Jeepers, Creepers

The other day I snipped these gorgeous hydrangea blossoms from my very own yard! Ha! Take that FTD! Anyway, after having been in my kitchen, on my island, inches from my food, for an entire day and night, I discovered that there is, er, well, was a stow-away on board. FREAK OUT!

And this, on the very same morning that Christian informed me that when he took his doo-doo covered shoe out to the back deck (that's a story for another time, but suffice it to say he drove home from the site of the doo-doo stepping while holding his shoe outside of the car for the entire trip; I didn't raise a hick, you know), where was I? . . . oh yeah . . . so Christian tells me this morning that while he was out doing doo-doo duty, he spotted a three-foot snake in our lawn!!! MAJOR FREAK OUT!!! I'm dying here, folks. Bugs, doo-doo and snakes all in one day--I have a feeling somebody is going to have some mighty wicked dreams for a few nights.

Do you want more horror? Only two days prior to the snake sighting, Baby Kimball was laughing and cooing and being his adorable self. On. our. grass. Ponder that one. Shiver me timbers.

(Christian declared, "That was a long snake! But pretty cool, though." Yeah. Whatever.)

(Oh. And in a sincere effort to mitigate my freak out, Dave told me to be grateful for the snake for it keeps the rat population down. Wha . . . ? wha . . . ? Yes, I am now officially CREEPED OUT.)

But It Still Would Have Been So Worth $450

Before we get to the rest of this post, I am so happy to report that we finally received an email from Sean yesterday letting us know that he is safe and sound and happy despite the political coup (or non-coup, depending on your source) down in Honduras. The situation is still unresolved, so we continue to pray for his safety and that of all of the missionaries in the country. To tell you the truth, I'm just a bit confused about who is wearing the white hats and who is wearing the black hats in this mess so I won't even try to explain any of it.

So! I've been on pins and needles awaiting our phone bill (I'll tell you why in a minute) ever since we had our much anticipated and subsequently very wonderful(!!!) Mother's Day phone call with Elder Sean. On Mother's Day and at the appointed time, eight of us smushed together around the computer to use this nifty bit of technology called Skype with which we were going to inundate Sean with all sorts of questions and nonsense.


Skype didn't work.

Darn.


We used the super-archaic and old-fashioned method of calling: a cordless phone.


Didn't work.

Darn. The recorded message stated that, (pinch your nose and say this aloud to get the full effect): "Due to fraudulent activity, all phone service has been discontinued in this country." WHAT? Didn't those frauds(!) know that my boy was sitting on the edge of his silla biting his lip knowing that during this phone call his mom would ask about the possibility of him having parasites, which would explain the cause of his 40+ pound weight loss, and him knowing that since he considered himself quite honest and truthful, would reluctantly have to reply, yes--yes I do have parasites??? Who do those frauds think they are anyway?


Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Dave decided to take matters into his own hands and manfully dialed the operator, then tearfully pleaded/begged/groveled/prostrated himself on the ground asked for assistance from her in placing this phone call so that his wife wouldn't totally lose her mind and go all ballistic on him, working herself into a frenzy and then blaming him for single-handedly causing every single one of the world's ills, including global warming, and then accusing him of orchestrating the bankruptcy of GM making her part owner of a ginormous failing company THAT SHE COULD NOT BE EXPECTED TO KNOW HOW TO MANAGE IN ONLY TWO-WEEK'S TIME SINCE SHE TOOK PARTIAL OWNERSHIP! (I'm still a bit uptight about my exact role in that management; do I get to do PR? HR? R&D?)


As luck would have it (yes!), we got through to Sean with the operator's nasal-y help, and had a sweet and wonderful phone visit with our missionary. He sounded so content, mature, happy, self-assured, relaxed, and super-cute. Yes, I could tell just from his voice intonations that he was looking super-cute that day. The phone call was perfect.

A few days after that phone call I was sitting behind one of those very intimidating and not-of-this-world contraptions in my eye doctor's office. You know, those beasty things, right? The doctor and I were chatting pleasantly about anything, anything to lessen the awkwardness of the half-darkened-room and the crazy machine perched on my nose, when we started discussing my Mother's Day phone call. I explained the hoops we had to jump through to finally speak with Sean, using the operator in the end. The good doctor laughed a little to himself and then said that he had the very same situation a few years prior with his son who was serving in Ecuador. Without blinking an eye, he said that that particular conversation cost him $450 Americano-minted legal tender dollars!!!

This is a bit off-subject, but just out of curiosity, by a show of hands, how many of you knew that you could come within a breath of taking an eye out if you jerk your head very suddenly (as if you had just received some seriously shocking news) while pressing your face up against one of those eye machines. Betcha didn't know that. The rest of my eye appointment was a total blur--in more ways than one.

Whoa! I almost forgot what I dragged you through all of the previous muck for: the phone bill. I am happy to report that the call to our wonderful Sean only cost a mere $22 and some change. But even at $450 it still would have been so worth every single penny.

It's Not Being Fickle, It's Called, "Going Through a Phase"

Just when you think you have a baby/child figured out, he/she will go and change all of the rules on you just to make sure you aren't getting complacent and turning all comatose on him/her. Kimball loved Sean and Christian's swing. Then he hated it. Now he loves it again (well, he tolerates it for a few minutes--at least long enough for me to give yet another door-to-door solicitor the ol' heave-ho). I actually love seeing babies change and mess up everyone's schedules because it means that they are learning, growing and becoming independent. It's all part of the cycle, isn't it.

On another note, JEEPERS! You should have seen Kimball sit in rapture as I read yet another classic to him yesterday. I mean seriously, he was so attentive and enthralled with the book (or was it my very excellent story-telling technique? not!), that he could have been playing freeze tag and totally won. Love, love, love, "Goodnight, Moon." Don't you?

"Trekker" (not "Trekkie")

Christian had the awesome opportunity of going on Trek with about 450 of his closest friends. NOTE: I think "Trek" could be defined as one of the most unbelievably arduous, taxing, hot, cold, wet, exhausting, bug-filled three-day experience a youth could ever LOVE. And Christian did love it. I am so proud of my boy; he pulled his weight, was so helpful, so kind, and so reliable. His ma and pa said so. And they should know because they were with him morning, noon and night for those three days . And bless, bless, bless their hearts . . . because I sure couldn't have survived this. What? Are you kidding me? No, no. Not the part about being with Christian for three days--that I would be the first in line for. No, that other part. About no indoor plumbing and all that jazz. Yeah, that's the part. Anyway, isn't he such a darling pi-O-neer?!!!

(Truth be told, Christian's journey didn't really start in Missouri, but interestingly enough, a pretty eclectic group of people do all hail from the "Show-Me State," including Brad Pitt, Rush Limbaugh, Eminem, Vincent Price, Phyllis Schlafly, Yogi Berra, Chuck Berry, Walter Cronkite, Walt Disney, and a bunch of other "Sure, I'll show-you!" types.)

Fridays With Kimball!

Ashley and Jordan previously told me that Kimball really liked the book, "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" but I had no idea how much he liked it until I read it to him the other day. Kimball was literally shaking like a quaking aspen with excitement as I read every page to him. Can I tell you how much that thrills me? Me, the lover of books? Me, the adorer of reading? Me, the mommy who tried so hard (with great success) to instill a love of reading into her own kids? Yeah. That's the me I mean. And that's my grandbaby following suit! I love that baby.

Grrrr . . . It's a Manly Man!

In the wake of Father's Day, I was reminded of a tiny little article I recently read in my local newspaper. (I swear, the two newspapers I take are literally shrinking every single day, yet they still have space for Brenda Starr and Judge Parker? Gotta wonder about those ink men.)

Where was I? Oh yeah. The article. It was entitled, "SLC ranks 16th on the 'Manliest Cities' list." Oh boy. I knew this would be good. According to the article, a study ranked cities on criteria such as the number of professional major league sports teams, popularity of tools and hardware (popularity of tools and hardware? could they mean, popularity of tools and hardware stores perhaps?), and . . . wait for it . . . frequency of monster truck rallies. My, my, my. A manly man's paradise if I ever saw one.

I'm just positive you are as eager as a beaver to see the entire list so here ya go:

1. Nashville, TN

2. Charlotte, NC

3. Oklahoma City, OK

4. Cincinnati, OH

5. Denver, CO

6. St. Louis, MO

7. Columbus, OH

8. Kansas City, MO

9. Indianapolis, IN

10. Toledo, OH

11. Memphis, TN

12. Richmond, VA

13. Columbia, SC

14. Orlando, FL

15. Dayton, OH

16. Salt Lake City, UT

Ohio wins hands down with four of the top 16 cities. I've got to be honest here, folks. In my book there is more to being a manly man than just needing a step stool to climb into his vehicle, as alluring as that may be. In my book a manly man:

*walks the floor with a crying baby at 3:00 a.m.

*works at a job he doesn't necessarily love but does so anyway to provide for his family

*speaks with care and doesn't take the tempting route of criticizing

*expresses pride in his boy even after his son makes the game-losing play

*plays dress-ups with his young daughter even as she insists he play the part of grandma

*does the dishes

*folds the laundry

*cleans the toilets(!)

*goes to a chick flick without noticeably wincing or groaning throughout

*tenderly reads that same princess story over and over, complete with voice inflections

*weeds the irises with great care

*fails to point out flaws of others, but rather, notices strengths and growth

*quietly leads with an example of complete integrity and honesty

Now that, my friends, is my kind of a "manly man." And I am so happy to say that I have more manly men in my life than I surely deserve.

So, now. I know this list is incomplete. What makes a man manly to you? I would love to read what your ideas of manly men are. Please share, k? And don't be shy about it, even if the first image that pops into your head is a man holding a plumber's helper. That's cool too.

Fridays With Kimball!

Christian, Kimball and I decided to go for a walk in a nearby park that has a small little pond at its center. By the by, have you ever noticed that fishermen are a truly dedicated bunch? I swear, that pond couldn't have been more than one hundred yards across and about six inches deep, but there were anglers a go-go trying to catch who knows what. And not little kids--these guys had their big muscle trucks and big muscle shirts and big muscle bobbers. Funny. Anywho! Kimball wasn't quite up to making the trek on his own two feet this time around, and since Christian (see pic below) has outgrown his old stroller (ya think?), he graciously offered Kimball the use of his throne-on-wheels where Kimball was able to wave to all of his minions who hold him in very high esteem indeed.

She Might As Well Take Advantage of the Family Discount Perk!

After Ashley saw Kimball in all of his glory where he was "Puttin' on the Ritz," she decided it was time to revisit her own piano skills and take a refresher course. (Ashley took lessons for almost ten years before she declared, "enough!" without my say-so, btw.) As you witnessed in the video from my previous post, Ashley obviously passed on her talent to her offspring. She is now the student once again.

In the photos below, we see Kimball teaching Ashley the finer points of being a concert pianist, chief among them: possessing nerves of steel, exhibiting a flamboyant personality and sporting a dry diaper. Kimball even demonstrated a technique not usually seen on the stages of the world's premier concert halls, a technique Kimball calls, "toeing."

I think Ashley got her money's worth out of her session; you should have seen her "toeing" by the end of her $150/half-hour lesson! Aw, what a shame that my camera batteries konked out at that exact moment. Wouldn't you just know it? :[

Fridays With Kimball!

Due to Kimball's early exposure to the fine arts, he has emerged as the world's latest child prodigy. Please turn off all cell phones, curtail the noise of cellophane candy wrappers, and enjoy the show!

Coming soon: The complete Kimball Kollection, Director's Cut Edition, containing never-before-seen footage! Place your order now--this offer is for a limited time only and is not available in stores.

Ick

I heard some disturbing news the other day: A live-action feature-length movie based on "The Jetsons" cartoon is due to start filming in November. For the love of Pete, leave George Jetson and Jane-his-wife as they are, k? We don't need another cartoon-to-live-action disaster like that trainwreck, "Speed Racer." Wish I had that bubble that encloses Jane and vamps her up in about one one-hundredth of a second. That would leave me so much more time for important chores like Internet shopping and stuff . . .

I'm Not a Traitor, But . . .

Thanks to Kat, Christian and I were weeping with laughter the other day while watching this video. I don't mean to

betray my own kind but, holy wrecks, this is funny!

Having a Wonderful Time . . .

I've got to hand it to Christian--he sure indulges me at the peril of enduring great embarrassment to himself. A big boatload of brownie points for Christian!

So Christian was messing around with the stop-action feature on our computer, and I persuaded cough,forced,cough him to make a kooky little featurette starring the two of us. Make sure you have the volume turned up as you play this, because that knocking sound that you hear at the 00.02 mark? That's the hollowness in my head, indisputable evidence that I should never, under any circumstances, be asked to balance a checkbook. Are you listening, Dave?

Thanks Christian! You are such a sport!

Fridays With Kimball!

"Little Sprite"

Check out this sleeping little "sprite."  (Ashley calls Kimball her little sprite on the days when this wee laddie be wearin' o' the green.) So Ash and I spied these adorable shorts at the store the other day, and, of course, I couldn't conquer my inner demon aka my shopping compulsion, and I had those shorts purchased before you could blink a shining Irish eye.  I love how the shorts are actually more like kicky little capri pants since Kimball isn't so long in the limbs quite yet :) 

Before Ashley left Kimball to head out for her day at the salt mines (thesis torture), she helped Kimball jot down a little birthday wish for Uncle Seanie on a big poster that I'm making for him.  Now I ask you, isn't my grandbaby a perfect candidate for Mensa?  Uh, yeah.

FTD Delivers Again!

FTD (From The Darndestgreenthumbever) comes this beautiful bouquet.  I stopped by Mom's house and offered a Krispy Kreme or two, and I came home with something that smells as good almost as good as Original Glazed, although not quite as tasty going down.   Thanks again, Mom!

Live Long and Prosper

The group, Without Arrogance & Categorically Kooky Every Day, has given the movie, "Star Trek," three and one-half  Roddenberrys for its excellence in casting, wit, special effects and retention of just enough campiness to satisfy the old-school trekkies everywhere.  Great summer flick.   Warp speed. 

Fridays With Kimball!

Um . . . I guess you could say that I have been having more than just a teensy bit of fun with Kimball during my "Fridays With Kimball!" days (and Tuesdays! too).   And bless Christian's heart for being my cohort and indulging me in my wild schemes and admittedly wacked-out ideas.  But you must agree, the following video is hijinks at its best. Please heed the warning message at the end of the video.  It may save a life.  (Make sure you watch to the very end.)

She Has Such a Green Thumb!

My mom can grow ANYTHING! She once tossed a seed from a lemon used in her dinner into a pot of dirt. Up came a lemon tree! Bam.  Just like that. Same thing with a regular old peach pit. Threw the pit into her yard, and now she has a ginormous peach tree. Same goes for her apricot tree. Crazy. The other day she told me she was going to try to grow some sweet potatoes. So she just whacked off the end of a sweet potato and plunked it into some dirt. No doubt, she'll be overrun with the things before the end of summer.

I visited her for a few minutes the other day and came home with this simple but beautiful display snipped from her yard. I could have gone crazy with all that she has growing, but I settled for minimal beauty this time around. I feel so pampered having my own personal florist who doesn't mark up her prices 400% (merely 200%).  jk, mom :)

The cloudy water in the vase is due to air bubbles from the tap, not from gross "ferrous and ferric iron compounds" from old rusty pipes . . . I'm  hoping . . .

Fridays With Kimball!

Christian dubbed Kimball "Little Johnny Appleseed" when somehow this measuring cup Kimball was playing with while lying on his blanket ended atop of his cute little head.   Kimball doesn't seem to mind his new name, or his new look.  Apparently, sporting plastic kitchen utensils is the hippest trend in the baby social set at the moment.  Quite dapper.

And speaking of dubbing, Dave has christened our little porta-crib-thingy-gig the "Kimball Coaster."  Dave tells me it is because he is quite certain Kimball goes for wild rides in the Coaster when our backs are turned.  I don't blame Kimball because, after all, the Coaster is tricked out with some pretty studly wheels and a nifty GPS system.  (GPS stands for Grandpa Pledges his Silence, just as long as Kimball keeps everything on the downlow and his mama doesn't get wind of any of this riotousness . . .

And the Beat Goes On . . .

Christian was given the honor of receiving one of three "Outstanding Percussion I" awards presented at the annual awards night at his high school.  That squealing and woo-hooing that was heard in the audience making Dave sink down into his seat?  Yes, that would be me.   I am so proud of that boy!

Hey Fellow AI Fans!

Kris? Seriously? KRIS? I'm just sayin'.