Texas Pride

Whenever Emma visits Utah, the very first place she wants to go is the Peppermint Place, a small candy store down in Alpine.  My dad lets her have free run of the store to pick out whatever she wants.  So today we bundled up the kids in heavy coats,  loaded them in the car and sent them off with Grandpa.

After the Peppemint Place, my dad treated them to lunch at McDonalds and then took them along while he ran an errand up at the University of Utah.  My dad is a professor there and is friendly with a lot of the football players.  Many of them are or have been students in his class. Today he had to pick up some signed footballs from one of the players.

When he and the kids walked into the Utes' athletic training facility, most of the players were eating lunch.  The first person they talked to was Brian Johnson, Utah's quarterback. He was super nice to the kids. 

Next they chatted with Morgan Scalley, one of the Utah coaches. He started joking around with the kids and being really friendly with them. At this point, Emma who had been a little intimidated at first by these very large guys, started warming up. 

Boy, did she ever.

By the time Louie Sakoda, Terrel Cole and Mike Wright came over, Emma was feeling pretty confident. Confident enough to unzip her coat and rile up some Utes:

Yep, that's my little Texan. She walks into a Ute den and shows off her Texas pride. 

Seriously though, I did not tell her to wear her Colt McCoy jersey.  I didn't even know she was going to be hanging out with the Utah football team when I sent her off with my dad this morning.

But if I had known, burnt orange isn't the color I would have suggested she wear. Nope. I think I would have picked out something more in the neighborhood of royal blue. With a big beautiful Y in the middle. 

Of course she might not have made it out alive with that on. So I guess burnt orange was the better choice after all.

P.S. As much as it pains me, I must give credit where credit is due. The Utah players were all very nice and friendly.  Ouch.

Star Wars Sports Allegiances

There are two things that my kids are crazy about these days. The first is Star Wars. We showed them the original episodes this year and boy, are they hooked. They now ask to watch them all the time. And with at least three light sabers at our house, constant battles between the good and dark side of the force are inevitable. Additionally, the color green is now considered good (that's the color of Luke's light saber) and red is bad (Darth Vader's light saber color).

The second thing that my kids love is University of Texas football. Since we've been in Austin, Michael has become a Longhorns fan. Emma especially has followed suit and is a fiercely loyal and rabid fan. And as befits a Texas fan, anything Oklahoma is verboten.

My dad loves to tease the kids and has found that calling them up and singing, "Oklahoma is ok" gets a reaction real quick.

These kids work themselves up into a frenzy shouting into the phone, "Oklahoma is not ok! Oklahoma is not ok!"

I think the whole Texas loyalty thing is fun, but I did start to become concerned when the kids were completely clueless about my alma mater, BYU.

BYU who? Hook 'em Horns man!

So I mentioned to my dad that we were going to have to do an indoctrination trip down to Provo this year and get them some BYU gear. He and my sister Becky concocted up some more fun to greet the kids upon their arrival to Utah for Christmas.

Here are the Star Wars pictures Becky "found" to show the kids. I just had to share.

This one is my personal favorite:

This next picture was a nod to my parents, who are both Utes. I love them anyway.

Michael told me I must tell La Nan that this next one is copyrighted. :>

And here's the final classic. The kids were foaming at the mouth when they saw this one.

Emma was pretty quick though on the comeback for the Darth Vader picture. After protesting up and down that this picture was NEVER in the movie, she finally said, "Well, that was when he turned back to the good side."

Musings on Men in Tights

I took Emma to the Austin Children's Nutcracker tonight.  It's performed at the Dougherty Arts Center, which is a really small venue.  Most of the show is put on by kids in high school or younger with a couple of adult guest artists. It was perfect for taking a 6-year-old.  She was so excited to go and it was really nice to spend some time together, just the two of us.

That girl is a talker though.  She kept whispering comments and questions throughout the performance. Her funniest question, which she asked again while we were driving home, was, "Mommy, why was that guy wearing tights?" 

Obviously, this was Emma's first exposure to men in tights. In her mind, only girls wear tights, just like only girls wear nail polish and makeup.  What was this man who was older than her daddy for goodness sake doing dancing around on the stage in white tights? Why didn't he put some pants on?

I tried explaining that that's just how it works in the ballet world and that tights probably help with freedom of movement. Emma wasn't having any of it.

Really though, she has a point. It's kind of like one of those moments when you're talking to someone who has parsley in their teeth or a zit on their chin and you're trying your best to look at them without looking at the offending item but you feel really awkward and uncomfortable because you're trying so hard to pretend you don't notice. 

And honestly, white tights? Is that necessary?

I'm sure somebody somewhere finds white tighties attractive, right? Like the costume director, perhaps?  Anyone else? Bueller?  Bueller?

As for myself, if I could call in the costume choices,  I think I'd go with more of the three-piece look:

Oh yeah. You knew I'd find a way to work a picture of James Bond back onto my blog. Now I know you're thinking that tights are necessary for all of the pirouettes and grand jetes and that a suit just wouldn't translate to the stage. However, have you seen all of the butt Bond kicks while wearing these duds? There's some serious athleticism going on to rival any fancy ballet moves. And he gets it all done without any rips in his seams and while looking fabulous the whole time. 

Just a suggestion. It might improve ticket sales.

Anniversary!

Happy anniversary to my sweetie! Eight years ago I lucked out on getting this great guy to marry me.  We've had a wonderful adventure and now here we are three children later. 

And still living in our dream home next to the train. We just love that train so much.

So while today marks 8 years of wedded bliss for us, we've actually known each other for 16 years.  We met our freshman year at BYU and it took poor Michael 8 years to finally get me to commit. It's a looong story.  Actually two long stories depending on who you ask.  Two very different long stories.  Mine is, of course, the more accurate of the two in case you should ever ask.

So happy 8th MJ! Love ya. 

P.S. Maybe we should take a few more pictures together during the next 8 years. This is seriously about all I could find:

Also on December 8th...

December 8th is also my friend Kathy's birthday. Happy Birthday Kath!  So Kathy and I go way way way back.  So far back I'm not sure when exactly we started hanging out.  Were we 11, 12, 13? My memory is sharp as a tack, as you can tell.

So I'm taking a risk here posting her picture. She used to be very anti-pictures-of-herself. I hope she likes this one. Because unlike me, Kathy has a very good memory.  And if there's anyone who has the goods on me, this girl is one of them. I mean, not that there would be any stories to reveal because I was, of course, always quiet, angelic and perfectly behaved. 

I would never have pranked anyone.  I would never have had food cart races through the Church building halls. I would never have toilet papered or ding dong ditched or crank called anyone. I would never have been a saboteur at girls' camp or youth conference.  I would never have treated any boys rather badly.  I would never have snuck out of ______  or _______ on more than one occasion to go to _________ or ___________. (Hey, my parents occasionally read this.) 

So Happy Birthday Wong Tong!

Goodbye old friend

Michael's eel jumped out of the tank the other day.  No one was around to rescue him.  He was at least five years old or so in human years.  Most people thought he was gross and creepy and slimy. But underneath all that, I think he had a beautiful soul.  

Farewell, old friend. I'm sorry I wasn't there to rescue with the salad tongs this time. 

Posh!

The kids have been seeing a lot of Star Wars these days with Michael. They have become little Star Wars junkies to say the least. I don't mind since I'm a fan myself.  However, I do want to round out their film education with some of the old classic family films and musicals. So this week we watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. They loved it. Now they keep wanting to listen to the soundtrack that we got from the library.

I hadn't seen this show since I was a kid. It was quite silly but fun. And there was one classic scene that I feel compelled to share. It was right up my alley of absurd humor. 

To get you up to speed: The evil Vulgarians are traveling around in a flying ship, trying to kidnap Dick Van Dyke. However, they make a mistake and kidnap his father, Grandpa Potts, instead. Here's the kidnapped Grandpa Potts singing about the posh traveling life from his outhouse:

 

Family Photos

I decided to save myself some stress this year and have someone else take our family picture. What a novel idea, eh? I mean, not that I don't love the whole wonderful experience of setting the camera up on the tripod, hitting the timer and jumping into the picture, yelling at the kids to smile and look at the camera dang it, fighting with my spouse over choice of setting, choice of lighting, and anything else that especially aggravates us about each other that day, etc., etc. It's just so much fun every year. 

But instead, I had my friend Emily take our pictures last week over at Mayfield Preserve. She's a pro photographer and is starting up her business. What a peaceful and harmonious experience it turned out to be! These are a few of my favorites:

I think the pics turned out really cute. Almost as cute, of course, as our family photo from last year that we never sent out. Come on, I know you've been wanting to see it again--especially since yours truly looks so fabulous in it.  So here it is again, back by popular demand:

P.S. This is how I look when my kids get out of bed for the 500th time. 

You Might Be a Redneck If....

To my complete and utter astonishment delight, Michael announced on Saturday that he was going to clean out the garage. This was without any nagging or pleading on my part. In short, this has never happened before.  

After my daughter waved smelling salts over my nose to revive me from my swoon, I picked myself up off the floor. I said to Michael, “Wow, the aliens really did a number on you this time. And I must say, it’s all good.”

Or not.

 

Instead, I praised him for his decision and wished him luck. Then I made a run for it. But I was too late.

As I was leaping up the stairs, two at a time, I heard his sweet little voice, “Kasey, could you help me?”

Well, that dampened the excitement SLIGHTLY. I mean, the whole point of the “Honey-Do List” is for your honey to do them--and to do them while you are surfing the Web or taking a nap.

So we spent a few hours working together and talking. It wasn't too bad. And now our garage looks great. The front yard, however, is a different story.

Here's the Goodwill giveaway pile that's been sitting on the front porch for five days now: old gas cans, broken bike frame with useable components, leaky air mattress, window screens... Yep, real classy.

Michael also went through his fish tank equipment on Saturday. So of course where do you think all that stuff is now? 
Exactly. Right on the front lawn. But it gets better, believe me. Take a look at the next picture and see if you can guess what Michael used to clean his fish tank bins with. 

No, your eyes do not deceive you. That is in fact a toilet bowl brush that has been lying in my front yard all week. The front yard of the home that is currently on the market.  Here it is up close:

I don't make these things up people. I'm sure the HOA will be sending me a letter any day now. 

So here's my submission to Jeff Foxworthy:

If  you've got a toilet bowl brush in your front yard, you might be a redneck. 

Halloween Costumes

Here's what Halloween looked like at our house this year:

Emma wanted to be Ariel from The Little Mermaid. Evan looked through the pattern books and chose the musketeer costume, basing his choice on how cool of a weapon he'd get to brandish. Naturally. 

But as I was working on the costumes, I decided I couldn't do just one musketeer costume. No one would get that.  And I needed a costume for Isaiah. And Michael had been complaining that I never sew anything for him. You can see where this type of thinking led me. Yes, it got a little out of control... three musketeer costumes. Am I crazy? Yes!

I did have to cheat a little bit, and all I can say is, "Hallelujah for cheating!" I found old white shirts for the boys and cut off the collars and sleeves so I wouldn't have to make the shirts from scratch. I just added on the new silky sleeves and collars and voila! (Well, not exactly voila. Those things still took forever and I did have to rip out a sleeve after sewing it on upside down.)

For Michael, I picked out what I thought was one of his old golf shirts. Michael has dozens of golf shirts. He gets them at conferences.  He has hand-me-downs from his dad. He gets them as Christmas and work gifts. Like he's going to miss one golf shirt. Ok, so how was I to know this was his favorite golf shirt? Or that Pecan Valley Golf Club is so swanky?

I like to think I just made it better. Check it out below. I love the lace on the cuff, don't you?

I mean, you could totally still wear it golfing. It's just a little fancier, that's all. I think Michael should save it for those very special golf games with clients he's trying to impress. I'm sure they would be that much more likely to do business with him, right?

Maybe not.

Happy Birthday to the World's Best MIL!

A special birthday post goes out to the world's greatest mother-in-law! Especially since I forgot to call her today. Oops. And when I called Michael in San Antonio at 10:30 tonight, hoping that at least he'd remembered to call her, he had forgotten too. Double oops.

I remembered yesterday. And the day before. The intentions were good but the follow-through was lacking. So Happy Happy Birthday Mom from Michael and I! Sorry we're such losers.

Seriously though, I have the world's greatest mother-in-law. First of all, she raised a pretty awesome son which I am very grateful for. And she has been the nicest, most fun, best to chat with, best to make you feel welcome over and over again, best to shop with, best to help decorate your house, best to make delicious pies to eat and best at lots of other things I could list but I won't because it's 2 a.m. and I really need to get to bed mother-in-law EVER. And the grandkids are pretty crazy about her too. 

Happy Birthday! We love you.

And yes, I think this will be my new Halloween costume:

Evan's 4th Birthday

Happy Birthday Evan! I can't believe he's 4 already. He seems like such a big boy now. What happened to my little baby? Ah, the parental lament about time passing so quickly.

Evan wanted a shark-themed birthday this year.  It's become tradition to do a cake in the shape of whatever image strikes the kids' fancy that year. Believe me, I tried to get out of this tradition in the beginning. A few years back I mentioned I was going to get a birthday cake from Costco when Michael went on and on about how he can still remember the birthday cakes his mom made and how much he loved them and how special they made him feel. Oh darn. It's just that cakes are not really my bag of skills. (At least the making-them part. I'm pretty darn good at eating them, you know!) 

So here's Evan's shark cake. I love the 3D effect. I found the idea from Grab Your Fork.

I had a small pizza party for Evan at the park. We played feed the shark and pin the fin on the shark. Emma got a kick out of pretending she was being eaten alive.

Is it Wrong That I Find This Funny?

Last week Michael and Evan went boating with some of our friends. Sadly, I did not get to go. I was home playing nursemaid to Emma. 

Evan was in the captain's chair feeling pretty calm and confident. Watch as he starts to get a little bit nervous in the hot seat.

Is it bad that I laugh every time I see this? By the way,  I am told neither the boat nor Evan were ever in any danger.

Are They Trying to Sell Clothes with Mirrors Like Those?!

I snuck out tonight to do some shopping at Tar Zhay without the kiddos. I tried on some clothes and while doing so caught a glance of my backside in their lovely mirrors.

At first I wondered if somebody else had gotten into the dressing room with me.  When I verified that it was indeed only me in the dressing room, I was shocked, dismayed, depressed, etc. Since my backside is always walking behind me, it's not often that I get to see it up close and personal. It wasn't a pleasant meeting.

I decided not to get the clothes until I could come back having logged 100 hours on a stairmaster.

So here's my unsolicited advice to Target:

First off, Target dude, are you really trying to sell clothes with mirrors like those? Because the only things that you might have a chance at selling with such mirrors are some diet books, bottled water and exercise gear. In fact maybe you should set up a stand right outside the dressing room with fresh vegetables and protein bars for easy grabbing. 

Actually, the more I think about it....you also might add another stand with mint Oreo cookies and chick flicks and big comfy jammy pants. You know on those days when the mirrors are so depressing we think, hey who's gonna notice one more cookie on this caboose?

But if you're not so into these ideas and really do want to sell clothes, here's the deal: take your mirrors back to the funhouse. Ask them for the ones that subtract fifteen pounds and erase stretch marks and cellulite. And while you're at it, could you dim the lights a little for me too?

Into the Closet

Isaiah is about six months old now and has been sleeping in our room since he was born. He still likes to check in with me every few hours to tell me how he's doing and ask for some warm milk. As much fun as these late-night to early-morning chats are, I started thinking I'd like to try sleeping through the night, or something close to that. 

When we talked about moving Isaiah out of the room, I couldn't think of anywhere to put him. The playroom and the kids' room wouldn't work because Isaiah naps during the day.  Our guest bedroom, or MDJ Development World Headquarters, was an obvious no-go.

Then Michael suggested putting him in my closet. To which I said, "Are you out of your mind?! What kind of person puts their baby in the closet?" Yeah, right! Absurd Michael.

But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. My closet is a decent- size little room that's very quiet and dark.  My closet is close enough for me to hear Isaiah at night, but far enough away so that I can get some sleep. And my closet is less likely to attract the notice of aspiring track stars (i.e., big brother) who like to hurdle cribs and land on top of sleeping infants. 

It turned out Michael's absurd idea wasn't quite so absurd after all. I just had to step back from all the cultural norm jazz. After all, just because he doesn't have his own beautiful nursery room doesn't mean I love him any less.

But I must admit, it does make me laugh whenever I see him in there. 

I'm hoping the clothes hanging over his head like a colorful, multi-textured mobile will get his creative juices flowing. Perhaps C.S. Lewis also spent his infant years in a closet too. Or did they call it a wardrobe?

You Know You Need a Style Overhaul When

On Saturday, we took the kids to Hamilton Pool. Michael swam out with Emma and Evan while I waded waist-deep into the water with Isaiah. Isaiah started smiling and being flirty with a lady and her daughter who were standing nearby.  So I started chatting with this lady. Eventually she asked me what my baby's name was. I said it was Isaiah.

To this she replied, "I thought you were going to say that." 

Really? Um, why? With thousands of boy names in this world, why would she think my baby's name was Isaiah?

I mean, was it because I was wearing something like this?

Yep, that was me, the religious fundamentalist lady just kicking it with my sister wives at Hamilton. So of course it would be natural for one to guess that my baby was named something biblical, because after all wasn't I in the dead giveaway outfit? The lovely wrist to ankle 1800s dress with my hair french-braided down to my bum. 

No, not even. Granted, I wasn't skimping around in hang-it-all-out there bikini fashion. But I didn't think I was so completely off the fashion radar as to instantly convey to people that I would name my children Ezekiel or Jeremiah or Isaiah. 

And here's me with Evan in my church lady swim outfit. Dude, the rash guard was for sun protection! But now that I think about it, I bet that's what did me in on the style meter. Oh and having three kids, one of them a baby on my hip probably helped things along.  

So now you see how my sad little mind works.  Someone assumes I'm a good Christian woman and all I can think is, "Man, I really need a style overhaul."

Ask a Ninjormon

Michael found this the other night on YouTube. All I can say is I started crying from laughing so hard. Enjoy.

Hip Hip Hooray

How did I not know this was coming out? Holy crap. I saw this on a magazine at the grocery store today and was so excited I almost peed my pants. (That's a line I use when I think Emma's going to be super excited about something. Of course she always responds so calmly, "Mom, I'm not going to pee my pants. )

I used to love love X-files, and Agent Mulder naturally, despite being a big chicken when it comes to scary stuff. Who knew what a good year 2008 would be for movies! The release date is July 25th I believe.

Emma's Fancy Party

Emma was born on the 4th of July, so as you can imagine, it is one big party at our house come July. This year I did a "Fancy Nancy" fashion show and luncheon party for her. The girls decorated purses and hats and modeled their fancy attire. Then they ate heart-shaped sandwiches with frilly toothpicks and drank punch with little umbrellas floating in them.

If there is one book that has pegged Emma and me, it is that one. Emma is such a little Nancy who loves to fancy everything up and I am unashamedly the simple white T-shirt and jeans mom. But for this birthday, I tried to change my unfancy ways.

Here are the girls all dressed up:


I must say though that next year I will be doing an anti-fancy party. No decorations, no goody bags, no activities, no special foods, no costumes. Just a cheapskate bring-your-own-sack-lunch to the park and play on the playground kind of party. It's a lot of work being fancy.

Quantum of Solace

Hooray, they finally released the trailer for the new James Bond movie Quantum of Solace. It's due out in November. Can I just say Daniel Craig as the new James Bond rocks my world!

This upcoming movie looks good, but it will probably not come close to Casino Royale, one of the best Bond movies ever....in my humble opinion. This time around there will be no more sensitivity from Mr. Bond, James Bond. Alas. But console yourself: there will still be his amazing physique, kick-butt prowess, expensive suits and fast cars. And he does have the British accent. The end. We're pretty deep over here tonight, huh?

Parenting Advice

Let me tell you about my lovely afternoon at the post office today. While Emma was at gymnastics, I ran to the post office to mail something and pick up an express for Michael (which by the way was not very express as it had been sent over a week ago--thank you efficient United States Postal Service).

It was just me and the two boys. Evan was behaving remarkably well but Isaiah was in complete meltdown mode. No amount of bouncing or switching positions was working. I tried not to make eye contact with too many annoyed customers and blow it off by saying that he just didn't like waiting in line. This might be true. After all, it makes me want to howl when I have to wait in those excruciatingly slow postal lines.

So as I was waiting, some lady came up to me and handed me a piece of paper on which she had written: Quantum Touch, Richard Gordon. "You should check this out," she said, indicating my screaming infant.

I'm sure she is a very kind woman. I'm sure she meant well. But this sort of rubbed me the wrong way today.

Now if I were a humble, teachable gal, one who was slow to anger and willing to receive instruction, I would probably be thinking now, "Oh, thank you so much kind lady. You are right. I need the wisdom that quantum touch offers. My baby is howling not because I had to wake him up to take my daughter to gymnastics or because he needs a diaper change or because he's coming up on a feeding soon but because I am inept as a mother. If only I knew how to create a high vibrational field of life-force energy and direct that healing energy on him, he would be calm. Thank you for showing me the way to Richard Gordon."

And I would be telling all of you pathetic, negligent mothers whose children also scream and misbehave in public to get it together and learn how to amplify your chi so you can shut those kids up because they're driving everyone crazy.

But I am not humble or teachable so I am not thinking or saying any of this with anything but sarcasm. I know, I know it's not very Sunday School of me to be that way but at least I'm honest about it.

I am also by nature a skeptic, so these types of approaches to healing usually leave me doubting. However, because I think she did mean well and because some of you may have a little more faith than me, here's the link: http://www.quantumtouch.com/.

Get back to me if it works. But please, not when my baby is screaming.

To My Unsympathetic Husband

Dear Michael,

I think you are a very kindhearted individual. I know you value life and don't like to hurt most living creatures (with the exception of mosquitoes, cockroaches and cats). And I know that when you say you will take care of the creepy crawlies that come into my house, you are really setting them free in the greenbelt behind the house.

However, tonight your sympathy was misplaced. I was the victim, not Sammy. I was the one who was so scared and startled she screamed and nearly dropped the garbage on the lawn, not Sammy. I was the one in danger of being bitten, not Sammy. Sammy is not the innocent party here, so stop defending him. Is he like your new BFF or what?

The first time I told you that Sammy had come around, you said not to worry. Sammy was just passing through. But when I swung the gate open at dusk today to throw away the garbage, Sammy was back. And he was very very very rude to me. This is what he did when I opened the door on him:

Exactly like that. In fact, that is actually his very own picture. Yep, say hi to your BFF Sammy. And how did I manage to get his picture? Well, you will never believe this but there happened to be a National Geographic photographer who was hiding in the bushes snapping pictures of cardinals and as soon as he heard the hissing he ran over and shot off a roll for me.

There it is. Now what do you have to say?

So it's obvious that Sammy has taken residence at our house and is behaving very badly, hissing, staring me down, making alarming sounds as he slithers away.

As I see it you have two choices, Mr. Snake Lover. It's me or Sammy. Take your pick.

Love,

Kasey

P.S. If it makes you feel better, perhaps you can keep him with you at all times...on a nice pair of boots. ASAP!!!

Now Scheduling House Tours

An appraiser came to look at our house today. By golly, you would not have believed how quickly I hauled my gargantuan frame around in a whirlwind of cleaning and picking up. I was amazing. It was like someone lit a fire under my bottom. In two and a half hours, I managed to vacuum, clean the bathrooms, playroom, laundry room, master bedroom, office and front porch and throw a load of laundry in and fold a load of laundry plus several other miscellaneous tasks that I will not enumerate.

I don't normally get through half of that in two and a half weeks. Nope, not even for company such as Michael's live-in family or Michael's lawyer or Michael's civil engineer. Sadly, no. Usually, I'm like, "Hey, do you mind stepping around all the toys on the stairs?" Or "Don't mind the piles of laundry and pieces of cut-up paper and stale bread crusts and plastic bags and Superman figurines and cups of water and pieces of scotch tape and children's underwear scattered randomly across the house. Oh, and if you'd like a sanitary bathroom experience, I'd recommend peeing outside. Thanks, it's nice to see you too."

These days I usually settle for one space in my house looking cleanish and call it good. But it felt so nice today to have a straightened-up house once again. It is a sad commentary on my slothful nature that the only thing that bestirs me out of my lazy chair is someone taking a tour of every nook and cranny in my house. If only someone would take a tour of my house every week, I might be able to avoid falling back into the pit of squalor from whence I came.

So to keep this clean thing going, I am now scheduling free house tours. Yes, that's right. Hurry and act now. Just email me back with your preferred day and time. And please make sure to ask to see all closets and drawers. Don't miss out on this exciting opportunity!

She Flies Through the Air With the Greatest of Ease

I'm thinking of changing the name of my blog. How about "My Other Job Is With the Circus"? Yep, I've decided to travel down a whole new avenue....trapeze artist.

Here's what I did on Saturday night:



So Michael got this great idea for us to learn how to fly on the trapeze. The Crossings Hotel had a trapeze group there for a few weeks that was offering trapeze classes. Michael, of course, was peeing his pants he was so excited. I, however, am a little--shall we say "uncomfortable"--with heights and wasn't quite so enthused. I kept trying to get out of it. No such luck.

We arrived at the class and they started us off on the low bar. You have to grab the bar, wrap your legs around, drop your arms, etc. Just the basic playground stuff. We all got one shot to do that and then they explained how we were going to do this at 50 feet in the air.

Before I knew it, I was climbing up a very narrow ladder to a very small platform and trying not to look down. Granted, there's a net below and once you reach the top, they hook the safety wires onto your harness. Still, we're talking 50 feet in the air leaning forward with your toes over the edge. That was definitely the scariest part. Once I hopped over the edge and started flying, it was fun.

We got to do two runs on the trapeze and then they let us try the catch, which is where another person catches you in midair.



Ooops. How embarrassing. Somebody was supposed to spin around in midair and catch the return trapeze. Maybe I'd better stick with the CIA. I guess it's not bad for my first time though.

So now that my feet are firmly planted on the ground, I can say I'm glad that I tried it. I did something that scares me and am now a little less scared...hopefully.

By the way, for all you ladies out there, the best part is that it's the closest thing you'll get to having a "rescued-by-Superman" moment. You're flying in the air, feeling a little nervous and vulnerable, when suddenly a buff, handsome man rescues you and says, "Come with me." I was like, "Ok, whatever you say."

Roast Goose Anyone?

When you see this picture, you may think to yourself, "Oh, what a nice little goose. How peaceful he looks just swimming along by himself."

Well, in the words of Monty Python (a personal favorite of mine): "That's no ordinary goose. That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered fowl you ever set eyes on. That goose's got a vicious streak a mile wide; it's a killer!" (Yeah, yeah, I know Tim the enchanter was really talking about a rabbit--BUT if he had met this goose he would have said the same thing about this goose.)

Last Thursday night when we were renting the house on Lake LBJ, Melinda and I were dying of heat stroke so we decided it would be fun to go jump in the lake. There was a boat dock at the house and some big rocks in the middle of the lake that we wanted to swim out to. We walked down to the dock and stuck our feet in. The water was a little bit cold so we sat a while on the dock. I finally jumped in and started swimming over to the rocks.

Then, out of nowhere, this goose flew over my head and landed in the water about ten feet away, facing me. Normally, this would be no big deal, right? After all, ducks and geese are cute and nice and always so appreciative of the bread crumbs that they are fed. But this was no nice goose. This goose started swimming towards me, its neck and head low to the water, hissing. I started screaming, laughing and swimming like mad to get to the rocks and away from this goose. I really felt quite vulnerable and scared but at the same time it seemed utterly absurd that I was being chased by a goose.

Meanwhile on the dock, the crowd was going crazy. Melinda and Emma were yelling at the goose and throwing acorns, pebbles and small sticks at it to get it to leave me alone. Evan was jumping up and down, crying and screaming hysterically. Autumn was taking pictures; because whether I am murdered by a goose or not, it would make an interesting clip to watch on YouTube. Ah, the American way.

So here I am now. I finally got to the rocks. The goose was closing in. I was terrified he was going to land on top of me and start attacking. Frantically, I pulled myself up onto the rocks, cutting up my knees and arms in the process. I stood up on the rocks--now bleeding all over the place--and tore off a tree branch for protection. He finally backed off, obviously cowed by my larger size and the scary-looking bit of twig and leaves I was shaking at him.

I discovered later that there was a female goose sitting on a nest between the rocks. So I guess I should be forgiving and not hold a grudge towards this goose because, after all, he was just trying to protect his family. But you know, he could have been a little nicer. Why didn't he simply ask me to swim in a different direction? Really, he was quite rude about the whole thing. And so territorial. Like the whole lake belonged to him.

And so every time I saw the goose that weekend it was all I could do not to run and give him a good kick in the rump. If anyone has a hunting license and a hankering for some roast goose, I've got the place for you.

Family Vacation at Lake LBJ

This past weekend was quite the memorable one. We rented a lakehouse on Lake LBJ and had an extended family vacation (Michael's side). It was the first time in quite a while that all of Michael's siblings and families were able to get together. We sure had a good time boating, playing games, fishing, eating, and hanging out (all this despite a rocky start and getting chased by a rabid goose).

Here are a few fun pictures and my top ten:

10. Beautiful weather, beautiful views and great family company.

9. Emma catching a fish.

8. Mom making us cookies every day!

7. Playing cards in character. Ok, am I a dork or what? Can someone show me some real gangsta signs?

6. Yours truly impersonating Arnold Schwarzenegger losing at Cash Cab during family skits: "I am the governor of California and I know these things." Embarrasingly enough, I think this was caught on film.

5. Nathan's impression of George W. Bush on American Idol.

4. Cousins playing together, running wild and enjoying every minute of it.


3. Joel's impression of an NRA member.

2. Joel doing karaoke to "I'm Too Sexy." Too funny by far! (Since I gave him 2 of the top 10, we'll see if he'll stop over from chatting it up on Cougar Board to leave a comment. )

And the #1 slot goes to......:

1. No contest here--Melinda and her character Maria who wants to dance like John Travolta if she can only get rid of her J-Lo booty. Oh my goodness, this girl is hilarious! I had no idea. I was giggling like a school girl.

Thanks for the memories everyone!