Day 34: Born a Movie Star. Seriously.

It was a cold day in the desert on February 3rd.
Hearts were racing.
The doctors were pacing.
A miracle they were facing.
At least that's what I heard.

I'm now questioning whether that rhyming pattern (ABBBA) was a good idea. Whatever. You get the point.

On this blessed day known as my birth I have been reflecting on the strange nature of my existence. My mother insists that my life only got weird later on in life, but I beg to differ. Things have been weird from the womb. Here I will build my case:

1. My parents weren't "supposed" to have any more children.

2. When it came time to announce my mother's pregnancy to my two older brothers my Dad prayed this at the dinner table: "Thank you for this new, little life growing inside of Shelley." My brothers both sat there in confusion. Then Dad asks them, "Would you like a little brother or sister?" My oldest brother, Brent (age 17 at the time), says, "I hope it's a hunting dog." That's weird no matter how you shake it. Could this have been the moment (even in utero) that my love for animals developed? I wonder.

3. While out to dinner, my second oldest brother, Brandon (age 12 at the time), gets a prophetic fortune cookie. It reads, "A short stranger will soon enter your life."

4. While I was marinating in amniotic fluid my mom became a Christian. I can basically take credit for the whole thing. She started going to Bible study (with her also pregnant best friend) and started loving Jesus at the same time that she started loving me. My love for Bible study obviously stemmed from this.


5. Then comes the day of my actual birth: February 3rd. Basically nothing monumental happened in the world on this day. I think the Lord reserved the day just for me. Lord knows my birth was monumental in and of itself. The only thing that is even remotely exciting that happened on Feb. 3 was that tickets to see the Statue of Liberty went on sale for the first time. The fee? $1. The price now? $11.50. God bless America.

However, my birth was exceptionally weird. Why? Because I was born a movie star. I'm not talking wimpy home movies here... I'm talking about a real live, legitimate motion picture.

I was born at 7:40pm, 6lbs 11 oz, 20 1/2 in. long (for those of you who are into details) and exactly 14 hours later I was the star of a movie called "Bathing Your Baby." No kidding. [By the way, check out my mom's great eye shadow in this picture--just minutes after giving birth to me. Way to go, Mom!]

There was this zippy, little woman who approached my parents and said, "I heard that you have had the most beautiful, wonderful, adorable, precious baby in the hospital. Could we use her to star in our movie in the morning?" [She said something along those lines. Don't quote me here.] My parents were touched and honored. So, they gladly handed me over. To this day they still hand out the video in the Phoenix area. Someone called my mom and told her that they had seen it not too long ago. See? Legit. I was born with a flare for the dramatic. It's not my fault I was born this way.


6. I was born with a hole in my heart. The pediatric cardiologist freaked my parents out with the news and then says, "But the good news is that it'll close up with time." My parents give a relieved sigh. Then he says, "One more thing...I just had a baby boy and your daughter is beautiful! Could you give me your name and phone number and maybe in 18 years we could hook them up?" Seriously. This is word for word what happened. My dad took me home immediately.

In conclusion, I was born with weird written all over me. It was inevitable. See, Mom? Thank you, God, for inventing blogs so that I can write about this weird stuff.

This is my birthday. Day 34 of 2010.

Day 18: My Living Room Caught on Fire.

Today I woke up thinking that it was going to be an ordinary day. I'm usually wrong about these kind of things, so naturally the day was weird.

I was sitting on my couch enjoying a particularly pleasant rainy day (which basically don't exist in Phx, AZ) when I immediately thought, "Ya know what this day needs? A roaring fire!" So, I proceed to make the perfect fire- precisely placed logs, easy-to-light kindling, recycled paper. The whole thing was utterly beautiful. At this point one of my roommates, Elaine the 1/4 Asian, comes into the room, plops down on the floor, and anxiously awaits my masterpiece of a fire.

Needless to say, it didn't light.

Try as I might, reciting Thomas the Train "I think I can, I think I can," as I went---the fire just wouldn't erupt in flames like my little heart desired. Then walks in Hannah Long Hair, my other roommate, who proceeds to start making fun of me for not making it correctly (I'm actually not sure if this really happened, but this is what USUALLY happens, so I'm including it here.). So, Elaine the 1/4 Asian gets up and tries to stir the fire to no avail...then Hannah Long Hair attempts to fan the flame.

Note: I SHOULD have been supervising this entire endeavor, especially knowing my roommates' extreme lack of knowledge regarding all things outdoorsy, but I didn't. Please note my regret.

Then comes a phrase that came pouring forth from my mouth that will forever live in infamy at the 852 (that's my house). I said, "Hannah, go get some nail polish remover and put it on the fire." I can almost hear you gasp as you read this...I know. I've done this probably 8,000 times safely (give or take a few) and my roommates have watched probably 2,000 of those times (again, a rough number estimate), but I guess it didn't quite stick with Hannah Long Hair.

The next few moments are really a blur, but what I do recall quite vividly are the screams.

First Elaine the 1/4 Asian screamed...then Hannah Long Hair...so I looked up from my work (yes, this was in the middle of my workday) to see Hannah's hand on fire. And by "on fire" I really do mean completely engulfed in flames. She had proceeded to slowly pour the nail polish remover directly from the bottle onto the hot embers, which of course bursted into flames immediately. The fire then traveled up the stream of nail polish remover and into the bottle, which of course ignited instantly, sending Hannah Long Hair into complete hysteria. She began running around the living room screaming while holding the fiery bottle in her hand, leaving a trail of flammable liquid behind her. This all of course burst into flames within seconds.

My entire living room was now flaming like a hot dog on the 4th of July. Lets keep in mind that at this point I was still nestled on the couch with my computer and my tiger print Snuggie.

We all sprang into action (not immediately I might add). I leaped off the couch in one swift move, Elaine the 1/4 Asian was still screaming, and Hannah Long Hair suddenly noticed that she was on fire. So, naturally, she dropped the flaming bottle on the floor, spilling the contents of the nail polish remover all over the floor once again. More flames. More screaming.

We had to put out the flames somehow obviously. So, Elaine ran to the kitchen and got dish towels. Hannah got our rice cooker and filled it with water. I ran to the pantry for flour. Elaine put the dish towels on the floor to put it out. The towels caught fire. More flames. More screaming. Hannah attempted to pour water from the rice cooker onto the flames, but I screamed to prevent this action (yes, that would've made it worse---see this terrifying 34 second video for a brief demo http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOvdlVEN6wY). Then I dumped flour on the fiery mess which basically put out most of the flames. Hannah then came racing around the corner with a fire extinguisher (WHERE DID THIS COME FROM?!). She then screams, "IT WON'T WORK!" Note: fire extinguishers only work when you pull the pin from the handle. I then grab the extinguisher, pull the pin, and blast the rest of the flames.

Silence.

We survey the damage.

Then we burst into uncontrollable laughter. This goes on for quite a while (I recall my side hurting and face streaming with tears). We continued this laughter for the next few hours as we cleaned up the ashes of dishtowels, flour soaked nail polish remover, and fire extinguisher dust. Believe it or not, there was virtually no damage other than a charred corner of a rug and the horrendous burning chemical smell that permeated the house and couch. Other than that (and maybe some of Hannah's arm hair) everything remained untouched.

This was my Monday. Day 18 of 2010.