tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-350589872024-03-07T01:48:42.494-07:00Genuine DraftUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-74233476660474556942017-10-07T07:52:00.000-07:002017-10-07T07:52:35.465-07:00Muh carr, muh carr!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We bought a second car! We've been a one-car family for TEN YEARS, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to gripe about how inconvenient it's been, and wax poetic about how having a second car is amazing. It's going to be long. Maybe skip down to the picture of our car unless you really want to listen to me complain.<br />
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So, downsides to having just the one car:<br />
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1. It's really hard to take your car in for maintenance. Logistically you need two cars so you can drop one car off at the garage and still have a way to get home. And once your car is in the shop you have no way of getting around, which is especially true if you live in a rural area like we do. All of this leads to not taking as good of care of your car as you should, which is a kind of catch 22. Now that we have two cars, I can take our first car in for some much needed tuning up.<br />
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2. Scheduling problems. When we were first married we lived in Provo, which is very walkable, and if we drove anywhere it was usually together. Then we moved to Eugene, where Sam rode his bike to campus and I had access to the car all the time.<br />
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2.1 Commuting for work.<br />Then we moved to Gallatin, and transportation was a nightmare. Sam <u>had</u> to have the car every day to drive to work 30 minutes away. Except there were days when I also <u>had</u> to have the car to take Edie to the many checkups required of small babies. Which meant all of us driving up to Sam's work, dropping him off, and me driving back with Edie. Which took an hour round trip and was difficult to coordinate with Edie's feeding schedule. And then we'd do it again to pick Sam up from work. All that time and mileage and gas and sun in my eyes, all for a 30 minute doctor's appointment. Blech.<br />
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But most of the time I just stayed home. I spent 18 months unable to go anywhere and it started to get to me.<br /><br /> 2.2 Commuting to church.<br />So we moved up to Portland, 3 miles from Sam's work, so he could bike to work every day (which he enjoys). The trade-off is that we now live 25 minutes from the church building, and we've both ended up in leadership positions since we've lived here. I spent three years as Primary president; we had ward council twice a month (plus a presidency meeting), there was no one to carpool with because of the Church's archaic policies about men and women breathing in the same air, and that meant Sam and Edie just had to come along for the ride and wait it out in the foyer. Except that didn't work when we switched to the early schedule (no way was I going to wake up a baby at 6:30am), so I would drive down by myself, and my sweet sainted visiting teacher would come pick up Sam and Edie and take them to church. It was a huge imposition, and once we had Marty we knew we couldn't keep it up.<br /><br />Now Sam is the Elders Quorum president and he has meetings before church FOUR Sundays a month (two ward councils, one PEC, and one presidency meeting). That's right, I have to go to church an hour and a half early <u>every</u> Sunday for no reason. I sit in the foyer and wrangle Edie and Marty and feed them lunch while we wait for church to start. We leave at 11am for 1pm church and get home around 4:40pm. BUT NO MORE! Now I'll wrangle the kids at home, stuff them in the car, and show up to church ON TIME and no earlier. I have a lot of lost time to reclaim.<br />
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It's a 2014 C-Max SE Hybrid. </div>
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Reasons our new car is awesome:<br />
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1. It's a hybrid. I've been getting 40 MPG!<br />
2. It has all sorts of fancy features I don't know how to use. Our Galant is from 2002 and it has neither bells nor whistles. Now I can change the radio station with a button on my steering wheel! And I can set the lights to go on and off automatically. Fancy!<br />
3. It's a hatchback. I was looking for a station wagon type car, because I was tired of trying to stuff stuff in my trunk. Every time I went to the hardware store I had to get my lumber cut down into smaller pieces. I bought a compound miter saw and spent 20 minutes wedging the box into my trunk, and when I got home I had to cut it out of the box while it was still in the trunk to get it out. Well, no more!<br />
4. It still looks (and smells) shiny and new. That's because I haven't let the kids ride in it yet.<br />
5. It's quiet, partially because it's a hybrid, partially because it's just better insulated from outside noises than our other car. No more car shouting for us!<br />
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That's all. I just wanted to type this up because we waited a long time to get a second car and I want to remember what life was like before awesome futuristic hybrids entered the picture.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-35560701035388322542017-06-23T10:02:00.001-07:002017-06-23T10:02:35.343-07:00The Oregon Part, Part II (July)July 1st everyone came over for a little BBQ and cake for Maranda's birthday, as well as to celebrate Canada Day.<br />
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I had everyone sign my Canada Day banner, of course. This was its 11th year, so it might be time to make a new one.</div>
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There was much baby-hogging of Alexis' new little girl.</div>
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As always, the sand box saw a lot of action.</div>
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And until she actually played in one, I had been thinking about building a sand box for Edie.</div>
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Ben made Uncle Jon hang a paper bag in the tree as a pinata. I believe it was filled with paper cups.</div>
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One night we all went down to the park and played on the swings.</div>
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Andy and Ben took turns swinging with Uncle Fletcher, who would swing at crazy angles that I thought would give me a heart attack. When Dad showed up at the park Andy pointed to Fletcher and said something along the lines of "You've got to try this guy!" like Fletcher was a ride.</div>
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A sibling picture because I think everyone was going their separate ways starting that day or the next. </div>
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Edie playing Legos with cousins.</div>
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And we all went bowling. I thought we had a good time, but either I'm remembering wrong or Jon and Fletcher are pulling an American Gothic.</div>
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Phew, that's the end. Now I can post pictures from my upcoming trips with a clear conscience.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-78011626483156752662017-06-23T09:42:00.000-07:002017-06-23T09:42:18.480-07:00The Oregon Part, Part I (June)Oh mercy, it's been a year and this is just now going up. Let's see what I even remember about this trip.<br />
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There was much hanging out in the backyard around the new sand box.</div>
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Edie enjoyed seeing her Lee cousins this trip.</div>
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Grams saved up all her quarters and let the grandkids divvy them up. In this picture they are fighting over the lone nickel they found.</div>
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Putting Edie to bed was tricky. Without a pack 'n' play all I could do was put her in my bed at her normal bedtime, close the door, let her tire herself out, and hope she was still in the bed when she fell asleep. I was worried she'd fall off the bed, and one time she did. I had to share the bed with her and it turns out she grinds her teeth.</div>
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Edie pushed Simon around in the stroller when we went to OMSI, even though they are roughly the same size.</div>
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Once we found the water room Edie never wanted to leave. It's all we did the whole time we were there.</div>
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There was a sign on the wall saying, hey adults, these green aprons are for you, so I put one on and I was mistaken for an employee several times. A lot of parents left their kids there alone, perhaps thinking I was there to watch all the kids. So I ended up helping kids tie their aprons and find missing shoes. I redistributed the toys and balls, and repeatedly stopped one little girl from drinking the water.</div>
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WINCO, oh sweet WINCO how I've missed you. Fletcher and I went to the movies to see...I don't even remember (I looked it up, it was Finding Dory) and went on a midnight WINCO run afterward. The package of jumbo straws was for Ben, who needed straws to build something he had thought up.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-3984087688605133002016-08-14T15:50:00.000-07:002016-08-14T15:50:39.556-07:00The Idaho LegFrom Utah we drove straight up the family cabin, but not before stopping for "gas," which is to say, we stopped at a 7-11 and I finally got my hands on a Slurpee. There are no Slurpees in all of Tennessee, so this one was a long time coming and it did not disappoint.<br /><br />But then, yes, we arrived at the cabin. Matt and Esther also came up for the week, so on Monday we naturally had to take the girls to the little park that's at the end of the road.<br />
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(This is Faye trying to get Rosie to spit out the dirt she was eating, but I'm pretending it's the other way around and Faye is purposefully feeding Rosie dirt.)</div>
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G.I.R.L. spent a fair amount of time being pushed around by her cousins, but I think they both enjoyed it, so, eh.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk0d7Kj0N6MwNNz8RflzSQihDBFI2ihrD7LYHJima_qX3CkyM0TNuxwlD9_izyu6OwFQL-fzBc-Jp8ClMiYeqLrgCkzXJnaNYJIwEwkqd5csANY3Yg-irl_jufxauuQXwCAFtGg/s1600/IMG_1272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk0d7Kj0N6MwNNz8RflzSQihDBFI2ihrD7LYHJima_qX3CkyM0TNuxwlD9_izyu6OwFQL-fzBc-Jp8ClMiYeqLrgCkzXJnaNYJIwEwkqd5csANY3Yg-irl_jufxauuQXwCAFtGg/s320/IMG_1272.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />On Tuesday D.A.R.E. and his dad took their annual fishing trip...</div>
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Tuesday night brother Carp brought his brood up to visit and we had all five grandkids in the same room. I got exactly one picture where they're all in frame.</div>
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This of course necessitated another trip to the park, where I got enough pictures of everyone on the swings to make a flip book.</div>
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I also got one picture of these two playing nice on the cabin stairs.</div>
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On Wednesday night us younger folks headed into West Yellowstone to see <i>Singin' In the Rain</i> at the Playmill, but not before spending a hefty chunk of change at the fudge shop. (I may or may not have set aside a fudge budget for this trip.) The production was great, but I spent a good portion of it out in the lobby feeling woozy because pregnancy is dumb and something about those seats cut off my circulation. Bummer.</div>
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Thursday we took the girls and a sack of bread to Big Springs and fed the birds.</div>
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Then later that night we made s'mores around the grill.</div>
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Friday we high-tailed it out of town and capped off our trip by eating at the deliciously sacred Trail's Inn. Those fries. I dream about them sometimes.</div>
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We spent the night in SLC at D.A.R.E.'s aunt's house, and G.I.R.L. got to meet her first dog, Bruiser. Sadly there is no video of their encounter, but trust me, it was priceless. She kept creeping up to him, closer and closer each time, until she finally reached out some wiggly fingers and touched his back like she was playing the piano. Then she'd scream and run away, only to repeat the process approximately 10,000 times. Saturday morning we headed for the airport, where D.A.R.E. caught a plane home and I got on a flight with the in-laws (same row, coincidentally enough) headed to Oregon for the last leg of my trip.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-84667941650674819992016-07-10T18:33:00.000-07:002016-07-10T18:33:34.430-07:00Utah Summer vacation recaps happening here. Three states, three posts I guess. Here's Utah.<br />
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In June we went to Utah for a few days for D.A.R.E.'s grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary. We played games, had pictures taken, and just had a good time hanging out with extended family. It was good to see everyone.<br />
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Everyone everyone</div>
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Just D.A.R.E.'s family</div>
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Our family</div>
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G.I.R.L. pretending as a hat</div>
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We took G.I.R.L. swimming for the first time, and I can't say whether or not she enjoyed it. She insisted on being held by one of us the entire time she was in the pool, but fussed when we eventually took her out. Probably the best we could have hoped for. At least it got her used to wearing sandals, which she now enjoys pointing out whenever she sees them (san-mos!).</div>
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We stayed at the Homestead Inn in Midway, but were only there from Friday night to Sunday morning, so I hadn't planned on trying to fit in any visits with my side of the family. Except as we're leaving the resort someone says we're all going to meet up at the McDonald's in Heber for breakfast, and I was like, what?! I know nothing about Utah geography other than that Salt Lake is north of Provo, so I had no idea I was five minutes away from where my oldest sister (First Draft) lives. I called her up real quick, hoping she had late church. I got her at the tail end of Sacrament meeting and she was about to teach Sharing Time in Primary, but she came and met us for four and a half minutes in the Heber McDonald's to say hi and see G.I.R.L. in the flesh. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDh4O-itttpWO2l6Z2E-O9GwcsGKaYXtz0Rkqg6vNaoGuDexkRle5BZ939U-ChCJdpUqKrhv-A68mdrndBXo7CuHaMLYyaM24Hzwm1BFZdjBubHzb7LHmNjHf5mUtg45qa3rpqA/s1600/IMG_1162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDh4O-itttpWO2l6Z2E-O9GwcsGKaYXtz0Rkqg6vNaoGuDexkRle5BZ939U-ChCJdpUqKrhv-A68mdrndBXo7CuHaMLYyaM24Hzwm1BFZdjBubHzb7LHmNjHf5mUtg45qa3rpqA/s320/IMG_1162.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And that was the Utah leg of the trip. The best part was probably hanging out with D.A.R.E.'s cousins in our hotel room playing Fibbage and Drawful. Both are extremely fun games to play with a group. The worst part was dealing with G.I.R.L. on a new schedule. At home she climbs into bed at 8pm and has her meals and milk like clockwork, but on this trip she wouldn't eat or drink or sleep, and it was just stressful. Bleargh.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-55122373556767494822016-06-15T10:00:00.003-07:002016-06-15T10:00:37.935-07:00It sure beats blowing up the kiddie poolLately I've been considering building G.I.R.L. a sand box, mostly because she enjoys climbing into our fire pit, and a sand box seems cleaner somehow. Here she is with her new elephant watering can, just chilling in the fire pit, as one does:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZJJqcPnEIGkVdDJZaBXZtgXreVMjEFV6I9DIJmHA1T4InJ1gg_kiu_5rB2NcEdHvRuJAwBfqpzK2BgDkD9c6hUNtbOHY7q3ZLX_L9l18g1rj_-NDYEkBooHnhN4zsKobBNn9ow/s1600/IMG_0673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZJJqcPnEIGkVdDJZaBXZtgXreVMjEFV6I9DIJmHA1T4InJ1gg_kiu_5rB2NcEdHvRuJAwBfqpzK2BgDkD9c6hUNtbOHY7q3ZLX_L9l18g1rj_-NDYEkBooHnhN4zsKobBNn9ow/s320/IMG_0673.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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Then I thought, maybe she'd just get really dirty and track sand into my already filthy house and I'd have to actually bathe her. I should start small, maybe with a sand table. Then I remembered we live in an oppressively hot state, and jumped from sand table to water table. Yes! A water table would be perfect for the summer. So before I could change my mind I went out and bought a kitchen sink from the ReStore store. I next purchased a bunch of pipes and pipe fittings to build a frame for the sink to rest on at just the right height for an almost-three-year-old. There was much cutting, and measuring, and re-cutting, and a follow-up trip to the hardware store, but it's largely done. Here it is being tested out this morning:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_kmKJCqqMts9bNlGO_dF2BBNG4nA40oj17m-JJdWw9GLYK2AnUOijelsxxZfgvcazri5vw5IZDsB_P5W3zKdrgSZZqvL5NNl5OIq1XMJ-Iod7e7Y8GpJ5viD2D2WVnTLuxcXrg/s1600/first+picture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_kmKJCqqMts9bNlGO_dF2BBNG4nA40oj17m-JJdWw9GLYK2AnUOijelsxxZfgvcazri5vw5IZDsB_P5W3zKdrgSZZqvL5NNl5OIq1XMJ-Iod7e7Y8GpJ5viD2D2WVnTLuxcXrg/s320/first+picture.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm very pleased with how it turned out, but I have to admit to over-engineering it a bit. I got it into my head that it would be neat for the water to drain out the back, which meant fully plumbing the sink. So I installed two sink drains, which connect underneath,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYn2EWZH4yNX_gJeofOHMMY4ow6rohItFwCNrhzyCF40qEJ37nJyG-OkBxKxzAY-wW26KfRm2pKM6KZVlAfJRANxNJA82xu8PpH8wCt58SWVt2s2N1YzdPEa0fRbuBx4w5r3JXuQ/s1600/drain+underneath.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYn2EWZH4yNX_gJeofOHMMY4ow6rohItFwCNrhzyCF40qEJ37nJyG-OkBxKxzAY-wW26KfRm2pKM6KZVlAfJRANxNJA82xu8PpH8wCt58SWVt2s2N1YzdPEa0fRbuBx4w5r3JXuQ/s320/drain+underneath.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">and feed into a drain pipe,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKN1hXj5fKFwTR6em06GKxV1gd_WZPY44VQbTjp5TSRS9GaS2HYQCABBiiAJnG1f9Yb72VZZbOvPlq-D3lsAZ_exakjoJO9OoAQqQd4hagyoKpWmDQmJ8jr6XpW4zy91TF-C-2eg/s1600/under+drain+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKN1hXj5fKFwTR6em06GKxV1gd_WZPY44VQbTjp5TSRS9GaS2HYQCABBiiAJnG1f9Yb72VZZbOvPlq-D3lsAZ_exakjoJO9OoAQqQd4hagyoKpWmDQmJ8jr6XpW4zy91TF-C-2eg/s320/under+drain+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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which runs off the porch and into the yard.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w_MKV0KdjkO2YCJvicgMvHh-FmVPL88l-D6CPrUBUmkQgl_LyFdximW72gfmEcT9qp-3Hdm-SvW8mVGii5AQ-biZdtYneqVb3JL_MhNtVlZbJSYyo-1M0zE4Q6zLTdGQkYvACA/s1600/drain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w_MKV0KdjkO2YCJvicgMvHh-FmVPL88l-D6CPrUBUmkQgl_LyFdximW72gfmEcT9qp-3Hdm-SvW8mVGii5AQ-biZdtYneqVb3JL_MhNtVlZbJSYyo-1M0zE4Q6zLTdGQkYvACA/s320/drain.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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(What I probably should have done was just install the two drains and put buckets underneath to catch the water when I pulled the plugs.)</div>
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I actually took a video of this draining, in case, you know, someone out there has never seen water come out of a pipe before, but I'll spare you from having to watch such a fascinating clip. Instead, here's G.I.R.L. with a sponge:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHnEOniH4kQ-83fcyb0JefkTqDuJehS_bkb_fpP38Nm5m2qnqjyWnXUp_jAAXBZlah0TihwgbGhohXoxX23D4HdLRLxQ9XQ8wOwGoCvgOPoIgmO_Z1E6dH4Fqg2MLArH31gjRyw/s1600/sponge+drip.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHnEOniH4kQ-83fcyb0JefkTqDuJehS_bkb_fpP38Nm5m2qnqjyWnXUp_jAAXBZlah0TihwgbGhohXoxX23D4HdLRLxQ9XQ8wOwGoCvgOPoIgmO_Z1E6dH4Fqg2MLArH31gjRyw/s320/sponge+drip.JPG" width="239" /></a><br /><br />Fishing around in the deep:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCojHdQ7y9iVJdouZCbsCeBFxMNZ71xNPJpk_446spULFCLJnQVF3jMUMscHI7-lf_Y4WdcFRMzoX8zGEpHx87C7LaaXmqJ8PeyeaIEEA7zEw4qj36a4p-SS45obT9sBDICm3rJA/s1600/deep+arm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCojHdQ7y9iVJdouZCbsCeBFxMNZ71xNPJpk_446spULFCLJnQVF3jMUMscHI7-lf_Y4WdcFRMzoX8zGEpHx87C7LaaXmqJ8PeyeaIEEA7zEw4qj36a4p-SS45obT9sBDICm3rJA/s320/deep+arm.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And here she is with a puppet she found on the porch (abandoned by one of my day campers), which she greatly enjoyed dunking in the water until it fell apart:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSrM-XrE8F2V-6CLJdOqgmV-XOAbxfhVn0NjGX02ohNpnv-bAv-vj-UGnaAmif-42yKjJMu_mtwNHDyzlO0U1OYFvcdyVlrQnurXlbQcmJuup3QZdDHSEEbtmyhNCXs1PvksAMTA/s1600/puppet+dunk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSrM-XrE8F2V-6CLJdOqgmV-XOAbxfhVn0NjGX02ohNpnv-bAv-vj-UGnaAmif-42yKjJMu_mtwNHDyzlO0U1OYFvcdyVlrQnurXlbQcmJuup3QZdDHSEEbtmyhNCXs1PvksAMTA/s320/puppet+dunk.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Three things of note: </div>
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<br />1. The frame is made out of pvc pipe, which I cemented together, except for the very bottom portion of the legs. This way I can pull them off and replace them with slightly longer legs as G.I.R.L. gets taller, which, the doctors assure me, will probably happen.</div>
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2. Because this water table is on a porch/deck as opposed to a patio, G.I.R.L. slipped and fell down a lot. I'll be purchasing a rubber doormat in the near future.</div>
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3. There are four holes at the top of the sink, where a faucet would normally be installed. I have some vague plans to put some pipes there so that fun doo-dads, like water wheels and funnels, can be attached to them.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-27854315715306165882015-02-21T12:37:00.001-07:002015-02-21T12:37:49.977-07:00Ode to an 18-month-old<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnq6l09asHHAZ7U7c9jM70eAnIMrJR1qVevc5_rUUxWJc476yJHmqezxz9cunxsC76DCIqzyGlaUBJnG-RwSOnQ15cDd44fiJlJlQN7cutuzNAUBuwrVFZxlhSszFJnizXM-qRg/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnq6l09asHHAZ7U7c9jM70eAnIMrJR1qVevc5_rUUxWJc476yJHmqezxz9cunxsC76DCIqzyGlaUBJnG-RwSOnQ15cDd44fiJlJlQN7cutuzNAUBuwrVFZxlhSszFJnizXM-qRg/s1600/snow.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Things on my kitchen floor that don't belong there:<br />
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1. wagon wheel apple slicer<br />
2. pair of slipper shoes<br />
3. pink plastic necklace<br />
4. Roomba spinner brush that keeps detaching itself<br />
5. bike helmet<br />
6. orange kazoo<br />
7. one red Elmo shoe, size 5.5<br />
8. one sandal, size 9<br />
9. 1/2 of an Ikea train track bridge. Possibly the going up side. Possibly the going down side.<br />
10. messenger bag<br />
11. combination pen/stylus that was behind a closed door and yet ended up behind the fridge<br />
13. dish brush<br />
14. booster seat tray<br />
15. silver Sharpie<br />
16. two wooden spoons<br />
17. three plastic cups<br />
18. the lid to the trash can<br />
19. an apron<br />
20. pink plastic dreidel<br />
21. a rubber ear<br />
22. outdated Home Teaching assignment slip<br />
23. list of plants we plan on planting in our potential garden<br />
24. lid to a cottage cheese container with something decidedly not cottage cheese on it<br />
25. lid to a baby food container<br />
26. Food bits. So many food bits.<br />
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Bonus items that Edie got out and placed on the floor in the minute it took me to write down this list:<br />
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27. bottle drying rack<br />
28. one dish towel (she grabbed for more and was restrained)<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-71502052004872203792014-10-04T16:16:00.002-07:002014-10-04T16:16:56.813-07:00The swing of things<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhyphenhyphen1ZrlnUBrKdwIEJJeq5RcVtTXmPd2F5oEvNPxK5U5cIWFnEwrk9OCZcAfZaXExemLOSuZFUcIqRwmx6VSd5Se0d7k_JMUAUVccWKLontlG3-KqyI-AdREHUNtfJQ1h5zkGVwA/s1600/IMG_1062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhyphenhyphen1ZrlnUBrKdwIEJJeq5RcVtTXmPd2F5oEvNPxK5U5cIWFnEwrk9OCZcAfZaXExemLOSuZFUcIqRwmx6VSd5Se0d7k_JMUAUVccWKLontlG3-KqyI-AdREHUNtfJQ1h5zkGVwA/s1600/IMG_1062.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
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I want to get back into blogging, but I feel obligated to catch up on everything that's happened in the last year and a half. So here goes:<br />
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1. Optimistic. graduated from UO.<br />
2. We had a baby.<br />3. We moved to Tennessee.<br />4. I made an accidental lemon cake.<br />5. I got a haircut.<br /><br />There. All caught up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-14323284388750193802013-05-20T15:03:00.000-07:002013-05-20T15:03:27.172-07:00Come on down!I serve on my ward's RS meeting committee, and our most recent activity was all about becoming more self-reliant and spending our money wisely. We had people make presentations about couponing, smart shopping, and organization, and then I got to host the last segment. I say host because my part of the presentation consisted of playing games from The Price Is Right!<br />
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To make things fun I had the theme music play as I called contestants up, and I even made a skinny black microphone, just like Bob Barker always used:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcHNXcyRvDSu5dgeKkRlng0vneiUSWyxC6KNvc2WhAl4uf9bLXD7vIImsNIAsbOLlcrfWWTuzCEPk6sCzIXsDiaFRavrKt4IGx1OT_u2-8ej5RS_8SijbdF8NgTQuISAhHmEewQ/s1600/IMG_20130520_135042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcHNXcyRvDSu5dgeKkRlng0vneiUSWyxC6KNvc2WhAl4uf9bLXD7vIImsNIAsbOLlcrfWWTuzCEPk6sCzIXsDiaFRavrKt4IGx1OT_u2-8ej5RS_8SijbdF8NgTQuISAhHmEewQ/s1600/IMG_20130520_135042.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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The first game was Pick A Pair, which doesn't entail much. You have 6 items, made up of three pairs that cost the same amount. All the contestant has to do to win is correctly pick a pair, but I went a step further and had them try and pair up all three. Contestant # 1 knocked it out of the park.<br />
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For all the items I used little boxes as display stands, which looked something like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitr078elP-jDrq7nKPKaIwszQmq07XxTHEgiKD0XieOMjU1HhOjRzcs_HhQZST64uOQ87eoVD-Iz-TbYcEfUV57p_X54KoeUO7nQ-4SO8KTNZJ-mw4OUI0NtbagqrZ9SKJIpSc8Q/s1600/IMG_20130520_135330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitr078elP-jDrq7nKPKaIwszQmq07XxTHEgiKD0XieOMjU1HhOjRzcs_HhQZST64uOQ87eoVD-Iz-TbYcEfUV57p_X54KoeUO7nQ-4SO8KTNZJ-mw4OUI0NtbagqrZ9SKJIpSc8Q/s1600/IMG_20130520_135330.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I taped up the box flaps with the prices behind them, so all I had to do was cut the tape for a dramatic reveal.<br />
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The second game was Punch-A-Bunch. I picked this one because I already have a small reusable punch board I made for a Primary lesson. All I had to do was switch out the tissue paper and add some dollar signs:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMtVosPYTfaWlpftUV14zlDJaTSwOPTjXo_lD9LCfSjKNZbD8yq81Occrus832ZJkCxiRnD1WdSNdj3Ss_uvCN70MGyTuCA1GPhHYfXRurtEaFCnlHo7wKFgdLdD80LgSw9q8jw/s1600/IMG_20130520_135010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMtVosPYTfaWlpftUV14zlDJaTSwOPTjXo_lD9LCfSjKNZbD8yq81Occrus832ZJkCxiRnD1WdSNdj3Ss_uvCN70MGyTuCA1GPhHYfXRurtEaFCnlHo7wKFgdLdD80LgSw9q8jw/s1600/IMG_20130520_135010.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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For this game Contestant #2 had to look at 4 items and tell me whether they were priced too high or too low. For every correct answer she got to punch a hole in the punch board, behind which cash prizes awaited. This was a very low-budget affair and the cash prizes were coming out of my spare change collection, so I priced them between 5 cents and 5 dollars. Luckily for me Contestant #2 got greedy, passed on getting $2, and ended up with 5 cents.<br />
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The best game I saved for last. Perhaps you remember a certain TPIR game called <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZlog_DcerA">Cliffhangers</a>, which debuted in 1976? Well, here's my miniature version, complete with a tiny yodeler who moves up and down the mountain:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdZBaxf4BAqDW0BHbPIw2v3A4-ArpeQ0GPWM87za1yusoki_WdFGg0upoOyBHCAfSK5KQkNbjE8VnmnA4zztZJpE0lQDQA_LskJJez1OuhvstYgT4ICzvuIfujzFB4TwY5K3_LQ/s1600/IMG_20130520_131829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdZBaxf4BAqDW0BHbPIw2v3A4-ArpeQ0GPWM87za1yusoki_WdFGg0upoOyBHCAfSK5KQkNbjE8VnmnA4zztZJpE0lQDQA_LskJJez1OuhvstYgT4ICzvuIfujzFB4TwY5K3_LQ/s1600/IMG_20130520_131829.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Contestant #3 had to price three items, and for every ten cents she was off the yodeler climbed higher and higher up the mountain to the yodeling song from the show. Luckily she didn't go over, because my yodeler is on a string loop, meaning I couldn't make him fall off the mountain if I tried. Even so, I'm very proud I was able to build a miniature version of the game.<br />
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Here's the yodeler up close:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHa5LkYsXRrjtgIdMkslYszy-Z2nlnEc9zGkLOvn95mzeNmYloLY119UyustMtNo5GyvLNC4FLqnP7RIjOF1pmT1LZ8m0cZiMrP1qN5EDkh6J1AcIW1mw4ouiccSWp2Zz5_l5O9Q/s1600/IMG_20130520_135134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHa5LkYsXRrjtgIdMkslYszy-Z2nlnEc9zGkLOvn95mzeNmYloLY119UyustMtNo5GyvLNC4FLqnP7RIjOF1pmT1LZ8m0cZiMrP1qN5EDkh6J1AcIW1mw4ouiccSWp2Zz5_l5O9Q/s1600/IMG_20130520_135134.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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And here you can see the backside of the game, and how I had to weigh the yodeler down with pennies to keep him from flipping over to the front:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRExPkkFrtg8B8WvIvTtyQhYdkwtYrlBr8RpgvDMXfokxmp0vTE90VM6Z1eeNKhb2xZwuk9unJfbIEDSJ84WVekZ7H4DMUtvKBFB7TisEHR8L87mI07Bx7QJEF3avz0ATNzz0Fg/s1600/IMG_20130520_131950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRExPkkFrtg8B8WvIvTtyQhYdkwtYrlBr8RpgvDMXfokxmp0vTE90VM6Z1eeNKhb2xZwuk9unJfbIEDSJ84WVekZ7H4DMUtvKBFB7TisEHR8L87mI07Bx7QJEF3avz0ATNzz0Fg/s1600/IMG_20130520_131950.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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He moves on a string that runs through three metal loops, so all I have to do is pull and up he goes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1AhyGK7Ido2u89hZmsrk2SiQWuik-Dac4zDNElUalDC74VqGiquiLCJhgt6QwUs2ysEJpLjI-e0jJC2bFLbM-DqsswXEDr_dU92gxhdA3ccmlamvOzoQO_0yjl9OigFEFYaXUA/s1600/IMG_20130520_131938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1AhyGK7Ido2u89hZmsrk2SiQWuik-Dac4zDNElUalDC74VqGiquiLCJhgt6QwUs2ysEJpLjI-e0jJC2bFLbM-DqsswXEDr_dU92gxhdA3ccmlamvOzoQO_0yjl9OigFEFYaXUA/s1600/IMG_20130520_131938.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Perhaps the best part of the night was after the activity when I was putting everything away, and a few sisters came up and said how much fun they'd had. One of the sisters in particular is newer in the ward, so we don't know much about each other, and our conversation went like this:</div>
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her: That's so neat that you made the game from the show.</div>
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me: Well, I had a lot of fun building it. It isn't good for much outside of playing Cliffhangers, but I promised Optimistic. he could play with it when I got home, so he's excited about that.</div>
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her: And how old is he?</div>
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me: Ummm...thirty.</div>
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her: Oh, I thought he was your little boy!</div>
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me: No, he's just a fan of game shows. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-3046791270221215592013-04-11T13:36:00.000-07:002013-04-11T13:36:05.799-07:00How I Spend My Wednesday Afternoons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEp2f6e43dgwuugqrfFeqbCzVwYT8BqxqdgARDeAVheGNt97knTNbm-FWwYqb1ciu01vDQy6FL9nuQoZIKz537yxPhzN96h63MXo9fHghiYlG_fj7dDt0SdQguKXUp_FNwUqG2w/s1600/boy_scout_with_oath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEp2f6e43dgwuugqrfFeqbCzVwYT8BqxqdgARDeAVheGNt97knTNbm-FWwYqb1ciu01vDQy6FL9nuQoZIKz537yxPhzN96h63MXo9fHghiYlG_fj7dDt0SdQguKXUp_FNwUqG2w/s1600/boy_scout_with_oath.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
As you may or may not know, Optimistic. and I are Cub Scout den leaders, which means we spend an hour every Wednesday trying to teach things to squirrely eight-year-olds. We've done a lot of fun things recently (learning how to hammer nails, building a birdhouse, making our own Chia heads), and the boys are most of the way done earning their Wolf, but they still have a handful of incredibly boring things to pass off. To help the medicine go down a little easier, we try to turn everything into a game.<br />
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Yesterday our meeting centered around how to interact with strangers and what to do in different emergency situations. What do you do when a stranger comes to the door, what do you do when a stranger calls on the phone, who do you call in case of an emergency? Stuff like that. To make a game out of it, we played "Stump the Boy Left Home Alone." Basically we had the boys take turns pretending the door to the primary room was their front door, and the rest of us would knock on the door and try to convince the boy to let us in for some reason or another. I was worried that the boys might not be able to come up with compelling reasons to be let in, so I gave them a few ideas of people to pretend to be, like a policeman, or a new neighbor, or a meter reader. I needn't have worried. On the first go-around Boy #1 answered the door, and Boy #2, without so much as a preliminary hello, hit him in the face and then said "Oh, let me come in and give you an ice pack." I have to admit, I thought that was pretty creative. Another boy simply refused to answer the door, which I thought was a wise tactic, until he made the mistake of coming up to the window in the door where we could see him and yelling "I'm not home!"<br />
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After that we practiced answering the phone, making sure to impress upon the boys the importance of etiquette and personal safety. The phrases "They can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?" and "May I ask who's calling?" were the two biggies, as we wanted to stress that a) it isn't safe to reveal that you're home alone, and b) you should always find out who's on the other end of the line. Optimistic. managed to trip up the first boy, who never asked who was calling and managed to reveal that his parents weren't home. The second boy failed on etiquette and paused when asked if his parents were home, but managed to demand "who's this?" and take down a pretend message.<br />
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Things only got better when we practiced emergency phone calls (the idea being that the boys should be able to calmly answer a 911 operator's questions during an emergency). As a fake 911 operator I received a call from one of the boys calling about a fire. He said he was a man inside a burning house. When I told him to get outside and wait for the fire department, he told me he had no legs. I asked if there was anyone else in the house with him, and was told that there was no one but his pet horse. When asked why he didn't ride his pet horse to safety, he responded that without his legs he wasn't tall enough to mount the horse. At that point I gave in and asked why he kept a pet horse if he couldn't ride it. In the end I needlessly advised him to stay low to the ground (no legs, remember?) and assured him that the fire department would be there soon.<br />
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It's a frustrating calling to have at times, but mostly it's just really really amusing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-66894162412424918832013-03-04T23:53:00.004-07:002013-03-04T23:53:55.055-07:00"Must be the hormones."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWRt1iE5ZdWtWdMXOHICOYnvXrfydSDiNaxY-lnzUL1oB7h8EW0Qies8TriBS-irzI3w3fw_m7Uyxj5K0RfsPnD5c0cYj5KeVJFUH2pDX3d9b3G8jdtOHLtk1I9Y3oZlHjc2LXA/s1600/IMG_20130303_111559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWRt1iE5ZdWtWdMXOHICOYnvXrfydSDiNaxY-lnzUL1oB7h8EW0Qies8TriBS-irzI3w3fw_m7Uyxj5K0RfsPnD5c0cYj5KeVJFUH2pDX3d9b3G8jdtOHLtk1I9Y3oZlHjc2LXA/s320/IMG_20130303_111559.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Yesterday I went to open a banana and the top tore right off. Either this was a particularly brittle banana or I don't know my own strength. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-53169368041068958742013-02-14T18:31:00.000-07:002013-02-14T18:32:21.139-07:00In the family wayFor those who haven't heard, we're expecting a baby at the end of August. Today, Valentine's Day, is the end of my first trimester. Yes, we are excited. No, I will not be posting any baby bump pictures or ultrasounds. I will, however, suggest you watch these two gems to fully celebrate this momentous announcement:<br />
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Lastly, all future baby-related posts will appear on our new blog, <a href="http://salmontamsen.blogspot.com/">salmontamsen.blogspot.com</a>. Check it out.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-73810299058790043002012-11-10T14:07:00.000-07:002012-11-10T17:04:23.573-07:00A spoonful of peanut butter helps the medicine go down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiGlouI4KVgzSA5sfqP2gwTZAzpc6OAvaF7kFl8zpe6MZHe4GJ9wIvTZZSejNbDm1gfFNk56-M1eAcXx1WF9D87nUVYqaodALKc-cs7FiA5-cNpoBvclUmv4c0ViUXEJXpEfc-w/s1600/5-ingredient-peanut-butter-chocolate-chip-cookies-lg-157762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiGlouI4KVgzSA5sfqP2gwTZAzpc6OAvaF7kFl8zpe6MZHe4GJ9wIvTZZSejNbDm1gfFNk56-M1eAcXx1WF9D87nUVYqaodALKc-cs7FiA5-cNpoBvclUmv4c0ViUXEJXpEfc-w/s1600/5-ingredient-peanut-butter-chocolate-chip-cookies-lg-157762.jpg" /></a></div>
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Most people don't believe me when I tell them my mom baked cookies every day, or every other day, depending on how long a batch lasted, but the fact remains that I had a home-baked peanut butter chocolate chip cookie available to me every day of my childhood. And even better, she let us eat the dough as she was making it. That's right, no bowl-licking for us, because we were allowed to pinch two spoonfuls of dough before the rest of it got rolled into balls and baked.<br />
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I make those cookies myself now, the exact same recipe my mother used, only I let them come out of the oven slightly underbaked, so they're gloriously soft, and I use bigger chocolate chips (milk chocolate, even though my mom insists on using semi-sweet), but at their core they're the same cookies I had as a kid. Optimistic., who loves all things peanut butter, didn't know I had this cookie recipe up my sleeve when he married me, and he claims it is the best surprise of his life.<br />
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Well, I certainly don't make these cookies every day, seeing as how there's just the two of us, but every few months or so I whip up a big double batch to put in the cookie jar. Months back I was making a batch, and, remembering how much I loved stealing spoonfuls of dough, I thought Optimistic. might like to lick the spoon I'd used to measure out the peanut butter. He was is the office watching sports, just a few feet from the kitchen, so I called out, "Want to lick the peanut butter spoon?" Spoon in hand I peeked into the office to see him with his mouth gaping wide, awaiting a spoonful of peanut-buttery goodness, so I walked up and stuck the spoon in his mouth. He immediately gagged and spluttered, and pulling the spoon from his mouth asked "Why did you do that?!" Turns out he hadn't heard me ask if he wanted to lick the spoon at all, and his mouth was coincidentally agape due to having just witnessed some sort of amazing sports play.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-21648543305380954902012-09-10T09:49:00.000-07:002012-09-10T09:49:17.548-07:00Pinkies out.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQxLdAxxDPKohdToEa5FyrTmwtM-GVWSsfy9-uEavqqWEhwVXjqgxVHMk9u57HcihmnnxOpmDmkrW-4WgEiy0F64zbRRjRTT0GOq8xtXnD-QMy5lgXNvUb8tWzlbxn7pSR1jeww/s1600/cucumbersandwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQxLdAxxDPKohdToEa5FyrTmwtM-GVWSsfy9-uEavqqWEhwVXjqgxVHMk9u57HcihmnnxOpmDmkrW-4WgEiy0F64zbRRjRTT0GOq8xtXnD-QMy5lgXNvUb8tWzlbxn7pSR1jeww/s320/cucumbersandwich.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This Friday I went to a tea party-themed baby shower, where dainty and fragile were the watchwords of the day. Real china, gourmet cupcakes, and of course, that quintessential shower food, the crustless cucumber sandwich. (How crust went out of style I'll never know.)<br />
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The question I pose is this: Was there ever a stranger juxtaposition than eating a dainty crustless cucumber sandwich off of fine china while the women at your table describe what it sounds like to have your uterus vacuumed out after a C-section? I declare that there is not. If I ever eat another cucumber sandwich it will be too soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-53732899671796583852012-08-22T16:52:00.001-07:002012-08-22T16:52:17.063-07:00An early-morning encounter with a Ouija slug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdvPknF23v-P24h24z8qZZ0ZuT5jZczGyfiPAAYTEyuTocJYoyaYhX5kWKlg6tP7XUsXrZdk6FLnKJgOCU3Y6so_e4hWA6P7SABS834NxrHoET0NCO7PwJ1KPxGsVZlnDwtrHcA/s1600/slug_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdvPknF23v-P24h24z8qZZ0ZuT5jZczGyfiPAAYTEyuTocJYoyaYhX5kWKlg6tP7XUsXrZdk6FLnKJgOCU3Y6so_e4hWA6P7SABS834NxrHoET0NCO7PwJ1KPxGsVZlnDwtrHcA/s320/slug_logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Yesterday morning I made my way downstairs to go to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and immediately noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was a dark blob in the shower. What was it, a giant beetle, and should I squish it? I didn't have my glasses on, so I edged closer to discover...a slug! Okay, squishing was out, because although slugs <i>look</i> squishy they are actually unpleasantly firm, sinewy, and sticky. (A fact which anyone who has ever stepped on a slug in their bare feet can attest to.) What to do? Salt it? Set it free? While I was making up my mind the slug started moving.<br />
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Slug: (squirm squirm squirm)</div>
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Me: Ah, you're making an "S." Well, all slugs can do that.</div>
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Slug: (wriggle wriggle wriggle)</div>
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Me: Oh, a "W." Now <i>that's</i> pretty impressive. I didn't think you were long enough for that. What's that you're doing now?</div>
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Slug: (writhe writhe writhe)</div>
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Me: Is it a "C"? No, a "J." Or is it an "A"? I feel like you need some vowels if you're going to spell something. Is that what you're doing? </div>
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Slug: (flop flop flop)</div>
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Me: Of course, it seems to me you'd have a hard time doing really angular letters, like a "T" for instance. How could you possibly make a "T"? You couldn't, could you, and what if that were your next letter? </div>
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Slug: (sludge sludge sludge)</div>
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Me: What is it boy, what are you trying to tell me? Wait a minute - S,W, A...T. SWAT! Sweet jeepers, is that it? Are they watching the house right now? You can just nod your head or something, you don't have to spell it all out.</div>
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Slug: (slalom, slalom, slalom)</div>
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Me: I think I'd better put you outside, otherwise they'll know we had time to talk.</div>
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And with that I tore a page out of a magazine, scooped him up, tossed him and the paper out the front door, and went back upstairs to bed, where my last thoughts before sleep consisted of wondering whether or not the slugs were trying to contact me, and if they were, would Hermione Granger be willing to relinquish her title of Queen of the Slugs to me?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-25469252489242148772012-06-11T17:53:00.001-07:002012-06-11T17:53:30.424-07:00I hope to make dozens of dollars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYdG7-FCBZa5kdmWKC0EXW0TQnyHBDkUN4ViTPsK9xhqmFl0IDnxYIogLRKDm08-z3whkU7EpTA25PWCyVPo9xvPfkwyPLWQ6a9FxNW7c8-10WDsaIIaRsmcEI7ms3P0RTdBa5w/s1600/DSCN9518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYdG7-FCBZa5kdmWKC0EXW0TQnyHBDkUN4ViTPsK9xhqmFl0IDnxYIogLRKDm08-z3whkU7EpTA25PWCyVPo9xvPfkwyPLWQ6a9FxNW7c8-10WDsaIIaRsmcEI7ms3P0RTdBa5w/s320/DSCN9518.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Friends, family, blog stalkers, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/EuniceEustaceDesigns?ref=si_shop">my Etsy shop</a> is now officially up and running. Tell your friends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-27393464523575539582012-04-09T10:10:00.005-07:002012-04-09T10:53:07.857-07:00My Ting-A-Ling<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HPk1ylJv-gBRpqAxnKs3kJRkBRl5S0DQ8GNa7OJuONKSs6yg_GNPdYeG5i7Eiar_azn9cyMzc7tJ_JK3_V8eJ9gvtYvP7meGhJVitHP1cupaK4e5Qm3el3C4pjlJKhfdlsnl8A/s1600/BuckarooBanzai.png" style="font-size: 100%; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HPk1ylJv-gBRpqAxnKs3kJRkBRl5S0DQ8GNa7OJuONKSs6yg_GNPdYeG5i7Eiar_azn9cyMzc7tJ_JK3_V8eJ9gvtYvP7meGhJVitHP1cupaK4e5Qm3el3C4pjlJKhfdlsnl8A/s320/BuckarooBanzai.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729454435720774402" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 100%; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">We recently switched phone providers and had to buy new phones while we were at it. This was for the best, because Fact: my old phone actually had to be plugged in for me to use it, somewhat defeating the purpose of owning a mobile phone. Anyway, we're now with </span><a href="https://ting.com/" style="font-size: 100%; ">Ting</a><span style="font-size: 100%;"> (which you all should seriously consider looking into). There was some initial irritation on our part when they accidentally mailed one of our new phones to the wrong state, but all is forgiven. Do you want to know why? Because today when I called in to get my phone activated and was briefly put on hold while he looked </span>something<span style="font-size: 100%;"> up, some </span></span>familiar<span style="font-size: 100%;"> music started playing. Some </span></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">very</i><span style="font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-size: 100%;"> familiar music. Fact: it was the theme music from <i>The </i></span><i>Adventures</i><span><i style="font-size: 100%; "> of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension</i><span style="font-size: 100%;">. I couldn't do anything for a full minute but laugh, I was so pleasantly surprised. Ting, you've won my </span>allegiance<span style="font-size: 100%;">.</span></span></span><div style="font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-size: 100%; font-family: Georgia, serif; "><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">In short, if you want my new number, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">or think I ought to have yours but don't,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "> shoot me an email.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; "><span><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-71235754049321002912012-02-06T17:10:00.007-07:002012-02-06T18:49:39.417-07:00VHS tapes OR How I spent My Summer Vacation OR I Think It Might Be Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5V0LAE1wZjN71zr3v_TeAZePTX4DQsbWPoTlLCNY5lOP7FM1sKHlEzvbx8oFY4_Kgpz1tue5cgmmg29VaOUBhS32WAPZS7AbltplBUjPeR8AXO4TwHJQivd95pELOau0v51tJgw/s1600/dudley.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5V0LAE1wZjN71zr3v_TeAZePTX4DQsbWPoTlLCNY5lOP7FM1sKHlEzvbx8oFY4_Kgpz1tue5cgmmg29VaOUBhS32WAPZS7AbltplBUjPeR8AXO4TwHJQivd95pELOau0v51tJgw/s320/dudley.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706202943293748706" /></a><br />For my sixteenth birthday my parents bought me a little TV with a built-in VCR, and man did I love it. Suddenly I could tape shows and watch them whenever I wanted. And if someone was watching TV upstairs, no biggie, I could go downstairs and watch something else. My TV even had a timer setting that would turn it on automatically, so I used it as an alarm clock, sleeping with the remote under my pillow. That's why I was so confused when I learned that John Ritter had died. I heard it on the early morning news when my TV turned on, but then I fell back asleep, and it worked its way into my dreams. So when I heard the news later that morning, I was sure I had made it happen. I dreamed he died, and then he was really dead. Heaven help us, no one was safe!<div><br /></div><div>Mostly though, I watched a lot of TV and TV on DVD. That Christmas I got the second season of <i>Gilmore Girls</i>, and so during the post-present-opening-lull that comes Christmas afternoon when you've already given up on leaving the house because it would mean having to shower, my brother Rough Draft and I watched <i>Gilmore Girls</i>. After nine straight hours spent loafing in the dark watching the the antics of Rory and Lorelai, we agreed to take a break in order to get something to eat. Five minutes later, having consumed some crackers and water, we re-glued ourselves to my little TV screen and finished off the season. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then there was the time that M-Lite started cleaning her room. With her bed a mess of clothes and items to be sorted, she came downstairs to sleep in my room where I had not one, but three beds set up. It was only supposed to be for a night, but it somehow stretched into a month. She kept all her things upstairs, but every night she'd come down to my room to watch TV (we tried to get into <i>Cold Case</i>) and end up staying there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Nearly ten years later, I still have my little TV. I keep it in my craft room so I can have something on in the background while I work on things, which means I also have a small collection of VHS tapes. Too small, in fact. Because while I don't mind popping in and out of the room to rinse out paintbrushes during entertaining-but-mostly-just-stupid movies (<i>Center Stage</i>), there are others that I'd feel guilty for missing a single syllable of (<i>Little Women</i>). It's a problem of both quantity and quality, and the only solution I could see was getting my hands on more VHS tapes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I was at Goodwill looking for a dresser, and while I struck out on that front (only ugly couches as far as the eye could see) I came across a bin of movies on VHS being sold for, get this, 10 for $0.99! At that price it was all I could do not to fill up my trunk!</div><div><br /></div><div>Shall I tell you what I purchased? In no particular order, here are the gems I saw fit to buy:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. <i>Fiddler on the Roof</i> (tradition!)</div><div><br /></div><div>2. <i>His Girl Friday</i></div><div><br /></div><div>3. <i>Great Sports Moments of the 80's</i> (for Optimistic.)<br /><br /></div><div>4. <i>The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings<br /></i><br /></div><div>5. <i>Titanic</i> (a total guilty pleasure movie)<br /><br /></div><div>6. <i>The Great Escape</i> (I've been wanting to watch this for weeks, and there it was!)<br /><br /></div><div>7. <i>Mouse Hunt</i> (Optimistic.'s family hates this movie (for obvious reasons), so the look on his face when he sees that this wretched movie has crossed the threshold of our house will make it ten cents well spent.)<br /><br /></div><div>8. <i>Hook</i><br /><br /></div><div>9. <i>How The Grinch Stole Christmas</i> (I <i>would</i> touch this film with a 39 1/2 foot pole)<br /><br /></div><div>10. <i>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid </i>(an absolute classic)<br /><br /></div><div>11. <i>Hockey Fights & Big Hits</i> (also for Optimistic.)<br /><br /></div><div>12.<i> Grease</i> (also one I've been meaning to watch, not because I like it, but because I got a line from it stuck in my head and I won't be able to get it out of my system until I watch it through.)<br /><br /></div><div>13. <i>The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle</i> (This is a collection of four episodes and it's a big deal that I found this, because on the back cover there's a picture from my all-time favorite episode of <i>Dudley Do-Right</i>, where Snidely Whiplash makes a suit out of Marigolds and gets away with committing his evil deeds because Dudley's allergic to him. I might die from happiness, people.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Not purchased (through tremendous self-restraint) were <i>Gargoyles </i>("What could make claw marks in solid stone?"), <i>Blank Check</i> ("It says all you can eat, not all you can eat <i>here</i>"), and <i>Rookie of the Year </i>("Hot ice! That's right, I heat up the ice cubes. It's the best of both worlds!"). All in all, I'm very pleased with the mix I ended up with. And now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I've got some movie-watching to do.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-18865272240523182092011-09-30T13:02:00.009-07:002012-11-10T13:26:27.008-07:00The adequate, forgettable, and occasionally regrettable<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YGuf2EQGQX53P-D26nYDQotkgO5_01zTqyHZy2id5xOM6AsoXswHR_75bMFzwJVhXyd2Owk_1C3k08CZLT_HLu_f4orZgwsoA1lBo-yWwbhGluRzT3tBwmteP_ub44VQBhZYlw/s1600/mt+rushmore.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658256600773328994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YGuf2EQGQX53P-D26nYDQotkgO5_01zTqyHZy2id5xOM6AsoXswHR_75bMFzwJVhXyd2Owk_1C3k08CZLT_HLu_f4orZgwsoA1lBo-yWwbhGluRzT3tBwmteP_ub44VQBhZYlw/s320/mt+rushmore.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 202px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /></a><br />
An interesting thing about Eugene is that it has streets named after <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Presidents_of_the_United_States">presidents</a>. That's not so uncommon, except Eugene doesn't just have the popular or well known presidents. They've got the standard Lincoln, Jefferson, and Madison to be sure, but they also have people like Hayes, Garfield, and Fillmore represented. My only beef with their system is that the presidential streets aren't in any order. In my mind, it makes the most sense to place them in the order they served, so if you're driving around looking for Harding and you come across Coolidge, you know you've gone too far. I also secretly hoped they'd have more than one street named after Cleveland in honor of his two nonconsecutive terms, but alas, they do not. So, here is a sample of the new improved set-up I am proposing:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGBSZwLhO05vT4anngnm0JF8Pu1GIIGqshW9U3B3Txcv6EZ0hYEvUpZasnFLOdAj9uQ5yzm2GZ8BwzLhsz-_piqJ_0RdZwDuDwkTGfQ-MSXNyuiulhX3EWC37pxtHIQmx611MTw/s1600/streets.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658252581672972882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGBSZwLhO05vT4anngnm0JF8Pu1GIIGqshW9U3B3Txcv6EZ0hYEvUpZasnFLOdAj9uQ5yzm2GZ8BwzLhsz-_piqJ_0RdZwDuDwkTGfQ-MSXNyuiulhX3EWC37pxtHIQmx611MTw/s400/streets.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 331px;" /></a> Pretty snazzy, right? Also, where a president intersects with the street corresponding to his presidential number, a statue will be erected. That way when you come across a statue of a man stuck in a bathtub you'll know you're at the corner of Taft and 27th. Suggestions on how to pose the other presidential statues to ensure instant recognition are welcome.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-76860926271255064692011-09-26T11:09:00.006-07:002011-09-26T11:53:31.806-07:00The state of thingsA month ago we left Provo, dragging all our worldly possessions behind us in a trailer. It's a 14 hour drive to Portland, but we were buoyed up by the thought that we'd probably never have to make it again. So we drove and drove and drove some more, and eventually arrived at Optimistic.'s folks, where we were planning on staying a few days until we could secure an apartment in Eugene. However, instead of moving into anywhere, we got jerked around and promised apartments that would never actually become available. This is because all realtors are lying pieces of crud. So instead of four days, we spent four weeks in Portland, and are now down in Eugene staying with some nice members from the ward because Optimistic.'s classes started today and his job started a week before that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We did find a place (without the help of the many realty agencies we paid fees to), and I'm pretty excited about it, the only snag being that it doesn't open up until Oct. 1st, hence all the commuting and living with people we don't know. It's a triplex, with the owners living on site. Our apartment is built just off the side of their house, and then there's a third apartment upstairs and around the back. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvwS9vB3OhcI2VCNQ6AFimS-fwcELmq91aqlfsiZbNjxg9RgYqzQ3lOgmqJ5R2hCUmV7jXVwDXryPUkDSbBJylg54pgiRKmpv74-PZCP9FpTwJou6izKvnZuC9zuMHaOZW7P8xg/s1600/junco+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvwS9vB3OhcI2VCNQ6AFimS-fwcELmq91aqlfsiZbNjxg9RgYqzQ3lOgmqJ5R2hCUmV7jXVwDXryPUkDSbBJylg54pgiRKmpv74-PZCP9FpTwJou6izKvnZuC9zuMHaOZW7P8xg/s320/junco+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656740900000627010" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here's our apartment off to the side.<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd2sUeI_nquCAEDMEGcwzLmSG2fNgqAnerAcDzItUaQ8TrhYE8meGPHiNN9k3ZRaEFgdFRBdz80F4cF4rooIV4U25f4Qv9-D_sQj7N4RTTMhkUEU3Dfdwh9jPXsE2NQAzKpxuag/s1600/junco+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd2sUeI_nquCAEDMEGcwzLmSG2fNgqAnerAcDzItUaQ8TrhYE8meGPHiNN9k3ZRaEFgdFRBdz80F4cF4rooIV4U25f4Qv9-D_sQj7N4RTTMhkUEU3Dfdwh9jPXsE2NQAzKpxuag/s320/junco+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656741223255478146" border="0" /></a>And a shot of the kitchen, which is pretty small, but there's a nice big living room, and you can kind of see off to the side there's a bonus room with sliding glass doors leading to the back yard.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbCsPw_8swnIanF_NbeWi9OSFBSJRAgOKSrrZRU_npiNvlU_T_PTchbRxko5DtPccsaUO0mmhjnkj_YLvZDO8SoiBWupqSn1pgWCqC_vr0f-fbq90sG3ALnkjc6lywDjHH8w4Lw/s1600/junco+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbCsPw_8swnIanF_NbeWi9OSFBSJRAgOKSrrZRU_npiNvlU_T_PTchbRxko5DtPccsaUO0mmhjnkj_YLvZDO8SoiBWupqSn1pgWCqC_vr0f-fbq90sG3ALnkjc6lywDjHH8w4Lw/s320/junco+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656741909994523186" border="0" /></a>And our bedroom upstairs has hardwood floors.<br /><br /></div>The hardest part of this whole excursion has definitely been having all our stuff in storage. I packed a very limited set of stuff to take with us, which means I've been wearing the same outfit to church for the last three weeks and I'm running out of Q-tips. All my books, movies, craft supplies, and pots and pans are packed away and I'm going a bit stir-crazy not being able to do any of the things I normally do. Worst of all, this weekend should have been my fifth annual Hobo Fest, which rather ironically can't be held because I don't have a place to live.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-61423532514041584222011-08-24T12:56:00.004-07:002011-08-24T13:23:36.984-07:00It's a sickness, people.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTV81SEsCo8b5_Je13hR5Nj9HkDdd9apOqJQ_7n0AGwPUFEKv0UpOXv43mB_LJ8iThJ__fNl62LGVTjRp8tBMhtEOGkHfbdpMHCQlWZDACcAJeKSMynJIuqNhCtxAEkAwNurv1Vw/s1600/400px-Brain_MRI_of_tuberous_sclerosis.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTV81SEsCo8b5_Je13hR5Nj9HkDdd9apOqJQ_7n0AGwPUFEKv0UpOXv43mB_LJ8iThJ__fNl62LGVTjRp8tBMhtEOGkHfbdpMHCQlWZDACcAJeKSMynJIuqNhCtxAEkAwNurv1Vw/s320/400px-Brain_MRI_of_tuberous_sclerosis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644519945010942050" /></a>
<br />We're getting ready to move, which means digging all of our stuff out of our apartment's many nooks, crannies, abysses, etc. To say our apartment was built with storage in mind is an understatement. We have closets within closets within closets of stuff, most of which hasn't been looked at since we crammed it away almost four years ago. Today I decided to start tackling the office closet. (I say start to ease the pressure of cleaning out this monstrosity in one day). <div>
<br /></div><div>Well, I got all the boxes off the top shelf and happened upon a box of 100 cassette tapes (super useful), as well as a big white envelope marked MRI. So I opened it up, and what do I find? Scans of my sister's brain from 2007. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>People, today I must admit that my pack-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rattery</span> has astounded even me. I don't know why I have these scans. Maybe she gave them to me. Maybe I stole them from her. I cannot say. Most likely she didn't want them and I thought they might come in handy, but what sort of person thinks that? Who looks at their sister's old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MRI's</span> and thinks <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hmmm</span>...I could make a chandelier out of that? Me, apparently.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>-Genuine Draft
<br />Pack-Rat Extraordinaire</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-33266642573439960602011-08-03T14:55:00.027-07:002011-08-03T16:37:49.151-07:00Ahhhlaska<div style="text-align: left;">I am now back from our Alaskan cruise adventure, which was indeed an adventure owing to the fact that I got sick the night before we left for Seattle. The one week I actually had plans I got bronchitis. As a result I spent a lot of time coughing (things up) and ended up losing my voice for a bit. It was fun times. But, on to the pictures!</div><u><br /></u><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ayJZp0ginpDCnmg8xrmYH8K1eus23M2y70MWMJQwgyl9-aot2NHuQn4g9_1l4-K8oxLW86kEsf4AHH5Y6llipG4-NNg9dGftIiDI9W6r5JMFaz9F-EppVnZqvO8VpRQOW47DxA/s320/DSCI0101.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636752706697761250" /><div>Here's Optimistic. outside our boat (the Sapphire Princess) in Seattle. You can tell from the fierceness of his gaze that he is impatient to get to the cruising already. Why? Because there is food on the boat!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1rtJVJTqMhvJ7UTATH6Yi_UKQMzGu5bZmO_W-km2ddhckD4q5feFVijww02yJpYD3IDjlwu_ngYfGtJ0n2o4xJ2lNL2sW9Ba_Mlx_iby8T88dxulBGDVbAmFh9VMfowt49syVQ/s320/DSCI0107.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lobstee, no! You are not really food! You have too much to live for! Eventually I talked him down, and before we knew it we were off the boat and in Ketchikan, the salmon capital of the world.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFvmXazNcPS8UFmEsfOjmKJkHBlnzaJzY1EnvEa5_W2pk0ytY8N8hHb_0iD9DB4k3JUYfMR87w86DAoSG9CvVjnRVUouchyphenhyphenbhc4Et0GBs7NK8cQcHWD8HaeTLf8tr4IFuRLIAJSw/s320/DSCI0114.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here are all the siblings in Eagle park doing their best to look majestic/eagle-like. Most of them failed so we moved on to look at the gift shops where we had the pleasure of running into Sarah Palin.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQw_nd9YWg5rA1kp-wViBUFhkPfjgwk3Wj3WBsQ-TxpTO5QecC8seQ881M7VLRS88svFvXyaHZ5hXJjzk3DhcQCNeQdyMJgAJh5icb9xwV6JXMZT1m3OVunIFJYSgD-NGvmwN7g/s320/DSCI0121.JPG" /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This was a dream come true for Optimistic., but due to a restraining order filed by Ms. Palin earlier this year, he was forced to don a disguise so as to admire her up close.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_ZqksxbJr-BsQqm5wxSnDhaguxKWa-4i27o6ZLJuPH7x42hKyn54sLDwGytA6cnnBi3YRQwpyrTgrzyvwiO-EHRGZzpdUK2Sh2U8xasouNI-vQtrZewHzGkPwy0rAUTtnIjmBg/s320/DSCI0119.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ah yes, she'll never recognize him now! After Ketchikan we went through Tracy Arm, which I'm told was beautiful but I chose to sleep through. Here's a picture Optimistic. took from the top deck.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzg0-JViAfHyf388AXlvP42XMZA73WwS97BiIGCisbhf9JOlpezyg-NduCPgewdXQLWazeSCpGtCSgf1wh640JZzd8Xn37T6no2vO51LDnIYT6AL3beamCN_t-oVHU5x9cwxbMQ/s320/DSCI0131.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After that it was on to Juneau where we ventured out into the rain to board a tour bus whose windows were so fogged up we couldn't really see anything.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zQyvoZ_G_Kv1pEe7SeZMq4-3ORZV_2edSrF3WH05nnZr7LPGjNwXJS_YsIj5m2Jl608hPQB-t3tcR_F-pEJimpcXDsiik9kCoCp3fkKXjRG4r-1-cXQXay8BNeq-jO7oXOlRlA/s320/DSCI0163.JPG" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But we trundled along and the driver gave us the scoop on the history of Juneau and after an enjoyable ride we arrived at the Mendenhall Glacier.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqsA7HjBvEIwly6DjuVwRR6LFsjuvMgLKMYqnDU0ZhjMCjE-I5Bx5QHyMgqjVhHvbhDLnPfaDJkr4_WjAoAINj058TSvf6LIQ-DHD9_klRKcnu7yX5dbiSu6oRiyVrW8medRT5g/s320/DSCI0148.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, it's blue, and if you had sat through the movie at the Visitor's center twice like I did you'd know why. The big thrill of the visit was getting to touch a 250 year old piece of ice.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsPd92C5umi4v-WDCPJW7oqXCSXfi4xwT7P-yBYCxH8a3352fxAiYiCEr9MYyHKrHaHnl0aOiMr0pfOjx-7LR3IuJ_Wjdpiycy1fmy4anLCZs8mEKKsnTxOhmlTiJxSAE770qBw/s320/DSCI0141.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As a bonus I've included this guy who works at the visitor's center. Cool, right? Once Lobstee saw the ice there was no keeping him from it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MtAiPcyuIS77qfLNMAnO2Bm6XQMoE-UtEyk-U06LFIinJEbwdNRfPFOr9UaMlUBnEN64qXzYFdau_hMtIByLgB8bq1hqPRJIY0B1gqbTIrQxtTsPVO7Ca_vK0-H9GP4S5KjEuw/s320/DSCI0142.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I had a lot of trouble keeping him from climbing into all the displays. He's full of mischief like that. Here he is crawling around in a bear's mouth. He has no fear that lobster.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3_nC1GHbf-G3zDvFc76jLCY-vsv4Xmuq5LW3m41c1Z5E61l7aZozkAWv5cq7f9pQWDH8rMHTCmxoEY1g1snyEHAWZGxLpNDC9xBuu7TUWGPBWU6wx1LhSkt0tLLhBO8THnMYWg/s320/DSCI0155.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Optimistic. was just as bad, as evidenced by the following picture in which he is shaking hands with a goat. They're ripe for blackmail, the both of them.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZBMHE0lE3EVsGw6S1-X0SumRBv2sYD1Ao2qzuroID2tsxGJL8Xkz4qdtp_h8Y03y__6Oy9zhKF7Nm5d38ONZd_cu35b3KLR5p-cMCY9UW-GhFb5grajkY5Gy-ARWX31uWZ_4kA/s320/DSCI0149.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our next stop was Skagway. Optimistic. was off zip-lining so I went to the Skagway Museum and poked around.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFP65c5LiKtxST1KKmRi59WAPuB0BlOpr_RPQWr3FlfyPT6zQRFZiQh4sab-wbZJf_PFZsloKw-lYGkyhakKNtG3s1XPtDwG2L-GNYzkZ87NqNsCiSsCkWGgX3ePDLmAPwPpRETA/s320/DSCI0191.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There were a lot of interesting artifacts on display from the time of the town's founding and I would have stayed longer if Lobstee hadn't managed to get us thrown out. Something about illegal gambling combined with the use of flash photography.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2R6mimmPx5Btcb7Vs-Ll0rwmeEFWtxZgPkpRE2haE1CbRXlIBNSxxhz6W7QB3NPOtUaHVw1ePHYC-nG2hPUE5zVBH18AJ2a5xTWu4G3igJCv9_vH-G9G5wevu1btkiaLC2yp-g/s320/DSCI0172.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I say putting a roulette wheel out in the open like that is asking for trouble. Either way I was back on the boat before I knew it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_SoNW3jjku4xcWZVLbdTTKwYwy4uWAws9tIFAmJn_dxzJIoemC9jPqsXyVD-SA9dcQG0qUee-pkKfA7Kzwb8ERlaPhflbwllj1dS2w7R6xvlLTX8JpjgXYzqBFAHQ6pW5VuH3A/s320/DSCI0192.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The next leg of our journey meant a few days on board as we headed for Canada, so we had a lot of time to hang out together. This entailed eating a lot of food and playing a lot of cards.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiknrLr2zZ8bLyFufZTTVVX-R028CzQUnDvKd5PPMMbxeDgobJLwAvhIONSPy-dXKGfM8w3C4o41DupYrJda6LqCh84NFpML6ljek5MjONSndwspDF8sPeyk4p5MqACSuCYLGOdwg/s320/DSCI0193.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Check out this excellent hand. Several movies on TV later we arrived in Victoria, constituting my first trip out of the country.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pLq4vxxsyJKLSMzfjPvuR1VxbOSnpLXKua6JIJGkiRkHx3fy7bPzeuQGrbvEbRfpFQTKfTOyfYtlOHFkO8IRaBye7kX58n8SGapck2lT9xFrN5MKETw4gY5rY2kt41C5P7jb5g/s320/DSCI0197.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We walked around, saw the sights, and spent a chunk of Canadian money on souvenirs.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7iGj3U8Y4lYJH9krf3tjAh6uhLuSbAnm8hFv7be07bPnMw2aUw_4tYtHvh-LsBJj9nG0T1W62UYzJReYfPR4ItTHtuvASiw-2Ldp9knHbCeXJvbEqY8z9R2d8fmtOS5ejwoDxQ/s320/DSCI0203.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBWALK0eMx5oVe-m94DvkPVip_UsaNby3bpa7DkuaONI7orSMlAxXcv2IIy2SCeHMccdv6eySFL4NupUyxdvw3zw7BzMwlhAvqJA66nFU3CzVgBAqLVfnJusioozQGQhBi6Am3g/s320/DSCI0201.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And that was the end of the cruise. But unfortunately not the end of our trip. After we disembarked in Seattle we spent sixteen hours driving back to Provo in a gigantic SUV that ended up running out of gas 25 miles outside of La Grande. But that's a whole different story involving a tow truck driver, Weird Al, and talk of eel smuggling. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-28481351834909327582011-07-08T15:09:00.006-07:002011-07-08T15:36:47.788-07:00How I plan to hang pictures<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Two things I want to have in my future house: permanent picture frames and photo corners.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq548kJ2BuJy3vSjFQcKUhuMMXqV3KD9pZRwCTjF1pKVDLL5YAARsc7hreEEVVkETXsAcGV7toKA2PYIy2HJfqADMqiK9zKo7Anly4tplvN2Q773N4bC4YhM0MGg0hLq_ng2QGNw/s320/picture+frame.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 255px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627108829119922050" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The idea with a permanent frame is that it would be glassless, perhaps with a painted cork back or clips to hold things in place. But it would just stay where it is, fixed to the wall, and I could hang up the drawing of the week or something fun. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnSWS-GqZQtMFRYAsAc2akk7djL8hIJ4I1mhhxRgdzSAGEo5D-joVLejTA1JFYPZljIG6C4S1aJPz4JGxvLzea5C9NnPFEClDpQcIPCq9JMhTgroDnymGIwR1phXoWjkaem5hhw/s320/corners.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627113422475164114" /></div><div>We've got a family picture wall in our apartment which consists of pictures with tape on the back stuck up on the wall. I like that it can be easily rearranged, but I don't like that the edges are always curling. So someday I'd like to install a whole mess of metal picture corners on the wall. That way I can switch pictures in and out while still having the whole thing be somewhat permanent. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's all really.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-88187978569797434692011-04-14T10:20:00.007-07:002011-04-14T11:00:03.047-07:00The allergy sufferer's anxiety at the graduation ceremony<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaZiXzlzjvvnZIy1NltSaFrDGzNU91QbGBZByoPbaz3pCdKZzKNqx6R9ngP_zxFAhMGPvc_LuhpIBw8HhQsgY9kC22E4BrRrFL7-PfIQIwi8vQKkPFR5HtOEr6ZhZu3iTwjjL1Q/s1600/graduation_cap.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaZiXzlzjvvnZIy1NltSaFrDGzNU91QbGBZByoPbaz3pCdKZzKNqx6R9ngP_zxFAhMGPvc_LuhpIBw8HhQsgY9kC22E4BrRrFL7-PfIQIwi8vQKkPFR5HtOEr6ZhZu3iTwjjL1Q/s320/graduation_cap.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595497830877860338" /></a><br />Lately my rhinitis has been bad enough that I've resorted to just sticking a tissue up my nose and walking around the house that way.* It keeps my hands free, which is nice, but it's starting to become a habit, and I sometimes have to remind myself not to do it in public. <div><br /></div><div>I'm mostly at peace with the fact that I'm going to spend the next sixty years constantly blowing my nose, but that doesn't mean it isn't a bit depressing. I'm the person people say "bless you" to eight times before they realize the sneezing isn't going to stop so they drop the charade of caring already. I'm the person in the theatre or lecture hall that's blowing their nose so violently no one can hear what's being said. I'm the person everyone assumes is sick, and they judge me for coming out in public and making other people sick, even though what I've got isn't catching.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know I'm that person, and I've come to terms with it, but I just this morning realized that next week I have to sit through my graduation ceremony, and depending on how much dust there is and whether or not the girl sitting next to me happens to be wearing perfume, I may go through upwards of 50 Kleenexes in the space of two hours.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do I bring an entire box with me? Where am I going to put them all once I've used them? Should I arrange to have a small trash can placed under my seat? We don't have assigned seats. I'll have to carry it on stage myself. Am I bold enough to take the stage carrying a small lined trash can and an entire box of Kleenex? That's pretty bold. Why not just bring an ottoman and make myself at home?</div><div><br /></div><div>And when we get up to receive our diplomas, we're not supposed to take anything with us. Surely I can conceal one or two tissues in my left hand? I don't need my left hand for anything, do I? Or is that the hand I take the diploma with while I shake the Dean's right hand? Maybe I can rubber band them to my wrist. How long are the sleeves on my robe? </div><div><br /></div><div>And on and on it goes. Maybe instead of worrying about it I should just embrace it already and bring a gigantic red and white spotted clown hanky that I can blow my nose into as ostentatiously as possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>In short, I have no idea how I'm going to get through two hours without making a spectacle of myself.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">*I have a tissue crammed up my nose right now. It's bliss.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35058987.post-55796991792539027402011-03-05T22:16:00.002-07:002011-03-05T22:22:38.715-07:00What they're teaching me in school<center>You should watch this. Right now.<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eNgiWU9LY7A?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe><br />And if you have time, this one.<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uNsyQDmEopw?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe><br />And this one.<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GYXlF3sa9xs?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe></center>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2