My Yearly Letter to Santa

Hey there Big Guy,
So as usual I'm cutting this a little close to the wire. Tomorrow is Christmas eve already. Thanks for granting some of last years wishes. December first wasn't as bad for me. We'll see how tomorrow goes. The Holidays are still spattered with bouts of sadness for Job and I. Could you help the boys to not catch on to that. I want them to remember Christmas like I remember it. It is a time full of anticipation (so much that you think you might explode if you have to wait any longer). It is a time when it is so easy to feel the spirit, if you let it. I'd like them to remember that. I'd also like it to be a time of growth this year (and I don't mean from all the chocolates and cookies). Could you grant us all a little time for introspection and self improvement? I look at all the amazing people around me and I am grateful for their example. I am grateful for their patience and understanding. I am grateful for the impact others have on my and my family's lives.
We have had a great year. A little less stress than the year before. Could you keep that trend going? We've had a few more laughs than the year before, made a few more friends than the year before, and the amount of love, well that is greater than the year before as well. The boys are larger than the year before. That I could do without. Could you stunt that a little? It's getting hard to snuggle.
So, could I ask for just one last thing? As you know I've seen a lot of people come and go while fumbling around on this earth. I've heard people around me say that they want to live a life free of regret. I'm certain that I will not be so fortunate as to live this life in such a way. There will be people I offend. There are mistakes I will make. I might even make someone sad; perhaps they will cry over something I say or do. But, without sounding morbid, and I have no intention of leaving any time soon, could you help me to live my life so that in my next life, when I meet those on the other side, who have gone before me and are cheering me on in my tougher moments, could you help me to not have regrets in that life. That is the moment where I want people to be pleased with the life I've lead. Not so much now.
I suppose that that is all. Have a safe trip tomorrow, the boys have cookies and milk for you, carrots for the reindeer and even a gallon of water for you to take in case someone doesn't put out their fire.
With Love,
Regina (and boys)
P.S. I could use some new boots and glue dots too but, the other stuff is more important.

I PASSED!

So, without knowing how to graph a parabola I took the test and passed with flying colors. I got the e-mail today (unofficial results of course) from the WEST-B testing center and I think my heart stopped. There was no way on a Monday I was ready to deal with the possibility that, perhaps, I didn't pass. But since Job and I share an "at-home" e-mail account I knew I needed to look at it before he did. So with great trepidation, I opened it. Ready to reschedule if need be. Luckily that wasn't the case! HOORAY FOR ME!

Does Anyone Out There Know How to Graph a Parabola?

I have eaten everything I can get my hands on: ice cream, sour dough bread, mashed potatoes, leftover Halloween candy, a box of gobstoppers left over form Madagascar 2...And none of it has helped me calm my anxiety, ease my ulcer or teach me how to graph a parabola. I do however know all the components and utilizations of y=mx+b, could tell you the probability of of drawing two diamonds in a row out of a deck of cards and could remind you to not dangle participles. Yes, the day has come. Tomorrow I take the single most important (and longest) test of my life since my SAT: the WEST-B entrance exam into the teaching program at UW. I'd love to say go Dawgs but I should probably wait for my test results...Now that I think of it what 1st grade teacher needs to graph a parabola anyway?

Holy Crap!

Last week we had the opportunity to explain the proverbial expression of, “our ox is in the mire,” to our children. More correctly our ox would have been in the crap, but we explained the adage to the boys nonetheless. Last Sunday as we should have been getting ready for Stake conference I sent my little one down stairs to put away some empty canning jars. He stood at the top of the stairs and declared, “Look Mom, a river.” At first I thought my washing machine had a leak but with closer inspection that would have been the preferred scenario.
What we found was that our septic tank had clogged producing a geyser of poo in our basement that then created a river of human refuse inches deep in our basement. I seem to remember just such a river in Dante’s Inferno. At least I wasn’t hanging upside down in excrement, just wading through it. Luckily my inability to keep up on the family laundry saved a large section of our basement from fecal contamination. It turns out four loads of laundry is just enough to dam up a stream of steaming sewage. See! Being bad at housekeeping can have its benefits!
So in nine hours we had our guest bed and bathroom completely gutted. We removed drywall, flooring, furniture and vanities. We scooped with shovels and scrubbed with bleach until the inside of my nose burned. Our neighbor came over to lend a hand, just one hand mind you, and he brought his teenage son. They even had the us over for a poop free dinner and the boys stayed for a movie as Job and I returned to our nightmare of a basement. The next day we used a machine that sucked all oxygen out of our house in order to remove the odd nursing home smell.
I surprisingly remained calm through the poopy debacle, and couldn’t help remembering my dad who once told me, after I wrecked a car, “sh*#@ happens!”

Do Tiger Barbs Take Antidepressants?

This weekend I watched a television program about the modern day prophet, Thomas S. Monson. In it he told a story about how at the age of fourteen he saved a drowning girl from the Provo River by dragging her by the hair onto his inner tube and paddling with his free hand to shore. He said that he was embarrassed by the grateful parents of the girl and he didn’t particularly appreciate all the hugs and kisses he received as thanks.
I too saved a life this weekend. My victim, however a cherished part of our family, had no hair to grab. And I have to say I wondered how I would resuscitate a fish. Yes Tiger, our last remaining fish must have been a little sad this weekend. If I could get my hands on some Zoloft samples I could drop them into his tank like Alka Seltzer. Sunday between televised sessions of the LDS Conference I figured it was time to tackle the fish tank. A house of order, right? So with Bucko Grandma’s help we started to disassemble, scrub plastic plants, clean the glass, get the algae off the heater and the fake sea turtles that Tiger has to romp with, and see if we could keep the last little swimmer happy. But No! When I went to get Tiger off the dinning room table where we had put his temporary bowl until his spacious ten gallons were habitable again he, was gone! I called to the boys, “Where is Tiger?” No one knew and then I saw it. Tiger’s lifeless little orange and black body stuck to the berber next to the table. He had jumped. Was his life really that bad? So the counselor in me kicked in (my parents must be proud of all the college they paid for) and without thinking I jumped into action, scooped up the fish and dropped him back into the bowl. He bobbed up and down a few times. How exactly do you do CPR on a fish? They have no lips. I settled for nudging him on the side and then it happened- he swam! A little crooked at first but then his strength came back and we quickly deposited his traumatized little body back to the safety of his tank. I had done it. I had saved Tiger’s life. Now that is impressive. Right? It could become the parable of the suicidal fish. If not a parable than a dang great story none the less. But, do I think this experience will be published in the Ensign? No. Do I think Tiger’s story will be told from pulpits (like the lady saving starfish)? No. Church news? No. But neither do I have to tell my kids that Tiger missed his friends at Petsmart and so we put him on the porcelain subway for a visit like all the fish before him. Funny how we are able to pick them up when convenient and we always find them!

Picture Day!

I remember once my mom making me wear the worst outfit ever for picture day. It was a striped turtle neck and brown pants. I'm not talking cute rainbow colors either. It was earthy: rust, mustard, olive, purple. All the way up to my neck in thin little stripes. Millions of them. She pulled my hair back in barrettes on either side but I thought it would be cooler to take just one side down and let it hang in front of my eye. Did I think she wouldn't find out? The pictures came home and I made up a story about one of the barrettes falling out in P.E. or recess, or something. I'll have to ask her if she bought the lie?
Well guess what? Tomorrow is picture day. The boys have their outfits picked out (they like them) and ready to go but what about me? I get my picture taken for the first time as faculty and I have nothing to wear! I started working at the boys elementary school a mile from my house. Though today I hit a little snag regarding office politics, politics in general and a situation with Job (I'm not even sure how I got involved; guilt by association I guess) the job makes me giddy! The kids are great. The teachers are great. My co-workers are a lot of fun to work with. I get to have a lunch date with my 6 year old anytime I want! What could be better? New clothes for picture day I guess. We'll see if I'm any cuter 25 years later. Chances are: no way! Even without the crazy stripes and colors.

Attitude Adjustment Anyone?

Last Friday Job spent the evening helping a friend of ours at his condo in Seattle. I stayed home with the boys. This Friday, Job's place of employment caught on fire. I stayed home with the boys. I, as a result, missed a friends baby shower, that I really wanted to be at. So, I get that Job couldn't help that there was a fire. And being a property manager it is his job to take care of events such as that, but I needed out of the house- sans children. Instead I stayed up watching way to many episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" on TLC and woke up cranky. This morning Job is helping friends of ours gut and repair after a broken pipe wreaked havoc on their home. What an example of service he is. I on the other hand- still cranky, and I wish I weren't. Any ideas on adopting a better attitude?

total incommunicado

On Monday my sweet husband brought me home a treadmill! I am hoping this will be my method of keeping up the running through the winter. Yes, winter comes early in the pacific northwest. In doing so he took out our telephone line. He snapped it like Indiana Jones and his whip right across our front lawn with a giant Penske moving truck. The phone company said that they could get it repaired by Thursday at 5:30 p.m. It is Friday morning and no sign of the phone company. As many of you might know we are the last of a dieing breed. Practically extinct. Job and I every day hear the lovely tone of dial-up Internet. Many of you older readers may remember that electronic screeching sound that came with dial-up, but never would I have thought I would have missed that hideous noise. Then last night, after an amazing experience in Bellevue with a group of incredible women, I left my cell phone in Job's car. So, if anyone wants to contact me, TOO BAD! And, hopefully, when I get the call back about the job interview I have this afternoon, she'll leave a message!

Sometimes, I Just Need Time To Process

Its been a wile since my last post but so many odd things have happened I'm not quite sure where to start. And by "odd" I don't necessarily mean bad (though maybe I do)...I just mean overwhelming in strange sort of way. These events have been too numerous over the past two weeks to write a narrative on each one so I'm going to list them and you can look forward to hearing about some of them in detail at a later date.

• I took my niece to a midnight book opening where I was surrounded by more teenage girls than I knew what to do with. I referred to it in a text message to Job as "teenpalooza"
• Drove 12 hours to visit my sister in Idaho with my entire fam
• Read a smutty teenage vampire book (750 pages worth) that I didn't particularly enjoy, but after staying up till midnight to get it with a "million" teenage girls at Borders I was going to finish it out of principle
• Did a speed tour of Old Faithful
• Took my kids on long walks in 90 degree weather in a somewhat unfamiliar town out of fear that they were annoying other people at my sister's house
• Found out that Pocatello Idaho builds houses on a complete foundation of rocks and boulders, making for long hours laying sprinkler pipe
• Came to the realization that my swimsuit (from last year) makes me look ridiculous and like I'm seventy years old (I left it in the trash can at Lava Springs)
• Got lost on the way home from Idaho
• Almost hit a deer on the way home from Idaho
• Were almost in a head on collision on the way home from Idaho
• Got pulled over for speeding after getting lost on the way home from Idaho
• Got home from Idaho at 1:30 a.m. a mere 12 hours before the family reunion invasion
• Had over 20 people camping in my backyard for a family reunion- IT RAINED
• Had 20+ people move into my tiny house due to rain at the family reunion
• found out my sister in law eloped (but not a true elopement) to the bishops back yard to a guy we'd never met at the family reunion
• "HEY KIDS! MEET UNCLE MATT!"
• Had crying relatives at the family reunion
• I offended people at the family reunion
• We picked trash, dirty diapers, and left over stuff out of our yard for three hours after the family reunion (now Job is offending family) two trailer loads of stuff pulled out of the back yard
• Took my niece to get our smutty teenage vampire books signed and realized my sisters dog chewed my copy, stood in line a really long time, but the music was cool and the author was chubby! She even had cellulite! Go chubby girls!
• Took the boys on a hike up a mountain- realized when we got down I had picked one of the hottest days of the summer!

Its been a great couple of weeks. Oh, and did I mention, I gained 4 pounds through all of this! There's the cherry on top. If there is any one bulleted item you would like to hear about let me know. I'll do my best to get it posted!

Still Obese- Geese Louise

I have lost a lot of weight. Close to 150 pounds. I was told that the average woman in America is a size 14. I'm feeling pretty average by this standard. The other day I signed up for SparkPeople (an online health tracking website) and in entering my data I was informed I am still obese. If I loose 3-4 pounds I'll be in the overweight category. Is anyone in this blasted country want to join me in the "happy to be overweight category?" The only upside to this revelation is that after my discovery I ran a 5K in 32 minutes 5 seconds. Oh, Happy Day!

Back From Camp!

Okay, its official. I love women. Not in a "don't ask don't tell" kind of way, but in a strong sense of sisterhood type way! I am back from a week of girls camp (girls age 12-16) and while I love those girls my favorite moments were spent around the camp fire with the other leaders talking, laughing and yes stealing cake into the wee hours of the morning. I will share some of the highlights: dropping the beanie I had to wear every night to prevent hypothermia into the toilet at 2:30 in the morning and laughing with the camp nurse so hard the neighboring camp leaders came and got mad at us, offering a bishop stolen cake at 1a.m. and finding out it was his cake I stole in the early morning kitchen raid (then lieing about my identity), having my hair braided and nails painted in the camp "lounge" by the girls and lastly having my high councilor return my pants to my husband at church after his wife accidentally took them home! It was a great week of silliness and laughter. I am glad Job and his sister were able to hold down the fort and allow me the opportunity!

The real story of the 5K

What Regina failed to tell you is that she beguiled me into joining in the running of the 5K. What started out as a friendly get together to run a little ended up as a fierce competition. I prepared for the race by drinking several Thomas Kempers eating way too much bacon and not seriously running for about 15 years. My whole goal that day was to show up my friend Todd. We both showed up with our headphones, MP3 players and running shoes. I even wore my shirt from the gym I work at thinking that it would help make me a super athlete. After the first few laps I quickly realized that all my preparation failed to make me a better runner. While I did finish in 34:30 it paled in comparison to Todd’s 25:00 time. Apparently there is something to that whole training thing he has going.
The real shock came the next day. I woke up as a spry 34 year old trapped in a 173 year old body. I have never hurt so much in my life. Here we are three days later and I still can’t squat down without wincing in pain. So I am here giving props to all of the women who completed the 5K (including the pregnant ones) and were still able to walk uprightly the next day.
Job

Family 5K

Just a heads up, I did another 5k this morning (with Job and my 8 year old) and finished in 38 minutes. I think it might be a new personal best. And to my cousin's surprise (who I'm sure could run a mile), I ran the first mile and a half without stopping plus sporadically ran till I crossed the finish line! Does this mean I'm going to be held to this standard from now on? I hope to high heaven it doesn't. I really do hate running. If I have no racket in my hand or am not chasing a ball it barely seems worth my time!

Not Another Broken Toe

Last year Job and I were asked to help our close friends chaperone a three day backpack trip with a large group of teenage girls for their"fourth year hike." I filtered water, ate re-hydrated food, and yes, pooped in the sand. Job Broke his big toe. Did I mention it rained two of three days. Well, this year, I was asked to go with the main group of girls (1st, 2nd, and 3rd year campers) to a week long camp with real showers, cabins, a lake, a cook, and so on. They asked if I would be in charge of crafts. So, you may not have guessed it but yes, I am a little crafty. All I would have to do is craft for three hours a day with 115 teenage girls. I THINK I AM NUTS. After several weeks of preparing for crafts, shopping, and sorting I am down to just two days before I leave and I am convinced that the girls are going to hate the crafts I chose. Either way I'll only be crafting for three hours a day. The rest of the time if they need me they'd better go look at the lake for the woman in the paddle boat with a good book and even though I thought a week free of testosterone would be a good idea, I'm going to miss the boys and Job.

The Last of the Good Ones

Just before I created my blog I woke up one morning and my face was swollen, my gums were puffy, my eye was droopy, and the whole right side of my face was numb. I knew the culprit and I knew what I had to do. I had to call the dentist. I had a root canal done years before but never capped while Job was in law school back east. Inevitably the tooth cracked, then abscessed,then lead to the afore mentioned fun morning. Amazingly, I found a dentist who was close by and didn't make me feel like a complete moron for never taking care of the situation years ago. She did the oral surgery, I was out of commission for a full day, and found out that I had more dental work than I thought that needed to be done. I also decided that dentist and their assistants should speak in code. I never want to hear the phrase, "I'll need that blade after all, " or "lets go with a larger needle," again. So, now to how this relates to my present predicament. Just last night I was drinking a rather large glass a water, feeling overly dehydrated (common condition for me), and Job managed to jam the glass into my lip and tooth cracking one of my front teeth and giving me a bloody lip. Job felt so bad. My crying and shaking probably didn't help. I tried to remind myself that it was an accident and that I wasn't in any pain but I didn't feel much better. All I could think of was, "why couldn't he have hit a tooth that already needed work!" Eventually I fell asleep, hysteria is exhausting. I woke up early this morning to complete my own personal 5k, no records broken, no famous athletes on my ipod, but I did come home with a better outlook. What's one more tooth to have worked on in the scheme of things. Right?

Way to Upbeat

So that last post didn't say one negative thing in it, and since its not like me to not complain, here it is; my dryer died this morning, my mower is broke again, and Job is off gallivanting with the local scout troop he paroles in a tent that smells like cheese. So, I have laundry on the line, my grass could use a mow, and Job will stink more than usual when he returns. On the plus side, the grass has almost completely hidden the broken down Ford in the back yard and dandelions are quickly becoming my favorite flower!

"I'm SO Excited, I Just can't Hide It..."

After a 45 minute tennis lesson with the boys I decided to see if I could sneak over and jog a lap walk a lap, jog a lap and walk a lap. Just one mile (I already did 3k this morning). Nothing Earth Shattering. BUT (wait for it) I did my fastest mile and jogged (if it even counts as a jog because it for sure was not a run) the whole thing. I didn't stop once! My ipod even confirmed my time and new personal best, though I didn't recognize the famous person congratulating me. Anyway, HIP, HIP FOR ME!

I Think My Green Thumb Fell Clean Off!

Yesterday I had a brilliant idea to take my boys to Lowe's and buy some plants for the front yard. I have avoided planting anything for the last couple of years because when I do the chickens just dig them up burrowing in the flower beds. We even skipped the veggie garden this year. Every year we would have the talk about how much work and responsibility a garden is and how a "family" garden can be amazing if taken care of. Every year the family garden was all about me dragging hoses and trying to scare away rabbits and deer while weeding the gourd patch (gourds grow abundantly in the vegetable garden after Job tilled in several plants one spring). I don't enjoy gardening. So this year when I announced no veggie garden there was little protest. Well, yesterday I decided I was bigger and smarter than any old chicken and could at least spruce up the front yard. The boys picked out some really pretty perennials and surprisingly talked me into buying them a lemon tree (it smells amazing and already has little tiny lemons on it that totally look like limes). I had an old flower bed that I was certain could be restored with twenty minutes of digging. After one hour of sweat and digging up rocks, roots, beetles and bricks, I quit. I had prepared about 1/3 of the flower bed and thought I might pass out. I was about to call a teenage boy and pay him to come finish it when Job called and said he would finish it after work! What a sweetie. Ironically I agreed just after all this that I would mow and weed the grounds at one of Job's work sites! What was I thinking!

Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Watcha Gonna Do...

Saturday night we decided to go to bed earlier than we had been. Usually we crawl in bed by 9p.m. but with family here from out of town I don't think we had gotten to bed before midnight in weeks. At 11:30 p.m.ish I heard the most horrific crash, metal scraping, trees, snapping, tires squealing, kind of crash, I had heard ever. It woke me up hitting Job, screaming, "call 911! Call 911!" We went running out on the porch with two very different agendas. Job wanted to go running up and check things out. I, figuring that this type of accident coupled with the type of car (a 1980's teal Camero), for sure involved mass amounts of alcohol at the local tavern, stood on the porch yelling into the blackness, "Is anyone out there? Is someone hurt?" Job got off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and as he did a man with long hair, possibly a mullet, came walking back down the road cowboy boots clicking away on the pavement, asking, "Did you call the police?" When Job assured him he had all he said, repeatedly, was, "poop!" Okay that's not what he really said but come on, I can't type what he really said and still feel good about the link to my church's website...Then In a panic he said he couldn't stay. He told us he had done something bad. He had gotten into a fight with his wife, and off he clicked into the darkness. The Sheriff's department eventually came, they took off to the man's house after running his plates, leaving Rob and I sitting in lawn chairs in the front yard wondering what we should do. At this point the white van enters the story. My big fear with the guy disappearing was that he would return with six of his biggest friends. What I didn't stop to think is that him sending two stupid guys in a van would be just as bad. I found myself back on the phone with 911. The men removed things from the Camero and took off again. I tell Rob to go get my Red Rider BB gun but all he says to that is, "Are you serious?" We go back to our lawn chairs and wait, but here comes the white van again. Out pops the two guys and they are back into the Camero when one of them starts walking down the road toward my driveway! Panic kicks in. Call number three to 911! The police come back. They question the guy left at the van by his buddy and you can hear the police asking him if he is stupid. DUH! More police arrive (totally tearing up my gravel driveway by the way), and the van stays. Turns out it won't start! Now we have two broken down cars in front of our house and several police vehicles. In the end, everyone was sent home. The driver was never found and the police assured me his record currently was clean, he had no prior convictions and was not listed on any state registry that would cause me to pack up my children and stay at the local Marriott/Best Western in town. They said in two days I could report the car as abandoned and then it could be towed, after receiving the obligatory bright orange check mark that cars get when abandoned on the side of the road. If the car had been in our yard or blocking traffic (both of which it did not) he could authorize an immediate tow. Job offered to pull it into the road and while the officer did consider taking a short drive, I told Job he could not do it. So, Job and I went back into the house checking to lock all the doors and windows, and laid there grateful the boys had stayed asleep and grandma never stirred!

Oh- Sunday morning the white van came and retrieved the car. He said his friend was sorry and they would replace the section of fence and the mailbox.

I Have Solved the Mystery

So, I have spent the last few days worried about my son and his comment to our friend (you know the one where he said he would hit him in the nuts). Where did he learn that phrase? Does he know what it means? Would he really do it? So this morning after a big family breakfast, we had more family arrive. Job's sister and her family showed up and Job was overheard telling our youngest to go hit his sister in the nuts! If he wasn't confused before, he is now! I CANNOT believe he said that. Even though he was joking, I'm still totally ticked off!

Sidenote: Tiger Woods told me this morning on my ipod that I ran my fastest mile! I love Nike+

Happy 4th- Enjoy your freedom

Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays. I had always wanted to be married on the 4th but for those of you who know anything about the LDS religion knows that that can't happen. Our sacred houses of worship and marriage aren't open on the 4th (or any federal holiday). We were married in March. But I digress. I do absolutely love this country and the freedoms it affords us. I love celebrating our nation and its independence. My oldest son was in 2nd grade this last year and his teacher called me at home stating that our son had requested that the class president (who is assigned, not elected) be impeached for infringing on his first amendment rights. This other boy, who is quite the bully, had told my son he was not worthy to speak and since he was the president he would inform him when he could and could not speak. I was asked if I would talk to him about the inappropriateness of him wanting to impeach the boy. I told him I didn't think I would. His teacher asked if he really understood the first amendment. I assured him that he apparently did and told him next time he saw him he could also ask him to recite the preamble, and tell you ten new facts about our nations first president (He thought he was George Washington for a year when he was three. He even called me Martha and told his kindergarten teacher that his birthday was February 22). I wish everyone shared his enthusiasm for history and his love of all things American. He goes sign waving at election time, he marches in parades with congressmen, he goes to vote with us at all the major elections. He is getting ready to be a responsible citizen. Maybe he will someday impeach a president, better yet maybe he will be president. On a side note, Job helped his sister put on an amazing fireworks show (she is a pyrotechnician) and he has all his fingers! Lets only pray that he doesn't get sick from all the moose dogs he ate.

Seriously up all night

So if anyone looks at this blog closely they may think, "WOW! she did a post at 6:15 a.m. She is funny and an early riser." Think again. I have seriously been up all night. That doesn't mean I woke up several times through the night, or that I was woken intermittantly by small children (my kids have slept through the night since about eight weeks). The last time I got up for a late night feeding other than my own was about six years ago. Here is my problem...I got home from a group meeting (where I discovered I should be getting half my weight in protein every day. Someone just give me a cow to gnaw on) and realized that while playing tennis with my eldest I had gotten a pretty serious sunburn, mostly on my arms. So, this is better than the sunburn I got last week picking strawberries where no one felt the need to tell me I was showing a little crack bending over to pick the little red buggers. Yup, I burnt a half moon on my lower back right down to the crack almost. This made sitting , laying, and moving a little uncomfortable. So, not wanting repeat the discomfort of last week I decided to take some ibuprofen before hopping into bed. I'm not sure if it was just heart burn or acid reflux or something but I woke up coughing and my throat felt like I had swallowed pool chemicals. Tums made me gag. Crackers, no help. Milk while a good source of protein, no help either...So I sat in bed and watched a plethora of late night to early morning television shows (Glenn Beck at 2a.m. was my fave) hoping that I would fall into a slumber despite the lightning storm that seemed to be directly above my house. If I didn't know better I might have thought God was trying to tell me something. Its either a lesson to cut out the sun worship, or increase my modesty while picking fruit.

Be a Good Boy...or it'll hurt ya

So for those of you who don't know, Jōb had four sons and three daughters, twice! That's a big fam. We have two sons. I wouldn't mind three sons but Jōb is good with two so we are consequently both good with two (but that's an entirely different blog entry). On Sunday evening a good friend of ours, after playing quite the impressive practical joke, came over for a visit with his wife, family and a pan of brownies. We then also saw him the next night at a birthday party for a different friend (who we gave ten lovely ears of corn to). Near the end of the party our youngest turned to our friend (the one with the brownies, not the corn), who happens to be acting Bishop in our church congregation right now, and said that he wanted to play at his house with his daughter. He said if he wasn't a good boy he couldn't come over and play. Upon hearing that my sweet, little angelic child stated, "Well if you aren't a good boy I'll kick you in the nuts!" I am telling anyone that is listening- "Do NOT let your children watch America's Funniest Home Videos." It is the downfall of the American child.

Bad things come in threes, or fours

Jōb and I had a great thing happen this weekend, surprisingly, as we do appear to be the unluckiest couple on the planet, our oldest son decided to be baptized. We had family come into town, we had the ceremony to oversee, programs to print, we had a luncheon to plan at our home afterward, it was a busy week. We were excited and felt that he was making the right decision. Funny how when you decide to do the right thing it all starts to fall apart. The day before the baptism I needed to get my sister, who had been staying with us, to the airport. All I had to do was throw her bag in the car and pick her up at her conference and head the last twenty miles to the terminal. I forgot her bag. I sped home. Picked it up, returned to get her, but all in vain. She missed her flight. The next available flight wasn't until 7a.m. the next morning. When I called Jōb to tell him he informed me he had gotten pulled over doing "78 in a 60". Jōb's driving record leaves a lot to be desired. When I finally got home (with my sister) Jōb had dinner all under control, family was arriving by the van full and I was feeling like a complete looser. But, at least I wouldn't have to cook. I did however have to go to subway and buy a bunch of footlongs after the grease fire that turned the ribs into charcoal briquettes sitting on top of the brand new gas grill that was practically engulfed in flames. My sister did her best to make me feel better, and jokingly said, "well at least no one sat on the cake," that we had picked up from the bakery earlier that day for the baptism, and "pretended" to sit on the cake. Her pretend sit turned into a real sit and his cake had a cute little butt print on the right side. It is a good thing she has a tiny rear end. Whoever said bad things come in threes, Jōb and I prove it repeatedly.