Raise Both Of Your Arms, Sir.

It's probably time to update this blog. My cousin, Ryan, just got back from NY and stopped by last weekend. One of the first questions he asked was, "So do you have any new one-arm stories?"

Blogging fail.

Yes, yes we do. I have just been a slacker. 

So I will be combining my Festival of Trees recap with a classic one-arm tale.

If you just want the one-arm story, skip to the end. If you aren't a grinch, read about our experience helping out the kids at Primary Children's Hospital.

Festival of Trees happened this month. My mom made the journey from Sac-Town to help me out. I was ridiculously sick for the whole event, so I did not get to enjoy it like I would have liked to. 

My amazing Aunt Kim came and dominated the decorating. Seriously, I don't know what we would have done without her. My grandparents were also champions. My grandma spent hours painting nutcrackers with me and setting up the display. My mother-in-law, Mary, and my sister-in-law, Monique, wired all of the ornaments on. My brother Derek and Porter showed up for like the last five seconds. Porter gets credit for hooking us up with a signed football from the BYU football team, signed game programs, a signed basketball from the BYU basketball team, as well as game-worn cleats and gloves. Derek just gets credit for being in the pics:)

The process went down like so:

I'm all about that base...of the tree.

Getting our fluff on.

Wire machines.

Kim the ribbon master...two years running.

Comes all the way out to Utah just to serve those in need.

Grandpa just had back surgery, but he did help with the painting (as you can see it made it to his forehead).

Coming along....

Thanks to Porter and his sweet hook-ups with BYU football, we had cleats, gloves, and face masks.

Grandma was all about the details.

Tree topper.

The nutcrackers Grandma and I spent hours painting.

So. Much. Blue.

Aunt Kim still doing her thing.

My decorating crew.

Lots of BYU gear/memorabilia.

A Cougar fan's dream.

The floor display.

Our poster contraption.

Porter and I with the finished product...and the BYU shirts weren't even planned. #winning

My hero.

The whole gang.

Once again it was a success. There were a few people who fought over it when it came to the auction. It sold for a LOT of money (like seven times the amount we spent to make the tree). It would not have been possible without those who contributed (both physically and financially). 

The day after opening night, Porter had to travel out to Philly. He was doing one of his inspirational speaking gigs.

In order to get on the plane, Porter went through security. Instead of going through the traditional metal detector, Porter went through one of these bad boys:

I know my last blog was on airport staff as well, and I promise I'm not trying to pick on them, it just seems they struggle with people who are a little different. 

Porter walked into it and faced the sticker showing him how to stand. He spread his feet apart and lifted up his arm just like the example shown on the sticker image in front of him. 

The TSA worker standing on the other side started to get frustrated with him when she only saw one arm lifted above his head.

TSA Worker: "Sir, could you please stand exactly like the example on the sticker?"

Porter: "Ummm, I am."

TSA Worker: "No sir, you need to put both arms above your head."

Porter: "I only have one."

Now the TSA worker thinks Porter is messing with her.

TSA Worker: "What? Sir, remove your jacket and your hat."

Porter does what he's asked.

TSA Worker: "Oh. I guess you only do have one arm. Ok, go ahead..."

One day those airport staffers will get it right. Today is just not that day.

Until next time,

Carlie

Emergency Exit Rejects

The past couple of weeks have been special. Two Sunday’s ago, we were on our way to a baby blessing. Porter was driving and I was in the passenger’s seat. I was looking up the address of the church building we needed to go to when my phone slipped from my fingers and fell in between the seat and the center console. I unbuckled my seat belt so I could reach under my chair and grab it. When I looked up, Porter was slamming on the breaks and our car wasn’t stopping. We slid right into the middle of the intersection and crashed into a car that was turning left. To brace myself, I had put my hands out on the dash only to be met by the exploding airbag.

The next thing I remember was a lady opening my door and trying to get me out of the car. I heard her say something about smelling smoke and I needed to get out. My neck and chest felt like they were on fire. When I finally came to my senses, I got out of the car as people started telling me I needed to get to a hospital. I kept telling everyone I was fine, especially since I couldn’t really say what hurt on me at the time.

I eventually made my way to the doctor. The airbag broke my finger and sprained my wrist. I always imagined airbags being soft pillow-like contraptions, but they are the exact opposite. Since I was leaning forward in my seat, the airbag went straight into my chest and burned the skin on my neck and chest. It sucked, but I’m pretty grateful it wasn’t worse. Like I said, I wasn’t securely fastened to my seat, so I could have easily flown through the front window.

Our car was totaled. I’m currently wearing a ridiculous contraption on my wrist and finger (which I only plan on wearing for another week…two tops). I promise there is a reason for this ridiculously long injury update. The weekend following our accident, Porter and I made our way to Granite Bay via Southwest for my baby brother's "Senior Night" and to go to Apple Hill (obvi).

 
We got on the first plane and looked for an available seat. We found one and started to put our bags in the overhead compartments. I was struggling because I tend to over pack, so my bag was super heavy, and I only had my one hand to lift with (since the other was in a brace).

Upon noticing I was having a difficult time, Porter started to help me. The flight attendant was standing right next to us, sighing in frustration as we were “holding up the line.” I tried to joke about the situation, making a comment about how there are only two hands between Porter and I (I guess I need to temporarily change the name of the blog to two arms, two people, one good story?). The flight attendant didn’t find it very funny. Since she was on my right side, I just figured maybe she didn’t see that I had a busted left arm, so she missed the joke.

The flight attendant continued to provide us with unwanted attention. I ultimately assumed the flight attendant was just grumpy; after all, it is a tough job.  But in reality, she was panicking inside. It turns out, we had sat down in the emergency exit row and she was trying to find a way to tell us we couldn’t sit there.

She stared at Porter’s right side (he was in the isle seat), and frantically tried to come up with a way to tell us we would have to move. By law, you have to be “physically able” to assist other passengers in the event of an emergency, which requires two able hands.

I could literally see her racking her brain for a nice way to tell us we needed to find another seat.

I started to giggle, and in an effort to conceal my laughter, I gave the flight attendant the perfect scapegoat.

“You two can’t sit here,” the flight attendant finally blurted out.

“Why not?” I asked (with a sassy tone most likely).

*Yes, I did push her buttons, mostly because I wanted to see her botch an explanation. Too cruel? Absolutely. But it’s a perk of the situation, and I fully intend on using all of them.

“Well you can’t sit here (insert silent pause here)…because you have a hurt hand,” she explained.

“Oh, but he can?” I refuted, pointing at Porter.

She paused for a second, fumbling though her words. I thought about stepping in and ending the awkwardness, but where is the fun in that?

“HAAAAA!” Porter exclaimed for an obnoxiously long period of time while simultaneously putting the flight attendant out of her misery, “Looks like you are the handicapped one now!”

Touché, flight attendant, touché.

We have since learned about the magic of pre-boarding to avoid these types of encounters. Turns out, all we have to do it walk up to the counter, say Porter doesn’t have an arm, and we get on the plane before the fancy business select folks do.

Until next time,

Carlie

*Remember there are only 10 more days to donate to our tree! We just passed the 50% mark of our goal and we could use any and all help we can get! Thank you for all the love and support!

At It Again

Jack and Sally went out on the town this Halloween. Aside from scaring our niece, Mary, I would say it was a success.

And now that Halloween is over, we can get to the good stuff.

A couple of weeks ago, my grandma and I made a trip up to Primary Children's Hospital. There was a meeting for the Festival of Trees (read about our experience last December here), and she was kind enough to go with me. I was still a little on the fence about donating a tree to this wonderful cause. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was a little hesitant about asking for help (again).

Following the meeting, we started to make our way out of the hospital. We waited for the elevator to get up to our floor and when the doors opened up, we could see a little four-year-old girl sitting in a wheelchair. She was hooked up to several machines, needles pressed into her tiny arms, and tears stained her pale cheeks.

Grandma and I got in the elevator after our little encounter with that beautiful girl. After pressing the button to return to the bottom floor, I looked at my grandma who was starting to cry.

"And that's why you need to do this...," she whispered. "Because of the little children who need your help."

So we are donating a tree again, and I couldn't be more excited about it. Last year, we donated a tree in appreciation of all the things PCH did for Porter following his accident. This year we are doing a BYU sports-themed tree (because Porter works for the football team, so we can get some sweet stuff) and also to honor the biggest Cougar fan we know.

And since I know he is definitely reading this, I might as well let him know via the blog.

Dad, this year's tree is in honor of you. Despite receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis, you never quit on us. I will never forget that devastating phone call (which came just weeks after I got married) and thinking even though I had moved onto a new stage in my life, I still needed my Dad. You went through chemo with a smile on your face (at least in front of us kids) and always remained positive. Even when it appeared you would lose that fight, you battled back. If only the BYU football team had a little more "Howard" in 'em... :)

I have had a few people ask me how they can donate and so we have set up a site again. You can find it here. We truly appreciate any and all help we can get.

If you have any problems following the link, please let me know. You can also copy and paste the below link into your browser:

http://www.gofundme.com/gmbfe8

All money raised will go towards our tree and if there is any left over, we will donate the remainder of it to the hospital like we did last year.

No child is ever turned away from PCH due to inability to pay. Funds raised at events like Festival of Trees are a huge blessing to families and children during their time of need. Remember to come out and see all of the decorated trees December 3rd-6th at the Sandy Expo Center.

We truly appreciate all of your help. This will be the last year we will have the opportunity to do this, so we want to go out with a bang!

Costume Crisis

Ok, so it's not really a crisis. I'm just a fan of alliteration. We can't decide on Halloween costumes this year...too many options. And by too many, I mean just 4. This is what we have come up with and we want our friends/family help to decide. Here are the contenders:

1. Jack and Sally from the Nightmare Before Christmas

Sorta creepy, but it is Halloween. Rag tag Sally is known for losing her limbs.

Pros: It's a classic.
Cons: Porter has to be a girl. Again.


2. Captain America and the Winter Soldier

 Who doesn't love the captain and his BFF in action?

Pros: I get to be Captain America. All the reason I need.
Cons: We have to use the freaky prosthetic arm as a prop.


3. Nemo and Dory

Who doesn't love this Disney Pixar classic? We are worried people won't understand the reference though.

Pros: It works because Nemo has a "hurt fin." And it's the right one. Totes perf.
Cons: I was a nautical-type character last year.

4. Captain Hook and the Crocodile

Pros: Another animal costume? Yes please.
Cons: Too cliche? Maybe.

So there you have it. Leave a comment on FB or the blog post directly and let us know which "one-arm" themed costume you would like to see us rock on Halloween. Happy Fall!

Just as a reminder, we were Soul Surfer and a shark last year. Topping that may be difficult.

Condom Controversy

Now that I am a controversial writer, I have decided it's perfectly acceptable to start telling privately humiliating stories on this blog.

I have been dying from the world's worst cold this last week. I can't seem to beat it...and I have tried everything...even apple vinegar (which literally burned my insides).

Despite dying from a terrible cold, I decided to suck it up for my intramural flag football game. I would have to be hospitalized before I would miss one of those.

Before going to the game, I asked Porter to take me to Wal Mart so I could stock up on drugs.

*Disclaimer* If you get weirded out by the word "tampon" like my little brothers, now may be a good time to quit reading. Full disclosure, I'm open about this stuff and things are about to get weird.

Also, if tampons freak you out, it's time to get over it. The reality is mother nature leaves a special little present every month for women to endure for a few days. It's good times.

Back to our tale. Porter and I are at Wal Mart in the pharmacy section. I'm literally picking up every bottle of NyQuil I can find. Then I remembered, I need to get tampons. 

This is actually out of the ordinary because I have a neat little stick stuck in my arm that serves as my birth control. As a result, I have only had a couple of periods over the last two and half years. TMI? I don't care.

So, I have one arm carrying all of my meds, and the other hand is holding a box of tampons. We start to walk out of the pharmacy section, when Porter decides to act like a 12 year old boy and giggle at the condoms on the shelves.

He picks up a box of them and exclaims (quite loudly), "Car, check this one out...it's ribbed!"

Now I have started in on the teenage humor and teased, "Well nothing gets past a trojan!"

We start busting up laughing as we are standing in front of the condom section. Then Porter glances down the aisle.

Busted. We have been caught...with condom in hand.

There is a huge man standing there, staring at us checking out the condoms.

"Oh, hey...." Porter says to this large man.

Embarrassed by the fact that he is holding a condom in his hand and giggling with his wife, Porter tried to diffuse the situation.

"Carlie, this _____ _________, he's on the football team. _____ _______, this is my wife, Carlie."

(Porter works for BYU Football, so he knows all of the players and sees these guys every day in the locker room. Every. Day.)

The football player, trying to be polite, sticks out his hand to shake mine. I reach for his, only to realize I have giant box of tampons in my hand. Now I'm trying to juggle cold and cough medicine with my feminine products in order to shake this guy's hand who just caught me and my husband "shopping" for rubbers.

Special.

I started to stutter about how we were just in the pharmacy section to buy medicine...not birth control materials, but it just felt uncomfortable. After I shook his hand, I just turned and walked away leaving Porter to deal with the situation (while still holding those tender little specimen).

Moral of the story: Only stand in front of the condom section when you are ACTUALLY purchasing them. We have never bought one, which made attempting to convince this football player we weren't about to get frisky all the more complicated.

As we walked out, Porter turned to me and said, "You know I have never really been embarrassed before...until just now."

Until next time,

Carlie

And in honor of this embarrassing story, here is an embarrassing photo (and I only share this for my parent's amusement):

The Hater Has Returned

Guys, she came back. It's true, she actually returned. I about died laughing when I saw the message in my inbox. 

At first I thought it had to be a mistake. After all, I haven't posted a blasted thing on this blog for weeks.

She must just randomly stalk me every couple of months or so. 

Without further adieu, I present to you my favorite hater and her lovely words of affection:

Carlie, (she spelled my name right!)

I can't even began (I think you used the wrong tense here. Don't worry I will help you..."begin") to describe how upset I was to find that you are still blogging (best believe it). I thought I had made myself perfectly clear in my first email that I do not appreciate your stories (nah, you made yourself clear...I just don't really care). You think it is funny to post my email to your site? (Yes, yes I do) You're (*your) stories are more offensive then (*than) anything I have ever read before. (I take it you don't do much reading or writing, so I'm not too hurt by that) Not only are you're (*your...I know that one is tricky) words offensive, but I recently saw a video you made where you are singing a rap song. I know Porter and he would never listen to that music if you hadn't introduced it to him. (OMG I'M THE WORST) It's sad to watch all of this. (So sad) I'm sure you will end up posting my concerns to your page once again (Yes, yes I will). I sincerly (*Sincerely? Come on, how do you even mess that up? Do you not know what that red squiggly line under misspelled words means?) hope you will reconsider blogging in the future.

Thank you,

Mrs. ________

I could not wait to respond. My thoughts were flowing y'all.



My response:

Dear Mrs. ________

I greatly appreciate your email. I love to hear from people reading my blog. Your email has truly touched me. As per your request, I have decided to reconsider my blogging habits. It appears that I do not do enough of it. I promise to post more frequently. 

I really hope you can see the true purpose of my blog. I do not mean to offend, I simply want to put a smile on my readers' faces. Life is too short and we should spend our time focusing on what brings us happiness. Otherwise, we will end up bitter and spend our days shooting off grammatically incorrect emails to those who are trying to enjoy this life.

With love,

Your favorite blogger, Carlie

For those of you who believe this was a little harsh, let me inform you that she has sent me more than a couple of emails. In her previous attempts to shut down my blog, I have responded with grace.

Also, if you have not seen our "inappropriate" lip sync, I have included it below. You're welcome.

Fertile Myrtle

I have been terrible at this. It's not a lack of stories, but a lack of time to write them down. Porter is speaking literally everyday this week (which includes his birthday), so I have a moment to write down a few words.

Summer flag football started up and it's serious business. I won my very first intramural championship t-shirt in flag football over the winter, so the chase for t-shirt number two is on. (I know for sure I will get a second one with THE Maggie Ellett joining me here in Provo come August.)

Anyways, we held a football practice. We were running some plays and decided to add a defense to the mix. Porter volunteered his services. He decided to guard me and be a dip like Richard Sherman the whole time. Needless to say, when you are a punk, bad things happen to you.

Remember how I talked about my ring buying experience when Porter and I were getting married? It was a disaster. Well, Porter decided to put me through it AGAIN. While playing Richard Sherman style defense in a girls' flag-football practice, Porter lost his second wedding ring. Yes, that means I would be buying a THIRD ring in TWO years of marriage. I was a little upset, but not entirely surprised.

We got to the mall right after practice to make sure we were getting the right sized ring. I decided I was going to order a cheap one on Amazon because it was no longer worth purchasing a nice one. Besides, Porter's only requirement in a ring was it had to be "black" otherwise it was too "girly."

We got to some random jewelry store. They had two people working there, a guy and a girl. The girl offers to size Porter for a ring, so I tried to make casual conversation with the other guy. He started showing me all of these expensive rings, which I was not going to buy, and then the following happened:

Me: "I'm not really interested in spending a lot of money on a wedding band."

Jewelry guy: "Oh...ok."

He was a little hesitant and I could tell he thought I was a cheap wife for not wanting to spend a little bit of money on my husband's symbol of marriage. Naturally, I decided to elaborate.

Me: "Yeah, it's just this is our third one in two years."

Jewelry guy: "Well congratulations!"

Congratulations? For what? I don't know, maybe that's some kind of record.

Me: "Well that's not exactly something to be proud of..."

Immediately, the jewelry guy's face twists. He looks at me completely horrified. I wonder what the heck his problem is. He starts glaring at me in a judgmental way. I figured it was because I looked like white trash in my cut-off tank and running shorts while also dawning a sweaty stench from practice.

After a moment of awkward silence, he finally expresses his ill-feelings toward me.

Jewelry guy: "It's not my business, but I think children are something to be VERY proud of."

What the? Children? When did we start talking about kids?

Me: "Wait, what? I was talking about wedding rings..."

Jewelry guy: "Ohhh, that makes more sense."

Not quite sure how the convo turned from wedding rings to my ability to produce offspring in a ridiculously short period of time, but it happened.

Porter is forbidden to lose this new wedding ring. I can't handle jewelry stores, or their employees, any longer.

Until next time,

Carlie