Las Vegas!!!

The first weekend in November, we traveled with Matt's mom and dad to Las Vegas to attend a close family friend's wedding reception. It was a lot of fun, however a quick trip. We left Saturday morning and were back by Sunday night in time for Matt and me to go to a recruitment dinner with the Psychiatry residents at the University of Utah. (If you are confused by the fact that we are in Utah, we have been here for the last month while Matt has done a rotation at the University of Utah). We had a great time talking there and back about everything under the sun, including politics in true Swenson fashion ;)
This is us at New York New York...if you look really closely you can see a little baby bump!




Here are some more photos of the quick trip:

The Fall decorations at the Bellagio!

I loved these trees! So fun!

Lunch at the Bellagio

The Chocolate Fountain

Look at these desserts! They were incredible. These were at the bakery in the Bellagio. The pastry chef is from France. We had some pumpkin cheesecake that was to die for.

Thanks Mom and Dad! It was a really fun trip.

This may come as a surprise to some of you...

IT'S A GIRL!!!

Yep, that is right. We are expecting

a little girl that will join our

family this March!

We couldn't be happier!

Why Psychiatry??

Shelly here. For those of you who don't know who I am, let me introduce myself. I am Matt's older and wiser sister. I, like Matt, live in Rochester and therefore, have had the opportunity to witness first hand the difficult time Matt has had in deciding what kind of doctor he wants to be. I am taking it upon myself to inform the readers of this blog of these insights because 1) this blog is LAME and they never post anything, 2) I have witnessed the struggle and 3) I'm his sister...who could be more qualified to analyze Matt than his sister??? (I also came across a few fun photos recently that I thought would be fun post)


We start with Matt in early childhood. I suspect that it may have been during these bath times that the idea of Urology may have planted seeds in Matt's brain. I will not elaborate further on that.

As Matt grew older, the psychiatry tendency began to show up a little. I think that the only thing missing from this outfit Matt is wearing are the leather elbow pads on the jacket. If the bowtie doesn't scream "shrink", I don't know what does!! Doesn't this just look like a boy who can't wait to sit down, cross his legs, sip his tea, and scribble notes about you while you lay on his couch?

But then Urology fights back into Matt's consciousness. He realizes that he is a creature of leisure. He needs to pursue a career that can finance a life in the lap of luxury, as illustrated below. For a time, the thought of sitting on a deck chair, soaking up rays, looking buff and attracting the ladies all but precludes the possibility of psychiatry with its more modest compensation. No, Matt needs the money and the power and the prestige of surgery. How can you look at that self-satisfied look on his face and not see a pompous surgeon?

And yet, Matt's more benevolent nature makes a resurgence. After all, Matt is a complex man, and such complexity demands a certain degree of indecision. Look at this idealistic young man boarding a plane to convert the unwashed Nordic masses! He has just had a first year of philosophy classes at BYU, and a philosophy major is perfect for grooming future psychiatrists. It's also perfect for grooming an introspective, thoughtful young man who relishes meticulous reasoning that doesn't lead to easy answers. Urology gets pushed back again. This impulse is further intensified by the two years Matt spent as a missionary in Norway. His time there was replete with psychoanalysis and philosophical discussions about intense and deep subjects with dozens of strangers, and Matt is fulfilled by his efforts. Psychiatry takes a strong lead.

So it appears that the decision is made (for now). The vacillation that has defined Matt's career path has come to a momentary lull as he seeks his fortunes dissecting his patients, but mentally rather than physically. The only question that remains is what kind of patients? Those who know Matt know there was never any doubt.

The man has a gift with children, and has been told so on numerous occasions. So the quintessential man-child becomes not a pediatrician, but a psychiatrist who serves the needs of children. But give him time, this decision might change too.

Final verdict?

Well, with the love and support of his fun-loving, fist-swallowing wife.....Adolescent / Pediatric Psychiatry, of course!

Come One, Come All!

No comments?

I have no idea why, but I just realized that my blog wasn't including an option to comment on our lovely posts. So I am pleased to announce, the return of the comment!

Para Vocês da Pátria Amada

Use o gadget na direita para traduzir essa página!!!

Amo vocês!!

June 2008

So I know this is totally late, but we have so many pictures from what we have done this summer and I have no other place to put them but on the world wide web for all to enjoy. As most of the photos speak for themselves I will spare you all the exciting descriptions and will give you the short of the long of it.

Wicked in Rochester!

TORONTO!!!

There was Rock n' Roll Festival going on right outside of Hard Rock Cafe and these were some of the performers. I don't know how well you can make it out in this picture but these are little kids playing everything Rock n' Roll you can think of. Pretty impressive!

Matt wearing our IKEA bag as a cape. It was quite a store! So much so we had to go twice in our three days there.

Matt was in heaven eating Swedish meatballs at Ikea!!! It reminded him of Norway. He was like a kid in a candy store.

The reason for the trip...my birthday!

Ode to Father Christmas

That's right, Father Christmas celebrated another year of life yesterday. However, due to his ever increasing fame and popularity, I wasn't able to tell him all the reasons I hoped his birthday was the best yet. Here are the top ten reasons why I love my Dad and hope his birthday was fabulous.

10. Look at him...he's beautiful!!!

9. There aren't many people whose best talent is sweating. "Allow me to blot you!"
8. He is the best at protecting cameras when it is raining using a child's size poncho and delicately curved hands.
7. He provides the best "Grandad Holidays."
6. He is a great example of hard work and generosity.
5. He is always good for a laugh. "Let us look ahead or should I say 'Look a head of lettuce."
4. He has helped me, as well of the rest of his children, attain any goal or desire we have ever had.
3. He invariably could help you solve any problem by first helping you solve a simplified, similar one.

2. He is possibly the best listener I know.

1. He has taught me well the gospel of Jesus Christ through both word and deed.

I LOVE YOU DAD AND HOPE THIS YEAR WILL BE ONE FULL OF LOVE AND JOY!

How many of me are there?

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 48 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I thought this was kind of fun. It looks my name isn't that common with all the other people in the nation. How common is yours?

Addendum: I did all the names in my immediate family and it looks like Brooke and Josh win with themselves being the only people with their names in the country. Brother John had the most with 3,498 people with his name. Everybody else fell somewhere in between.

Fish in a Fish Bowl

Most recently at my place of employment, I have enjoyed having my nice plastic venetian blinds open to allow the warm rays of sun to envelope me as I work. However, lately I have noticed that I have become a fish in a fish bowl. Everyone walking in and out of the building looks at me. And what is even more unsettling is that those who take their smoke break right outside my window will stand and just stare, i hope lost in thought. I will begin to feel someone is looking at me and as soon as my gaze falls outside the window, the perpetrator quickly looks away. I guess it's a change of scenery for all those who sit at a desk all day, but I can't decide if it bothers me or not. For now I enjoy the little sunshine that I can get being inside all day.

Ode to Olympus High

I just spent the last hour or so looking at quite a few blogs linked to the Oly High Class of 2000 blog. I have to say that I loved my high school experience. I don't know if my classmates will agree, but I really felt like my class was particularly close-knit. It was funny as I watched the old yearbook pictures scroll along the top of the blog I could remember most people's names and some random memory I had of each. With Olympus being such a small school and it only having two jr. highs to feed into it, most of us had known each other for at least six or seven years by the time we graduated. For those of us that spent our elementary school days as Cottonwood Condors, high school capped thirteen or fourteen years of day in day out shoulder brushings in the halls and cafeterias at school (FYI - Ms. Bott is the only one still there from our days; I can't believe she is still there plugging away at the fifth grade!). I would love to compile some of the great memories of those years. I particularly felt that with the passing of our dear friend and classmate Dan Holiday we were united and bonded in a very unique way. Those memories, the good, wacky, and sad are priceless. Three cheers to those who put that blog together namely, Crystal Rasmussen and Dan Chan. I really enjoy seeing what people are up to now. We were all so different is so many ways and still are. It's great. Many thanks and good memories!

Is anyone looking?

So you know those moments where there is a complete lapse in judgement? I might have had one of those yesterday. See, I had gone to get my haircut before work, but of course the appointment went a little over so I was running a little late. That wasn't really a big deal, however, due to the haircut I had worn just a t-shirt to the haircut and I needed to change my shirt for work. The fact that I was already late made it seem less appealing to change my shirt once I got to work. As I approached a light that I knew from past experience I would invariably have to stop at, I unbuckled my seat belt. When the car came to a complete stop I pulled my t-shirt over my head and used the shirt I was trying to put on as a shield. As I struggled to do so gracefully I looked up and it hit me. "There is no one in front of me and I'm sure the people on the other side of the intersection are wondering what on earth I am doing." With that thought, the red light turned to green and I went merrily on my way with my button-up shirt unbuttoned hoping that most people would think it was just a cami underneath...hopefully. Last night I started telling Matt and my sister-in-law, Shelly, and it struck me that I am a fool. What was I thinking? Oh well, live and learn. When have you done something that ridiculous?

Time heals all wounds

Aphorism: concise statement containing a personal truth. Usually true, the key word being usually. But not in this case.

Three years ago today I finished my eighteen-month mission for my church in the Brasilia Brasil Mission. One would think three years would be sufficient enough time for any and all wounds to have more than healed. This is where the "Time heals all wounds" aphorism falls miserably short. I am not refering to wounds received by living in Brasil. Conversely, I mean the wounds acquired in departing from Brasil.

It seems like yesterday that I sat on a plane looking down on the Plano Piloto with tears uncontrollably streaming down my face. I didn't feel as though I was leaving a foreign country going home; I was leaving home. Period. Most of you reading this blog probably served missions very much like I did. I know it is cliche within certain circles as you hear one talk about his/her mission and that it totally changed his/her life. Said person would also go back (to the mission) in a second if they could and then launch into a series of vinettes about the experiences both miraculous and funny, he/she had on their mission. However, no matter how cliche it is there is a reason people say that: It's true.

I remember at one point on my mission, I had been out for about six-months and my companion had been out for about six weeks longer than myself. I can even remember exactly which dusty path we were traversing that morning when I commented to my companion, "Those people who say that they would go back on the mission if they could...they are totally lying." I am not going to sugar coat the story. My companion sort of laughed and agreed. It makes me laugh now, since I am one of those people that I was chastising then. This revelation divulges the fact that yes, missions can be and are inevitably very difficult, trying every facet of your being. But, there is something so unique about them that you will spend the rest of your life thinking about it.

I don't know how it works, but I think it has something to do with the phrase repeated throughout the New Testament gospels, "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it." The time I spent "finding" my life in Brasil was so uniquely personal and at the same time universally accessable to all those who heed the Savior's invitation to follow Him and "lose [your] life for [His] sake." Losing my life in the service of the Jesus Christ was the fertile soil in which all the many experiences came that changed me so deeply. Changed my heart. Changed my perspective. Changed my priorities. Changed my relationship with God. The last of which probably preceded and precipitated all the changes mentioned.

I won't try to articulate all the reasons why today three years later my heart still aches and longs for the days of hot, humid Brasil. Or why I can't spell Brasil with a "Z." Or why I can't really talk about anyone there without laughing, telling a story, and then getting choked up. Or why I look at the tropical fruit in the grocery store just to look. Or why I follow people around at festivals or in the store if I hear them speaking Portuguese. Or why I love the fat on large pieces of meat. Or why I love pretending I know how to samba. Or why today, three years later I sit here typing on my computer at 1:01 a.m. with tears streaming down my face. For me it suffices to say, I just wanted to remember why these are wounds that no amount of time or distance (4496 miles or 7235 kilometers, to be exact) can ever heal and I want it that way.

SAUDADES DO BRASIL!

sPAM aNYONE?

i would like to introduce you to the bEST tASTING, mOST eNTERTAINING, hOPEFULLY tHOUGHT pROVOKING, sPONTANEOUS AND vERY zANY sPAM bLOG you have ever experienced. yes, our blog "us in real life" has finally been unlocked. after a week of me bothering the blogger robots our blog was released from blog prison (iT iS a rEALLY sTRANGE pLACE...dON'T wANT tO gO tHERE...iT sEEMS tHERE iS nO oNE rEALLY tHERE...aS iF uNDULY bEING cALLED a sPAM bLOG iSN'T eNOUGH?). i don't know how anyone could think a picture of matt and me is spam!!! any way, it took a whole week, but we are finally here!!! wELCOME uS tO tHE bLOGGER wORLD! i hope our blogging future won't be quite so rocky.
TO THE SPAM THAT NEVER TASTED SO GOOD... hopefully.