you decide oh-eight.

The end of the year is always a time for reflection.  Did the year stack up how I expected?  Did I meet my resolutions?  Overall, did I enjoy this last year?  No.  Somewhat. Absolutely.  

This past year I made friends and lost friends.  Cared and didn't care.  Was happy and was sad.  Earned money and spent money.  Got new pets and lost old pets.  Lost weight and gained weight.  Worked out and was lazy.  Had fun and was bored.  Laughed and cried.  Enjoyed myself and found myself in awkward situations.  And much, much, more.

Oh-Eight definitely had its ups, and its downs.  But I wouldn't trade it for the world.

i wanna be made.

When I was younger my mom wouldn't let me and my sister watch MTV.  So I would watch it when she wasn't home, and I would quickly change the channel when I heard the garage door open.  I know, I know.  I'm such a rebel.  Now we watch it together.  Oh how times have changed.  

I'm secretly addicted to the show Made.  It features kids who want to be something different.  

These people must have no shame.  They whine, cry, complain, act like total idiots/fools/brats on national TV 

and don't even seem to care.  I shudder when I think of that many people seeing the worst side of myself.  

But if I could me made, I think it would be into a triathlete.  I mean how cool would that be?  

So that will be my New Year's Resolution.  Even though it's

 not quite that time yet.  To complete in a triathlon, or at least a sprint one (shorter distances), this spring.  

Sprint Triathlon Training, here I come. 

i hate my car. take two.

Yesterday Katie and I had to fix our car.

I got out of one of my classes early and didn't have my next one, so I went home and called triple A.  They came and put the spare on, and I went to class.  We planned to meet up after our classes that ended at three.  First we would go get Katie's rabies shots and then we would go to Idaho Falls around 6:30.  We were driving home from the hospital and we decided we should just go right then.  We had to get it done, and the sooner the better.

I went home, grabbed my Sam's Club card, and we were on our way.  The tow man who put on the spare said that we shouldn't go above 55 mph on it.  So we putted along the highway, and arrived at Sam's Club.  The lady at the desk said it would be about two hours till it was done.  Awesome.

We got some dinner, and then walked around the store.  For eons.  Or so it seemed.  It turned out to only be about 45 minutes.  So we found some couches and passed out.

"Attention members and guests.  Would Christine Fleming please come to the tire and battery center."

Our car was FINALLY done.  Nothing else to worry about.  We could get everything done this next week because our car was fixed.

Katie and I were now on our way back to Rexburg.  She was driving and we were about 5 miles away from Rexburg, just outside of Rigby.  When there's a really loud and weird thumping noise.

You guessed it.  Our tire went flat AGAIN!  Sam's Club claimed that they rotated our tires, so it would appear that another tire went flat, because it was the front drivers side tire.  AGAIN.

So we called triple A.  Again.  They came and put the spare on.  Again.  We drove home on the spare.  The next day we drove to Idaho Falls on the spare.  Again.  Waited at Sam's Club for two hours while they fixed the car. Again.  This time they ended up putting a new tire on.  

And it has been fine since.  Knock on wood.  

i have a love/hate relationship with my car. mostly hate.

My parents were gracious enough to let me and my sister take our car to school this year, after much persuasion. We drove our dinky little Mercury Tracer the some 1200 miles out to Idaho.  I was thrilled to finally have my own car at school.  I would no longer have to ask for rides, go to the grocery store whenever my roommates were, and feel guilty for always bumming rides.  I was anxiously looking forward to the freedom it was sure to bring.

It was great for the first few weeks, until it died.  I figured it wasn't that big of a deal, cars die every now and then.  Maybe I left the lights on overnight.  I got it jumped.  And it died again, a week later.  You think I would have learned my lesson, but I didn't.  I just kept jumping it, and it kept dying a week or so later.  The worst two times was when it died at a gas station and when it died at Wal Mart.

My sister and I were finally able to work out our schedules with one of my roommates to drop off the car, get it fixed, and pick it up.

I was so glad to finally have a working car.  My sister and I drove it quite a bit the next few days.  It was nice having a car again.

Then a few days later my roommate came in the house and said that my tires were looking a little low.  Especially the front one on the drivers side.  I went and filled it up (by the way, only one gas station in Rexburg doesn't CHARGE for air.  Chevron, in case you're curious.  Everywhere else charges 25 or 50 cents!  Tell me that's not the most ubsurd thing you have EVER heard.  I refused to pay for air, and drove to every gas station until I found one that didn't charge).  So I filled them up, we went and got dinner, and everything seemed hunky dory.

Enter the next day.  Saturday.  I had to go to Wal Mart.  I drove about two blocks and I noticed a really weird and loud thumping noise.  I couldn't tell where it was coming from.  I pulled over.  Got out.  And saw a flat tire.  It's possible I swore.  I don't really remember.  I was definitely annoyed.

So now, during the busiest weekend and week of the semester, I somehow have to fit in the time to call triple A, have them put on the spare (my sister claims she knows how, but my mom said that driving on a car that Katie has installed the spare on is like walking on a tight rope that Katie set up.  Not a good idea, and death will probably follow), drive to Sam's Club in IF because they'll fix it for free.  And it has to be tomorrow because Katie has to go to IF tomorrow for her second round of rabies shots.  

At least my huge a project for my PR class is due tomorrow, so I won't have that to worry about not working on, since most of my night, if not all, will be dedicated to going to IF tomorrow.

I'll admit it, I'm a pet person.

For as long as I can remember, my family has had a pet. I was really little when we got our first dog, Boomer. She was a Border Collie, and one of the nicest dogs ever.

Since then we've had quite the list of animals, which include, but are not limited to...

Hamsters

Cats

Dogs

Lizards

Fish

Crawdads

Turtles

Birds

Rabbits

Chickens

you get the idea. My family likes animals. Or at least my mom, my sister, and I. My dad likes them because we do. He's the most easy going person on the face of the earth. It may seem weird to say this about a pet (I don't think so) but they truly become a family member.

Before I continue, I realize that it may seem silly

to write a post about pets, and as you'll see later, more specifically, one pet. But you know what? This is my blog. My posts. My documenting. So if you think it's silly, I don't really care. Too harsh? I didn't think so either.

Anyway.

Boomer died when I was in 5th grade. She was a really smart dog and she got bored easily. She got so bored one night that she ate some carpet. We had really old carpet in our house, and it came off in long messy strings. It got tangled up in her stomach. The vets did all they could but they just couldn't save her.

We tossed around the idea of getting a new dog, but nothing was set in stone. Then one week when my dad was out of town, we were given the opportunity to rescue the sweetest, kindest, Australian Shepherd from Iowa. We were soon able to call her our own, and we named her Zuzu. Everyone loved her, and she loved everyone back.

But with age, came illness. We had to give her large amounts of medicine on a daily basis, and she wasn't getting any better.

About a week ago it had been almost one year that she was on her medicine. My sister and I knew that things were getting really bad and that she most likely wouldn't make it until we got home for Christmas break. I called my mom on a Saturday and she said that things were getting really bad. She couldn't even stand up on her own. She was trying to get a hold of her vet and said that once she did we would probably have to put her to sleep.

The next morning I had an email from my mom. There were two actually, one had an attachment and the other was entitled Zuzu.

I opened the attachment first. It was enough. Zuzu was finally out of her misery, but she would be missed terribly.

r.i.p. Zuzu. Make friends with Boomer.