Josie May

GOOD NEWS: another healthy addition to the Aho clan has arrived!

Josie May Aho was born early Tuesday morning to Merritt and Stacie in Phoenix. She is perfectly healthy and adorable. I can't wait to meet her! Congratulations guys!

Urban Jungle?

SITUATION: Out my front door, up seven stairs, ten feet down the sidewalk, where the untamed wilderness of the Provo River meets the slightly more civilized world of the Branbury live a legion of raccoons (I would say family, but who am I to assume their relation? Or tribe, but that just seems to conjure up some sort of politically incorrect connotations involving Native Americans).

ORIGIN: These furry little friends (or foes. . . this has yet to be determined) first appeared a couple of months ago. The common consensus seems to be that they were originally attracted by the cat food that some well-intentioned individual started putting out to support the growing number of stray cats also wandering the area. The unintentional result seems to have been the creation of a feeding ground for any and all scavenging animals.

ENCOUNTERS: I will admit that when my roommate Heather first described the raccoons I thought she might be lying, or at least that the animal in question could have been a particularly large model of the aforementioned cats, plumped up by the free food. After my other two roommates and at least three neighbors described similar sightings however, their existence became undeniable. By far the most eventful encounter was Heather's recent. . . experience. For some reason I still haven't quite pinned down Heather was delivering brownies to some boy at two in the morning. While returning to our apartment and text messaging, she heard a hissing in front of her. Quickly pocketing the phone Heather looked up to see one of our furry masked friends poised in the middle of the sidewalk, teeth bearing, hissing (Heather has re-enacted the event for me in the very same spot so as to ensure accurate reporting--though she found recreating the proper hissing noise somewhat difficult). At this point she ran. Taking shelter one stairwell over she watched anxiously for an opening. After a couple of minutes the raccoon retreated a bit towards the riverbed and Heather took the opportunity to sprint to the door and get inside. Fearless and curious as she is, she apparently came back out to observe the raccoon, who, upon seeing her again re-commenced hissing and began approaching her. After slamming the door, Heather spent the next couple of minutes watching through the blinds as the raccoon descended the stairs and sat in front of our door, staring. Now I'm not trying to be paranoid, but I think there might be something up here, are we being stalked by raccoons?

FACTS: According to a disturbing account on This American Life (a public radio show), rabid raccoons are likely to attack and are almost impossible to kill (think 50 bludgeons with a tire iron and five gunshots--two separate accounts). Also, apparently they can pick complicated locks and remember them for up to six years--it says so on Wikipedia which anyone can edit so you know you're getting the best information out there (thank you Michael Scott).

SUGGESTIONS: This is the part where you say something.

Eternal Perspective

THIS, right here, is why I will one day marry

A Very Good Year

All The Best Moments and Pictures of 2008:

JANUARY: When we were at Chili's (it's the new golf course) for my birthday, Estee hit on our 200 lb. black waiter only to find out his girlfriend was sitting two tables over staring us down. She also told him he looked like the black guy on The Office, which he apparently took to mean Stanley instead of Darryl and appeared to offend him somewhat.

JANUARY and 1/2: Not one, but TWO bad haircuts this year! YEAAHHH. In January, as you may recall, I chopped it off to a couple inches above my chin and when it finally grew back I marred my forehead and created a strange excuse for bangs. So I think what I'm saying is, I should totally cut my hair again.

FEBRUARY: Ok, speaking of hair, in February a couple of us went up to stay at a condo in Park City for the weekend and someone had the brilliant idea to dye every one's hair. SO, Estee dyed hers "dark brown", which turned out black, which made her look a little like Cher. Ingrid dyed hers "darker blond" which in fact turned out to be gray, and later pink when we tried to fix it, and finally a nice shade of light brown after an expensive and panicked trip to the salon. All in all a fabulous weekend.

MARCH: When the sun came out this year, all of Helaman Halls migrated to the quad equipped with blankets, sunglasses, and some homework which they promptly forgot about the moment they laid down to soak up the rays. Those were the best days.

APRIL: Ummm. . . so this one time in April I went skiing on a gloriously sunny day on the last day of the season. On medication that made my skin sensitive. With no sunscreen. Then my face turned a color red rarely seen further than a mile from the sun, then a lovely shade of crackly yellow and finally, four days later, it evened out into a nice tomato red and I could leave the house again. Well, I won't do that again.

MAY: I finished my first year of college and left the dorms behind for good. This involved about 37 trips to the car to load up all of my stuff and Deb's and my very last cleaning check during which our RA sauntered into the room in her characteristically slow and heavy-stepped gait, scrutinized every last surface of our room (including all of the really high ones which she could see and I couldn't), and then in her heavy southern drawl asked me to clean the windows again.

JUNE: In June Courtney and I volunteered for the Ragnar Relay which various family members were running. We were assigned to be there from 4:30am to 10am. Consequently I had a 44 oz. Diet Coke. That coupled with Ragnar stickers, t-shirts, and plenty of tired runners to harass with excessive amounts of cheerfulness and on-the-spot ditties (some with accompanying dances) made for a seriously good time.

JULY: For about two months this year I looked like a Dr. Seuss character with a polka dotted tummy courtesy of Ecuador's finest bed bugs. Totally Awesome.

AUGUST: While at the James Taylor concert at Usana (best concert EVER) I sat behind a deceptively mild looking middle-aged couple, probably in their late 40's or early 50's who, between beers, wowed the crowd with their highly suggestive and energetic dance moves and make-out/necking sessions. Definitely one of the more disturbing things I've ever witnessed but admittedly mildly entertaining.

SEPTEMBER: Emma hosted a superhero themed birthday party at the tumbling gym; consequently, Sara sported a rose-patterned swimsuit paired with some lovely tights and a cape which prompted the exclamation: "ROSE WOMAN IN THE SKY!" (ask me later for proper voice inflection directions) which has since been repeated at least once a day, taking on meanings ranging from "hey" to "I have nothing to say and desperately want to enliven the moment"; needless to say it has become a staple in our every-day jargon and thus deserves due recognition.

OCTOBER: A couple of friends, my dad, and a friend's dad Bruce Cummings took a canyoneering trip near Hanksville at the North Wash canyons in October. Pretty much as a constant commentary throughout the trip we were throwing out quotes from Baby Mama and a certain Mad TV skit, and I think one of the best moments of my year was hearing Bruce quoting these (which he had never seen, and would probably, under any other circumstances, find completely ridiculous) on the last day. This just proves that if you repeat anything enough times it becomes funny.

NOVEMBER: Definitely the highlight of the year: the birth of Weston Bruce Hatch. Weighing in at some 7 pounds at birth the kid has gained a pound a week since and is now a 2 month old in 6-9 month outfits and one of the most adorable little chubsters I've ever laid eyes on.

DECEMBER: Julie and Emily threw a SWEET New Years party filled with lots of insane theatre (English accent please) where I was able to act like a crazy person (myself) and no one even gave me a second glance. It was fabulous.

Here's to another good one!

Climb Inside My Head

I can't study deductive logic anymore. I just can't. It might actually be physically impossible. Some very talented grad students at Harvard are looking into the possibility right now in fact. Julie is clomping around the kitchen. Really, clomping. She is wearing big, dramatic, black boots and lifting her legs about a foot higher than necessary with every step while painting a scary scowl on her face and bringing each boot-clad, high-lifted foot down with a loud thump. It's a little bit funny. Wendy is eating those Pillsbury biscuits from a one of those exploding cylindrical containers (which I had to open because both Julie and Wendy were too scared) as her entire meal. She just said "toss me another one would ya?" I feel like we're in a bar or something. I have a strong desire to tear off the cheap (yet oh so expensive) cardboard cover of my philosophy book right now. Probably I shouldn't do that. Probably.

No one seems to be able to figure out how to regulate our apartment's heating system. It is either freezing cold or way too hot -- although I think the latter might just be a result of a spurt of hyper activity that heats up your body, thus giving the apartment the illusion of warmth. You know, like when you suddenly decide to run around the apartment screaming and jumping up and down and sneak attacking Wendy, obviously. Also, our utility bills are ridiculously high. Though originally hypothesized to be a result of the winter furnace use, we have since determined that it makes absolutely no difference whether we keep the house at 40 or 80, the bill is the same. There is probably some sort of extortion scheme going on with big apartment owners living off the sweat and pennies of poor college students. I say we storm the Bastille. Life, Liberty, Fraternity! Or, to avoid the whole guillotine fiasco we could just keep sending them our money.

As I need to dedicate the remainder of my night to figuring out how to write truth-functional proofs, I will just end by letting you all know that in the Christmas village Jessica has displayed on our shelf, the outhouse is the most prominent feature and about three times the size of any other building. If anyone has any thoughts as to why this is, please, enlighten me.

How Did You Die?

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts;
It’s how did you fight and why?

And though you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only, how did you die?

--Edmund Vance Cooke

Welcome Weston!

For those of you who have not heard the FANTASTIC news, Weston Bruce Hatch arrived on November 3, 2008, joining Ryan, Angelica (my sister), and Layla (their first child). My mom and I drove down to Phoenix the following weekend to welcome him personally and help out a bit, and, can I just say, that he is absolutely perfect in every way. I wish I could stay in Phoenix and play with Weston, Layla, and MJ (my other nephew) every day, but alas, higher education calls.

Can you say perfection?

Besties

I taught Layla some very important "big girl" skills, like how to vogue