Food that Talks Back

Last week, the winter season decided I needed to suffer for a while, so it gave me a lovely cough and an ever-flowing nose. With finals coming up, I decided to take lots of medicine to try and get over my cold before I tortured my brain. As part of my treatment, I got my favorite cough drops (the really delicious Breezers cough drops that are good enough to be eaten like candy). However, I got a surprise when I opened the bag for the first time to soothe my burning throat. The wrappers were covered with little words. At closer investigation, I read things like, "High five yourself," "Turn your 'can do' into a 'can did'," and "You've been through worse." My wrapper was giving me motivation! That pleasant surprise pretty much made my day, and I looked forward to finishing one cough drop just so I could unstick another and get inspiration from the wrapper.

This got me thinking about what other foods might be saying to me. Those fries last night might have warned me that eating them was probably going to cost me an extra trip to the gym or that apple a few days ago might have applauded me for eating healthy and promised to give me vitamins. The carrots from work might have screamed, "Pick me, pick me! I'm healthy and help you see!" (Apparently they're good rhymers.) Then they would be frustrated when I choose the smug cookies instead.

Maybe it's a good thing food doesn't really talk, but it sure made being sick a little more enjoyable.

Have an Ice Day!

I absolutely love going to college at Brigham Young University. It's a great place with lots of great people. However, sometimes going to college is dangerous. Now, I'm not talking about singed eyebrows in chemistry lab or broken noses in basketball class or anything like that. I'm talking about the ice.

Coming to college, I had to adjust to actually walking through snow. In high school, all I had to do was drive to school and make it inside the building before freezing. All my classes were in the same building or just across the street, so I never really had to worry about wearing good shoes or making sure to layer up. Everything changed when I came to BYU.

Freshman year I had to learn to wear the right shoes during the winter if I wanted to keep all my toes and to wear as many layers as I could without looking like I'd already gotten my Freshman 15. Every day I had to walk up a hill to get to campus, which was fine until the snow came and it became more of an uphill ice rink. Fellow students linked arms and went slowly up the hill together. If people fell, someone would help them up because heaven forbid we be late to a class. It was hard work trudging up that hill in the snow, but it was kind of fun because everyone banded together to help each other make it to class.

The winter of my sophomore year was the worst. All of campus was a sheet of ice, and students were falling left and right. Some even had injuries like broken limbs from taking nasty falls, all in the name of trying to get to class. But school had to go on, so we buckled down to face the dangerous ice and shuffled, slid, and scooted to class.

So this year as the snow starts to fall and the sidewalks become slick as butter, I'll be strapping on spiked cleats, cladding my knees with volleyball pads, and praying to make it to class with nothing more serious than a red nose.

Magical Memories

In 2002, we constructed Hogwarts Castle.

Winter is when we're all feeling about as hungry as a bear who's been sleeping in a cave all winter with nothing to gnaw on except maybe a few lost field mice. So what do we do? We eat, sleep, eat, and then work out so we can eat even more—or maybe that's just me. I'm not complaining, though. I like food as much as the next starving college student. Appropriately, one of my favorite times of the year is when my family makes gingerbread houses.

I remember Mom running around the kitchen making gingerbread and taking long trips to the grocery store to carefully select only the most festive and colorful candies. I can feel the slippery tube in my hand as I carefully pump frosting out  to glue all the edible pieces together, like a giant, 3D jigsaw puzzle.  We dart around, nibbling imperfect slabs of gingerbread still warm from the oven. Our faces turn white as ghosts' as we slather powdered sugar on the square glass bases that hold the houses. One of my sisters took a little too much delight in acting out snowball battle scenes with the tiny gingerbread men and causing chaos and casualties all across the kitchen table. From under the table, a pair of begging puppy eyes stare me down until, when Mom isn't looking, I sneak crumbs to them.

I loved being an interior decorator for a day and furnishing the houses. There were exquisite decorations, such as licorice rugs and gumdrop reindeer heads (complete with pretzel antlers) above the fireplaces. There have been years where Santa has visited the gingerbread rooftops and little doghouses have been in the yard.

Our most legendary gingerbread house was not a house at all—it was a castle! Because we are Harry Potter nerds, we created a Hogwarts castle, complete with Whomping Willow. We even added little Harry Potter toys to populate it with witches and wizards. Making it was tricky (some might even say magical), but it was totally worth it.

Making gingerbread houses is one of my favorite family traditions. However (and pardon my cheese), my family hasn't just created dozens of gingerbread houses over the years—we also created memories that have lasted a lot longer than the gingerbread did.

Savoring the Holiday Season

As my fingers scrape the bottom of the candy bucket (yes, it's only a few days after Halloween, but I'm a college student who has to eat something to stay awake while studying), I feel a little sad that Halloween is over, and not just because the candy is almost gone. The pumpkins are caving into themselves; leaves are turning brown and falling, making the trees naked; the candy shelves are red and green instead of black and orange; and I can't find Waldo anywhere on campus. However, I feel ok about it all because when I flip the calendar to a new month, Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and now I can start looking forward to that holiday.

That's the way it should be—taking the season one holiday at a time. Lately it seems like all the fall and winter holidays are squished into a giant, blurry blob of candy, pine needles, and stuffing all topped with gravy. Christmas decorations come out so early that it seems like they never even leave the store. Sometimes I feel like I can't even enjoy the holidays because before one has even happened, the next holiday is already screaming in my face, begging for attention.

To read the rest of this blog post, visit the Stance for the Family Blog

Scared of Screaming

Fall is a wonderful time of the year (besides being the dreaded sign that school has started). The air is crisp and cool, the leaves are deep reds, yellows, and purples, and the smell of pumpkins is everywhere. And where there are pumpkins there is also Halloween.

Halloween is coming up so fast, it's scary. I don't usually get way into dressing up for the holiday (my twin and I will wear some pretty clever costumes together, but nothing extreme), but I enjoy traditions like pumpkin carving and eating chile at my grandma's house and convincing people to give me candy because I'm a poor, starving college student. Yes, Halloween is a sweet time, but there is one part of it that I'm not too fond of, and that's being scared.

I know being scared is a main part of Halloween, and I love a good prank, but some things just freak me out. The only way you'll get me to go to a haunted house or corn maze is if I am guaranteed a guy to cling to. Even when I know the chainsaw guy won't chop me to pieces and the blood on the dismembered arm is fake, I still get scared. I am an extremely jumpy person and am prone to letting out little screams when really startled. I don't like screaming in public, and somehow the spirit of Halloween is determined to make me do so.

Hopefully this Halloween will be a hoot, but not a scream.

Learning New Tricks

Technology has never been my grandma's thing, but she is very savvy in other categories. She can rustle up some delicious grub before you can even say you're hungry. Magic flows from her fingers and into the sewing machine as she creates and mends anything within reaching distance. She is really good at coloring with us in coloring books and somehow brings the elephants and mice to life with just Crayons. Her chicken nuggets and French fries are to die for; no one makes them better.

Movies and TV were the only kind of technology Grandma had.

However, this year changed her life forever.

She got an iPad.

I first found out about this when I got an email from her. I almost fell out of my chair in shock. Grandma's email was absolutely darling: she said it had taken her two hours to write it, but she did a really good job with it.

Now everyday I check my email to see if Grandma has sent me anything. I love reading what she sends me. Lines like, "I tried to be sick [so she didn't have to go to the Family History Center] but it didn't work. Grandpa is too smart", "E-mail is the last thing I look at before going to bed, first thing in the morning, and if I've been gone I look again as soon as I come through the back door", and "I spend more time on my iPad than I should. Am I getting lost in a different world, or just joining the world?" make my day.

That's one of the things I like best about my grandma: how much she makes me laugh. We can giggle like schoolgirls about boys or nothing at all, and she pulls faces all the time behind Grandpa's face when he's talking. After a visit to Grandma's house, my stomach hurts, and not only from all the good food but also from laughing so much. She always asks if we're sitting on a feather, but we're really just laughing because she's being hilarious.

Even with this technology Grandma just learned, she can still make me laugh.

Fun Living in the Mou’uns

I have always been slightly (ok, really) obsessed with accents. I don’t really know why I have this obsession. Accents are just so awesome. If I’m ever on campus and someone near me has an accent, I go into creepy mode and find some excuse to keep by them so I can continue hearing their accent. I’ve always wished I had an accent. Probably because that would mean I’ve actually been out of the United States and could be from somewhere exotic.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I love the United States. It’s a great place to live and there are really great people here. I guess we probably have accents here to the ears of outsiders, but it’s hard for me to pick that up sometimes (unless it’s the obvious Southern drawl) or appreciate because I’ve grown up hearing  American accents all my life, so now they just don’t sound as good as some of the other accents in the world.

However, there is one part of my speech (accent, if you will. I don’t think I have one, but I guess I kind of do) that I really like, and that is the Utah t drop. I don’t know if it has an official name, but oh well. Basically, this is when Utahns drop the t in words. The linguistic name for this is called a glottal stop which, according to the Internet,  is produced by obstructing airflow in the vocal tract or, more precisely, the glottis. Words like mountain, button, and Layton might sound a little different to people who are not from Utah. Other people across the country do this as well, but Utah gets a lot of attention for it.

Here at BYU, I’ve heard people talk about this part of the Utah accent and I’ve had classes where we’ve talked about it. When my sister was here, she convinced a bunch of non-Utahns that Utah children are taught the silent t rule: if a t comes between a consonant and a vowel, it is silent. People actually believed her! I guess having just a Utah accent can be fun too. Click here to read more about the funny way Utahns talk.

All This for a Slice of Pizza?

Yes, I am an English nerd. It's not my fault that language is so interesting! Semantics, dialects, speech acts, scripts—what's not to love? 

In one of my classes we were talking about conversations. There are certain aspects of conversation that we as Americans do a little bit differently than other countries. It is very general (not every American does this), but it does illustrate how people in normal society are taught to interact.

One part of conversation we talked about was when people ask for something. We do silly things like name objects to show that we want something instead of coming right out and asking for it because we don’t want to be rude. For example, if Bob walks into a room and there’s pizza, his stomach grumbles and he says something like, “Oh, pizza.” He hasn’t asked for anything, but he names it in hopes that someone will offer him some. Once someone does offer him some, he initially declines, hoping that the person will offer again. This goes on for a few exchanges until Bob finally says, “Well, if you insist,” and eats the pizza.

 It is not socially acceptable to outright ask people for something that is theirs unless you have a close relationship with them. Being polite is good, but sometimes I think it is hilarious what lengths people are willing to go to in order to be polite. If Bob would have asked for a slice of pizza, he probably would have gotten one (he was just a poor, starving college student after all). However, everyone around him and whoever’s pizza it was would probably think him a bit strange and maybe even a bit rude even though he didn't mean it that way.

Ah, the conventions of conversation!

Cold is Cool

Winter is coming, and I'm not sure whether to pack away all my summer clothes with a face to rival Eeyore's or eagerly stock up on hot chocolate and marshmallows. Both summer and winter have their ups and downs.

I love summer because the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the grass is green and soft between my toes. Unlike winter, summer is when I can be in the sun and (hopefully) get a nice tan. However, I don't like being hot. I hate the feeling of sweat covering every inch of me and the sun shining so brightly that have I squint my eyes so much that I can't even see who I'm talking to or if it's just a pole I think is a person. I don't mind being hot if I'm playing a sport or working out, but otherwise, I would rather not take the heat.

Given the choice, I would choose to be cold over being hot. The solution to being cold is simple: layer up and drink hot chocolate peppered with marshmallows. When it's hot, you can only strip down so far until it's not socially acceptable anymore, and then it's still hot.

Although trudging through campus with the frigid air trying to turn me into a popsicle is no picnic, I would take that over arriving to class, having just freshly showered for the day, covered in sweat.

School Sentiments

Summer is over, and school looms over the horizon like a black, billowing cloud. OK, so it's not really that bad. Actually, a part of me is glad that school is starting. I miss the days of having a schedule. Well, I had a schedule with work every day, but after work I wasn't motivated to do anything because there wasn't really anything that I absolutely had to do. All the "I'll do that tomorrow"s never got done, and I wasn't as productive as I could have been, something that will change as I am buried with homework and tests over the next few months until the carefree summer sun smiles down on me again. That's where the other part of me comes in. I love being able to do whatever I want whenever I want and not having a schedule. Being spontaneous in the summer is what makes it exciting. School demands a structured schedule and deadlines for projects and such. There's always something to be doing. But even as I cringe at the thought of being cooped up inside willing my brain to work, I remember that I only have two years of college left, and I start feeling (mostly) grateful for the homework.

Sometimes I wish that I could stay in college forever. I love the atmosphere at Brigham Young University and the connection I feel with everyone on campus even though I don't know most of them. We have a lot in common, after all: we attend BYU, have homework, dread finals, will do anything for a free meal, pray for our football team to win, and have the same values. Even though homework is sometimes a drag, I love being a student and learning. I don't want to go into the "real world". I've been in school for as long as I can remember, and not having that structured part of my life is a little scary. I don't know how not to be a student. I try not to think about that yet; I still have a couples years of college left.

For now, I'll cherish my time as a college student, because as much as I complain about homework and trudging to my classes through a snowstorm, I wouldn't trade being a student here for anything.
So bring on the semester!

Twin Troubles

"I still can't tell you two apart."

These words are like a knife in my heart, especially when they are said with a little trill of laughter or by relatives or friends I've known for years. I am a twin, so I hear these words on an almost daily basis.

Now, don't get me wrong—being a twin is awesome. I always have someone to have adventures with and to count on. She's my permanent buddy whom I can do everything and anything with. Playing jokes on people is also quite enjoyable, but sometimes I wish it were not as easy for us to trick people.

Just because we look alike does not mean we're identical. It's a common misconception. Identical twins split from the same egg and will have the same DNA, meaning that identical twins can never be a boy and a girl. They don't always look exactly the same, either. Fraternal twins, on the other hand, happen when two different eggs are fertilized. They don't share DNA and may or may not look alike or be the same sex.

My sister and I are fraternal, and we happen to look quite similar, but we are separate beings. She loves listening to country music, but when she does I always complain that my ears are bleeding. She would rather nap than shop, but I could spend hours in the mall. I talk her ear off about every little thing that happened to me that day, but she would rather keep the talking short and only talk about the important things. My wardrobe is a large variety of styles and colors while hers is smaller and mostly blue. We do have our similarities, but we have our differences as well.

The next time you see twins, remember that they are individuals just like you and are unique no matter how similar they seem. The only difference is that they came into the world with an automatic friend for life.

To read more about my experiences of being a twin, visit http://stanceforthefamily.byu.edu/sweet-twindipity-thoughts-on-being-a-twin/.