Thursday, July 23, 2009
Ideas for the 24th
Hello. I do not have to work tomorrow and I want something to do. Could I please get some ideas? Thank you.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Hey guys...I would like to say that I tried to post pictures and comments tonight about our wonderful campout up at Timpanookee last night. Needless to say, I struggled as you can see. I tried. Anyway, we had a fantastic time and were joined by the Groesbecks, Powells and Grandpa and Grandma. The weather was perfect, except for those who slept down by the river (Matt and Stacy), we learned a new game called Bananagram(kind of like speed scrabble), and the kids whittled like crazy. Even Bauer attended his first campout out and was entertained by the chipmunks, however, he didn't quite understand the pineneedles and sap that kept getting on his paws. Please notice Matthew's knee injuries, which he earned as he gracefully crawled to home base during the championship game! It was a perfect campout if we overlook the fact that I forgot the bacon for breakfast!
Lucky Campout at Timpanookee
Happy camper Stacy!
Lorin, "I had the best night of sleep"
The whittlers...Kelli and her infamous pink pocket knife.
Sunburned Becca!
Bananarama Champ!
Trent and Matt. Matt spent quite some time tutoring young Trent how to whittle.
Eliza's first campout, well sort of.
Cute Grandparents in their favorite spot.
Sam the Man.
Trent took to whittling and continued throughout
the entire campout
Game playing girls!
More game playing girls!
Riley and cute Ben and his new glasses!
Friday, July 17, 2009
Greatest or Worst sports moment of my career?
We all know we have a strange competitiveness with sports, and softball is no different. I have played in the Orem softball league for a couple of years now, and previously had won a championship. The team is sponsored by Codale electric, an electrical supply store. Well, last night was the end of the tournament. Our team had already gone undefeated during the season and we received the regular season championship T-shirts. Last night we had a game at 6pm and if we won that game we would be in the championship game of the playoffs.
And so here is where the debate will begin on whether or not this will be my best or worst sports moment of my career. On my first at-bat, I got a single, and on the second at-bat I noticed that the right fielder was playing awfully close, I'm sure that his teammates had called him in closer. So I grabbed the synergy bat with composite nano technology and knocked the softball over the right fielder's head. I turned up the speed and came cruising into 3rd base and Tyson Bigelow starts to make the slow sign and then quickly changes to the turn and run home sign. As I turn the corner I notice that I took a bad angle and I knew I was in trouble. My cleats start to lose traction and about half way home I took a nose dive into the reddish dirt (scraping my knee up pretty bad). Well, I look up and, half expecting to see the catcher holding the ball, I notice that the ball has not been thrown home yet. So, I try to get back up and finding that to be kind of tough, I start to crawl to home base. The second baseman relays a very nice throw home and the catcher, distracted I'm sure by the hilariousness of me falling, drops the ball and I miraculously am safe. I don't think the umpire even believed that I would be safe after a fall like that. Anyway, it was pretty funny and everyone had a good laugh, even Stacy.
Well, needless to say we ended up winning that game 16-4, played in the championship game and got up 20-0 in the third inning, and ended up winning 20-5. I did however have my most productive night of my career, I went 8 for 8 with 3 home runs and a couple of diving catches.
And so here is where the debate will begin on whether or not this will be my best or worst sports moment of my career. On my first at-bat, I got a single, and on the second at-bat I noticed that the right fielder was playing awfully close, I'm sure that his teammates had called him in closer. So I grabbed the synergy bat with composite nano technology and knocked the softball over the right fielder's head. I turned up the speed and came cruising into 3rd base and Tyson Bigelow starts to make the slow sign and then quickly changes to the turn and run home sign. As I turn the corner I notice that I took a bad angle and I knew I was in trouble. My cleats start to lose traction and about half way home I took a nose dive into the reddish dirt (scraping my knee up pretty bad). Well, I look up and, half expecting to see the catcher holding the ball, I notice that the ball has not been thrown home yet. So, I try to get back up and finding that to be kind of tough, I start to crawl to home base. The second baseman relays a very nice throw home and the catcher, distracted I'm sure by the hilariousness of me falling, drops the ball and I miraculously am safe. I don't think the umpire even believed that I would be safe after a fall like that. Anyway, it was pretty funny and everyone had a good laugh, even Stacy.
Well, needless to say we ended up winning that game 16-4, played in the championship game and got up 20-0 in the third inning, and ended up winning 20-5. I did however have my most productive night of my career, I went 8 for 8 with 3 home runs and a couple of diving catches.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Quiet time will be extra long this Sunday afternoon
This morning I attempted to train young Jane in the ways of the toilet. She's a bright young lady. I figured I could teach her a new trick. It did not end well.
We sat together in the bathroom, she perched on the toilet, I on an undersized red chair, for well over an hour. She read 30 children's books of various length; I enjoyed a good number of articles from Friday's edition of The New York Times. I pledged a bounty of chocolate chips if she released anything into the water below. The offer clearly enticed her.
I ran the sink water to set the mood. I had her tickle her back to relax the muscles. She drank more juice than I've ever seen her drink. I made hissing sounds. We made fists and grunted together. I begged her to join society and to celebrate indoor plumbing. She was content to sit and read.
I understand the draw of enjoying literature in the restroom. The serenity of the enclosure tempts me every time. Sometimes a crossword puzzle, other times a magazine, still other times a legal document. I know I'm not the first person to bill his time while in the men's room at the office. And I believe Reader's Digest is published specifically for restroom enjoyment. I'm not sure I've ever read Reader's Digest outside the bathroom. Humor in Uniform has many laxative qualities.
Eventually Jane started to complain that her rear was hurting. In truth, it was starting to turn red from the seat. I let her off the toilet, not wanting for this experience to scar her, but predicting that she would do her business within moments of me putting a diaper on her. I was wrong.
As soon as she stepped off the toilet, and before I could apply a diaper, she squatted on the bathroom rug and urinated. After all that juice, what did I expect. My amusement overshadowed my frustration. This is going to be more difficult than I anticipated.
We sat together in the bathroom, she perched on the toilet, I on an undersized red chair, for well over an hour. She read 30 children's books of various length; I enjoyed a good number of articles from Friday's edition of The New York Times. I pledged a bounty of chocolate chips if she released anything into the water below. The offer clearly enticed her.
I ran the sink water to set the mood. I had her tickle her back to relax the muscles. She drank more juice than I've ever seen her drink. I made hissing sounds. We made fists and grunted together. I begged her to join society and to celebrate indoor plumbing. She was content to sit and read.
I understand the draw of enjoying literature in the restroom. The serenity of the enclosure tempts me every time. Sometimes a crossword puzzle, other times a magazine, still other times a legal document. I know I'm not the first person to bill his time while in the men's room at the office. And I believe Reader's Digest is published specifically for restroom enjoyment. I'm not sure I've ever read Reader's Digest outside the bathroom. Humor in Uniform has many laxative qualities.
Eventually Jane started to complain that her rear was hurting. In truth, it was starting to turn red from the seat. I let her off the toilet, not wanting for this experience to scar her, but predicting that she would do her business within moments of me putting a diaper on her. I was wrong.
As soon as she stepped off the toilet, and before I could apply a diaper, she squatted on the bathroom rug and urinated. After all that juice, what did I expect. My amusement overshadowed my frustration. This is going to be more difficult than I anticipated.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tattoo.
Mom wanted me to clear up any misconception... the tattoo shown in the picture is 100% fake. It didn't even last through a day at the swimming pool. So, in case any of you were concerned I have not permanently scarred my body. The mustache on the other hand is very real.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Birthdays, tattoos and mustaches!
Hey everyone! Recently I celebrated my 19th birthday. I would like to thank you all for the nice wishes and presents! I recieved Guitar Hero World Tour and a very nice pair of running shoes! I had a wonderful birthday and I now feel very tired as I no longer have the childlike energy I once had.
As you all may know, I play all day. Sometimes I feel like a child when I get to so swimming or bowling, play at an arcade or dominate in tornado (I am the champion as of yesterday). But there are definately times when I feel short tempered and frustrated with the rotten little children. Two days in a row different kids threw up. Guess who had to clean it up? Guess who has to listen to 45 kids complain that they don't want to do the activity we have prepared? Yes everyone. Me.
Today we went to gasoline alley (the arcade) and I decided to play a little joke on the kids and wear a fake mustache as we were leaving (one of the fabulous prizes I bought with my tickets). I acted like a had always had it and they had a fit! Some of the kids started to believe me. Later in the day when I didn't have it on they called me out. I simply told them I had shaved and they were satisfied. Now, instead of Angel, they call me Mrs. Mustache.
Another prize I bought was a tattoo. I don't know what it says but I hope it is appropriate.
The kids at work are very interested in my personal life and are always asking if I have a boyfriend. My answer is always the same. No...I don't have a boyfriend! Yesterday a girl and I were playing truth or dare and she dared me to date someone. Thanks. Then today a boy came up and said, "So I heard you are single and I think I can help. I have a friend..." (keep in mind, this kid has a mullot and is 7 years old) "he is 21. His girlfriend just moved out so he's single now!"
As if I can't get the clues....celarly I need a boyfriend.
As you all may know, I play all day. Sometimes I feel like a child when I get to so swimming or bowling, play at an arcade or dominate in tornado (I am the champion as of yesterday). But there are definately times when I feel short tempered and frustrated with the rotten little children. Two days in a row different kids threw up. Guess who had to clean it up? Guess who has to listen to 45 kids complain that they don't want to do the activity we have prepared? Yes everyone. Me.
Today we went to gasoline alley (the arcade) and I decided to play a little joke on the kids and wear a fake mustache as we were leaving (one of the fabulous prizes I bought with my tickets). I acted like a had always had it and they had a fit! Some of the kids started to believe me. Later in the day when I didn't have it on they called me out. I simply told them I had shaved and they were satisfied. Now, instead of Angel, they call me Mrs. Mustache.
Another prize I bought was a tattoo. I don't know what it says but I hope it is appropriate.
The kids at work are very interested in my personal life and are always asking if I have a boyfriend. My answer is always the same. No...I don't have a boyfriend! Yesterday a girl and I were playing truth or dare and she dared me to date someone. Thanks. Then today a boy came up and said, "So I heard you are single and I think I can help. I have a friend..." (keep in mind, this kid has a mullot and is 7 years old) "he is 21. His girlfriend just moved out so he's single now!"
As if I can't get the clues....celarly I need a boyfriend.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Master of the house, Keeper of the inn
Yesterday afternoon I dropped off what I hope to be my last rent check. Mandy and I have rented for our entire 6 years of marriage. But we are ready to quit living in lousy apartments. The walls are closing in on us. We have no space for our possessions. Those who have visited us know the spatial constraints we face. Opening a closet subjects one to the risk of an avalanche.
I have some fond, and some not-so-fond, memories of both our Provo and our Lawrence apartments. One day in Provo, Mandy came home to find yellow liquid everywhere in our bathroom. She left me a nasty note insinuating that I had urinated all over the place. Come to find out, the upstairs bathroom had flooded and gravity had made us victims of the flood. Did she really think that I would pee all over the bathroom? My aim is bad, but not that bad.
Jane enjoys when our current landlord comes over to fix things. She asks him if he's "trying to fix it." He's trying all right. He does the shoddiest work imaginable. He'll slap a band-aid on a gaping wound and call it good. Extreme cheapness must be a universal trait of landlords. Also partial deafness and unfettered greed.
And I have especially despised being in such close quarters with my neighbors, some of whom have all their teeth. I never want to hear another neighbor's baby cry again, I get enough of that with my own kids. I never want to smell what my neighbors are smoking or having for dinner. I never want to hear their phone conversations or their toilet flushing or their sneezes. I don't want to know when they are in the shower. I never want to question how loud I can be in my own residence. When we move in to the new house, I am going to run around the house, maybe topless, yelling as loud as I can, just because I can. And Jane can ride her bus around at all hours of the night for all I care. The privacy and freedom will be very sweet. Expensive, but sweet.
I estimate that Mandy and I have spent, during our 6 years together, $36,500 just on rent. We have been slaves to our landlords. Who are these characters that take my money every month? Our current landlord, a kind but elderly gentleman, recently shocked his tenants by first dyeing a patch of his hair red, then a few weeks later dyeing all of his hair a light brown color. It looks ridiculous but I told him he looks 25 years younger.
As I handed him the check yesterday, he stated that it is a sad day for him, as it likely symbolizes the last time one of his tenants will knock on his door on the first day of the month with a rent check in hand. I told him today, for Mandy and I, is a day of celebration, because we are no longer enslaved in the landlord/tenant relationship. He tried to get me to stay, but I politely declined his invitation. My days as a tenant are over.
No question, being a tenant has its benefits. The first time something breaks in the new house, I'll instinctively open the phone to dial the landlord. But I'll quickly remember that I am the landlord, the master of the dwelling, the king of the castle, and as such I bear the burden of repair. I hope Dad is ready for some bizarre phone calls.
I am empowered at the thought of owning my own piece of real property. In Olde England, only the property owners could vote and hold positions of authority in the community. I am entering an elite social class. I soon will be both the landlord and the tenant. I'll have my own curtilage. I'll be a fee simple owner. A joint tenant with right of survivorship. A mortgagor. Able to claim the homestead exemption. I'll deduct my property tax and interest payments from my federal taxes. It will be beautiful. Until something breaks.
I have some fond, and some not-so-fond, memories of both our Provo and our Lawrence apartments. One day in Provo, Mandy came home to find yellow liquid everywhere in our bathroom. She left me a nasty note insinuating that I had urinated all over the place. Come to find out, the upstairs bathroom had flooded and gravity had made us victims of the flood. Did she really think that I would pee all over the bathroom? My aim is bad, but not that bad.
Jane enjoys when our current landlord comes over to fix things. She asks him if he's "trying to fix it." He's trying all right. He does the shoddiest work imaginable. He'll slap a band-aid on a gaping wound and call it good. Extreme cheapness must be a universal trait of landlords. Also partial deafness and unfettered greed.
And I have especially despised being in such close quarters with my neighbors, some of whom have all their teeth. I never want to hear another neighbor's baby cry again, I get enough of that with my own kids. I never want to smell what my neighbors are smoking or having for dinner. I never want to hear their phone conversations or their toilet flushing or their sneezes. I don't want to know when they are in the shower. I never want to question how loud I can be in my own residence. When we move in to the new house, I am going to run around the house, maybe topless, yelling as loud as I can, just because I can. And Jane can ride her bus around at all hours of the night for all I care. The privacy and freedom will be very sweet. Expensive, but sweet.
I estimate that Mandy and I have spent, during our 6 years together, $36,500 just on rent. We have been slaves to our landlords. Who are these characters that take my money every month? Our current landlord, a kind but elderly gentleman, recently shocked his tenants by first dyeing a patch of his hair red, then a few weeks later dyeing all of his hair a light brown color. It looks ridiculous but I told him he looks 25 years younger.
As I handed him the check yesterday, he stated that it is a sad day for him, as it likely symbolizes the last time one of his tenants will knock on his door on the first day of the month with a rent check in hand. I told him today, for Mandy and I, is a day of celebration, because we are no longer enslaved in the landlord/tenant relationship. He tried to get me to stay, but I politely declined his invitation. My days as a tenant are over.
No question, being a tenant has its benefits. The first time something breaks in the new house, I'll instinctively open the phone to dial the landlord. But I'll quickly remember that I am the landlord, the master of the dwelling, the king of the castle, and as such I bear the burden of repair. I hope Dad is ready for some bizarre phone calls.
I am empowered at the thought of owning my own piece of real property. In Olde England, only the property owners could vote and hold positions of authority in the community. I am entering an elite social class. I soon will be both the landlord and the tenant. I'll have my own curtilage. I'll be a fee simple owner. A joint tenant with right of survivorship. A mortgagor. Able to claim the homestead exemption. I'll deduct my property tax and interest payments from my federal taxes. It will be beautiful. Until something breaks.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
GIANT HOT DOGS
Today while I was out visiting a family they insisted on giving me food. I honestly felt like I was a missionary again as they were loading me up with food as I was headed towards the door. They sent me home with hot dogs, bread and some cherries. Since I don't have a bbq grill I called up Matt and asked if it would be alright if I brought some hot dogs over and had dinner with them. He said sure and so when I got off work I headed over there. These hot dogs were the biggest hot dogs you will ever see. We thought they were big before we grilled them, but they plumped right up and we enjoyed some delightful hot dogs this evening. The pictures don't do the hot dogs justice, but trust me, they were plump.
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