Sunday, August 30, 2009

Med School or Bust: Steve goes from blue to red

After several months of working in the outpatient lab department at UVRMC in Provo, UT, Steve Christiansen has decided to move on to bigger and better things- medical school at the University of Utah. Not able to forget his "roots" as a young courier boy, transporting specimens to and from the lab day after day, he is excited to start this new journey, in hopes that he will, at some point, be the one on the other side of the phone giving orders and diagnoses. Coworker Megan Shaw describes this transition as "hard, but exciting." "It will be difficult coming to work everyday, knowing there won't be anymore KSL at 5, 'Leverage' episodes on a slow Saturday, or milkshake runs over at the hospital- not to mention the prank calls as 'batman'." Shaw firmly believes Steve's ability to make a statement was a major factor in his acceptance to med school. "Yeah, Steve was a trend-setter. His sunglasses and pee bucket-hats were 'all the rave' among patients. I wouldn't be surprised if it caught on amongst his fellow med students."

The atmosphere at UVOC is quiet and less enthusiastic as the reality of Steve's absence continues to set in. Each coworker agrees "It's just not the same without him." Yet, patients continue to come and blood, poop, and pee continue to make their way to the main lab in pink buckets, carried by the hands of hopeful replacement Javier. "These are big shoes to fill, but Javier seems determined to try his best. Although no one can ever take the place of our Stev-o, we are willing to take a chance."

To my good friend Steve: Good luck Buddy! Keep following your dreams with confidence and faith. We love and miss you!

Thursday, August 6, 2009

You're a Shaw? Can I see your Mickey Slurp?

When my little bro (P) was about 3 years old, he recieved his "big boy" bed, decorated with Mickey & Friends. He even had a pillow case that had a big picture of Mickey's face. Thus, every time P would wake up with a big ol' cowlick on the back of his head, dad would say "Hey! Great Mickey Slurp!" History was in the making and today we have "slurps" abounding abundantly around the Shaw household.

I was reminded of this when T came downstairs the other morning before I left for work. On the back of her head was a BIG OL' mickey slurp. In fact, it looked a little more like Mickey puked instead of slurped . . . bless her heart. It's not her fault- it's just part of her genes. All mom could say was "Oh sweetie . . ." All I could say was "I need my camera!" After chasing T around, clicking and laughing, the desire to find more "slurps" grew stronger inside. I ran upstairs to find P "almost" awake. This was good, because he believed me when I said "I need to take a picture of you- it's for a project." He sat up and . . . Oh, yeah! P did NOT disappoint! CA-peesh!! Meg and mom gave it 2 thumbs way, WAY up!

At this point, P questioned what exactly my project was. My response "You'll see" provoked a suspicious look and response "Do NOT post this on your blog! Megs . . .Megggaaan . . !"

No worries, P. No worries. ;)

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Megs, what are you going to be when you grow up? I guess dog trainer is out of the picture!

One of the most common questions I get from my concerned dad is "Megs, what are you going to do with your life?" It's an ongoing joke between the two of us, but deep down we both know he is serious. I guess he has a right to be a little weary, given the fact that I have changed my career and education goals twice in the past 2 months, not to mention the 2 times in the previous winter semester, and the 4 or 5 times pre-mission.

But have no worries, I KNOW. . . FOR SURE . . . NO DOUBT, that any minimal or inconsequential idea of having a career in trendy dog training has completely left my mind! This past week, our house became the local neighborhood dog retreat. Both of our neighbors left town and asked if we, no wait . . .if P (my little brother), would watch their dogs. Adding our own little Yoda to the mix, we had three crazy canines, in need of MUCH attention and care, running around the Shaw pad. Sunday afternoon, Park seemed to be a little tired and declined the prompting from parental unit to take the dogs for a short walk. Feeling a little charitable, I decided to go in P's place. Tay and I hooked the big white dog Laya and other little white dog Powder to their leashes and put old little Yoda in my parent's old baby stroller (I know- he's old and can't make it back up the hill after we walk him down it). After having a little fit because of how "embarrassing" it looked to push a dog in a stroller, T conceded to handling Yoda and we took off down the street.

We stopped at our fav J&T's house for a water break (I know, pathetic) just as a gentleman and his gentle lab walked past us. Of course, there was barking and jumping and wagging tails, but nothing we couldn't handle. Just when we thought everyone was back under control, little Yoda makes a miraculous and very impressive hop off the stroller and heads toward the man and his dog. Deciding this was our "cue" to leave, I grabbed the other two and made my way towards screaming T. At this point, Laya (BIG white dog) sees gentleman and gentle lab and jerks forward, snapping the leash, leaving me with a look of horror and rest of the leash. I ran towards the fiasco, yelling my apologies to the man and his dog. The man did not look happy. Neither did his dog.

"Come get a dog! You have to get a dog! Hurry! This is just too much! Get a dog- NOW!" the man yelled.

My face turned bright red and I attempted to grab Laya with no luck. In my frustration and total embarrassment, I pinned Yoda to the grass. He looked up at me like "Uh . . .what are you doing? Whatever." I yelled to the man "Go. Now. Go." With disgust flairing from his nostrils, he stomped down the sidewalk, huffing and puffing. Sheesh capeesh!!!
After throwing all of the dogs in the backyard, I scowled at P as I slammed the back door and swore off any dog caring for the rest of the day, week, month . . . .

So . . .1030 pm. P can't find Laya in the backyard. Grumpily, I slipped my navy keds on and head out the back, calling Laya's name. Nothing. We went out to the front and called. Still, nothing. Thinking the latch on the gate didn't shut because I slammed it too hard in reaction to dogwalk drama, we decided to check the uncultivated grassy hill behind my house where she might have run off to after getting out. In pitch blackness (with dinky flashlight), P and I hiked the hill, while mom and Whit checked the hill down from our house. Slipping, sliding, and puppy Powder at my feet, I cussed my way through the brush and branches . . .calling, calling, calling Laya. Thinking I see something white and fluffy, we hiked up. Thinking I see something behind the trees, we hiked down. Nothing, nothing, nothing. We drove to the park, up the street, back down the street, past the park, up the other street . . .etc etc. NOTHING! Exhausted and creeping early work hours weighing heavy on her soul, W bailed. Still driving, calling, hiking, slipping, slopping, and praying. At 1230, I pulled out and abandoned the troops, using work in the morning as my excuse. At 130 am, mom came into my room to tell me they found the dog at the bottom of neighbor's backyard, scared and whimpering. Feeling bad, I almost wanted to run over to Laya, hug her, kiss her, give her a treat, take her on a walk . . .


Saturday, August 1, 2009

Delivery for the Blog World: Meg's Gunk

Don't mention this to my boss, but 8 hours a day/ 5 days a week at a desk can lead to, as described by my observant co-worker Steve, lots of "blog stalking".  I guess I should get the hint when every time he looks over my shoulder he asks "Who's life are we stalking today?"  Don't get the wrong idea- I'm not THAT creepy.  I just LOVE reading blogs.  ALL kinds of blogs.  Of course, I love seeing pics of long lost friends and their "blossoming" family- husband, 2.75 kids, dog, cat, fish, and ferret (yes, a ferret.)  I am a sucker for wedding pics, baby announcements, family reunions, and vacations . . . etc. etc.  I understand the "handiness" of blogging for these reasons.  Yet, my fav's are what I refer to as "the everyday gunk".  Gunk = joys, pains, ups, downs, wrongs, rights, jokes, laughs, or wisdoms gained from simple life experiences.  I so enjoy sitting and reading these little treasures.  But, as suggested by co-worker Steve, maybe it's time I join the "blogging world" and share some of my own "gunk".  So, here it goes: Meg's gunk.  I will try and make this as interesting as possible, but feel free to comment, suggest, or blog your own gunk!!  What's yours is mine, what's mine is yours- Capeesh?