Summer 2017 wrap-up (covering mostly just the good stuff)

GUYS. Summer is almost over. I cannot express how big of a relief that is. I feel like I'm coming back to life, kind of like how normal people feel when spring starts to unthaw a long winter. I simply was not built for long, hot summers. Convention insanity doesn't help, either (more on that later).

It's become a tradition on this blog to have a summer wrap-up post every year. So consider this my "What I Did This Summer" back-to-school essay. Honestly, it doesn't look that different from the ones I wrote as a kid. (Only this one has pictures—erm, way more than I planned on sharing, sorry—because without pictures, you got nuttin'. Name that TV show!)

We went to swimming lessons.

We kicked off our sister party with swimming lessons, and I'll just say it was a much better way to spend a Friday morning than at the office.

SO CUTE.

The crazy thing is, 20 years ago we were the ones going to swimming lessons with our cousins.

Poor Tyrel, always surrounded by girls.

We went on vacation.

All of us but the Searles spent a week in South Dakota/Wyoming. Home to lots of blue, green, and brown—and not much else.

We went on a Tuesday, and there was still an alarming number of people there (which is why Shannan is not pictured).

I used to think it was super random that someone decided to carve people's heads into a mountain, but after seeing all those flat, smooth rocks, I kind of wanted to carve something into a mountain.

We spent the week in a cabin.

Our most successful vacations tend to be the ones where home base is a place we can claim all for ourselves.

We took walks and hikes whenever we wanted, because everything we needed was basically in our front yard.

The child had to be walked several times a day. During one walk she proceeded to pick up every rock she saw and stuff them in her pockets until her pants were literally falling off.

We found a rock that inspired us to stand tall and triumphant.

I was not as successful. Dang wind.

Turns out climbing a tree Yogi Bear style is much harder than it looks. Pretty much all I could do was jump and hold on.

Tyrel and I went to the top of the mountain. Well, Tyrel did. I almost made it to the top, but my fear of heights prevented me from moving past the low end of the top. So Tyrel skipped to the highest point while I sat in a safe spot and took selfies.

Many Dutch oven dinners were consumed, monitored by Kimberly and Jeremy. But mostly Kimberly.

And we can't forget Dad, the barbecue master.

I helped by taking pictures of fire.

And we did some other vacation-y, sight-seeing things, including visiting family who moved up here like 12 years ago (not pictured, sadly).

Rushmore Cave. This picture cracks me up.

This amusement park was awesome. It looked like some farmer/engineer guy built a couple roller coasters in his backyard. (In front of us is a bunch of farmland.) Not very many people were there, and the food was delicious. I'd give you the name of the park, but I kind of want it to remain anonymous so it's still deserted if we ever go back.

Oh, and since we had such picturesque surroundings, Shannan and I helped take pictures of the Balls family. I hereby proclaim them the cutest family ever.

We had a water party.

Whenever I picture the perfect summer day, it includes my entire family, an outdoor activity, and a barbecue. We usually have a water party on either Memorial Day or Pioneer Day every summer, and it's pretty much the best. See, sometimes I like summer.

Don't get in Bronx's way—because he will get you.

Noah had a little trouble aiming his squirt gun at first.

Tyrel's favorite part of the party. Every year.

I played softball.

As always, softball was one of the best things about my summer. I wasted my two good hits on the first game, but was much more successful at socializing than I've been in past summers. This year's team was special.

This was right after winning our stake tournament's semifinal, I think. It was an awesome game, complete with a miracle comeback. I just wish the photographer had waited until everyone was ready to take the picture. 

This next picture will give you a better idea of just how dedicated my ward was to softball this year, whether they were playing or not. (And this was after some of us—myself included—had already left.) Attendance at softball games was basically mandatory.

I survived Convention.

I didn't have time to be sad when softball ended (after a run in the regional tournament, which meant we got to play at the nice ballpark in Cottonwood Heights. It's rained three out of the four times I've played there), because Convention—the week I dread all year—was next up on my agenda.

I won't torture you with the details. These two pictures pretty much sum up the experience.

How I felt during that 72-hour work week:

How I felt when it was over (after I'd had a few days to recover):

The universe gave us an eclipse as a Monday-after-Convention gift.

I wasn't super excited about this "once in a lifetime" event, but pretty much our entire building emptied out around 10:30 Monday morning to watch the eclipse's progress, and I didn't want to be left out. My department ended up on the roof with 20-30 other people. Looking at the sun was fun, but my favorite part was when it cooled down 15 degrees and the sunshine dimmed enough so I didn't even need sunglasses. In case you forgot, I am not a fan of the sun.

I also enjoyed watching people from the buildings nearby come out in clumps to watch the eclipse. Even the golfers across the street took a break.

And, that's a wrap! Turns out it was a pretty good summer.

The Muggle remedy to allergies

A year ago, I wrote this post. I was inspired when I wrote it. Inspired, that is, by the allergies that bust out of hibernation every spring and race through my body until November.

It's a dark path I tread this this time of year. Even without allergies, Utah springs (aka still mostly winter) aren't that great, and I spend a lot of time wishing my nose into oblivion, or at least equal suffering for all.

UNTIL.

The fact that I was contemplating evil to eradicate an obnoxious problem got me thinking that perhaps I should explore my other options a little bit more. Including one that, at the time, seemed just as annoying as the problem it was designed to solve: allergy shots.

I didn't love the idea of getting shots regularly—swallowing pills, and sometimes even gutting the symptoms out, is a lot easier. I don't really have a problem with needles; it's more the continual trips to the doctor's office that are unappealing. And I had heard that weekly shots were required for five years in order for the treatment to be effective. What if you want to go on vacation? What if you move? What if your work schedule won't allow it? What if something happens in year 3 that prevents you from continuing? It just didn't seem worth it.

Well, you shouldn't base important life decisions on hearsay. You have to do your own research before ruling something out.

Which is what my sister Kimberly did. It's always better when a trusted source does the work for you.

As soon as I learned that allergy shots aren't required weekly for the full five years (just the first 3–6 months, during the build-up phase), I sought out my own allergist. He educated me on the terrible injustice of allergy reactions being based on genetics, rather than being required for everyone, and the horrifying reality that allergies tend to get worse until you're in your mid-30s, after which they stay there until, finally, starting to dissipate around your eighth decade.

The thought of enduring a spring even worse than the one that sent me to Voldemort for help was too much. I scheduled an allergy test the next day. (Which verified that I really am allergic to many things in the weeds/trees/grass/critters categories. I felt strangely vindicated.)

The week after Thanksgiving, I got my first allergy shot. I was committed now.

It wasn't always smooth sailing. It's hard to coordinate two office visits per week during business hours. About a month in, I had to double my medication on shot days, which made me tired and killed my productivity for the rest of the day. I had a random reaction the day I hit maintenance, the wonderful day you get to graduate to only needing one shot a month. My head turned a shade of purple that would put my fellow Cooper-blooded relatives on a sweltering July day to shame, and they had to close down the shot room so they could put out the flames. (Aside from my head feeling like it was on fire, I didn't have any other exciting symptoms.) This led to an evening derailed, an $867 ER bill, and steroid medication for three days that—surprise, surprise—wouldn't let me sleep.

But there were positive signs, as well. Two people came in for their last shot ever while I was waiting in the lobby, and both told the nurses the shots had changed their lives. As we inched into February, I could already feel a significant decrease in my allergy symptoms, which typically happens later for most patients. March passed and April started, and I was still waiting for the allergy symptoms that love me so much to attack. For the first time in a long time, I started drinking in the smell of blossoms and spending time on the grass without wondering how long it would be before I would have to pay for such pleasures.

It seemed too good to be true, to be experiencing so much relief so quickly, but the following tests confirmed that what I hoped for was actually happening:

1. Spring was in full force, and I was still very much sane.
2. I survived a five-hour flight next to a lady with a cat.

I still haven't gotten through a visit to my parents' house without wanting to rub my nose off, but there's still time to reach that level of immunity. I have every reason to believe that some day soon I will no longer be allergic to my hometown (or rather, everything south of I-15 Exit 253. Where there is still more nature than buildings).

The moral of the story? There is a cure to annoying, non-life-threatening problems, and yes, it is worth it to take the longer, non-evil path to relief.

A letter to Lord Voldemort

To the Dark Lord:

At the risk of you AK-ing me on the spot, I have a confession to make: I am a big fan of your arch-nemesis. What can I say—I like sassy underdogs who know how to give proper hugs. Everyone knows this about me, and I see no point in hiding this fact from a great Legilimens like yourself.

But there is something I desire that I'm afraid the Potter boy can't provide.

You see, for about eight months out of the year, I am plagued by something generally referred to as allergies. I'll spare you the sordid details, but just know that I've spent many a day wishing my nose away.

In following the Potter boy's story, I noticed something about your inspiring rise to powerful evilness: somewhere along the way, your nose slowly transformed into a new, less imposing part of your facial structure. And I often wondered, does the Dark Lord ever experience a runny nose or have to fight the urge to attack an incessant itch? (Forgive me for thinking of you in such mundane terms.) Does he ever fear what will happen if he strolls through a vibrant field of luscious grass and blooming flowers?

Silly, frivolous problems, perhaps, but it's enough to make me wish every spring that I could be more like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Powerful. Crafty. And most importantly, immune to pollen.

After getting by for weeks on unsatisfactory Muggle remedies, I've finally decided to take more drastic action. Harry Potter can't cure my allergies—the best he can do is a quick fix on the inevitable day when I finally break my nose by violent scratching—but you can rid my face of the offending appendage altogether. I can't think of a more attractive solution to my problem.

In return for this service, you will gain a faithful Ravenclaw for life and one less fighter for Harry Potter's cause. If this proposition intrigues you, please respond by owl by the end of April.

Sincerely,

A potential Death Eater

October nesting

The deeper we've gotten into fall, the more I've wanted to burrow down at home and do cozy, fall things. 

Like drink hot chocolate. (By the fireplace, of course.)

And read good books. (By the fireplace, of course.)

Sadly, I'm not reading Harry Potter right now, but it makes such a lovely prop.

And just sit and watch the fire while you warm up because you're still trying not to use your heater. It's a lovely way to spend a chilly evening.

I've also been crocheting. A lot. Usually by the fireplace.

FYI—the shirt isn't quite finished yet. Still have a little bit of edging to do.

With daylight savings at the end of the month, I've also been trying to enjoy the last of my evening walks for the year. The foliage hasn't been that impressive, but I've still been treated to some lovely sights and distinctly autumn smells.

And it seems that the colder and darker it gets, the happier I get, burrowing up in my little apartment, indulging in hobbies. Perhaps I owe this giddiness to the fact that I sleep significantly better during this time of year, which provides an automatic mood boost, but I also just really like the cold. The anticipation of snow. The thought of listening to Christmas music again. Fun winter attire.

It's such a wonderful time of year, made even better if you don't dread the season that follows.

Wrapping up summer

The past few weeks I've been checking off item after item on my end-of-summer to-do list. Here are a few:

The Union Unicorns won the YSA regional softball championship. (Okay, so it was the losers' bracket, but we're still sort of champions.)

After playing softball for three hours straight, I took a cold shower, and then it was time to move Shannan back home.

Good timing too, because USANA's International Convention was a few days later. At the end of those 12-hour days full of super-charged energy, there is nothing better than going home to pure solitude.

Between our Associates' insane love for our blender bottles and the dinosaurs roaming around, I almost didn't make it out alive. It was a close call.

Some extra freelance work prompted me to spruce up my wardrobe a bit, so I took advantage of some back-to-school prices. (Summer may officially be over by the time the rest of my clothes ship, though.)

And then, of course, there's the trees.

The best thing about wrapping up summer is that fall is just around the corner.

Those summer nights

The scorching summer I feared has arrived. Utah's drought-bred plants fight feebly against the unrelenting sunlight. The bad air dulls the green foliage May's rain gifted us with. Every day I consider wearing shorts to work. Two nights this week my AC stopped working.

And July is just getting started. It all makes me want to cry.

But I'm determined to not allow the Sun-Dementor to suck out my happiness. I can enjoy summer, as long as I keep happy thoughts prepared.

And most of those happy thoughts come from summer nights. Oh, those summer nights—home to some of my favorite things.

To begin with, there's a positive to not being able to sleep: extra reading time. When it was too hot to sleep, I took solace in the fact that I could make some serious headway on the stack of library books I picked up last week.



I recommend reading a book set in Alaska. It's like taking a cold shower, only you don't have to get wet. [Update: my apartment managers finally took my complaints about my AC seriously—only took them three years, geez—and fixed the AC for reals and replaced the thermostat with one I can actually read. Last night I was so excited I put a blanket back on my bed.]

But there's so much more to summer nights than sleep attempts. Like evening walks. I have to keep postponing them later and later to avoid yucky temperatures (I'd have to wait until 2:00 a.m. if I wanted truly pleasant weather), but the wait is worth it.

Because there's so much to look at and enjoy.

And the setting sun revives more than just my energy.

Speaking of the setting sun, it does really cool things to clouds when it goes down for the night.

Can you tell the difference between the air quality in Elk Ridge . . .

. . . and the Salt Lake Valley?

Yeah, there's another reason not to live in the city.

You don't have to be on your own two legs to enjoy a summer evening, though. Driving with all four windows down is another delightful way to enjoy them, even if you're spitting hair out of your mouth half the time. The crazy hair contributes to the fun, I promise. (Don't worry—I didn't take these pictures.)

And of course, there's also star-gazing, softball games, and summer rain.

Just don't make me go outside during the day.