'Cause I'm going to . . . Strawberry Fields Forever . . . and ever.

Sorry, guys. The most appropriate song lyric this week is one of the Beatles' most trippy songs. I suppose you'll forgive me. It's just too appropriate.

BUT FIRST! The winner of last week's "guess what song lyric that was" competition is . . . me! It's from Ingrid Michaelson's "You and I," which is a very cute song. The runner up was EXTREMELY close, though. But the lyric from Sonny and Cher's "I got you babe" is "They say our love won't pay the rent." See? Basically the same thing. So maybe you win too anyhow. And you win . . . another blog post from me. Aren't you excited?

Anyhow, down to the latest hooplah and hulabaloo in my life. (Those two words are fantastic. Whoever coined them should get a monument. I bet it was Shakespeare. He invented most of English, after all. I guess I'll just have to . . . well, visit the monument that already exists. Stratford-upon-Avon, here I come!)

(I'm just kidding. I'm WAY too poor to go to England.)

Last Wednesday, tragedy struck. My grandmother, bless her, came to our home in the dark of the early morning, and kidnapped my poor, unsuspecting mother and two of my poor, unsuspecting sisters, and stole them away across the whole entire country. Okay, fine. My mother and Sarah and Emma knew they had a trip to Washington, DC, and were very excited about it. They left me alone with a house full of boys for a whole week all by myself. (Katie doesn't talk and Hannah was at work or the singles ward. Geez.)

Yeah, they look all studly. That's because Mom was there for this picture to comb their hair. There are several things I have learned from this experience:

• The horrendous experience that is deciding what to make for dinner is nothing to the torturous experience that comes with having to feed people who have opinions about food.
• It is much easier to keep the house clean when you just banish two little kids outside than when there are eight people at home every day.
• Boys don't like salad until you force them to eat it (using starvation tactics) (and threatening).
• HOLY COW I'M SO GLAD THAT KATIE WAS MY FIRST CHILD. I NEED FEMININE INTERACTION.
• Trying to talk to me after a week of just being with the boys is similar to trying to hold a sentient conversation with me at four thirty in the morning when I've been awake for thirty hours straight and have read something ridiculous like Chaucer recently.
• I really dislike video games.

Yeah, I don't really need to expound upon that. At least I had Katie to keep them all in line.

When the girls returned on Tuesday late afternoon, there was hysteria. Everyone kind of had a freak out. It's better now.

But alas, here comes . . . the INVASION OF THE STRAWBERRIES!!!!! GAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Yeah, this is what our house looks like. If any more come, we might actually turn into strawberry people ourselves.

I think my arms have been permanently stained red from topping the strawberries and turning them into jam. Also my pants. But that's not nearly as difficult as stirring the boiling pot, which makes the entire skin of your arm melt and peel off like rubber, and then you start to weep with the sheer heat of the room. It's disgusting.

Yeah, we're gonna have to eat like a gajillion peanut butter sandwiches. Good thing I've rediscovered recently that I love to have about an inch of crunchy peanut butter per sandwich. That stuff is so delicious it almost hurts.

But we've got our love to pay the bills!

If you recognize what song that comes from, you get seventy-two points. And also a digital high-five from me. I will tell you what song that comes from next time.

So, we got some more bills for Mike's hospital adventure, and we might be living with our families for the next seventeen years. But whatev. We've already had our initial freak out, so I'm at peace with it. Namaste.

In other news, that illness that I mentioned last time was not a one-day thing. It lasted ALL WEEK. And I'm STILL sick. Well, not as bad. The fever lasted a couple more days after I wrote that post and I've had a sinus headache and furiously running nose ever since. It's disgusting. Katie had it pretty bad too, and we've been sickies together. I actually got really excited today because she sounds like normal again--and by that I mean she sounds like slowly letting the air out of a balloon.

We had a fantastic weekend. Thursday, Mike's sister Amy and her family came up and hung out with us until Sunday night, meaning that Katie met all of her cousins (Amy has three kids) (and they are the only cousins Katie has). Oh my goodness they were cute!

I'm not allowed to put pictures of the two younger ones up because they're still foster kids, and it wouldn't be fair to put up a picture of Spencer without them, but I might do it anyhow.

Okay, never mind. My parents' computer hates my SD card, so there are no pictures. Maybe next time.

Anyhow, the cousins were really cute. Like, ridiculously so. And it was really fun to hang out with Amy and Jared. We spent all weekend playing games and getting greeted by people in Mike's parents' ward whom we don't know but who seem to know exactly who we are. They were the same people who got mad at Mike the Sunday before because he dared to come to church without his cute wife and baby for everyone to see. (Katie and I were deathly ill that week) (but we did not die, so the illness is no longer described as deathly).

In more other news, I no longer have confidence in myself as a baker. See, when we were in Portland, we went to Powell's Books, a used and new bookstore the size of a city block. Like, they give you a map when you get there so you don't get lost for fourteen years. And I bought a recipe book devoted entirely to chocolate. It's beautiful.

And today Sarah and I ventured into the book to make one of the easier recipes, chocolate slab cake. We figured it would be delicious and thick, like Texas Sheet Cake. Unfortunately, there were a few . . . um . . . setbacks.

So, we put the cake in the oven, cleaned up the kitchen so that our mess wasn't huge, then put some chocolate on the stove to make the icing. Before we finished that, we heard the buzzer, pulled the cake out, and stuck a toothpick in . . .

. . . and realized that we had never turned on the oven. When we opened the oven, Sarah was like, "whoa, it looks exactly like it did when we put it in." Including the spreading from the spatula. 'Cause the oven was cold. Embarrassing.

So we turned on the oven, waited for it to preheat and set the timer for slightly less than the timer said. A little while later, I made the icing, and then we pulled the cake out. After it was cool, we turned it out and poured the icing on it.

The icing was delicious, semisweet and melty. The cake . . . well, we may have forgotten some water or something, because it was very, very, very dry. And slightly burnt because we kept the cake in there while preheating. Gross. I feel very embarrassed.

Sometime later this week we're going to make a white chocolate torte. Hopefully it will be much more delicious. Especially because I'm not particularly a fan of buttermilk cakes and the white chocolate one will not be a buttermilk cake.

Maybe I'll make it if Mike gets one of the many jobs he's supposed to be applying to. He's already applied to a few at St. Luke's and St. Alphonsus hospitals. We're crossing our fingers.

It's like rai-ee-ain on your wedding day . . .

You know the funniest part? (And I mean besides how much I truly hate the music of Alanis Morisette?) NOTHING IN THAT SONG IS ACTUALLY IRONIC. It's just inconvenient.

What is slightly ironic, however, is the last few days for us. Oh gracious.

See, there's this thing called my dear, sweet husband has a talent for getting sick any time we plan a vacation or anything fun at all. The poor thing can't help it. But, as you might expect, I do get a little bit frustrated. I mean, the first time he ever met my family was when he came up to Boise for my birthday while we were dating. And he spent the entire day in bed deathly ill. Happy birthday to me.

Want another example? So, I had mono the semester we were engaged. Pretty sure I got it from Mike because he was sick all summer and guess who I was kissin'? I got really sick during finals week before we got married, but I was miraculously better the week before the wedding. It was a beautiful day, we felt all wonderful and married and such, and we drove to Portland the next day for our honeymoon. (So we're cheapskates. So what?) And then we proceeded to spend the entirety of our honeymoon watching movies in our hotel because Mike was too sick to do anything.

Well, get ready for HOUSEGUEST HORROR STORIES! That's right, don't invite us to your house for extended periods of time, because you might end up paying for our funerals.

Remember that one time how Mike got appendicitis right after we got to my parents' house for a break? And I spent two weeks run ragged between him and Katie and all of the hulabaloo that comes with my family?

Well, this last Saturday night, we went with Mike's family (Oh! We're in Seattle now! I forgot to tell yous guys.) to see a ballroom dance show (would have been fantastic if they hadn't had the bass up so loud) and there were these old ladies sitting in front of us who smelled really bad. During intermission they went out and smoked, and came back smelling even worse. Then they proceeded to fan that nasty smoke smell back at us the whole rest of the show. Gross. I was coughing a lot.

That night, we were joking that it would serve me right to get sick on vacation after being frustrated at Mike for getting sick all the time. Oh, how naive we were.

Sunday morning when Mike's alarm went off to get up for church, I was about to die. Turns out I had a fever, the chills and shakes, and my throat was super dry. I spent the whole entire day in bed or on the couch in my pajamas. Gross.

Today my fever's gone and I can move slightly more, but I have a really bad cold and so does Katie. We're like the coughing choir. It's pretty great.

Just pray that Mike doesn't get it. And don't invite us to your house.

Here it goes, here it goes again!

Hmm. Maybe I should keep using song lyrics as post titles. Would that make me more popular? I think so.

Well, we've begun again. As of 7:30 this morning, we are currently undergoing the process of medical school applications again. Except this time, we know (kind of) what we're doing. So it's going to work this time. Mostly because a lot of schools do rolling admissions and Mike didn't get everything in until like September last year. And this time he submitted the instant he was allowed to. It's kind of like staying up until midnight to register for classes. OH WAIT: I NEVER HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Ahem. Sorry. Must have just slipped out.

Anyhow, this time we decided to follow the spirit and how much chance Mike has of getting in instead of by weather patterns. Last year it was, "No, I'm allergic to the South" or, "I WILL NOT live in hurricaneville!" Yeah, can you tell where I didn't want to live? No offense to any southerners who may or may not read my blog. :)

In other news, Mike is a normal person again, Hannah graduated from high school, and we're going to drive for a lot of hours tomorrow. First to Portland and then on to Seattle! and humidity. Yippie. I love the people there, just not the . . . gross . . . misty . . . grossness.

I don't know who's sadder for us to be leaving, grandma or the tres tios favoritos. Those guys are so cute with how much they love the Katie. I mean, how many fourteen-year-old guys want to spend their free time hanging out with their 4-month-old niece? Seriously. And James is constantly following me around asking if it's his turn to hold her yet. Luckily, she's old enough that she's started having separation anxiety and requires her mommy sometimes.

I've decided that before I die, I will be good at the guitar like Parker is. And maybe the ukulele like Sarah and Emma. And then I will be able to sing Ingrid Michaelson's "You and I" and be really cool. But perhaps I should re-pick up the cello first. Good idea? I think so. Wow, that paragraph was random and out of place. I'm sorry, guys.

There are too many pictures that I want to put up to include them here. If you're not on facebook, send me an email or something and I'll give you the link to get to the most recent photo album. Happy June!