Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite...

I spent most of my college career living in the dorms. It was cheaper, simpler, and a pre-furnished living space. One year though, I decided to get an apartment with one of my best friends. We lived in this place just north of the campus and most of our neighbors were grad students from India.

We were pretty excited about decorating our place and had friends over every week- especially on the weekends for game night. We were so serious about offering teas and coffee that I had bought a 30-pack of silver spoons from Sam's Club just so we wouldn't have to fill the world with plastic. :)

We noticed one night that Sallie was getting bit by something. After a few days we realized it must be coming from somewhere in the apartment because, I too had a couple of bites. We couldn't hear or see any mosquitos...that was the only thing that could be causing this problem, right?

One night, as I was reading on my bed, I noticed something small race across my pillow towards me!!!

Flying off the bed, I landed facing it and peered at the tiny, brown speck on my pillow. Grabbing my frisbee and entomology textbook (how ironic...) I swept the thing onto the underside of the frisbee. Not having any Raid handy, I grabbed the Lysol can and sprayed the unidentified speck dead.

The murder overwith, I studied the little bug. I'd never seen anything like it before. Hmm...what in the world could it be?? I opened my textbook and began flipping through the pictures and drawings of different insects and then IT HIT ME.

This thing came from my bed! What if there really were such things as bed bugs??? I'd heard of those mythical creatures before, but had no idea what they looked like and had doubted their existence. I mean, someone just made up a cute saying: "Good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite!", right? It was just a saying!

With an ominous feeling I turned back to the glossary and searched under the "B". There it was: Bed Bugs. Frantically, I flipped to the page but it was just words. I read...about three different types of bed bugs. Then I turned the page...There, the largest of the three pencil drawings, was the exact same bug as the dead one on my frisbee!!! The world ended.

I quickly hollered to, Sallie: We have a problem!!

Did we ever have a problem. Google was our best friend. We poured over articles about how to get rid of bed bugs and looked at each other in dismay! Cups of a special oil placed under the "feet" of our beds, special mattress and pillow covers, washing everything in hot water and vacuuming what couldn't be washed...

***Did you know a bed bug can live 90 days in a sealed container??? That's how they get transported...it takes FOREVER for them to die!

After a trip to Walmart (in which we bought most of the giant black trash bags they carried and each got a different colored duct tape to seal them: purple for Sallie, teal for me...we made a pit stop at Starbucks. It was now 11:30pm. It was the only all nighter my friend Sallie pulled in college. (I took a nap...)

My mom was kind enough to come for a day-trip and sit in the Washateria with me while we washed every piece of fabric we owned and cleaned the apartment from head to toe.

***Did you know that bed bugs make three bites at a time? If you have itching bites and they are in groupings of three...be afraid.

Turns out, someone in the apartment on our right (a bachelor pad of four Indian guys) had brought the bed bugs back over the break. The apartment owner paid to spray their apartment, but did they warn the apartments on either side about what had happened or spray them just in case? NO. So the bugs had migrated through the wall into our place. We warned the neighbor on our left and heard the vacuum cleaner going for hours...

That said, I was the ONLY one in my ento lab that semester to have bed bugs in my bug collection! I even caught a couple of the babies-which are practically invisible because they are a mix between white and clear!

So, sleep tight my friends and don't EVER let bed bugs bite...

Grasshopper Girl

Entomology 201.
I'd looked forward to this class and expected an A before I even began.

You see, I've been catching and identifying bugs since before I could walk...example for proof? Ok, here:

Me- one year old, crawling around on the kitchen floor.
Mom- on the telephone.
Me- I find a cricket on the floor.
Mom- still on the phone.
Me- I use my highly tuned sense of taste to identify the bug.
Mom- mid-sentence spots me inserting cricket into my mouth and shrieks! Her baby is being contaminated!!! Phone call is ended.
Me- I experience my first "washing the mouth out with soap" routine.

There. Proof. -Though I don't use the "tasting" method to identify bugs anymore...I still chase down things that move to get a better look. My top two favorite bugs? 1) Praying Mantis & 2) Mole Crickets.

So, there I was my junior year of college, enrolled in Ento 201. My favorite part? The lab. We watched this incredible BBC series on insects and I didn't care that the first two labs went overtime...I was fascinated. Other girls were squirming in their seats, guys were trying to make it worse with their comments- but I had tuned them all out.

Naturally I was very excited about the following week's lab. If the last two were so spectacular who knew what the next week would hold? Sure the cases of pinned bugs that adorned the walls gave me the creeps- I didn't enjoy looking at dead things on display. And the smell? Well it wasn't pleasant- hundreds of dead bugs soaked in chemicals that had both killed them and continued to preserve them... *still makes me shudder to think about it.*

The following week, as I talked with the people sitting around me in lab and we waited for our instructor, I noticed a screen carrier with some beautiful, live, orange and white grasshoppers. I'd never seen any so colorful before. In walked our TA (teacher's assistant/ aide) and he began handing out sheets of paper with diagrams of the insides of grasshoppers on them. No big deal- pencil drawings and labeling the insects- child's play.

Then he said what our project was going to be for the day: dissecting a grasshopper. The same beautiful ones I'd been admiring minutes earlier. They were destined to die. I felt sick. I'd never dissected anything before and had realized early on that I had no desire to partake of that practice (otherwise I would've been a vet).

I didn't feel very well and was terrified about this whole idea...the group around me began to notice.
"You look really pale." the girl next to me commented.
"Aw, she'll be fine." the guy behind me pronounced.
"Sure! All you need to do is breathe, ok? Count between breaths it'll help." the guy in front of me coached.

Is it hot in here? Why can't I breathe? Will he just stop talking about breathing?! -my mind was beginning to race.

The "breathing" guy continued, "Look, breathe in....breathe out. You can do this! Are you breathing?"

No! No I'm not breathing. My throat is closing up! -But I couldn't say anything.

"Ok lets divide into groups of 6." said the TA. I had the three who'd been talking to me plus another guy and girl. "Now, send one of your members to catch a grasshopper from the bucket."
The tall guy who'd insisted I'd be fine, caught one of the lovely creatures and brought it back to the table.

I stared at it with a mixture of sorrow and horror. Thoughts of grabbing the bucket of grasshoppers and running from the building to set them free crossed my mind...

"Haha, look at the little guy." "You're about to die, buddy!" "Ew, don't hold that thing close to me!" and other such comments flew around my head. I really couldn't breathe well at all and suddenly was blind. Why was the world blurry?

"Now, I want one of you to pull the grasshopper's head off quickly and cleanly so we can study it's insides..." the TA's voice began to fade.

Pull off it's head?!?! I thought. Of course I could barely see, but the idea was enough to make me sick.

"Whoa, are you ok?" my entire group was focused on me. The grasshopper, was peeking over the one guy's thumb at me- I could just see it's cute head and antennae. I suddenly realized a wet sensation on my face and realized I could see better...in between blinks. I'd never hyperventilated like this before- I realize that's what it was now. At the moment, the fact that I couldn't breathe or see was causing me to panic.

"Go!" my group urged me. "Hurry before we kill it." "The TA won't mind! Hurry!" "Leave NOW" the guy holding the grasshopper told me.

After 15 seconds of deliberation, I bolted across the lab room, through the hall, down the stairs, along the huge corridor, and outside. I paused for a moment to try and catch my breath before slipping around the corner of the building where I collapsed behind some shrubs and sobbed. For the grasshopper. For the thought of killing something by pulling it's head off. Because I was too tenderhearted for my own good. Because it was hard to breathe. Because I had to.

I called my mom and spoke with her and my sister for awhile in between sobs. Finally, after composing myself, I sent a text message to some friends- I don't remember if I was just sharing the moment or asked for prayer.

At last I headed back into the building and checked my face in the bathroom mirror to make sure I didn't look like I'd been crying. It was no use. My nose and eyes were red. Embarrassed I walked back up the stairs and waited in the hallway for the rest of my class to finish. I still needed to gather my things and was debating apologizing to the TA.

The class finished and began leaving. The looks of pity and curiosity I received made me shrink into the wall. My TA never commented on my "skipping" lab when I made my way back in to grab my stuff, so I didn't bring it up.

One of my lab partners called me "Grasshopper Girl" the following week and that nickname stuck until I graduated from A&M.

I did have to see grasshopper guts during the lab final and almost lost it, but I managed to finish that exam and haven't squished a bug since. Ok ok, I'll squish a mosquito with a tissue...but I have huge feelings of guilt to overcome each time. Cockroaches get flushed down the toilet and if they live, I'm sorry...you come and kill them!

Choosing Joy- Gitzen Girl

This will be short.

Saw a post in my twitter feed about this- the funeral is currently happening. I was curious. Who was
Gitzen Girl?
Why were so many people sharing information about this woman from Cedar Falls, IA?
The fact that she had just died was news- how? What caused her to die?

I followed the link in that tweet. I found this page and from that page I clicked on another link that lead me to this page and by now I was hooked.

So I pulled up her blog and started back in May 2008 where she began to tell her story. To be honest I've only read the first 5 posts or so, but they've brought tears to my eyes- to read about someone who is no longer here...but was only days, even hours ago! It is interesting to me to read about a person's life- especially from their own viewpoint. She has a strong testimony.

Sara chose joy even though she lived in constant pain!
Choose joy as Sara did! (I say this to myself, as well.)

Shopping...with Men

I have no brothers and growing up, my dad usually had uniforms to wear so shopping for men's clothing is something I just really haven't done. Once I drove a friend to the mall to find a shirt and tie for a special program he was in, but I wasn't really any help and left him to his own devices while I looked at leather luggage across the way.

This weekend I had a fun experience and while I will not share names (to protect the innocent) I can't NOT share...

There were 7 of us: 2 couples, 2 men and me. We had just finished a light dinner and some great discussion at Panara's and headed next door into the mall. One of the couples had mentioned wanting to ice skate and the rest of us agreed to come watch and continue the conversation. However, I quickly realized that I was designated bag holder because the girls left me with their bags and both couples headed to the rink.

Oh well, I thought, I've got a comfy place to sit and two friends to talk with...

"Yes," one of the guys said. "Now I can go shopping and get some pants for work!"
"All right." the other guy said.
"Oh, sorry, Hannah..."

That did it. I was not going to stay alone with the bags and if the guy wanted to shop for pants, well then ok! I had an idea...I later learned from my sisters that they would NEVER have asked any guy to do this...I won't either after Friday night...

"If y'all help carry these bags we can go." I said.
*Short awkward moment of silence.*

"Oh come on, it'll be fine! Most of the stores are closed anyway." I said- truly I assumed they'd say no. (It was 9pm and most of the stores were closed.)

We'll call these guys: Tim and Bob just to make this story telling easier...those are NOT their real names though...

Tim inched toward the large bag...probably because it looked more like a bag than a purse- despite it's hot pink color.
Bob shrugged the denim purse onto his shoulder, and I grabbed my own leather bag. (Probably should've traded with one of them...)

We began walking the length of the mall looking at all the closing or closed stores and swapping "mall" stories.

At last we reached a large department store. Upon discovering they were open until 10pm the guys headed straight towards the back of the store with all the man stuff. Realizing that this was not my favorite situation I loitered in the main aisle and watched them discuss pants.

Bob spotted a 70% off display and began sorting through the hangers looking for something worthy.
Tim instructed Bob in the "no white pants after Labor Day" rule and I realized that even though I know that rule, I'd almost worn white jeans that night anyway...good thing I didn't.

Still sporting the denim purse on his shoulder, Bob caught a passing saleswomen: "Excuse me, where are the men's dressing rooms?" Eyeing the purse on his shoulder she pointed around the corner: "They're painted blue." she said and walked away with a funny expression.

It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I was standing off to the side a bit and managed to hide my smirk. Bob was very excited about two pairs of pants he'd found- one a blue pair of pajama pants that he repeatedly remarked: "are really soft! This is great!"
"And they're only $10" Tim piped in, "that's a good deal!"
"Great" I said.

Bob disappeared to go try them on, Tim continued browsing pants, and I moved into the tie section- I really like the colors and patterns they put into ties. Poor men. They make ties look so attractive to women, yet men hate wearing them...

Bob reappeared with Tim and seemed to be a tiny bit upset about something. Tim was obviously torn between cracking up and soothing ruffled man-feathers. My obvious look of curiousity somehow broke their reserve and Bob admitted that the pajama pants had been women's. I confess: I laughed. Hard.

"Aw man." Bob said "I've never worn women's clothing before!"

We returned from our shopping excursion to the ice skating rink and were shortly greeted by the couples. "Did y'all take the bags with you?!" they asked.

Instantly the two guys from the couples (we'll call them Mark and Dave) wanted to know: "How did you carry them?"
"Um, like this" Tim said and held the pink bag in his hand so that it was hanging over his shoulder and down his back."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk" remarked Dave. "Here," he reached for the pink bag, "this is how you should carry a purse," and he held the bag straight out from his side as if it were contaminated.
Mark felt obligated to pipe in: "OR, you should just not carry it at all. You know, carrying the bags is probably what made y'all want to go shopping in the first place."

Dave picked the purse back up and illustrated the "worst" way a guy could carry a purse: on the shoulder, like women do...just like Bob had.

Tim and I looked at each other and then at Bob who said, "Aw man!" and blushed a bit. The couples didn't notice- we three weren't going to say anything- why embarrass Bob more?

"If you start carrying bags like that," Mark said "you might even end up wearing women's clothes!"

This time it was much harder not to crack up. I looked at Bob who said, "Aw man!" smirked at Tim, and kept my mouth shut. Poor Bob.

I waited until I got home and then laughed with my sisters as I shared the story. :) It was an interesting experience...and I don't think I'll suggest any more of my men friends go shopping while carrying a purse- unless they have a lady with them and are obviously holding it for her.

Lessons from Lucy

I love "I Love Lucy." She's just such a clown- an elegant clown.

The first time I remember seeing the show (re-runs, obviously...) I was seven. The tirading Cuban husband and her hilarious faces coupled with the outrageous situations she found herself in kept me entertained. Even now, I love to just sit and watch her sneak into Ricky's show, hide a new outfit, or gape at the movie stars in Hollywood (as if she wasn't one of them!)

However, watching Lucy can mess with the mind. Suddenly things seem possible that probably aren't.
My biggest memory of Lucy and how she got me into trouble goes something like this:

It was "move-in" week at A&M and I was a senior. I had gone "potluck" and met my new freshman roommate, Kristin, that afternoon. I was invited to a movie night in the next dorm and took her with me. Several people were new to me, but I knew a couple of the guys from Bible study. We watched an awful "classic": Robinhood, Men in Tights...waste of your life...

Anyway, we had just left the movie night and returned to our dorm room. As we were getting ready for bed I had a mini-project that I wanted to get done: fixing my purse.
I had bought this purse in Branson, MO at a dollar store and was quite fond of it. One of the metal chain links kept coming undone so I had purchased some super-glue that promised to hold metal together. Having to cheat and use scissors to get the little bottle open I managed to get the glue onto the chain. After applying some pressure I let go with a satisfied smile. Only it was hard to let go. I managed. Quickly running to the sink I began to rub my fingers under the running water...only all of a sudden they wouldn't rub...they were stuck!!

What did I think of in that moment? Lucy with Fred's fake beard stuck to her face. They had to go to Conneticut to get the glue remover! ACK! I was suddenly in a panic.

Trying to be brave in front of my freshman roommate I searched for my phone. My thumb and first two fingers were firmly glued together. Pinning the phone to the bed with one knee, I used my good hand to search through my contacts. It was nearing midnight...

Thankfully I knew that one of the guys from my Bible study might still be at the other dorm and he had a car! Also, he was studying chemical engineering and glue is a chemical, right??
Dialing his number I held the phone to my ear, silently mouthing: "pick up, pick up, please!"

"Hey Hannah," he said. Relief!
"Um, Serge," I didn't know how to sugarcoat it, "I glued my fingers together and they won't come apart!"
"What?!"
"I can't get my fingers unstuck! They're glued together!" Here the panic was escalating and I happened to turn and see Kristin sitting on her bed staring at me with HUGE blue eyes. Her face would've cracked me up if I hadn't been so close to crying!
"Um, Hannah I can't hear you, can you say that again?" His voice was a bit muffled (laughter...sigh*)
By this point I was almost hysterical: "I glued my fingers together with super-glue! They won't come apart! Help! What do I do?!"
It was then I heard peals of laughter. Serge had put me on speaker phone... I was too panicked at the moment to care.
He told me I needed 100% acetone (that's REALLY strong nail polish remover, ladies...it'll take the varnish off of linoleom...*ahem* yes I have accidentally done that...)

I suppose my panic finally triggered the "hero" in Serge because he came to give me a ride to Walmart for the acetone. I asked Kristin to come along and, her blue eyes still the size of saucers, she curiously followed along. Half an hour later I was getting settled with burning fingers...but they were fingers again and not a blob of glued flesh!

The purse? The stupid super glue didn't even last a week!