I had a very interesting, (and by that I mean, Holy Cow how did I get in this situation and what do I do now?) experience this week.
Monday, I went to lunch with my very dear friend Jennifer, who also happens to be my partner in crime... I mean co-worker at the office. Jenn and I go to lunch most every Monday, and we can usually be found at one of three places. La Puente, for the best smothered burritos in town, Chin Wah, when branching out for Chinese food, or Red Robin when trying to create the illusion that we eat healthy food (their crispy chicken salads, with the honey mustard dressing is awesome!!). This week, we were trying to create an illusion; a decision I will wonder about for the rest of my life, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Fast forward past the initial drink and entree order, to the time our salads were delivered. I was complaining, I mean telling, Jenn about my experience at the singles conference I went to over the weekend (don't hold your breath for that post... no really, don't...) when Jenn suddenly starts coughing, with a semi-panicked look on her face. She suddenly stood up and started to walk away from the table. Not entirely sure what was happening, I asked her if she was okay. She turned around (with a now fully panicked look on her face) pointed to her throat and shook her head. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she was choking.
I've always wondered what I would do if I was ever in this situation again. (The first time, it didn't end well.) A lot of thoughts ran through my head in that first few seconds. "What do I do?"; "Do I REALLY know how to do this correctly?"; "Why is everyone watching, but no one helping?"; "Someone PLEASE help me!"; "Heavenly Father, Jenn is a REALLY good friend, and the last thing I want is for her to choke to death in front of me. Could you please help me out here?".
The last thought won out. I stood behind her, put my arms around her, found her ribcage (not easy to do with a moving target, panic makes you do some interesting things), and "thrust upward" with as much power as I could muster. (Sorry about the bruised rib Jenn!) Out popped the piece of chicken and Jenn and I collapsed, shaking, onto the bench, while the crowd of onlookers, who could now move, came up to ask if she was okay.
A happy ending to an experience I hope NEVER to repeat. My sincerest thanks to Henry Heimlich, for inventing a way to free items lodged in one's throat. And most sincerest thanks to Heavenly Father for giving me the courage to get out of my chair and help a friend in trouble.
Oh, and to Jenn. Thanks so much for not dying. That would have seriously ruined my week! :) And please, please, PLEASE, don't EVER do that again!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Another First...
Confession: I've never been to a tanning bed. I mean EVER. The reason? Let's see, highly strung germaphobe? Nope. Afraid of ultraviolet light that, with my luck, will eventually cause cancer? Nope. Afraid of laying in all of my, well, not clothed-ness in a glass bed? Nope. Horribly claustrophobic and terrified that said tanning bed will spontaneously burst into flames with me stuck inside? Yep, that's the one.
So, what could convince me to abandon my near-hysteria inducing anxiety and willingly crawl into this "coffin of fire"? You guessed it. I caught a glimpse of myself in a bathing suit. Not good. I mean glow in the dark not good.
So, in a momentary lapse of otherwise good judgement, I decided to listen to my friends, who kept telling me that everything would be fine, and venture to the dark side. Let me walk you through the evening...
First, Lori (I had to have re-enforcements) and I walked through the door of the tanning salon.
Enter Jasmine. Jasmine and I can never be friends. I'm sure she is a perfectly delightful person, really I'm sure she is. But Jasmine, well lets just say, the name suits her. Her and her very blond, very (dangerously) skinny physique. Jasmine asked us which bed we wanted. I stood there like a deer in the headlights while Lori answered the appropriate questions. Along with our one time session, we purchased indoor tanning lotion. Didn't know it existed quite frankly. I looked at the package and read the following: "contains as much caffeine as a cup of coffee!" Time out. Really? I'm not sure what the correlation is between caffeine and gaining a good tan, but I think I may be more concerned with that whole "as a cup of coffee" thing. I mean, can you sleep after? Does it give you the shakes? At any rate, I asked for the de-caf variety.
Moving on... Lori, kindly, volunteered to go first. I sat for the next 10-15 minutes, in the waiting room while entirely too much peroxide and silicone walked past me. (I mean seriously, at some point don't you have to worry about that stuff melting?)
Finally, it was my turn. I walked into the room, with my packet of newly discovered indoor tanning lotion, and came face to face with, the beast. Oh he looked unassuming enough. Sleek, very shiny, and clean. One would think I'd be impressed, but wait, we're not talking about a car. I knew he had ulterior motives, he was just waiting to scorch my ghostly white, glow it the dark skin. I mustered up every ounce of my courage, unclothed myself, applied previously mentioned indoor tanning lotion (how are you supposed to put that on your own back?) put on the freaky little glasses and climbed inside.
That's when the anxiety attack started. See, I'd been told that you can control how far down the lid of the coffin, I mean bed goes down. I beg to differ! The incredibly bright lights had no sooner turned on, when I found my self trapped, I mean safely entombed (okay, I really can't find a good word there; but in my defense, I knew if I did indeed get stuck, little Jasmine was not going to be much help...) in the flaming coffin. I closed my eyes, really tight, and had the following conversation with myself:
"It's okay Tia, it's just a little warm"
"Feel that breeze coming from the bottom of the bed? Doesn't that feel nice?"
"Surely it won't get any warmer than this?"
"Why does that creaking door sound like it's opening into my room?"
"Should my back be feeling like it's on fire?"
"The breeze from the bottom of the bed is beginning to feel like a blow torch. Is that normal?"
"If I had a sense of smell, what would burning flesh actually smell like?"
"Why is that creaking door opening again?"
"Is it over yet?"
"I can't move. It's okay, don't panic. Breathe."
"You're on a warm beach somewhere, that's the sun enveloping you in it's warm embrace."
"I SAID BREATHE!"
"There's that door again."
"My ears are ringing. That can't be good."
"Enough with the stupid door!!"
"Seriously, how long can 10 minutes really last?"
And then it was over. I quickly (and I mean quickly) wiped myself off, calmed myself down (my heart stopped racing a few minutes later) and, shaking only slightly, walked outside victorious. Yes, my friends, I made it through my first tanning session. Take that flaming coffin of doom!
Now, how do you get rid of red stripes down your back? :)
So, what could convince me to abandon my near-hysteria inducing anxiety and willingly crawl into this "coffin of fire"? You guessed it. I caught a glimpse of myself in a bathing suit. Not good. I mean glow in the dark not good.
So, in a momentary lapse of otherwise good judgement, I decided to listen to my friends, who kept telling me that everything would be fine, and venture to the dark side. Let me walk you through the evening...
First, Lori (I had to have re-enforcements) and I walked through the door of the tanning salon.
Enter Jasmine. Jasmine and I can never be friends. I'm sure she is a perfectly delightful person, really I'm sure she is. But Jasmine, well lets just say, the name suits her. Her and her very blond, very (dangerously) skinny physique. Jasmine asked us which bed we wanted. I stood there like a deer in the headlights while Lori answered the appropriate questions. Along with our one time session, we purchased indoor tanning lotion. Didn't know it existed quite frankly. I looked at the package and read the following: "contains as much caffeine as a cup of coffee!" Time out. Really? I'm not sure what the correlation is between caffeine and gaining a good tan, but I think I may be more concerned with that whole "as a cup of coffee" thing. I mean, can you sleep after? Does it give you the shakes? At any rate, I asked for the de-caf variety.
Moving on... Lori, kindly, volunteered to go first. I sat for the next 10-15 minutes, in the waiting room while entirely too much peroxide and silicone walked past me. (I mean seriously, at some point don't you have to worry about that stuff melting?)
Finally, it was my turn. I walked into the room, with my packet of newly discovered indoor tanning lotion, and came face to face with, the beast. Oh he looked unassuming enough. Sleek, very shiny, and clean. One would think I'd be impressed, but wait, we're not talking about a car. I knew he had ulterior motives, he was just waiting to scorch my ghostly white, glow it the dark skin. I mustered up every ounce of my courage, unclothed myself, applied previously mentioned indoor tanning lotion (how are you supposed to put that on your own back?) put on the freaky little glasses and climbed inside.
That's when the anxiety attack started. See, I'd been told that you can control how far down the lid of the coffin, I mean bed goes down. I beg to differ! The incredibly bright lights had no sooner turned on, when I found my self trapped, I mean safely entombed (okay, I really can't find a good word there; but in my defense, I knew if I did indeed get stuck, little Jasmine was not going to be much help...) in the flaming coffin. I closed my eyes, really tight, and had the following conversation with myself:
"It's okay Tia, it's just a little warm"
"Feel that breeze coming from the bottom of the bed? Doesn't that feel nice?"
"Surely it won't get any warmer than this?"
"Why does that creaking door sound like it's opening into my room?"
"Should my back be feeling like it's on fire?"
"The breeze from the bottom of the bed is beginning to feel like a blow torch. Is that normal?"
"If I had a sense of smell, what would burning flesh actually smell like?"
"Why is that creaking door opening again?"
"Is it over yet?"
"I can't move. It's okay, don't panic. Breathe."
"You're on a warm beach somewhere, that's the sun enveloping you in it's warm embrace."
"I SAID BREATHE!"
"There's that door again."
"My ears are ringing. That can't be good."
"Enough with the stupid door!!"
"Seriously, how long can 10 minutes really last?"
And then it was over. I quickly (and I mean quickly) wiped myself off, calmed myself down (my heart stopped racing a few minutes later) and, shaking only slightly, walked outside victorious. Yes, my friends, I made it through my first tanning session. Take that flaming coffin of doom!
Now, how do you get rid of red stripes down your back? :)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
My New Roommate
If you know where I live, you may have seen a strange SUV parked in my driveway for the last week or so. (If you don't know where I live, just imagine a normal driveway, with a strange SUV parked in it) This past weekend, I got a new roommate. My brother moved in for a while. Nate's a great big brother and I can't wait to get to know him again. Here's some things I love about Nate:
1. He loves... well likes... okay tolerates my dog.
2. So far, he hasn't complained about my cooking.
3. He's doesn't have much of a sense of smell, so my paranoia about my house stinking actually amuses him.
4. He's funny.
5. He has 3 adorable kids.
6. He's taken over the yard work, and we all know how much I love that!
Welcome Nate!
P.S. I tried to take a picture, but he threatened my safety (not to mention the safety of my camera). He had this sinister little look in his eye, that made me rethink my plan. Baby steps...
1. He loves... well likes... okay tolerates my dog.
2. So far, he hasn't complained about my cooking.
3. He's doesn't have much of a sense of smell, so my paranoia about my house stinking actually amuses him.
4. He's funny.
5. He has 3 adorable kids.
6. He's taken over the yard work, and we all know how much I love that!
Welcome Nate!
P.S. I tried to take a picture, but he threatened my safety (not to mention the safety of my camera). He had this sinister little look in his eye, that made me rethink my plan. Baby steps...
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Things THEY Do For Love...
A couple of weeks ago, I was looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, my family had different plans... I awoke to a persistent (REALLY persistent) ringing of my doorbell. When I stumbled, somewhat bleary eyed, to the door, I found my younger brother impatiently waiting for me to open the garage door. It only took about 20 minutes for the rest of the crew to show up. Apparently, my dad and brothers decided the backyard was a little more than I could handle by myself. Maybe I'll just let them keep on believing that for a while...
At the end of the day, we had 5 men, 3 1/2 (way to go Kaylee!!) women, 2 lawnmowers, 1 weed whacker, and of course several attempts at getting the perfect shot of all the boys, facing the camera, in one frame!
Better luck next time...
Thanks guys, I love you too!
At the end of the day, we had 5 men, 3 1/2 (way to go Kaylee!!) women, 2 lawnmowers, 1 weed whacker, and of course several attempts at getting the perfect shot of all the boys, facing the camera, in one frame!
Better luck next time...
Thanks guys, I love you too!
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