Life Via Quotes to My Missionary

 I grew up in a home where being funny was valued as a desirable trait.   I tried really hard to be funny when I was young, but at some point had to admit that quick wit that requires the ability to think on your feet is completely and totally beyond the scope of how my brain works.   Self-deprecatory sarcasm is usually about where my humor efforts land these days--like "Oh, yeah.  I can totally win a karaoke contest.  Just sign me up and I'm there."  It's total hogwash, but relies on the other person knowing I'm a terrible singer to even be slightly funny.   And because there isn't actually any wit involved, it's not actually funny at all.  And some people might actually believe me and think I'm just a really confident singer and if I'm not careful I'll be asked to be the primary music leader or something.

  But, I digress.       

Recently I came across a few of my old blogposts and was reminded of the fact that  I'm not quite as unfunny in writing as I am in person.   Don't get me wrong.   I fully know that 99.3% of the posts on this blog are about as boring as the footnotes of a textbook on ferns, but, I do have written evidence that I have  occasionally posted mildly funny content.    

Here are a couple that made me laugh... (10 commandments of a teenage boy,  princesses don't toot, three versions of how to pack, helpful advice) 

But, I still claim no real wittiness, even in writing.    Really, it's all about the kids.   Kids make life funny and the only kids left in my life are living 2000+ miles away from me, therefore I continue on blogging like an out of work botanist.  Not that I'm calling all botanists boring, but maybe some.       

So, you all know my style well enough to know that I'm not really into writing long essays on any topic, so I must be  leading this blogpost to be about something from our lives and you're right.   Today you get the privilege of reading about our lives via some direct quotes from a recent letter I sent  to my sweet missionary. I didn't really start off trying to be funny, but I do admit to feeling slightly off-kilter that night.   Long Sundays will do that to me! Vote in the comments if you have a favorite quote and whether you think I should always blog in an off-kilter state of mind or if I should stick with   blogging only when I’m well rested and feeling sedate (which would be never). 

      
QUOTE 1: 
" I am writing this letter to you today under the influence of not eating since breakfast, spending 13 hours at church (a typical Sunday of late), then stuffing myself silly at 8pm with a lunchmeat sandwich and previously frozen brownies.

DINNER OF CHAMPIONS!!!!! 💣

Do you want me to send you the recipe? Of course you do. It was fantastic and you'll probably want to make it every day.

INGREDIENTS:
lunchmeat
cheese
mayo
sauerkraut
bread (if you're me then make it gluten free)

brownies, broken into bite size pieces (frozen for at least 3 weeks)

DIRECTIONS:
Slather it all together (brownie bites intermingled with sandwich bites) and eat within 2 minutes 37 seconds.
ENJOY!


Next time I make it, I'll take a picture, so you can see how it all comes together." 


QUOTE 2:   
Oh look at that! We had a ward party on Tuesday night. 


There are cute guys in this picture that I would totally set you and Hermana B. up with....just say the word in 7ish months or so...


Sorry...that's the lack of sleep talking....you can forget I even said anything.

You'll never guess what I was in charge of for the party.

I'll give you three guesses....

1. teaching everyone the macarena?

NO!

2. bull fighting?

Good guess, but no.

3. karaoke leader?

Heaven help us all....that would be a big fat NO to the heck no!


I guess I'll just tell you and you can stop wondering.

I was in charge of making gluten free versions of all the Thanksgiving food.

Shocker, I know.

I made rolls using an expensive mix that were meh. Totally not worth what I paid for the ingredients....


But the apple pie...

It may look hideously hideous, but the taste was perfecto! 😋 Go ahead and lick the screen now. "


QUOTE 3: 
"CAN YOU GUESS WHAT THIS PICTURE IS?

It's the tea set we got Emma for her birthday. She decided that she wanted to keep working on her Britishness, so she's brushing up on her British accent and is holding a daily tea party for the entire YSA branch. 5am every day. For Christmas I'm sending her scones and clotted cream. 

 {Note:  This was meant to be the aforementioned sarcastic humor of which is my specialty, but then my own son asked if this were a true statement, thereby confirming the fact that my humor is actually rather humorless.} 

Speaking of your sister....here she is with her friends at the Boston Temple...probably pretending to be British if I had to guess. I hear she asked for the British translation of her temple session..."



QUOTE 4: Adam, on the other hand, is working on his peanut butter game. He got invited to a peanut butter party and sampled one of everything...Can you guess what he and {his girlfriend} made? HINT: It was my recipe and they borrowed my pie pan for the occasion. 



QUOTE 5: Oh, I have some life advice to give you now. Very serious life advice, which you should probably write in your journal and tell ALL of your friends. Whatever you do, DO NOT GO TO TRADER JOES ON AN EMPTY STOMACH!!!!! It's a problem. Perhaps not the worst problem ever, but a problem nonetheless. 




QUOTE 6:  "The other night, I brought Nutella uncrustables to our friend, J., for her 20th birthday. Lest you think me the randomest birthday treat giver ever, I'll remind you that J. is the one whose Mom grew up in Minnesota and her family now lives in Cami's ward, so I had sent a little text to her Mom and got her suggestions. She was actually quite excited!" 


QUOTE 7: We also went to the temple this week and had an awesome turn-out. Notice who's NOT in this picture? YOUR PADRE!!! Why didn't he come to this beautiful night at the temple? Was he too busy at work? Yes, but he was going to come anyway. Did he bruise his tailbone wrestling with Kiwi? Good guess, but NO! He was all ready to walk out the door and realized that he'd let his temple recommend expire. So Bishop G. didn't come to the temple because his recommend was expired. oops.

Okay, back to cute guys. I would give you and Hermana B the thumbs' up on any guy in this picture. CUTE AND RIGHTEOUS GUYS THAT LIKE TO GO TO THE TEMPLE! What could be better than that?! Absolutely nothing, but there I go again."

QUOTE 8: I'll close off with one more picture of a few of our ward members....


Can you tell this is kind of our lives right now? We had church activities Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.   This was taken at institute on Thursday night. If you weren't in the habit of going to institute before your mission, I highly recommend it when you get home. It's a night to be spiritually and physically fed AND you get to hang out with friends. It is awesome. And lots of cute guys."  

THE CONCLUSION:  

This blog would probably be a lot more entertaining if I blogged only after spending 13 hours at church and after gobbling down  food for dinner with minimal nutritive value.   Though, perhaps it's best for the people who love me, if I keep things more sedate.   

Also...my poor missionary!  I felt kind of bad the next day after talking about guys so many times.  That is not normal for me.  But at least I wrote a letter, so I'll pat myself on the back for that.     

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!    

Making This Blog Cute Again

There was a time when I didn't have to try too hard to come up with things to blog about, because our lives were a series of  cute, silly, and funny stories.   But, in the 18 years since I started this blog...yes, I've actually raised  my blog to adulthood...our lives have changed a bit.  We've gone from having a houseful of  cute little stinkers who made a lot of noise and messes and said hilarious things, to a mostly quiet house, except for the dogs barking at people walking by our house, which means it's kind of boring around here most of the time!    And, I admit, that this blog reflects that!   

I was reminded of this fact extra this past week, when I happened across this  oldie but goodie blogpost and was marveling over the fact that: 
 a)    I used to actually have an interactive audience here
b)   I used to  attempt  humor here

 And somehow both of those elements have completely disappeared from this blog over the years.   Perhaps related to each other, but I'm not sure which is the chicken and which is the egg.   

Then, I came to another realization today that is a bit embarrassing to share.   Basically, one of the reasons I don't attempt humor here anymore is because I have a new outlet for it and that about taps out any brainpower I have left for wit.   What is my great new outlet?   

Don't laugh....   

It's my weekly emails I send to our ward with the link to our weekly ward bulletin.   Somewhere along the lines of me sending very boring weekly  emails that said things like, "Here's the link to this week's bulletin...", which no one would then read, I got disenchanted with it all. I didn't want to be THAT guy sending the same old, same old email week after week and I got bored with it almost instantly.  So I started channeling my inner blogger (of which not a soul here in Utah knows anything about) and I started attempting to add humor and interest to my emails.  

Here's a sample of a couple recent ones:  

I should emphasize that I used the word "ATTEMPTING" humor.   I am fully aware that I am not actually funny, which is why my emails get about as many comments/responses as  recent posts on this blog, but I do enjoy the attempt.   And I like to think that marginally more people look at the bulletin each week, because they're at least mildly entertained by my emails.   

Or annoyed....who knows!? 😂

So, I briefly toyed with the idea of trying to come up with something funny for today's post, but I really  am tapped out on attempted humor....so, it's high time to make this blog cute again!  

First off,  let's start with pure cuteness with this adorable  picture of Lucie with my nephew, Jesus.   They're hit it off like best buds when my sister spent a few days in Alabama on Spring Break recently.  Lucie enjoyed a big kid to follow around and talk to and Jesus enjoyed having a little buddy to read to and dote on!   

Speaking of Lucie...she is spunky, smart, and somewhat sassy too!   A recent conversation Cami and Garrett recently had with her demonstrates all 3 of those.   

Here is a direct quote from a text G sent on the family group chat:  

"During {our} family walk I made a comment about "godlessness" to Cami during our discussion.  Lucie immediately cut me off and said, "Godlessness?  No Dad, the pangolin is a gift from God."  

Never mind that the term godlessness should be way over a 3-year-old's head.  Never mind that pangolins were not part of the conversation.  And never mind that I didn't even know what the heck a pangolin was, but, after looking it up.... 

Heck, that is a straight up gift from God!   I mean look at that weird array of scales and cuteness!   Lucie had it spot-on!   Speaking of gifts from God...

Lucie and  Oliver are truly my gifts!   I LOVE being a Gigi and I love every Facetime, story, and picture I get with them!   Oliver is sooooooo close to walking now!  

And in case you're wondering...yes, it's been a few months since I've seen them...

Which is why by the time you read this, I'll be in Alabama, snuggling these sweeties with all my might!    In other words, I'll be in my happy place and there will be plenty more cuteness on this blog to come...

 

Is this a round of Telestrations? Or the best doggone letter you've ever received?

Letter to Cami, dated 9/24/16:
***********************************************

Dear Soeur G.,

Well, you'll be happy to know that despite the subject line of this email, this email has absolutely nothing to do with us playing Telestrations.

First off, I just wanted to give you a very sincere and dire warning not to attempt to pop any wheelies while on your mission. This guy was going 65mph on 495 like this....with a semi truck right behind him. We all agreed that he was being rather STUPID and needs to learn the gospel ASAP. I should have rolled down my window and gotten his contact information to send to the missionaries, but, alas, I'm pretty sure I saw his brain slip out the back of his helmet when we passed him.

Where were we going on 495, you ask? Don't guess. I'll just tell you. We were on our way to FedEx Field in Maryland to watch BYU play WVU in foosball.

Ellie and I just went to look cute, eat junk food, and dance wildly whenever music came on...


But dad and the boys were actually there to cheer the Cougars on, which is why they're wearing white and we're wearing gray....


Actually, you know us both pretty well, and I'm pretty sure you won't be surprised to hear that I yelled way louder than dad ever did. And I've got the hoarse voice to prove it if he tries to disagree.

Dad did get this random lucky butterfly to land on him though. It actually landed on Ellie first, then dad, which means they're both cooler than me, but we already knew that, so, you know, just keep reading.

Alas, it did not prove to be as lucky a butterfly as it bragged to be and we lost in another super close game (32-35).

We did have fun being there with half the LDS population of the DC area and it was a waaaaaaaaaaaay better than last year's fiasco in Michigan. And you'll be very happy to know that we had to drive down **** ***** Drive (names hidden to protect the innocent) to get to FedEx Field. I thought you'd have enjoyed being there with us and maybe taken it as a sign that you need to name your first child "Momo" or something.

So, what do you think?

I started this letter with warning you not to pop a wheelies, suggested that the guy needed a referral to the missionaries, went to the subject of football, dancing wildly, yelling louder than dad, lucky butterflies, and ended with a suggestion for your firstborn child.

Wouldn't that have made for a good round of Telestrations?

"NOOOOOOOOOOO, NOT YET," your mother exclaims loudly!

You, Cami Rose, need to know that YOUR MOM STILL HAS HER MOVES!!!! Check out (ignoring how disproportionally humongous my leg looks in this picture) how I can totally still kick Spence smack in the face....if I wanted to.

And with that uplifting bit of information (haha, I UPLIFTED my leg in a kick, making this picture UPLIFTING), this awesome letter must now come to an end, for I worry about overwhelming you with so much random amazingness in one sitting.

Tu es belle - à l'intérieur et à l'extérieur! Votre maman est tout à fait sérieux tout le temps et ne penserait jamais à écrire une lettre à vous tandis que dans l'une de ses humeurs stupides.

I LOVE YOU! JE T'AIME! Câlins et bisous!

Love,
Votre mère très grave

A Golden Oldie

February 10: 

What does it say about me that when someone sends me a text saying that they just went to Westminster Abbey and the Tower of Big Ben...

that this song released before I was even born instantly starts running through my head?
   

Of course I then couldn't help myself from asking them if they'd also seen the "rosy red cheeks of the little children." 

Weirdly, they thought my question a little strange. 

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In a Galaxy Far, Far Away

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, the Crain clan lived on an ice-covered, desolate planet called Minnesota (also known as "Elsa's lair" to some small tykes). This frigid wasteland is known for its periods of great coldness and frequent attacks by rebel snowflakes that hale from the evil galactic empire, known as Canada. The warm-hearted and cold-eared inhabitants of Minnesota are known to don layer after layer of turtlenecks, sweaters, long johns, doubled-up socks, and thick outerwear in an effort to ward off the sinister icy rays of the weak Minnesotan sun. However, even with their seemingly impenetrable woolen armor, it often still isn't enough to keep the death star's ice crystal rays from conquering their nose hairs in crunchy arctic mayhem.

Eventually, with the support of the Republic {of Dad's Job}, the Crain clan escaped the clutches of the evil frozen Minnesotan empire, which while actually full of very nice people, was too full of the dark side every evening starting at approximately 16:00 each day. Too bad the force of the dark side proved to be too strong and the clan's Jedi-like teaching-the-gospel-skills were needed to bring light into more frozen galactic lairs. Siberia, Ukraine, Germany, St. Petersburg, Moscow. Try as they might, the clan kept finding themselves drawn back to cold, desolate lands to lead brave resistances to the sinister {and very cold} dark side.

Today, in a very nearby galaxy, you will find the Crain clan in more restorative climes with nary a frozen nose hair to be found. Is there some long lost droid out there that contains messages to lead them to more frozen adventures? Maybe. But he'll have to find them first.

by Lara (of the Crain clan)

Missing in Action

In the 100-hours since I've been home from my trip to San Diego,  I've slept through the alarm once,  forgotten to give Ellie her medicine twice, eaten my weight in chocolate, missed paying an important bill, forgotten a commitment, didn't enforce the kids' music practice at all, and for the first 24-hours thought all the toiletries had been stolen out of my bag until I found them all right underneath my bag the next day.

In other words....my brain is officially missing in action.  

I think I used it a couple times in San Diego while trying to figure out the music settings on my phone.    And maybe a little at Trader Joes when I pondered whether to get peppermint or chocolate covered JoeJoes and ended up buying both.     But other than that, I haven't seen it at all.  

In the meantime, my brainless state has proven to be a bit of a liability for me.    A couple of days ago, I eagerly tried to take advantage of a great earlybird discount for ordering our Christmas cards.   I designed what I thought was a very hilarious Hobbit themed Christmas card, but was a bit disheartened when I promptly got shot down by all my proof-readers because the card was  too nativity-ish and trashy at the same time.  Think about that for a minute.   Yep, they used nativity and trashy in the same sentence, which meant that I promptly ordered a million of them on the spot.  

Then yesterday, after thinking briefly that I might have regained the use of my cognitive abilities again,  I decided to help my mom out in her quest to collect the rest of the Christmas wish lists from my siblings.     I thought myself extremely clever and informed my entire extended family that my mom was buying them all puppies unless they sent her their list  pronto.     Unfortunately, my clever plot was quickly foiled when on the spot one of my brothers gladly rescinded his Christmas list and is now expecting  a cute little puppy in his stocking.  Sorry, Mom.

Then tonight I was writing this blogpost, and  I thought to myself, "Lara, (because I always refer to myself in third-person in my thoughts) Why not embrace your newfound empty-headedness and start writing poetry?"  

Hmmmm, why not indeed?      

See my first masterpiece:

My name used to be Lara Crain, 

but now it is Lara No-Brain. 

I love to sleep 

and hope my kids don't make a peep,

because if there's nothing in my head, 

I may as well be in bed.  

Good night! 

Our Greatest Accomplishments of 2014

Here is a recap of our family's greatest (sort of) accomplishments of 2014 and our goals for 2015.  

Lara--
accomplishment:  creating a chore system that actually lasted longer than a couple of weeks.

goal:   dye my hair more often (and exercise more and eat healthier and try to be better).     Seriously though,  I either need to embrace the gray or dye it more often, because my hair looks horrible 98% of the time right now.

Glen--
accomplishment:   getting a promotion at work which included a car allowance.   After driving the old junker minivan to work for 3+ years, he couldn't be more excited about the decidedly unembarrassing red car he drives now.

goal:  to successfully complete a century bike ride (100 miles) this summer.  That's only zero to a hundred miles in six months.

Spencer--
accomplishment:  making it through Organic Chemistry 241 with his brain {mostly} still intact.

goal:  to do his part to keep stress levels in his and his parents' lives to a nice normal level.    

Cami--
accomplishment:  not only surviving her junior year and 3 AP classes at once (AP Calculus, AP Lang, and AP Human Geography), but kicking butt on them and getting 5, 4, and 5 on them respectively.

goal:  to graduate HS with over a 4.0 GPA, to get into BYU-Provo, and go on a few hot dates in the meantime!

Emma --
accomplishment:   officially became the best cook in the family when she beat Cami in a cupcake baking contest.  I lost that title several years ago.

goal:  to not eat any artificial food colorings or flavorings, gluten, sugar, or any food besides dark chocolate really.

Adam--
accomplishment: learning how to program a robot.  

goal:  to beat everyone (especially daddy) at every board game we own.

Ellie--
accomplishment:  reading the first three Harry Potter books all by herself!

goal:  to finish reading the Harry Potter series and to finally convince her mother to serve her anti-seizure medication on ice cream or pudding all the time, instead of boring old yogurt.

Top 5 Signs You're Not Getting Enough Sleep

5.  The kids know that mommy read aloud time is actually mommy-fall-asleep-on-the-couch-time and kid-play-time. 

4.  United tries to charge you extra baggage fees for the bags under your eyes 

3.  Staying up for a kid that has a late babysitting job  is certifiable torture.

2.  In order to stay alert for drives of over 15 minutes in length, you have to break out the caffeinated beverages and munchies.  

1.   Sometimes it just takes too much energy to make that  extra step of opening the door to get inside the house.  

All of these, er, most of these anyway, are completely normal events in our house when early morning seminary, with its wake-up time of 5:00am, is back in session.    And lest you worry too much about Cami being so tired she sacked  out on the front step…this was a one-time occurrence that happened because she forgot her keys.   Her being tired enough that she could fall asleep on the front step, however, is not an anomaly!  

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Dirty Look Contest

You probably didn't know this about our family, but we just so happen to all be very gifted in the 'giving dirty looks' department.   

It's a talent that we often keep hidden when we are around other people, but today we are officially unburying this talent and sharing it with all of you.   I'd like to say that the reason for revealing this great talent to you today is for selfless purposes of trying to scare bad guys and grizzlies away, but in reality it's because I am prideful and need some reassurance that I still have the title of Dirty Look Queen.  I need to know that my kids still get the "Hey!  Yes, I'm talking to you buster!" vibe when they see my serious face.  

So here are the contestants.  You be the judge.  

Contestant #1 with the "I'm annoyed at the whole world, especially my mom" look

Contestant #2 with the "Who dares to interrupt my fishing to take a stinking picture?" look

Contestant #3 with the "How can everyone in the entire universe have caught a fish today except me?" look

Contestant #4 with the "I'm not really annoyed, so I'll just put on my cute pose and look fake annoyed" look

Contestant #5 with the "Huh?" look

Contestant #6 with the "You did say 'dirty', right?"

So maybe I lied.  

I didn't even show you my real dirty look, because I didn't want to frighten you with its fierceness, but suffice it to say that no grizzlies will be visiting our house anytime soon and Ellie's "dirty" look definitely trumps all of the rest of ours! 

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Not Good Enough

As part of having Emma participate on our pool's swim team, it is required that our family volunteer to help six different times during the season.    It's obnoxious, but apparently it takes a lot of people to make a swim meet run smoothly.    They need concession helpers, timers, runners, marshalls, stroke judges,  etc.  Usually I sign up to be a timer.

The last meet though,   I decided to mix things up and try a new place to volunteer, so I signed up to help make snow cones.   Since I'd never done it before I was considered the "helper" while a trained volunteer was the "lead".  Too bad the trained volunteer showed up nearly an hour late and I scrambled having to figure out how to do all the set-up and everything myself.   By the end of the night, I'd done set-up, learned to run the machine, take it apart, clean it, etc.  

So I went to sign up for my volunteer spot for this week's meet, I saw that the "lead" snow cone position was still available so I signed up for that.   I figured since I'd learned all the "highly technical" (haha!) aspects of running the snow cone table the week before, that I definitely qualified as trained.  

Then today I got this email....

So yeah,  I may be a college graduate with previous experience in snow cone machine care, but  according to our volunteer coordinator, who may I point out does not even know how to spell "snow cone" correctly, I am unqualified to run the snow cone table at our pool's swim meets.     

I am now signed up for the much less technical job of "running".   

On the upside, all this is  providing great joke fodder for the kids.   Additionally, my family will be pleased to note that I did get to put my excellent (inherited) sarcasm skills to use in my response to her.  

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The Reason Why

Bikes have been dusted off, my walking shoes are back in action, and our backyard remembers that there are more inhabitants in our house than just a dog.

Finally after last week's late-season snowstorm, I am happy to say that we are actually getting some springtime weather and I don't know who's happier about it--me or the kids.

Today it was a balmy 70-degrees and I could not pass up the opportunity to take the kids on a morning walk before starting in on their school work.

And I'm glad I did because this afternoon some dark clouds rolled in and the wind started howling.

Now it is 34-degrees and I have a very important question to ask all of you?

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Why, whenever I hear the wind howl, do I want to break out into this song?

♪♫♬  The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.  Couldn't keep it in.  Heaven knows I tried.  Let it go, let it go.  I am one with the wind and sky…. ♪♫♬

And why do I now associate this song with flatulence?

Oh yeah…

I have five kids.



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Captain Literally

My kids are in love with the word "literally" right now.

They (Ellie and Adam in particular) use it several times a day and are constantly evaluating whether the other person is using it correctly....as in was what they said actually literal or just an expression. 

I'd like to brag that two months of homeschooling has morphed my kids into literary superstars, but in reality it all has to do with being introduced to this series of videos (starting with this one) : 

So now that they've been introduced to Captain Literally and his humorous antics to restore balance to the universe when someone misuses the word, they now use the word "literally" constantly.

...and it's literally driving me bonkers.

A Drama King

  As part of our kitchen remodel we ended buying a behemoth refrigerator.  And when I say, "behemoth," I mean this thing is a beast in every sense of the word.  It's 48-inches wide, 84-inches tall and is purported to weigh over 1200 lbs.   While purchasing the beast, Glen and I  unanimously agreed that we wanted no part in trying to move it even an inch and that paying the extra $200 for delivery would be worth every cent to us.

A couple days later the delivery guy shows up.  Built in approximately the same proportions as the fridge, he very much looked the part of a guy who makes his living delivering fridges.   Too bad the beast was too much even for him.  He'd only brought one skinny guy to help him and he took one look at our stairs and blatantly refused to even try delivery.   The next half-hour was spent in this odd sort of negotiation process as he tried to get me to agree to just leave the fridge in our garage for us to move upstairs ourselves (I said, "No way!"), then to sign a waiver that he wouldn't be held liable if he damaged our floor, stairs, railing, or fridge during delivery ("Not a chance!"), then he offered to come back another day (not ideal), then a few minutes later told me he'd called for back-up.

Why he didn't do that in the first place I have no idea.

He then caught sight of the men working on our kitchen and tried to persuade them to come help him.  They didn't feel comfortable with the heavy lifting, which immediately sent Fridge Guy into a fury, calling our workers lazy and stupid.  

Next thing I know he and skinny guy are trying to get the fridge out themselves without waiting for their back-up.  They hoisted it up our steep driveway and into the backyard, huffing, puffing, and moaning every step of the way.  They were about to try to get it up our deck stairs themselves and one of our kitchen workers felt sorry for them and did come join them.

It took about 10 minutes for the three of them to get it up the stairs, after which Fridge Guy collapsed flat on his back on our deck and demanded (no exaggeration) that I bring him water immediately.  After bringing water and a pack of Oreos as a peace offering, I hoped that the hard part (and the dramatics) would be over.  Alas, it was a misplaced hope as now he seemed encouraged by my concern for his well being and made a huge show every time he touched the fridge.  After moving the fridge to the doorway, he put on an Oscar worthy performance where he grabbed his arm, writhed in purported horrible pain, and said he needed a hospital. Thirty seconds later he was fine.  Then, after moving it another couple of feet, he showed me a small cut and started rambling about how he hoped it wouldn't get infected.

By the time he finished--right about the time his backup showed up -- he had changed his tune and instead of complaining, had started bragging about how strong God had made him.  Finally, after more than hour, the show was finally over, our Oreos were gone, and our fridge stands proudly as beacon in our dining room....

reminding the kids, amidst their giggles and constant quoting of Fridge Guy, the merits of higher education.

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Odd Twists

 Check out this article below,  paying special attention to the final paragraph.

It's a tad random, especially considering that it appeared in the Washington Post, but, hey, at least it added a little levity to my news reading of the day and ensured that I did not forget that article.  

So the very next day after that article had appeared I woke up tasked to make a flier soliciting more help for youth conference. I started off making an average run-of-the-mill flier, which was fine but rather boring.  I hadn't gotten too far in the process when suddenly the thought struck me, "Hey, if newspaper columnists can throw unexpected twists into their otherwise boring articles....why not me too?"    Thus the "odd twist" youth conference flier was born:

What can I say?

I thought it was hilarious when I made it, but when Spencer laid eyes on it (after it had been passed out to the entire congregation) he informed me that it was the "cheesiest flier" he'd ever seen in his entire life and that I should not be allowed to try to be funny ever again.     

Cheesy or not though, it got way more response than my emails asking for help ever did (and it was rather fun to create in the meantime).

And in an odd twist, the shoes I wore yesterday perfectly matched the ink on the flier.   It was uncanny.  


*********************************

Senior Prom

Sources have informed me that I have been negligent in my blogging responsibilities of late. Normally I would protest and point to the handful of blogposts I've written in the last week as proof of my loving devotion to the blog, but alas it would all be a lie.  While it's true that I keep typing words and pressing publish, it has been with all the passion of a burrowing cicada in year 8 of its 17-year life cycle.

I could blame it on the rain, but Milli Vanilli already did that and it didn't work out so well, so I will just accept responsibility for my sleep deprived posting and apologize profusely to you and to the entire universe for making you wait three whole days to read about Spencer's senior prom.  I will make it up to you though, by blogging about it with a searing zeal  that would put any newly awakened cicada to shame.

Spencer, the most dashing eighteen-year-old  this world has ever known asked the fairest princess in the land, Jill-erella to accompany him to the final dance of his illustrious high school career.  Some people call it "Prom", but at our house we just like to refer to it as  "The King's Grand Royal Ball of the Century".  No matter what you peasants call it, I just want it to be known that our young hero has set an unattainable standard to all peons who think they know how to creatively ask someone to a Grand Royal Ball of the Century.  

Flowers--✓
Homemade cupcakes (made by Spencer)--✓
Armies of ants--✓
Chalk message on sidewalk--✓

 Seriously!   Who, but Spencer, would have ever thought to train entire ant armies in the special academy of cupcake writing?  None, I tell you, none!  He is the new standard for prom awesomeness.

After Jill-erella was irresistibly drawn to his creative culinary genius and agreed to accompany him (are you surprised?), ball planning went into full gear.  And when I mean full gear, I mean literally 47 text messages per second being tossed around in group messages to the entire senior class.  Spencer's phone literally buzzed for nine straight days and even now sometimes in the middle of the night I still think I hear it buzzing.  But then I wake up and realize that it's only the sound of my own snoring waking me up again (got that from my dad).

Finally on Saturday,  the big night arrived and all the plans fell into place.  Catered Uno at a friend's house, a rented bus, pictures on the Potomac, the Royal Ball itself where they dazzled everyone with their gorgeousity, and finally breakfast at the Illustrious  House of Pancakes, where I hear tell that they ate only caviar pancakes smothered with truffle sauce.

It was a dream come true.


Literally.

******

Top 5 Perks of Being Married to An Accountant

In honor of tax day, I thought I'd let the whole world know how awesome it is being married to an accountant:

5.   I can unguiltily direct any and all math homework questions to Glen because he's literally the expert.

4.  Who needs sleeping pills when over the years I've had  articles like this to help proofread before bed?

3.  It may take being up all night on April 14, but we've never paid for a computer program or a person to do our taxes.

2.  I've never once had to create my own spreadsheet.

1.  I, who relies solely on late-night giddiness to express my silly sense of humor, am a rock star comedian in our family.

♥ Love you, Glen! ♥

Nice

Once upon a time a nice family went on a nice walk.   

It was a nice day. 

They saw nice views, 


nice geese,

and nice birds. 

Then they saw something strange and wondered what happened to the nice tree...

and to the nice place to sit. 

Then they realized. 

Oh yeah. 

It's just those dam beavers again.