The past few months haven't been particularly busy for me. April may have been a bit labor intensive, as I always do all of my assigned readings, compositions, and projects at the very beginning of a term or quarter, and since I took the first week of the quarter off to go to Utah, I had to make up for lost time in the following weeks. Once that ordeal was over, however, I didn't have tons of work to do.
What I did with my time, in addition to attending class, transcribing my lecture notes, and completing an last-minute assignments as they came up, was to sleep, eat, watch television, run, dive a little, and read. In short, I have been whatever is the female term for a bum.
My dad was initially a bit skeptical concerning the benefits of my leisurely lifestyle, but when he went with me to a doctor's appointment a couple of weeks ago and learned that my weight is up to an all-time high of ninety pounds (!!!) and I am now very nearly five-feet-two inches in height, he changed his tune just a tad. My pediatric endocrinologist is convinced that my laid-back lifestyle greatly contributed to my growth and would like for me to continue to live this way for another year. If I seriously thought that I had a chance of achieving another significant growth spurt I might think of attempting to be a slug for awhile longer, but my mom is only 5' 3", and I'm closing in on puberty. My time of major growth is nearing its end. I'm not taking classes this summer, so I'll have over three months to vegetate, but at that point I really must get on with my life.
This summer should be enjoyable. The boy who is not my boyfriend, Jared, graduates on Tuesday night. I'm flying to Utah with his parents and most of his siblings. i just got back on Tuesday from a trip to Utah to attend his prom with him. I would have remained in Utah between the prom and graduation were it not for the pesky matter of finals. As it was, I had to petition to take them early, and I had to be a little dishonest in my petition. When requesting to take final exams early, it helps to have friends in the medical profession. I usually don't use my medical history for recreational advantage, but just this once I did. I hope it doesn't come back to bite me in the form of bad karma.
My extended family is seldom without drama of some form, and the present is no exception. A cousin on my dad's side, who's almost twenty years old, is in South America serving a mission for the LDS church. He's been sick almost the entire time since he left the Mission Training Center, and he finally decided he's had enough of mission life. His parents feel very strongly that he needs to stick it out for the full two years. My parents write to him regularly, and my dad made it clear to him before he left that if anything went terribly wrong while he was gone, my parents would help him. He was totally certain at the time that absolutely nothing would go wrong and that the only help he would need would be the Lord's. After about eight months of constant diarrhea and frequent vomiting with no medical care, he's changing his tune.
My Uncle Michael has just left his medical practice in Utah to relocate with his family to our area of California. He's between jobs and doesn't have to arrange coverage for himself, so he has flown south to accompany my cousin home. My dad and my Uncle Steve are paying Uncle Michael's and my cousin's expenses since he was kind enough to make the trip. In theory they could have just bought a plane ticket for him and he could've come home on his own, but he sounds sick enough that my dad and uncle were worried about him having to travel so far unaccompanied. Additionally, the mission president took my cousin's passport from him when he arrived in the country, and my Uncle Michael is concerned the guy might give him difficulty when he requests it back. The mission president won't refuse to give my cousin his passport with my Uncle Michael standing right next to him. Incidentally, my Uncle Michael is still a practicing Mormon, but he had a difficult mission in Chile and almost died of something related to dysentery. He wouldn't wish the same fate on his worst enemy, much less his nephew.
My uncle left yesterday. We haven't heard from him yet, but tomorrow he should meet up with my cousin. From there they'll need to drive most of the day to reach the mission headquarters. Then it's on to the airport (or to a hotel, depending upon the time of the day and the time of departure of the flight) or to the American embassy if my cousin is unable to retrieve his passport (which I've been told is unlikely). My uncle will call in advance so there's no excuse for the mission office staff not having the passport available. If my uncle decides my cousin isn't well enough to travel, they may go to a hospital in the city where the airport is located. If things go well, they should reach Los Angeles by Tuesday or Wednesday. It could be a week or two if there are significant hurdles. I just hope my cousin is not too sick to travel.
Once my cousin gets here, he may end up living with us. He probably won't feel welcome at his parents' home in Utah. There is plenty of room at our house or at my Uncle Steve's or Uncle Michael's house. he will be able to pick where he wants to stay. if he doesn't want to stay in California, His paternal grandparents who lie in British Columbia would also be happy to have him live with them. I'm glad he has at least one other sane relative besides the ones who live near me.
My dad says this is just one more example of how I always have to make everything about myself, but I will say anyway that I suspect my grandparents will find some way of placing the blame for my cousin's unsuccessful mission experience directly on me. I did write to him, because my parents always make my brother and me write to any of our cousins who are on missions or away from home in the military, but I wrote about generic stuff that I saw happening around me. I certainly didn't encourage my cousin to defect from his mission. My paternal grandparents, however, have their own peculiar spin they put on everything, so the whole incident, including the practically terminal diarrhea, may very well end up being attributed entirely to me. Que sera, sera.
Peace be with you.