Whether I Need It Or Not

Welcome to the most terribly boring week of my life. Although next week, I'm sure I will wish for similar quantities of leisure time.

Two other first year AT students are joining me on the track staff for this semester. We had our first day last Monday and are already rolling in the swag. Brad Nye, of the France Lyon mission, is a member of the team.

Emarie Swenson, my MTC comp and roommate, allowed me to illegally occupy my apartment a week early. She didn't get home until midnight and woke me up and jumped on my bed and talked to me for two hours before she left again for the week the following morning. (On Emarie: She's majoring in PDBio with plans of graduate school, is a ballroom dancer, her mom's on the general RS board, and she's dating Steven Covey's grandson. In the words of Lauren: How is her life perfect.)

All the family RMs in one picture. Plus Ammie.

Rachel May and I caught up over Thai food. Ask me how many times I've eaten Thai food in the past month. You don't want to know. Rachel is still working in real estate for one of the most delightful South African men ever.

Hannibal and I reconnected over clothes-selling and froyo. She got married over the summer and I missed it, but they're doing good and Hannah is going to help me get a research job in knee pain and ankle stability! Chouette.

Hunter, I mean, Elder Schenewark, came to visit before he made his fashionably late MTC entrance. We had a delightful family dinner at Zupas with all the cousins in Provo. I will miss you on the water polo field and adventuring and people thinking we're dating and your roommates trying to date me and everything else that has been the last year. It's been a good one.

Lauren came and chilled and we were incredibly boring and just talked for a long time. I missed my BFF this summer, even though we went on a crazy road trip across the country and did amazing and life changing things all summer. (On Lauren: She graduated in Church History, can name every temple in the world, has worked on the JS papers and at Ancestry and as a substitute teacher and at 31 sessions of EFY and will be doing humanitarian work in Italy for 5 weeks. In the words of Emarie: Why is her life perfect.)

Hand and Foot: where we lay down together, no spooning allowed.

Brandon Herring, of my MTC district, moved into the Elms! So I helped him move and unpack and get his books and we hung out all day and talked about how Provo is the worst and the best all at once. We celebrated a day of hard work with Jamba Juice and some old friends.

Emarie returned Friday so we ate pancakes and chatted. For lunch we got tacos with her old HS friends, Austin and Brent, and then we cracked open my Office trivia game that my last roommates bought for me. Then I met her BF, Christian Covey (who has my approval) before never seeing her again for the weekend.

Friday and Saturday night were game nights with my old chums. We played so many games of Hand and Foot, which I love both for its complicating rules and for all the dirty jokes that are accidentally made. And for sentimental value. Quote of the night: I shower once every three months. Whether I need it or not. -Lauren B, specified.

My mission friends in Derek's ward!

The cousins reunited to visit a rope swing in Mona, UT. I hate heights, did I ever tell you that? That being said, I swung and fell in a graceful motion that will heretofore be referred to as the "Beached Whale". Which is only second to Derek's "Shrieking Dragon".

I returned only 45min late to a frisbee adventure that I organized. It was fun, as per usual. It killed my knees, as per usual. It was so hot and so dry and so little oxygen in the air, as per usual, that I could barely breathe. Long live UT. The worst.

Family Reunion

Of my many Monday goals, only the realistic ones were completed, including packing making painting 2 of a 25 part series. Kevin, Lavinia, and I did some intense and humid cardio in the morning, went shoe shopping, and Kevin bought one dozen donuts and split them with Moriah. And gave me one. And let me sleep the last night in "our" bed. I also went to the YSA FHE for once.  

Yeah, I thought it was funny. 

Some of the YSA kiddos.

Gregor and I flew out early Tuesday morning to Utah, accompanied by a delightfully cynical and god-fearing woman named Angela. We met our wonderful cousins, the Wildes, and joined them in helping a woman pack a moving truck. In addition to terrifying and thrilling and frustrating her children at various times, I also learned about goat heads. (Here I was, picturing a bunch of decapitated goats all over the road, impaling people left and right, and it turns out I wasn't too far off.)

That, my friends, is a goat head. Poisonous little buggers. 

Wednesday was the first day of school for the Wilde clan minus Brooklyn. So we escorted her to the Ogden temple. There I met a wonderful lady named Sister Loos, whose son spent a few years in Switzerland and was able to go and visit some of my favorite places for a month. All of the people there were lovely.

Papa Bear invited G and I along for his missionary shift at the Bishop's Storehouse. Breaks were taken with increasing frequency because the chocolate milk in the break room was so darn good. And because we worked so quickly and efficiently that we kept finishing all the work before any more patrons came to make more for us. We then had a well-deserved and much-enjoyed dinner at Granny B's, including her delicious raspberry salad and some salty chips. Amy, Jason, Greg, and I ended the day with several hours of volleyball, which was awesome, despite my sleepiness and blindness.

Break time. Part 47.

Friday included Templing Part II, this time with Granny B, Papa Bear, Amy, and Jason in Bountiful. Contrary to my beliefs, I have been there before. When my MTC comp, Emarie, lost the key to her locker. Afterwards we went to Olive Garden and I was both impressed by our waiter's uncanny ability to bring out more breadsticks with impeccable timing, and at my ability to eat them. Cormac then enlightened Greg by showing him the Lego Movie. As Greg can attest, that idea was just...the worst.

Families are forever. So you're stuck with us.

I am adding "professional picture-taker" to my resume, as I spent Saturday morning at the Duck Park taking family and school pictures. And if I can get one good picture of Kian, I'm counting that as a success. 

When I found out that Soeur Schreiber (my mission daughter)'s family lived in SLC, I told her I was going to drop by one day through their back window. Well, we didn't back window it, but we did meet the family and they are simply delightful. We ate German food, all of which Greg will refer to as schnitzel, and had intriguing conversation about missions, and family, and skiing, and even politics.

The Schreibers. Minus Kassie and Marcel.

The Wildes and we met up at the This Is The Place park for an afternoon of fun and church history. We pet animals (all, except the roosters, due to traumatic childhood experiences), made scratch art arrowheads, watched some Indian dancing, ate pioneer candy, found Lauren's future wedding venue, climbed on a pirate ship, and panned for gold. 

Then we picked up the big brother that Avery always wanted from the airport.

Now featured in the Wilde family museum.

Maybe they'll let me in the yacht club now.

I'm a rich man.

If I'm lucky, by this time next week I will be legally moved in to my new apartment. Cheers.

So Many Things.

Here comes the #PfizerScienceBus. Holla. 

For those who haven't seen Shark Tank,  it's a show for aspiring entrepreneurs to showcase their innovative ideas in hopes of getting funding. I joined a similar team here at Pfizer, with the goal of making the company more accessible to millennials. So we prepared a presentation and some quality props and guess what? We got funded! Now we have money, but are all leaving and are still expected to complete our project.
Just what I wanted.

Bruce. The champ who's been dealing with me all summer. 

This was my last week at Pfizer. It was great, even without winning our innovation challenge. I successfully finished all my projects and data entries just in time to leave Friday. I had some great workouts and left with a pile of workouts to do in the future, as well as the promise of a $25 Dick's gift certificate. I got Thai food multiple times with some of my favorite people, Jeremy, Angie, Bruce, and Abby, as well as my innovation team. Andy and I had a good chat about positivity, since he's the nicest person I know and I needed to pick his brain a little bit. And I left. All good things. I'ma miss this place. And I'll have a hard time going back to a lower quality job.

Milking it for all its worth. Honestly. #DopeyDad

Then this guy went and got a surgery on his ankle and forgot to tell anyone at work. I think he's actually been at work 50% of the time, at most. He's always gone on yachts or vacations or whatever.
But the surgery means he missed out on bootcamp (again), as well as Night Frisbee and early morning basketball. I love sports. We had good times all around, minimal injuries, and continued the newly founded tradition of post-game homemade milkshakes.

From the soup kitchen to the
poop kitchen. 

Andy even came and played with us! And he motivated Kevin and I to go play basketball with some Pfizer guys at a nearby park AFTER the hardest cardio workout of my life, which ended in a half mile sprint. All this AFTER night frisbee, which always fries up my knee caps. So my body was feeling good going into it. And my soul was feeling good coming out.
Friday night, Greg and I were treated to professional massages, something that's always been on the bucket lists. We milked it. We swam and hot tubbed and steam roomed (only a good choice if you enjoy choking on air). And we got massages. Of course we both had to double check the fact that you don't wear clothes during. My guy was cooler than Greg's though. He was super chill and we got along great. It was great while it lasted. Although both of us felt a little worse for the wear afterwards.
The family all went over to the Steel's house for a BBQ party in honor of Marissa's RN graduation. She's going to be at home for a bit until she gets a job, etc. (Mom told us she would make us pay exhorbitant sums of money for the worst living conditions if we moved back in after graduation.) And we found a very well preserved and giant bug that will be found in Isabelle's bed at a later date.
The Hutchins also bombed the local soup kitchen. They've never SEEN cleaner dishes.
Sunday, we filled our car up with passengers and headed to Warwick for our last singles ward adventure. The Hutchins Squared talked about the Sabbath day. And by that I mean the Atonement. As per usual, overflowing our speaking time with great stories and calls to repentance. We ate the fastest lunch ever and hurried to leave, only to find that our one hour drive was extended to four as we encountered accident after accident. That's what happens if you don't keep the Sabbath day holy.

Welcome to Camp Bromazeen

Remember how as a missionary time was bizarre? The days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days. Well that was this week. I guess that's what happens when you do so many things. Here's a few:

WHITE WATER RAFTING
We stopped at Mimi/Grampy's for dinner and were surprised to find a large tree on top of their power lines, left by the firemen with "bigger fish to fry". Despite any setbacks, we were treated to a Hutchins-worthy feast and the company of Laurabeth/co and T Dawg (who will be sorely missed in Utah).

Anyhow we got up to camp and since there was no emergency personal, and I happen to be an EMT, we got the First Aid cabin. Complete with electricity, running water, flushing toilets, A/C, and mattresses. No complaints. The tent situation was iffy at best.

I was glad to establish a Hutchins raft with only 2 extras. I know Greg the guide could trust our family to be exactly obedient. And thus take us in all the dangerous (and more fun) routes. One time Dad tried to take a dive into the Cribworks, but was pulled back in by his hairless ankle. Pretty sure Adam, one of the extras, took some suicide dives. (Ok, ok, we all wanted to dive into the rapids. What an adrenaline rush.) Hopefully, pictures to come.


PFIZER
I have one week left, although the ceremonial end to my internship happened this week, in the form of a poster session. Now this poster session is specifically NOT a competition. Naturally, I wanted to win. So  not only did I have TWO posters, but I had food at my table. All who attended will agree it was a great success.

I also assisted my friends Andy and Alex in their networking, by connecting them with El Presidente himself. He was happy to find out that they are both working on projects for him. And they were happy to be found talking to VIP Brian from England when we walked up. They are delightful humans.

Andy, me, and Alex. They're the best.

GUILT
En route to Camp Bomazeen (aka BROmazeen), we made up a new boardgame in which you keep picking up cards with real family events are rewarded guilts accordingly. For example:

1. You hid teeth in a glass of milk behind the toilet for 4 months. +50 guilts
2. You did the dishes without being asked. -3 guilts
3. You got pulled over. Roll the die- odds, you got a ticket, +5 guilts, evens, you had 25 milk in the backseat and he let you off, 0 guilts
4. You locked the door and watched as Naomi got chased around the backyard by the killer rooster. Everyone picks up +10 guilts

You get the picture. Any future spouses will have to survive playing the game to pass the test.

National Sisters Day (3min Cry Limit)

Family History story of the week: Once my lovely grandmother decided to stimulate family unity by creating The Cousinhood of the Traveling Skirt (think: sisterhood of the traveling pants). The only problem was I was 17 and several years older (and bigger) than all the other cousins. However, the skirt got lost along the way and I never got the chance to wear it. Bummer for us all.
Health. Highlight of the week goes to my dentist visit: Cheers to plaque-free teeth. I also went to the optometrist's, convinced them not to dilate my sensitive seeing-balls, and got treated to McDonald's for my trouble. Ask me how many chicken nuggets. Or don't.
Home. Derek plans to open a talk with: I grew up in a single-parent household. My mom was at home with the kids, while my dad was away for work/church callings. And so it was this week. "Mr. The Crimson Chin" left for La Jolla, leaving us with "Weeny K" for the week. (We're trying out grandparent names. It's going well.)
Friends. I got to hang with my long lost friend, Rachel Borg. We had a lovely dinner at the mall and even found me a super classy blazer. How glad I am to have found this chick at girls camp and EFY so many years ago. Props to her for running a marathon soon.
Work. My poster session is this Tuesday. Is it a competition? No. But if it was, I would win. Overachiever that I am, I've got 2 posters, a few quality props, and plenty of snacks ready to go, all in Pfizer blue. (Now I've just got to prepare similarly for my Shark Tank sesh with the higher-ups so I don't have to rely on Greg's lucrative money-making schemes during the school year for cash.)
Service. We decided the Soup Kitchen can also be called the Poop Kitchen, because while we're cooking up soup in the back, everyone else is cooking up poop in the front. And that only scratches the surface of the revelry that occurs in the Hutch hood.
Church. Shoutout to Greg. He the real MVP for keeping the creeps at bay. What a blessing. Thanks to Elder Holland for providing this insight: Like the apostles, missionaries are called from their normal "fishing" activities. They give a couple years of all their hearts, might, minds, and souls. Then it ends. The apostles went back to fishing, before the resurrected Lord found and reprimanded them. I don't want to go back to fishing. I'm not about that life.

And here's the moment you've all been waiting for. Joyeux National Sister's Day to all.

My birth sisters:

To my real life sister, Hannah: You've grown on me in more
ways than one. And you're actually pretty cool. And creamy. #MoonsForLife

Moriah. I don't know how many more games of Uno I can take,

or where you learned your rapping skills, but I love you all the same. 

To Isabelle: I wish your hair still looked
like this you crazy cave-alien.

To Lavinia: Drool runs in
the family, my bootylicious
beauty. 

My mission sisters: (Only the lucky ones that had to put up with me as a companion, or else the list would literally go on for miles. But thanks to all the rest of you as well!)

Soeur Swenson: Sorry it wasn't a joke that I was your companion. You're seriously the best and the sweetest and I'm so excited to live with you! Here's to peeing in urinals and pushing trash cans and NOT flirting with Elders and learning French. One day I'll learn how to dance and you'll be real impressed. But that day is not this day. Thanks for starting things out right. 

Soeur Layton: Speaking of starting things out right, thanks for teaching me to be obedient and have fun. I don't think I'll ever forget that. I also won't forget that time I ruined the tiramisu, cried in an alleyway surrounded by drunk Muslims, or got a ride home from a band of gypsies. Elaine S. Dalton would love you (and your style - btw, thanks for that, too). Inner tube champs till the end.

Soeur Sovaleni: Iaorana! Thanks for calming me down. I needed that. Remember that one time I made us shovel a pile of gravel for 6 hours in the scorching Annecy sun? You seriously rocked it. I still don't think we've stopped sweating. I'm sad our time was cut short, but we had a blast while we could, eh? Thank you also for the love you have for your family. It made me realize some things about my own. 

Soeur Packard: I didn't even realize we were almost the same age when we were comps! I thought you were an older missionary. Here's to you fooling everyone with your excellent French, white handbook knowledge, and solid testimony. Also to us making toilet seat picture frames, getting chased by drunk men, and cleaning out the pantry. 

Soeur DeOliveira: All I wanted to do was make you happy and I did a really bad job. Sorry. Haha. I mean, who wouldn't want to take apart and piece back together some IKEA bunkbeds on their first day out of the womb? Or hear really corny contacting lines in French? Or run sprints on the Soane in a fog so cold it hurt your bones? Thanks for speaking better French than me and having a Dougy-filled transfer. Let us never forget. 

Soeur Koyle: You are a literal champion. Sorry I abandoned you to Chalon in your earliest days. Thanks for loving the people and exercising and calling me out when I'm dumb and enduring it all. I knew I could trust you with that crazy crazy ville, and fix all the things I'd messed up. Thanks for being the sweetest and kindest person and teaching me so much more than I could ever teach you. See you at UT State, kiddo. (It's a better meeting place than Frere Picard's drug lab of a home, n'est-ce pas?)

Soeur Carter: Words cannot express. (I mean, you're the English teacher, right?)  Six weeks of insanity from all angles. Adventuring of the incredible and dangerous variety. Innovative ideas inspired by Dan Jones, himself. And who could forget the crying crying crying? You are a wonderful, thoughtful, loving, happy individual. Not only did you understand, but you fueled the fire. Thanks for your integrity and always helping others to become more. You are truly legendary. Also, if you're free, we need to teach Promise.... Love.

Soeur Bentley: What formidable patience you have. (I mean, you pooped out an octopus!) We may have been polar opposites (I mean, look at the size difference...), but we made a great team! We may have gotten locked inside the Institute building once or twice, but that's besides the point. Thanks for persevering and staying on a mission and bearing your testimony with such force. (PS. Remember this guy?? We were freaking out so bad, it took me half an hour to get my voice down to an understandable pitch.)  

Soeur Hulme: I knew this was going to come in handy. I have the whole video if you ever want to see it again. Thanks for re-evaluating "that Chalon weirdo" when we became companions. And pillow talking the night away. Thank you for your steady constance, taking me to fun places, and flipping Soeur Petit's picture over in the member book. Also not freaking out when I kept tripping on that cobblestone. And for the opportunity to memorize the Testaments. (You know when...)

Soeur Luthi: Here's to great comp inventories, kicking it up a notch, and copying everything Soeur Carter does. I love your integrity and obedience and the fact that you actually brushed did your hair every day (still confounded by that...). Thanks for having story competitions and missionary vlogs and 30 day arm workouts. Thanks for being a great companion on a 13-hour bus ride and meeting all your challenges with plenty of grace. You are an example. #compunity

Soeur Schreiber: I thought I had it figured out by the time we met. I didn't. Thanks for stimulating conversations (I can't wait for deep doctrine study group with you!), intriguing style, and more pasta than I could imagine. Thanks for adapting to mission life and putting your incredibly intelligent thoughts into actions. Thank you for accomplishing miracles and changing lives. Thanks for helping me work through my frustration and knowing when and what to say. Thank you for sharing your love for others and acute observational skills. And walking fast. I love love love you. 

Soeur Staples: Last, but certainly not least. Thank you for your humility and working so so hard. Thank your for helping me go out with a bang (and beat Elder Peterson, hehe). Thanks for traveling the country and being diligent the whole time. Thanks for taking the mantle when I left. Thank your for having such capable hands that I could trust the sector to you. It means so much. Thanks for trying new things and singing in the rain (and by that I mean flood), and never reminding me that I was going home (wait...hehe). I love you and pray for you. Keep cracking! 

Soeur Jones: Because we were basically companions. #Sissistants2015 Thanks for keeping me grounded and matching my energy and insanity and offsetting my height. Thanks for being dang funny and for always jumping into my arms (even if it messed up your foot). Thanks for not dying and for going on exchanges every single transfer. And deciding not to hate me after you moved to Chalon. There are too many things I could say, but you know them all. (Don't worry, I'm saving them for National Brothers Day. I mean, we're pretty much boys, anyways!) 

And to this kid that I wish was my sister:

Lauren: You are the best and the funniest and the coolest of them all. You know everything I ever needed to know about church history or genealogy. Thanks for feeling the heat and dancing on the tables and testing out my mom's hair lightening schemes. (Bad ideas, one and all.) Thanks for being candid and letting me live with you. Some day we'll live with no other Laurens and lots of cats. If you ever come back from Italy. I miss you already. And I love you so so much. Thanks for coming across the country with me and writing me on my whole mission and not marrying Derek while I was gone. I am so glad that Asian guy wore a Hawaiian shirt and went country dancing that one fateful day. And then we were suddenly washing our hands in our own blood. You're the best in all the land.