The week of July 29-August 4

Let me just tell you about last week. Monday was a fairly normal day, which wrapped up with a long walk and a paper boat race down the south hill river. Epic? Yes. I was also asked to join a softball team, which I had to refuse, unfortunately.

Tuesday I did something awesome, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it is.

Wednesday I went to see Step Up Revolution with Karen. Dumb writing, poor acting, BANGIN dancing! Plus the soundtrack has some sweet stuff. All in all, for what we were expecting (which was a crappy dancing movie) it was great.

Not my picture, but a sweet one.

Thursday was an exciting day. I worked grounds (bleh) where we were told that we had to catch and "take care of" a domestic duck that someone had dropped off at the duck pond. By "take care of" they usually mean "kill brutally," but with me around, the crew is always a bit more humane (mostly because otherwise I verbally, and occasionally physically, kick their sorry butts), which meant that the duck would be transported to the Provo City River near the Motion Picture Studio. Acceptable. They had been chasing it for about 45 minutes, being as cruel as possible without me taking them out. They were trying to frighten it to the edge of the pond so they could trap it under a net and shove it in a bucket. I was highly opposed to the idea, but realized that the duck would die at the pond if we didn't do anything, so I allowed them to continue on the condition that they wouldn't hurt the duck or scare it too badly. Finally, I decided I would take it on myself to catch the duck, seeing as the others were clearly incompetent big-fat-meanies. I climbed down onto a rock and held out my arms, saying, "come here little ducky-poo. I won't hurt you, I just want to help you. You're so tired, let me give you a ducky hug." The duck swam towards me. He was just out of reach when the others came running, yelling, "get it! Get it!" He swam away. I kept talking to the duck as I walked around the pond, and he kept swimming next to me, quacking his happy little ducky quacks, but the others kept scaring him off. Finally, I stepped down onto another rock, and held out my arms. "Come here, little ducky-poo. Don't worry, I'm nice." The duck swam over. The duck climbed up onto the rock next to me. The duck waddled into place in front of me, tucked in his wings, and turned around so he was facing away from me. Then he looked over his ducky shoulder and cocked his little ducky head like, "well, pick me up already!" and turned back around. So I picked him up in a nice little ducky hug. I then talked to him and told him what a handsome duck he was while I carried him happily across the street. We then got in the truck and took him to the river where he quacked his happy little duck speech.

Not an actual picture of my ducky friend, but this is what he looked like (except he was chubby-er)

RANT TIME: Be responsible with your ducks. If you want to buy your children "Easter pets" like rabbits, ducks, or chicks, remember that baby animals grow into not-baby animals, and you're still responsible to take care of them once they're huge and pooey and not-so-cute-and-tiny.

(Cute, yes. But don't get carried away)

After working the rest of the day, I played two softball games, went for a two hour bike ride, and had a bonfire. The only catch is, I got a motorcycle burn in the process. I was on my way to the softball games when I got it. I stopped for gas and forgot that I was wearing shorts (not my usual long pants for riding). I went to pull my scooter closer to the pump and ended up leaning up against the burning hot muffler with the front of my left shin. I heard a tsssss and felt excruciating pain. I jumped back and saw lots of missing skin and grossness. Let me tell you, it hurts REAL bad to get a motorcycle burn, so I wouldn't suggest it. Also, you know when you're a little kid and you put liquid glue on your hand in a thin layer, then wait for it to dry so you can peel it off and pretend like your hand is mega peeling? Well, that's what it looked like around the edges, except it wasn't glue... it was my body. Sick, I know.

Not even a very gross picture. You'll thank me for that. 

So, I eventually made it to the game, but no one had any bandages (which is ridiculous to me, because I play on a medical team where every player is either a doctor, a nurse, a PA, a surgeon, or a profusionist), thus I played in the dirt for several hours. When I got home, I knew I had to clean it, so I gritted my teach and swabbed the area with rubbing alcohol, which, naturally, hurt like death. I then embarked on the bike ride with Holli, which was awesome. We ended up at her place where we built a fire and roasted marshmallows and bananas.

Friday was a fairly normal day. I worked the morning, then convinced my good friend Liz to go with me to visit my little ducky friend. We fed him and I patted his soft little noggin with my finger. He gobbled up the bread I brought and quacked happily as I talked to him. I've visited him every day since, but as of now, he's either moved on to bigger and better things or some loving family has claimed him, because I can't find him anymore. :( I hope he's safe and happy wherever he is.      ...I was supposed to go to a concert with Joy (and others) Friday night, but she ended up being sick, and I was so exhausted that I just decided to stay home and watch You've Got Mail. Love that movie.

P.S. If he's a boy, his name is Norman. If he's a girl, her name is Gertrude. Such a lovely little ducky-poo. :)

Once again, not MY duck, but a duck that looks like my duck. :)

Saturday, I was doing laundry when I realized that Liz and Chalece had left their windows unlocked. This is significant because they were both supposed to be out of town this weekend. Liz was already in Idaho, and Chalece had "supposedly" already left. Thus, I decided to buy, blow up, and transport 152  12" balloons so that Liz and Chalece would have an apartment full of balloons when they returned. This plan was brilliant, and was working out very well. Madeleine and I blew them up all day while we watched the Olympics. After only a few balloon casualties, we were finished. After playing in the balloons for several hours, we sneaked down to climb through one of the many open windows... only to find them all locked. Somehow, Chalece left, then came back, then left without us realizing, and in the meantime, she locked all the windows. This being the case, my apartment was filled with 150 "we like to pop at the most inconvenient of times and scare the shnikies out of you" balloons for two days. :) In case you're wondering, we merely waited until Liz got home, then sneaked them into her apartment while she was unpacking. She opened her door, found everything as usual, used the bathroom, then went back out to her car. By the time she came back from her car (which was only about 20 feet from her apartment), her apartment was FILLED with balloons and all of us ladies were madly giggling in our darkened and quieted apartment. Unfortunately for us, Liz knows me well enough to know it was me, so within about 5 minutes, we heard a banging on our door, then Liz walked in, laughing with fake anger. Happy moments. :)

Please notice and appreciate the fact that I consolidated a week's worth of blogging into one post. Please also note and appreciate that I broke up that mega-post with pictures for your viewing pleasure. You're welcome.