wrong.

3:45 PM

Andrew: Eel.

Me: Eel? Now, that is a new one. I wonder if it means anything like "eek" or if it means something entirely different.

Andrew: That should have been eek.

O Christmas Tree

The Christmas tree went up on Saturday. Rachel got to put up a lot of ornaments—mostly the boxes of red Christmas balls (and certainly not the heirloom ornaments even though she wanted to touch them so badly). When the tree was "finished" it was saturated with red balls on the bottom half. Grandma artistically moved them around after Rachel went to bed and now the tree looks much more symmetrical.

Rachel had so much fun helping, though. She'd put an ornament on the tree and then jump up and down, clap her hands, and squeal, "That looks perfect!"

Since most the the ornaments on the tree are glass (and because some are heirlooms) we have baby gates closing off both doorways to the front room. This way, we thought, we'd keep "Christmas" safe.

We're going to Antarctica

Last Tuesday it was -27°F (or about -33°C) in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, making it the second coldest place on earth, next to the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station on Antarctica. It even made it to the news.

I used to live there and I don't really understand how I ever survived because when I went outside today here it was 27°F above zero (-3°C) and I was freezing. I bundled up my girls (and myself) with sweaters under their winter coats, snow boots, hats, and mittens. And we were only walking around the corner.

Today the coldest place on earth is Chandlar Lake, Alaska, where it's -42°F (-41°C). I'm very glad I don't live there today, though I have been in the negative forties. It's just no fun.

I really dislike winter.

In Egypt we would pass off everything and anything awful that happened with a little sigh, exclaiming, "Oh...Egypt." Today I'm feeling out of sorts with America. So many things have happened recently that are absolutely nettling and about which I don't share a common opinion with my "neighbours" and so I'm feeling glum. "Oh...America."

*sigh*

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here.

But then I remember that the only other "home" I have is akin to living on Antarctica—a place I swore I'd never go but now that I know that sometimes it's on par with places I've lived like (Russia and Canada) I may as well go. Hear that, Andrew, you win: we can go to Antarctica.

During Antarctica's summer, naturally.

Because I'm not setting foot anywhere near Antarctica during the winter.

Ever.

I don't think I could sigh, "Oh...Antarctica," effectively enough to communicate my feelings about Antarctic winters. Not that I know anything about Antarctic winters. But I can imagine.