Sick Days

I haven't blogged in a while because I haven't been feeling well. Nothing serious--just tired, achy, and coughy for the last two weeks.

I haven’t been sick in a while. In four years of college, I never missed a day of class because of illness (yes, I skipped one or two because of a hockey game, but what else would you expect?) Being sick on my mission was no fun—all we could do was drink a coke and sleep. But given the 6:00 am to 10 pm mission schedule, sleeping was much needed!

But when I was a kid, being sick was fun. I enjoyed being a little sick (not miserably sick mind you, just a little) because of the rituals I had when I got to stay home. First of all, nothing helps you feel less miserable like a little distraction; and nothing is more distracting than the television. So my mom would make up a bed on the living room sofa with blankets and pillows. Then she would surround me with the necessities: the remote control, a box of tissues, water, and a bell to ring if I needed her (no one can yell “Mom!” with a sore throat!)

Then I would always watch the same movies—my sick movies. First on the list: The Princess Bride. I think I liked it so much because the little boy at the beginning is sick and his Grandpa comes to read to him.
Look at the cute little Fred Savage!

Other common I’m-home-for-a-sick-day movies included Willow, The Little Mermaid, and Cinderella (the version called The Slipper and the Rose, with Richard Chamberlin who swings from the pipes. It’s one of the greatest movies that I don’t own. Sure I could buy it new on DVD for $124 on Amazon.com, but somehow I can’t justify spending that much on a movie, go figure.)
Scene from The Slipper and the Rose

Other things I loved about sick days: Ginger ale. We were never big soda drinkers growing up (believe me, Chuck and I would have been if we could, but mom just never bought it that often). Nothing calms an upset stomach like ginger ale. It’s better if you mix it with juice too—orange juice or apple juice. And when you’re confined to a diet of liquids—Tomato soup is like divine. Ever since my mission in Russia, what I really love when I'm sick is a cup of hot lemon and honey tea. If you ever feel the slightest bit ill in Russia, the cure is lemon and honey tea drunk as hot as you can stand it.

I used to really like cream of wheat when I was sick. However, once I woke up with an upset stomach, came down for breakfast and mom made me cream of wheat and I threw up in the bowl. The best part was it was one of those bowls that changed color with hot cereal- so it was pink on the bottom half where the cream of wheat was, and purple on the top where I threw up. I cried. That whole image has kind of turned me off to cream of wheat, especially when I have the flu. Now I’ll only eat it when I feel perfectly healthy... and not in color-changing bowls!

The worse illness I’ve ever had was the chicken pox. I know what you’re thinking: “Katie, all kids get the chicken pox! How can that be the worst?” Well, because it was so miserably memorable. All the kids in our neighborhood came down with the pox in turns. My best friend Jade got it first, my brother Chuck got it next, Jade’s brother Jesse came down with it a week later, and I was last. I thought it would be fun because since everyone had already had it, I could go out and play. Wrong. I can down with the worst case and was completely miserable the whole time. My mom had to give me oatmeal baths 4 times a day to keep me from itching so bad.
Somewhere in Mesa there's a picture of me covered in pox, holding my teddy bear. This is a picture of me at about the same age I was when I got the chicken pox. In the back ground there is the rocking chair I'll tell you about.

I don’t remember a lot of specifics from my childhood, but I remember chicken pox. Once I had a funny virus that made me lose strength in my legs and I couldn’t walk, and once I came close to getting scarlet fever—but I don’t remember any particulars.

Although, one of my favorite memories of my dad comes from my chicken pox episode: I couldn’t go to sleep and it was about midnight and my dad wrapped me in a blanket and took me downstairs. He put on Disney’s Fantasia and rocked me in our rocking chair, holding down my arms to keep me from scratching. I never liked Fantasia before that night, I always thought it was boring. But after that night I can say I’m a big fan of Fantasia!

I don't have any of my sick-movies here in Provo, so for my quarantined stay at home I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender cartoons on netflix. I may be addicted. Don't judge me, I am not too old for cartoons. Besides, being sick is the perfect excuse for watching cartoons as an adult! Also, I think the characters are diverse and really well-developed and the plot is intriguing. So as soon as I'm done coughing up a lung, I'm going to fill up my cup with lemon/honey tea and curl up to watch more.

Grandma's Rose Garden

My Grandma, Nadine Brewster Burnett, is the daughter of Sheldon and Edna Leone Brewster (married 1921). She currently resides in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the house her father built. This is the story of the rose garden in front of that house.



When my Great Grandpa built that house on the hill, the one thing he and my Great Grandma wanted was a rose garden. I asked my Grandma if rose are easy to grow, she said “I think this rose garden is blessed.” After the house was finished, Sheldon and Edna planted rose bushes one by one.



After Sheldon died, my grandparents came to live at the house to take care of Edna and the rose garden. When they relayed concrete for front driveway they had this commemorative brick made:


"Edna and Sheldon Rose Garden 1966"

1966 is the year they moved into the house. Of course, when the brick makers first made the brick they put 1996 instead of 1966. Grandma and Grandpa complained, so they made another one but didn’t have to send the first one back. So the brick with the wrong date is also a part of the rose garden, on the other side of the driveway, hidden under the over grown roses on that side.

Aren't the roses beautiful?


Grandma’s are amazing people—they know a lot about things I would never think to learn. Today my grandma taught me something I’m sure she learned from her parents— I was gardening with Grandma and she taught me how to properly cut-back rose bushes. She calls it “heading” the roses. Here’s how: You have to clip the dead rose hips. Cute right? When all the petals fall off, the left over bit is called hips. It doesn’t make much sense when you realize you’re ‘heading’ the roses, you would think it would be ‘hipping’ roses. Anyway, you have to snip the hips and the stem off before the first five-leaved leaf because it does no good to just cut off the hips. I never realized that roses had different amounts of leaves on their stems. As they grow toward the bud, the leaves go from groups of 5 to groups of 3. When they sprout new buds, the new 3-leaved stem starts growing from the 5-leaved spots.

A place for sentiment

My friend Kait inspired me to start this blog. She has a brilliant blog (read it here). I thought her idea was so clever, I came up with my own rendition.

My sentimental side is not one that comes out much, but this blog may very well be full of it. My cynical, complaining, or sarcastic personality traits usually show up most often, but here in this blog I wanted to reserve a spot for the things of meaning in my life. I wanted a place for sentiment.

Sentiment: a refined feeling; a romantic or nostalgic feeling verging on sentimentality. Ah yes, make way for the sappiness!

A person is never simply who they appear to be. They are made up of the people around them, friends and family. They are not only the experiences they've had in life, but are also a product of the experiences of others. I find that the people around me have contributed different pieces to my life as a whole-- often it's from close family and friends, but sometimes it's from someone I have nothing in common with, sometimes it's remembered from a past friendship that's faded, sometimes it's from a casual acquaintance-- but all of it makes me who I am.

I promise not to be too sentimental, I've never been good at sharing things that are truly important to me. I had a difficult time coming up with a mini-biography of myself to include in this inaugural post. But luckily for me, that's the point. I am more than who I tell you I am. I can be found in the things I share here.

But here's some things you should know about me:

I was raised in Gaithersburg, MD and love the east coast! My family moved to Arizona when I was 12 and the dry, brown desert has grown on me to the point where I now find myself home-sick for the wide-open blue skies, the beautiful red rocks, and the cactus-strewn landscapes of Arizona. I'm currently living in Utah, which despite it's picturesque landscapes, is not my favorite place to live--I'm here while getting a masters degree.

I love hockey! If I had stronger words for that I would use them. Hockey makes me happy, ridiculously happy. I'm a devoted fan. Some day I'll explain how that happened, but for now know that I root for my Phoenix Coyotes and detest the Redwings (don't take it personally if you happen to be a fan, we can still be friends, just maybe not during playoffs).

I love music and movies. I like to read, although not at my reading level--I adore fairy tales and children's stories.

I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (that's right, I said I'm a Mormon), and it has made all the difference in my life. My faith in Jesus Christ gives me purpose, direction, and strength.

I served a mission for my church in Rostov, Russia. Not a day goes by that I don't think about Russia. I left my heart there. I love the people, the culture, and the food (that's right, the food! Don't let anyone tell you Russian food is gross! I'll share some recipes on this blog when I get a chance).

If you want to know more, you'll have to piece it together from what I share here!