Preparedness Adventures: Canned Bread

The background of the story goes thus: My sister and brother in law had a party at their place, which I attended. While there, someone noticed their unusual food storage item on display on a shelf--a can of bread. No, really. Raisin bread, even. Just in case you have a bread emergency?

I think Steph said they got it in a White Elephant gift exchange. 

Well, someone dared my brother-in-law to open it, and the rest is best shared in pictures.

 We investigated the information on the label, and discovered that this is only one of many logical preparedness choices for the discerning survivalist made by this company--well, OK, they also have beans in a jar and that's about it, but apparently the ingredients are all natural!

My brother-in-law said that it was better with milk.Tasted like raisin bran that way.

Space Jam!

So, here's a tale of weirdness with only myself to blame.

This last January, there was an opening social at the Logan LDS Institute, and I was thinking of attending--mainly because there would be refreshments, and I didn't feel like cooking.

Well, someone came around passing out flyers which claimed that the event was "Space Jam" themed, and that we should wear "Space Jam" costumes.

I have a weakness. I can't resist an opportunity to dress up in a weird costume.

So I decided to dress up. The first problem---what the heck is a space jam?

I wasn't sure, but it sounded like some 80s futuristic kid's show--something like Captain Planet, maybe, or Galaxy Rangers--so I decided to go with my best impression of a 1980's idea of the future. So I dressed up in bright, ridiculous neon colors, with a few 80s twists (side pony tails, baggy shirt, etc), including some really intense makeup. To complete the ensemble, I carried a little Sonic Screwdriver my brother sent me as a Christmas present.

Then I went off to the Institute.

I showed up a bit early (ie, on time rather than fashionably late), and something seemed off. No one else was dressed up, as far as I could tell, and no one was commenting on my awesome costume. Though there was a "painting planets" activity, and a photobooth. I went straight to the photobooth of course, watching the group ahead of me get a photo of themselves jumping in front of a green screen--apparently a background would be put ahead of them, and what with the jumping I assumed it would be some sort of outer space background where they would appear to be floating in low gravity. Excited, I stepped up and posed for the camera.
It was only after I stepped out to make room for the next group that I heard the photographer explain that Michael Jordan would be edited into the photos.
Michael Jordan?
I walked around some more, with a sickening feeling.  No one was dressed up, no one at all. Then I found a room with a sign reading "Showings of Space Jam".

So, Space Jam--it isn't a 1980's kids show.
It's a 90's movie in which Michael Jordan plays basketball with the Looney Toons.

So that "awesome costume"? Was actually just me looking like a weirdo.

Feeling mortified, I decided to flee before I was seen by anybody I knew.
I was not entirely successful--as I dashed through the hall, I heard someone say, "Hi Jenna!" But I didn't stop to see who. Instead, I ducked under the "don't go back here" ropes that cordoned off most of the building and made my escape through a back door.

And I thought it would end there.

Until, on Sunday, my Sister is flipping through facebook when she says,
"Hey, Jen, you should see this."
The Institute Facebook page had put up photos from the event, and the top photo to show up on the page was this one:

So... yeah. That happened.

So then I got a haircut so no one would recognize me two days later.

Donating Plasma is a lousy job

It took me a while to find a job this semester. Right now I'm happily employed as a high school math tutor (something which I would have found hard to believe when I was actually in high school), but at the start of the semester I was turning in applications without success, and had way too much time on my hands and not quite enough savings to survive the semester.

So then I decided to try that donating plasma thing that all the other college students are doing.

Now, I've donated blood to the American Red Cross numerous times (despite my feelings about needles. You see, while many people have irrational fears, I only have rational fears of things that can actually hurt you, like needles, heights, fiber pills, and street performers who pretend to be statues.), so I figured donating plasma would be a pretty easy way to make a buck. The pre-screening went well enough--apparently I had perfect iron levels, perfect blood pressure, ect--except for one tiny concern. My veins are really hard to find.

The chick who was running the tests poked my arms with her fingers until she found a vein on my left arm that she decided was "good enough", and told me to have them do that arm.

So (after about two hours of paperwork, and twiddling my thumbs in a waiting room with a showing of Kangeroo Jack, which may now be one of my least favorite films in the world), they let me in and put me in a chair--and I will say this, whatever else you say about the plasma donation center, those chairs you sit in while they collect the plasma are COMFY. I could take a nap in one, easy--and started looking for my vein. Which took them a few minutes, and they kept complaining--"who screened you? Who let you in with these veins?" But, finally they found it and got me hooked up.
And everything went fine--for about ten minutes, when suddenly my arm began to hurt. A lot.
I once (and this is once out of about 20 blood donations, mind you, so it's hardly a common experience) had a needle slip out of my vein while I was donating blood, and this felt about the same--just this sharp pain pulsing through my forearm--so I called over one of the phlebotomists to take a look. Well, she couldn't figure it out, so she asked someone else to come look, who asked another guy to come look--soon I'm a little celebrity.
Apparently the vein they had found was too narrow, and had sort of clogged up from too much blood going through it at once. As a result, the needle was sticking out weird and a lot of blood was pooling at the site. They pulled the needle out, then asked me if I wanted to just go home or have them try my other arm.
I figured that if I was going to this much trouble, I freaking wanted my $25, so I asked them to try the other arm.
Well, upon examining my other arm, they found two veins--one that was shallow but thin, and one that was really deep that they weren't sure how thick it was. One of the more experienced phlebotomists recommended they go with the shallow vein, so they stuck the needle in there--and missed. This is followed by five minutes of rooting around, trying to find the vein--and let me tell you, having someone look for your vein with a needle is no fun at all.
They were about ready to give up and just send me home, when a passing staff member announces--"Wait! I can do this!" Apparently she also has hard to find veins, giving her sympathy for my plight. So she takes the needle, and goes for the deep vein.
And, well, third time's the charm, and she manages to get everything working and my blood plasma pumping again.
The rest of my visit was uneventful, except for one point where the machine stopped pumping for ten seconds and I got a ring of people staring at my elbow again, but in the end I made the full donation and got paid. And then had a nasty collection of bruises for my trouble.

It wasn't the worst thing I've had to do for money (comparison: working retail), but afterwards I was exhausted and in pain. Still, I was pretty much broke so I decided to go back and give a second donation. (not to mention, they need two donations to actually use your plasma). Well, the same thing happened! Missed the vein, talked about sending me home, the same employee stepped in and got it working.

After all that--I decided not to go back. I still intend to donate blood, and donating plasma is still an honorable way to make money. But for taking less from my body than a whole blood donation, donating plasma takes twice as long and leaves me four times as exhausted afterward, so I came out of there saying--"I need a better job."

Introductions--Otra vez

Hey.
Right.

Ahem.

Well, I'm going to dust this off and give it another try, we'll see how it goes.

So a bit of an update is in order:

I'm still in my 20-somethings, and I'm still a music therapy student--but only for another month. Then in fall I will reach the illustrious position of Music Therapy Intern, and if I can survive a year of that and the board exam I'll be an honest-to-goodness professional Board Certified Music Therapist. For the duration of April, however, I've got a job tutoring high school math, a scary test to prepare for, and a few Cache Valley based adventures to get into.

I've been back from my mission for over a year now, and by now that feels normal. I still miss it of course, and have dreams now and then about going back, but for the most part I'm happy where I am and looking forward to finally finishing college and moving on to the next thing. I still prefer hot weather to cold, speak Spanish when I'm talking to myself, put chile powder on EVERYTHING, and try to park places where I won't have to back up--but I'm not scared of pants anymore, so I think that's pretty good progress.

So I'm a music therapist (in training), an RM, a curious soul, and an occasional forayer (is that a word?) into the world of DIY crafts. My first love and passion, however, is writing--less nonfiction (like this blog is attempting to be) and more fantasy/sci-fi/horror. I actually am waiting to hear back on a short story submission to Stone Skin Press to their Swords vs Cthulhu Anthology--fingers crossed, the last update is that they're up to their eyebrows in submissions but they intend to contact everyone by the end of the month. I know I'm competing against a lot of more established writers, so my chances of getting in aren't too good--this would be my first publication outside of student literary magazines- -but if nothing else I learned a lot and had fun writing the story, so that's something.

ANYWAY.
So--this blog. Don't want to make too many promises because leaving it untouched for over a year is a pretty bad precedent. But, for now, my intention is to turn this into a bit of a catchall for whatever is going on in my life, focusing on the weird and creative. We'll see how it goes. And, if you are actually reading this--(gasp!), do feel free to drop in a line if there's something you particularly want to see (or don't want to see---"Please. No more photos of you in weird costume makeup, I'm begging you")

Oh, hey, what's this thing?

*Blows the dust off*
*starts coughing*

Oh! Right! I had a blog!