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!

I Believe In Miracles

So let me tell you, miracles have definitely not ceased in these last days. Not at my house. You've heard of the widow who fed Elijah and whose faith was rewarded with a barrel of meal and cruse of oil that never failed? Well, here at my house we have what's called the miracle of the laundry hamper. Seriously. This is not a joke people. This laundry hamper never fails either. Every time it is emptied, it fills right back up--almost immediately! It seems that no matter how many loads of laundry I do, I never have to worry about running out of dirty clothes.

I just don't know what I've done to deserve such a miracle. It must be on account of my super amazing faith or something.

Deja Vu

Emma cracks me up. She is such a little mother to her brothers. Today she put Isaiah in Evan's bed and started reading to him. It was so cute. I had to grab my camera and snap a picture.


Then I started thinking, I've seen this before. Sure enough, here's her reading to Evan and her baby doll.

This Would Make My Life Easier

Getting dressed these days would be a lot easier if I had a lovely little number like this, don't you agree?

I could simply don one of these comfy muu-muus and there would be no more hassling with trying to find something in my closet that I could fit into besides the maternity clothes. No more stacks of pants and skirts in a useless heap. No depressing realization that, yes, my hips really did get that big during pregnancy. Perhaps I might even arrive on time to places since I wouldn't have whittled away so much time in my closet. And only imagine--if I had been wearing a muu-muu today, my daughter wouldn't have said to me with such a cute, excited little grin, "Mom, are you going to have another baby?" Just love that one!

I think this muu-muu is really my best option during my current clothing crisis. But you decide. Here are the other less desirable choices:

Keep wearing maternity clothes. Ugh. Gag.

Wear too-tight old clothes anyway until body starts to go numb and lose circulation. Naah, not such a good idea.

Stop eating chocolate cake. No way man.

Spend lots of money for a "transtional" wardrobe. No thanks. I could just open the garbage can, drop the money in and save myself some time.

Hang out in the g's all day and never leave the house. Hmmm, definitely not. Besides going super cuckoo, I'd have to pay the kids' counseling bills one day for the visual trauma I inflicted on them in their tender years.

Wear the one pair of pants and shirt that do fit every single day. Um, yeah, I kind of do this already. But maybe I should do this with a really cool reason for doing this, such as rejecting consumerism like the gal who wore the same brown dress for an entire year: The Brown Dress Project. Quite an interesting story.

Now you may be wondering what the difference is between the muu-muu and maternity clothes. Good point. Not much, I grant you. But with the muu-muu, there need not be "maternity clothes" and "regular clothes." There would just be: "The Muu-muu." How easy is that?

By the way, the official spelling is mu'umu'u, according to Wikipedia.

Can I Just Eat My Cake In Peace People?

After finally getting Isaiah to sleep tonight, I sat down to eat a slice of chocolate cake that my mom had made for dessert.

Emma was in the kitchen with me. As I took my first bite, she asked, "Mom, how come Aunt Melinda eats healthy and you don't eat healthy?"

Sheesh. Can't I just eat my cake in peace, people?

Baby Love

I guess it's about time I got around to posting some pictures of my new little guy. Isaiah Matthew was born on March 4th and weighed in at 8 lb., 6 oz. and was 21 1/2 inches long. He was a week late--obviously, someone forgot to tell him that the whole in-utero thing is supposed to be a 40-week deal, not 41...or 42 as he seemed to be going for. Isaiah let us know that he wasn't too happy about being evicted by peeing on everyone as soon as he appeared.

Here's my little family. This is the only decent picture we got of all of us together and then I had to go and ruin it by flipping off the camera. Can someone photoshop this for me?

Oh baby love, why are you so sweet? Probably so your mommy will keep you alive when you insist on eating every two hours around the clock.

My two little boys. Evan is excited to have a new little brother. Can't you tell?

Here's my mom holding Isaiah. Can I just say I have the best moms in the world! I was lucky enough to have both my mother-in-law and my mom come down to help me. If only they didn't have to leave...sigh, sigh. The kids have had so much fun spending time with their grandmothers.

The Sound of Music

A few weeks ago Michael and Evan were gone for the evening and Emma and I were home alone. I decided to put on one of my favorite movies, The Sound of Music. I was excited to introduce Emma to the genre of musicals, especially one of the best musicals ever! However, I had to beg, bribe and plead with that girl. She had never seen it before and was not very enthused about watching it.

But now it gives me great satisfaction to say that all week she has been begging me to see--as she calls it--Maria. And we have to keep asking her to turn the volume down in her room as she listens to the soundtrack over and over and over again. Hooray! I knew she would love it.

I do find it funny that she really likes the Sixteen Going on Seventeen song but doesn't want to listen to Edelweiss. It reminds me exactly of how I was as a kid. I used to run out of the room or duck behind the couch during the icky, mushy scenes between Maria and Captain Von Trapp.

But, ok now I get it...why Maria likes Captain Von Trapp. Edelweiss! Holy shmoly. Yep, you can just sing that one more time, Georg.

I guess that means I'm old. Oh well.

One More Goal for the New Year

I really have it all pulled together these days. It's completely astounding. Can't you just tell from my 2008 goals?

1) Wash hair on a regular basis.
2) Apply makeup every day.

But I suppose there still might be room for improvement. So here's one more:

3) Don't go grocery shopping wearing your clothes inside out. (Especially when disregarding goals 1 and 2.)

Terrorism on the Home Front

There was an episode of terrorism at our house the other night. Around 11:00 p.m. a poop bomber, armed with several homemade liquid explosives, climbed into her parents' bed and blew herself up. (Because who wants to poop in their own bed when you can poop in someone else's?) She then hightailed it out of there, leaving a trail of crapnel behind her....sheets, carpet, bathroom floor, toilet, pajamas, towels, more carpet, a Beauty and the Beast movie....you name it.

When the bombing took place, I was cleaning up the kitchen, having just gotten home from a girls' night out. I assumed everyone was asleep until I heard movement upstairs. But I had no reason to think there was any cause for alarm. That was, until Michael came downstairs and said quite calmly, "Kasey, we have a problem."

For me, the most striking part of this whole incident is how well Michael handled being woken from sleep by explosive diarrhea. I was quite amazed. He had entirely stabilized the situation by the time he came downstairs. The bomber was in a shower lockdown; soiled items were being washed out. There really wasn't much left for me to do. When I asked him why he hadn't gotten me immediately, he explained that when he first saw it all he had thrown up. So he thought there was no reason to have two people throwing up. Love that logical brain!

Sadly I must admit that if the roles had been reversed, I would not have handled it so well. This would be me in my most awful shrieking voice: "Michael! Michael! Get up here right now! There's poop everywhere!"

It made me think a little bit about actual war and how much of a basketcase I would be if I were in the thick of things. Michael would be so much better suited for it with that male logic that we always make fun of: the whole "there's a problem, fix it" reasoning. Don't talk about it, just get 'er done.

Not to say that women shouldn't or couldn't go to war. Just that for me personally, there's a lot of crap that happens in the world and I am sooo glad someone else is brave enough and willing enough to clean it up.

What Women Want

I'd like to express my heartfelt thanks to Masterpiece Theatre and PBS for their service to womankind in bringing us six weeks of Jane Austen. If you haven't heard yet, every Sunday night they are showing a movie based on one of her books. There are four brand-new adaptations of Persuasion, Northanger Abbey, Mansfield Park, and Sense and Sensibility, along with the Kate Beckinsale version of Emma....and of course, the one and only Pride and Prejudice. Is that not the best way to slog through January and February?

Here is my pictorial tribute:

Ah, our new Captain Wentworth. Very nice choice.

Is there anyone who has done a better job as Mr. Knightley than Jeremy Northam? No way. Ok, ok so they are not airing this version of Emma but I couldn't resist.

And Mr. Darcy. What else can I say? Thank you Colin Firth for making the world a much happier place to live in.

Side note to Masterpiece Theatre: Not that I'm nitpicky or anything Masterpiece Theatre, but I would like to tell you that I'm available for consulting on editing, hairstyle, makeup, wardrobe, and casting decisions. As is my friend Kristi. I realize that there's so much that goes into the making of these classics that some things might get overlooked or may not be done just right. For example, I suggest we give Anne Elliot a makeover--give her hair a good wash and maybe a new hairstyle. Oh and could we please try the kiss between Captain Wentworth and Anne again? Like get him to move in to kiss her, not just vice versa? Just a few things to fix, you know. Otherwise you're doing great. So if you're thinking about "touching up" some of your films...say for a 5-year anniversary DVD or something, I'm here for you. In Austin, TX. Thanks.

Hooray for Donuts

When I was growing up in California and my grandparents would visit, my grandpa would always get up early and go down to Judy's Donuts for a box of donuts. We were always so excited to wake up Saturday morning and see that pink box on top of the fridge.

I've found one place here that I really like and that kind of comes close. I thought I should share the enjoyment. It's called KC Donuts. Naturally with a name like that I had to try it out. It's over on Brodie south of William Cannon in the same center as Austin Regional Clinic. The kids and I just stopped in on Saturday. I usually like to get the glazed or the custard-filled maple bars. It's a family-run place so it's not very big and they are only open in the mornings. You have to get there early before everything is gone. Oh and it's cash only.

One Thing Leads to Another

There are always consequences to everything we do. Kind of like the proverbial pebble that is thrown in the pond. This little life lesson was brought home to me today in the story I will now relate: The Saga of Navy Shirt.

A few weeks ago I bought a navy blue shirt. We'll call it Navy Shirt for short. As with all new clothes, I loved Navy Shirt so much that I had to wear it a few days in a row (as long as I wouldn't be seeing the same people more than once, of course, and as long as it didn't get too smelly).

So I was wearing Navy Shirt one Saturday when suddenly, out of nowhere, the motivation to clean the kids' bathroom just came to me. Probably from the sanitation gods, who can only take so much you know.

All was good. I was feeling quite pleased with myself until I looked down at my shirt and found a bleach stain on Navy Shirt! Is there anything worse than a bleach stain? Bleach does not forgive. There is no going back or getting it out. Not very smart, Kasey. So Navy Shirt sat on top of my dryer for a week or so while I mourned.

Then I thought, well it's solid navy blue. I could just buy some dye and voila! Brilliant.

The shirt spent a Saturday in a bucket of dye and I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed and wrung all the dye out of it until my hands were raw. I threw it in the wash with some colored clothes and everything seemed to come out ok except for a pair of Evan's pants that now have a slightly different hue.

I pulled Navy Shirt out but what did I see? That dumb bleach stain! Still there! If someone had taken a picture, this is how my face would have looked:

Navy Shirt sat on top of my dryer for another few weeks while I fumed about it.

Then today I was doing another load of colored laundry and just threw everything dark and colored into the washing machine and--unbeknownst to me--Navy Shirt. I had forgotten it was there under all the mess of clothes.

As the kids and I were folding laundry, I found Navy Shirt. And then I found Emma's purple top...... "But wait, that doesn't look like her purple top. What shirt is that? Is that her cute little pink shirt? The one that is not pink any longer?"

To my shame, I must admit, I started laughing. I don't know why. It just seemed awful and funny at the same time. Emma saw her shirt and burst into tears. Suddenly the pink shirt was her favorite shirt in the entire world and it was ruined forever. No other shirt would ever be the same as the pink shirt with the bunny on it. I started to realize that perhaps I should stop laughing. Immediately.

So now we have two ruined shirts and the bathroom is dirty once again. You can find your own moral to this story. But here's mine: save your shirts and your daughter's mental health and just don't clean the bathroom. Because, hey, it's just going to get dirty again.

Christmas Morning

Emma woke us up bright and early at 6:00 a.m. on Christmas morning. She was ready to open presents but we told her that she'd have to wait until the sun and her brother both woke up.

Little did we imagine, her brother would not wake up for another three hours. Evan has his own unique personality. That kid slept until almost 9:00. Emma was going bananas. And when he did finally open his eyes for the first time, Emma pounced on him and asked if he wanted to open presents. To this he replied, "No!! and buried himself under his covers. Have you ever heard of such a child?

Eventually, he did get up and realize it was Christmas and act accordingly. Here are a few shots from our morning:


Michael insisted on buying Evan's Christmas presents. You can guess what Evan got:



Emma got a Loving Family dollhouse complete with all the furniture (I found it all for cheap on Craig's list-sweet!). She's not so happy here about Superman flying in for a visit.

Who's The Boss?

Tonight I feel particularly triumphant. I finally showed English Toffee who's boss. You see, English Toffee and I go back many Christmases. My mother-in-law makes it every year and it is always delicious. So each Christmas, I think, "Hey, I'm going to try to make English toffee for my friends and neighbors. How hard can it be?" Ha!

As you guessed, each year English Toffee kicks my butt. Anything and everything goes wrong. The butter separates out at the end and it's one big greasy mess. Or it's too soft. Or I burn it. And then I throw it away and feel mad that I spent so much time and all that butter just to dump it in my garbage.

But this year I really showed English Toffee who's the cook and who's the toffee. Michael will claim that he was the determining factor since he held the candy thermometer for me on my first batch. However, I think the secret might have been using an iron skillet (yes, Dad, the one you picked up at the thrift store for me) and adding two tablespoons of water to the recipe. So English Toffee, move over baby. You're not the boss anymore.

We must use the "boss" concept quite often around here. Even the kids have picked it up. I heard Emma telling Evan the other day, "You're not the boss of me."

Next we're always trying to employ new and creative ways to get Evan to eat his dinner. Most of the time Evan's food tells him there is a party in his tummy and please won't he open up so the food can join his friends at the party. Well, that one has been declining in its effectiveness. So lately, the new spin is this: Evan's food trash talks him and then we encourage him to show the food who's boss by chomping it to little bits. He really likes that one.

No Christmas Cards for You!

Sorry long-distance friends, but you may not receive a Christmas card from us this year. I'm just feeling like Mr. Grinch these days whenever I contemplate the whole ordeal of the Christmas card process....taking the family picture, retaking the family picture, racking my brain for something interesting to say that sums up a year of same-ol, same-ol life, printing labels, folding letters, licking envelopes......can I just hit myself over the head with a hammer now please?
No hard feelings or anything. I still love y'all, which is why I feel a slight twinge of guilt over my grinch-iness this year. How about you just think of me as a very lazy winter bear in hibernation. Here's the thought process most evenings: "Hmmm, it's 9:00 p.m. Should I work on our Christmas card/newsletter or go to bed?" Not a tough choice.

But it's not just about laziness. I mean, when you're seven months pregnant who wants to take a picture of themselves anyway?

Still, there is that slight twinge of guilt at the thought of slacking off this year. So I've been trying to come up with ideas. For some reason though, Michael keeps poo-pooing all of my best ones. Here are my top 3:

Idea #1: A photo card with Michael and the kids. That's it. No letter. Love it, love it, love it!

Idea #2 (No picture, text only): I'm older. I'm fatter. Do you really want to see a picture? Merry Christmas! P.S. Still doing the same stuff as last year.

Idea #3 (My personal favorite): A photo card saying "Happy Holidays" with the following picture:

Honestly, what is not to love about this picture? Evan may be looking down but at least he's not pulling a funny face. And look at the rest of us. Eyes wide open, great smiles on our faces. Snazzy church attire. Sheesh. Some people can be soooo picky.

Is This Fair?

I heard on the radio that Michael Buble is coming to the Frank Erwin Center on February 27th.

So I ask you. Is this fair?

My due date: February 25th

Michael Buble Concert: February 27th

And am I crazy for still considering buying a ticket? Well, this baby really has poor timing. That's all I can say. So if any of you go, I don't even want to hear about it.

What Is That Smell??

This has been me lately:



Sniffing around my house on all fours. (I thought I'd opt for cute poodle over big ole pregnant woman on hands and knees.) You're welcome.

So there is this strange smell in my house. You first catch wind of it as you are going up the stairs. The smell reaches its peak at the very top of the stairs and then kind of goes away as you head down the hallway.

I hate this smell!

And I hate it even more because I don't know where it is coming from or what is causing it or how to stop it from smelling. I have sniffed my stairs. I have sniffed my walls. I have sniffed the air vent. Yet I still have not found its source. I'm running out of things to sniff.

Did I say I hate this smell?

This smell and I have met before. It was at someone else's house. I remember thinking, "Man, that is one bad smell." Sadly, I did not know that this smell would come back to find me years later.

And how do you research a smell on the Internet? How do you even describe a smell?

It looks like this smell and I will have to settle in for a couple more months of mutual loathing. Hopefully when Baby J is born, my supernatural sense of smell will go away and I can live in blissful smell ignorance.

Thank Heavens For Little...

Since I'm expecting Baby #3 and already have a girl and a boy, I was contemplating the idea of not finding out the baby's sex. And then I was contemplating the idea of finding out but telling everyone that, "It's a surprise......(for you! ha, ha!). However, since I happen to be one very curious cat with zero self-restraint and an oversharing problem, you can guess what I decided.

We are having another BOY!
And happily, Emma is cool with it. (It kind of helped that I prepped her for this outcome by mentioning that if it was a boy, she'd get her own room.) The girl was sold. So much for baby sisters--baby brothers are much better!

Halloween Costumes

This year at our house we had Peter Pan and Miss Cowgirl.

As you can see, my kids are into costumes that require a weapon. They must get that from their dad.

Now the only thing I can say is: "How am I going to keep myself from eating all their Halloween candy?!"

Way Too Molly Today

The Molly projects have been out of control this week. So here's my new shirt:

It can be yours too at http://www.ldsstock.com/ for $15.

So this is what happens to you when (a) your visiting teaching appointments and "feed the missionaries" night fall in the same week; (b) your husband reminds you that "yes, we are still on a budget"....i.e., be frugal; and (c) you are semi-quarantined to your house with a runny-nose, coughing kid. No lazing around, no shopping, no gym for you. Break out the Kitchen-Aid and the VT message.

There was no time for green Jello salad, however. I guess there's still room for improvement.

So tonight I definitely topped off the Molly week by baking bread, making jam and organizing all my gospel art pictures. Michael really looked at me strange when I unveiled the new Johnson Family Gospel Art Kit. As if I'd been set loose from somewhere that requires armed security guards and wristbands and bed restraints. That's when I knew I had achieved serious Molly status.

But getting back to the purpose of this post.....

I finally figured out a simple solution for organizing and using all of our church pictures. Besides the infamous blue box of gospel art pictures, we also had a stack of pictures we've torn out from the Ensign and all sorts of miscellaneous pictures that I think have come from Primary manual packets. It was such a mess and would take forever to find a certain picture for FHE lessons. Basically it sat in the closet and no one ever looked at them.

So I put all the pictures in sheet protectors in a binder and stuck a small label at the bottom of the sheet protector with a number on it. Then I made an Excel file with each picture's number, title and various church subjects that it could cover. Now when I want to find a picture for a lesson, I can just do a search for a particular word in my Excel file or I can sort all the pictures by subject. I'm also hoping it will do double duty as a quiet book during sacrament meeting. It's so much more accessible for the kids to look at than the blue box of pictures.

Just thought I'd pass it on in case it works for someone else too.

Happy Birthday Baby!

Ok, so he's not really a baby anymore. I guess being three years old now means he's a big boy. So here's my big boy with his sword cake. Don't look too closely at the cake. I really was planning on ordering from Costco, but Michael nostalgically insisted on letting Evan choose his favorite shape. And swords are it. So as with most of my crafting attempts, it always looks better in my mind than how it comes out in real life. Oh well. (Monique, if you read this think of our attempt to make the Aphrodite statue in college out of a vacuum cleaner and milk jug.) Side note: It really is quite funny and absurd that I am the "craft group" leader in our ward. Oh the irony of it all.

Well, I'm digressing. Back to Evan....this little guy had a great day with a homemade rubber band gun from Daddy and presents galore from Mom and Dad and Aunts and Uncle and Grandma and Grandpa. Is it bad that as a mom these are my thoughts as my son opens his presents: "50 pieces in this box? Guess who's going to have to be picking up all those pieces!" or "Where are we going to have room for all these new toys?" and "What toys can I get rid of without the kids noticing?"

Here's a rare shot: a family picture! Thanks to my awesome sis-in-law Melinda.



And one last shot of the birthday boy. Hey, guess who's potty trained now? And guess who has to go potty right now? Alas, this might have been a truly good picture if I had used the flash and if Evan had decided not to hold his birthday package. Still there is something insanely cute about little boys in white shirts and ties.

Calling All You British Drama Fans

I just watched North and South this week and I must simply say, "Thank you, BBC!" I never thought anything could come close to Pride and Prejudice, but this film certainly does. Richard Armitage is just amazing. I think the final scene in this movie has to be one of the best romantic scenes in film ever.

It's definitely more serious/gritty than P&P but don't let that dissuade you. The book is worth reading too. It's by Elizabeth Gaskell who also wrote Wives and Daughters (which has been turned into a movie as well--very very good with a great ending too, though I must say I am much more obsessed with North and South.)

Well, maybe now that I've blogged about this, I can get on with my life and stop watching it for a day or two. Unless, y'all want to do a marathon movie night and watch it together???

Desk Duty

Michael and I just watched Breach the other night. It's based on a true story about how they caught a former FBI agent who had been spying for the Russians for 15 years. We liked it but of course Michael had to go off about how spying is dishonest and how the CIA always just gets us into trouble with their secret tortures and assassinations and failed wars, etc., etc.

Normally this would cut quite close to my heart. After all, I work for the CIA.......you know, in my free time. But I must admit that I have been having some job frustrations lately after I was recently reassigned to desk duty. No more Syndey Bristow stuff for me.

Nope. Here's me now. Hey, don't touch my stapler!

If you've never seen Office Space, it's hilarious. And this guy is my favorite character.

But anyway, watching Breach made me question how good of a spy I would really be. I think I'd get all nervous and queasy about killing and torturing people. And I don't know if I could stay very calm under the gun when getting caught would mean very scary business. Maybe I'll just have to make peace with my new analyst position.

Hi, I'm the Choir Pianist Today

Since it's Sunday, I thought I'd better blog about something religious so I can count this blogging time as an appropriate Sunday activity. Here you go. Today I'm going to talk about pride. Now pride is something that the prophets are always talking about--mainly, about us needing to get rid of it. Yeah, yeah, easier said than done. But I have come upon a method that will completely strip you of all pride. 100% guaranteed. I call it "The Pride-Sucker Method."

So this is it: Volunteer to do anything that you do not have the skills for. Then show up, perform agreed-upon duties and leave 100% pride-free. Here's my particular favorite: If the choir assistant is short a pianist for that evening's choir practice, agree to do it. But I don't play the piano, you say. Well, that does not matter. Even if you play the piano this method will still work.

Testimonial: I, Kasey, used The Pride-Sucker Method today and I can definitely bear testimony that this method works! I was pulled out of Sunday School today and asked if I could play for choir tonight. Of course I said yes because I knew about The Pride-Sucker Method and thought it would be a fantastic opportunity to rid myself of some of that pride baggage.

I showed up and looked at the music for the first time. Love that no preparation stuff! Then I met the choir director who happened to be perhaps the most qualified choir director I've ever met, working on a master's degree in some sort of music specialty. Oh goody. I knew I was going to get lots of pride sucked out today. And I did. The Pride-Sucker Method really came through for me. I did my duties with my usual Kasey excellence of forgetting how to count and mixing up my pages and playing the men's notes on the treble clef and struggling through music note dsylexia because of those extra lines of music and playing wrong notes and all sorts of heinous errors that are too numerous to mention. Oh and that was all just without even attempting the accompaniment. I was really on a roll tonight.

The thing to remember about this method is to completely let your pride go and just flow with it. Pride, self-respect....let them go. It's difficult, but you have to hang in there through every last humiliating moment. I confess that during a moment of weakness tonight, I started wishing I had worn a bag over my head and introduced myself as Mystery Sister on the piano. But that would have impeded The Pride-Sucker Method. I should be saying thank goodness I had no paper bag to hide my face. It made the humiliation all the more acute. So thank you Pride-Sucker Method. I feel completely stripped of pride.

Well, at least for tonight.

I'm sure next week I'm going to blame this all on my friend Katie. "No, no that wasn't me playing the piano in choir. You're thinking of Katie. She's a brunette too and since we work together in Relief Society and have names that start with K and end with an 'e' sound, people seem to mix us up from time to time. "

Oh My Aching Back!

Here's me in twenty years with my lovely hunched back and old-lady cane. Nice yellow outfit, eh? And since there are cobblestones in the picture, maybe that means I get to go back to visit Europe.

My mom of course always told me to stand up straight. Now Michael has been doing the same thing. But good posture is just such an unnatural thing for me. It's like me saying to myself, "Ok, now I'm only going to think good thoughts." Really, how long does that last? Not very. I'm not saying I don't want good posture. Of course I do. But why does it have to be so uncomfortable?

Still I must work on good posture because I really do not want to be a hunchback. And my back is so achy lately. It just feels like it needs a good stretch. So last night as I was lying in my bed around midnight wishing I could be asleep and/or could eat barbeque, I started thinking about some back exercises that might help.

I tried this one today and um, I think I need a bit of practice yet. It's not as easy as it looks. This girl is just showing off to tell you the truth.

But surely I could do this one, right? How old is that girl anyway? If she can do it, so can I?! Hmmm. This one felt a little like it was part of a torture sequence. This girl is showing off too. No fair since kids are so much more limber.

Well, maybe I just need to start with some equipment like this:

Or if I really want to get serious, how about this?

Or how about let's just forget about good posture and go eat Salt Lick this Saturday. Anyone?