XXI

Yesterday was a big milestone for this little guy! I can't believe my little Seanie-Boy is 21 years old!!!

And even more amazing is that I get the unbelievable privilege of being his mom! Insane! Crazy insane! How, in the name of all that is good and holy, did that happen? This is a boy who possesses the biggest heart, the sincerest spirit, the kindest soul, the most genuine sense of empathy, the strongest desire to be obedient, the complete absence of judgment or guile, and the coolest laugh EVER!!!

Just in case you're wonderin',

I LOVE THIS ELDER OF ISRAEL!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SEAN!!!

Do You Scream? (For Ice Cream?)

Just for the fun of it, I threw down the gauntlet to my little band of 90 half-pints, challenging them to correctly answer a question from the LDS Church magazine, the Friend, in exchange for a delicious ice cream cone. They accepted my challenge with gusto! And their parents too! People do like their ice cream, I must say.

I really had no idea how many kids and/or parents to expect, maybe a dozen? In the end, I counted 83 people in my backyard itching for a lick of goodness, and found myself holding my breath in hopes that my ice cream supply didn't run out right then and there, just in time for some unlucky little Sunbeam to throw a hissy fit and declare Sister Sagers "mean." I'm glad to say that we made it with literally two soupy scoops of Cookies 'N Cream to spare. Luckily, our very foul weather of late cooperated perfectly for that hour (and for that hour only), and we had a fabulous time in my backyard with ice cream, friends, big band music, and even a jumbo-size thank you note for our bishop.

See if you can come up with the answer to the question posed. I'd be happy to ship off an ice cream cone to you if you come up with the goods!

PLEASE READ! Limited Liability Clause: I do not, in any way, guarantee that your ice cream cone will arrive at your home in any sort of edible condition. In fact, I absolve myself of any and all claims for reimbursement made upon you from your mailperson for official USPS uniform dry cleaning for the removal of rocky road stains.

So, are you game? Cuz here we go:

QUESTION:

In which temple was Isaac sealed

to his mother and father?

Click on image below to find the answer. Either that, or get out your humungous magnifying glass so you can read these teensy tiny teeny words.

Orders will be accepted in the "leave a comment" section.

Can you see the storm starting to brew in this last picture? The rain had already begun to sprinkle a bit making this ginorm thank you note a bit ruffly, but BLOW ME DOWN! The subsequent hour or so about knocked my shoes off with all of that howling, blowing, blustering. And that was just Dave. You should have seen the actual storm!

Vote Early, Vote Often!

Tomorrow is voting day in my state--and none too soon! So many robo phone calls! So many "political celeb" endorsements! So much desperation! Since the powers that be didn't see fit to include me on this year's slate for Queen, I decided to create my very own ballot. So, get ready to pull that lever (or click your mouse as the case may be). No need to panic, you won't be called upon to vote me in as Queen; that honor is left to some chick named Elizabeth or Victoria. "Deon" just doesn't cut it, apparently. Jeepers. That name will continue to haunt me until the day I die, so it seems.

Ready? Here we go! There have been a handful of television commercials shown this year that have seriously tickled my funny bone, and I have uploaded them for your viewing and voting.

You're welcome.

Which commercial is your fave?

Be sure to vote in the poll at the right of my blog! See it? Right over there. Imagine me pointing to the right. Right over there. Right there! Now do you see it? If you vote, you can slap on an imaginary "I Voted Today!" sticker. Now, let's get out the vote!

(So sad for you if you don't know Aretha or Liza, cuz if you don't, you're missing out on some pretty hilarious stuff. FYI.)

VOTE!

Yummy!

I very nearly whipped out the streamers and tooters in celebration on Monday because a brand spankin' new photo from Sean arrived in my inbox! Now we do The Dawnce of Joy!!!

We shall also play a game.

In this photo, can you spy:

*One extremely handsome, rip-your-heart out, tender, gentle, kind, devoted, awesome boy

*Three red pencils (not necessarily together)

*A wallet

*2:47

*France

*Some sort of a doodah that looks like an underwater camera, but I think I've seen it in one of Sean's previous photos being utilized as a funky Honduran hair brush

*What I suspect might be--but hope with all of my heart that they aren't--pills for the proper care and annihilation of intestinal p-p-p-parasites. There. I said it. Yes. I think Sean might have a parasite. Okay dokey, then.

You may want to enlarge the photo

to increase your odds of winning

My. Isn't he the cutest thing?

Because I have a a ginormo generous and giving heart, and because I have this desperate inner drive to make you like me, here is a cheat sheet. Hopefully, this will help you all feel really good about reading my ramshackle little blog now and then. Thanks for comin'!

Answers circled in blue. Well, it's really more of a cerulean blue, but

I didn't want to sound too out-of-touch with the common folk.

So, I guess I'll just stick with blue.

The Main Event

As promised, I am more than just a tad proud to present to you:

Master Suave N. Debonair

PROM 2010

After dining with six other couples and before heading out to the actual dance, the gang had about an hour to kill. What to do, what to do. This foursome came back to our house, and Christian stared at me with a bit of desperation in his eyes and pleading in his smile. (Help!) WHAT TO DO? WE HAVE AN HOUR OF AWKWARD NOTHINGNESS TO DO! Hey! Go jump on the trampoline in the backyard! Nooooooo. Those hairdos cost good money. Um, play Wii? So unoriginal. Ride our motorcycles? Heck, yeah!!! Oh. Nope.

I was wracking my brain for an idea when a little voice in the back of my noggin kept saying that this is the perfect opportunity for a bit of service to be rendered--we have the time, we have the willing hands, we have the dire situation of doing something, ANYTHING! Wham! I had it! Make cookies and deliver them to someone! But who? As it turns out, all of these kids live in the same stake. So it was decided. Three plates of cookies were made and delivered; one for President Richards, one for President Goodsell, and one for President Cooper. Christian reported back that all three were home and that all three were duly impressed at being served a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies by the local maitre d' and his waitstaff. Tuxes and all. The dance seemed all the more fun after that.

Veering off topic only slightly: Every time I buy a new picture frame and start removing the manufacturer's fake photo of the fake happy couple wearing their fake tans in front of the fake beach, I think, are there really such darling couples in the world that aren't fake? In a word, yes:

Can't you just imagine the little UPC bar code and the words,

"5X7 Photo Frame" stamped across the bottom of this pic?

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I'm putting together a birthday package for Sean. [NEWS FLASH! Sean will be 21 on June 29!!! My little Seanie-boy will soon be able to go nightclub hopping legally! jk! JK!!! Sean is the best missionary e-v-e-r! And I digress.]

Anywho, problems arise when I try to figure just what, exactly, I should send to Sean for his birthday. He doesn't want more junk gifts to lug around from transfer to transfer; cookies or brownies would be as rock-hard as my head after they sit in no-man's land for three to six weeks before they reach him; I don't think he would appreciate a new guitar amplifier at this juncture; and, sending pricey stuff is just asking for nothin' but trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pickpocketer. That leaves me with very few options, including another MoTab CD (which Sean loves, so he's getting one), tons of American chocolate candy bars (which Sean really loves, so he's getting lots and lots), and something green (which Sean really, really loves, so he's getting that too):

I got this idea from my sister-in-law who, when asked what she gave to her missionary son for his birthday, told me that she transferred his favorite scripture onto a new pillowcase with an iron-on doodah thingy. Brilliant! Apparently, receiving a nice, clean, unstained pillowcase was the best thing in the world for my nephew serving in Japan, and the scripture on it was simply icing on the cake. My humble attempts here are sort of an embarrassment (understatement!), but next go-round, I'll understand that the ENTIRE page gets transferred, not just the black words. Ya live 'n learn, I guess. Either that, or you just have to be smarter than an iron-on transfer doodah thingy. I'm trying here, people!

One of Sean's very best buddies is serving in Brazil, and he happens to share Sean's birthday, so I made one for him too. And before you ask, the answer is yes, with his own favorite scripture, not Sean's. I'm not that impaired, you guys. Oi to you, Elder Boyd!

Epilogue: Uh, I guess you get the last laugh because I really am that impaired. Today at church I glanced at Sean's missionary plaque in the windowcase, and just now, right now, this exact instant, this very moment, after posting the picture of the awesome (not) pillowcase, I realize that it bears (take a big breath) the. wrong. scripture. Instead of Helaman 8:5, it should be Helaman 5:12. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. (That's me hitting my head against the wall ala Charlie Brown.) Rats.

Would You Do It?

Would receiving $9 an hour to organize, file, and alphabetize bile be enough to keep you on the job? I'll be straight up--I'd really have to give that opportunity serious second thoughts.

Where Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?

Well, I'll tell you where he's gone. He's gone and gotten himself caught under the tire of the Fiat with no hopes of escaping. That's where he's gone!

I drove up my driveway and into my garage after I had been out . . . wait for it . . . shopping(!!!), and I noticed our neighbor's little mouse dog frolicking around the Fiat. (Sometimes this doggy is allowed to run willynilly around the neighborhood spreading good cheer and all that.) This itty bitty little tuft of a thing has taken command of my garage before, and I didn't want to risk shutting the big garage door on him yet again. JUST JOKING!!!! I didn't really shut the garage door on him before. I have, however, worked up a sweat trying to coax and lure him back outside.

So, it turns out that it was a good thing that I decided not to close the garage door or that little doggie might never have made it home. I hopped out of my car expecting to see little Puffball--my name for him, not his--yippity yipping with joy at my feet. But, huh. Where was he? Gaaaack!!! I didn't accidentally run him over did I? Holy mackerel! But, nope. He had curiously managed to tether himself under the wheel of the Fiat. I suppose it was his way of ensuring that my big SUV's tires didn't gobble him up and spit him out. Smart. Despite the size of his head and hence his brain, that little doggie is very, very smart. Self-preservation is his middle name.

Now, Puffball's roommates, THE BUNNIES, on the other hand, . . . well, that's a story for another day. I'll just tease you with this: Farmer Dave adores his beloved marigolds. And, what do you know, so do THE BUNNIES. That's all I'm going to say about that. I don't want to incriminate any BUNNY without a fair trial before a jury of his peers.

Now That's Class

Remember this Q&A? Except for the fact that Christian never found the needle in the haystack, he and Haylie had a great Prom weekend.

'Round these parts it is very much expected that couples go on "day dates" the morning or afternoon before Prom. Yep. It can get to be a rather long day if the couple doesn't exactly thrill at the sight of one another, a very, very long day, if you catch my drift. Happily, that wasn't the case here. Anyway, "day dates" range from paintballing to picnicking, to the lame-o watching a movie in someone's theater room in the basement of their parents' home. Yeah. Well, Christian has a lot of class, that's all I've got to say. No afternoon matinee of sappy "A Walk in the Clouds" for him and his gal. He rounded up Haylie and five other couples the night before Prom and drove to Salt Lake City to see the Utah Symphony perform my absolute favorite, beloved, break-your-heart-because-it-is-such-a-beautiful-piece-of-musical-magic: Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade. Now, that's what I call charming with a capital "C-L-A-S-S".

Coming soon: Pics of the darling couple as they head out to the main event!

Ladies Who Lunch & Kimball

What does one give to the mother who basically has everything she wants and/or needs? Not counting that speedy black Aston Martin that Mom's been hinting at, I mean? I just couldn't swing the Aston Martin, so as an alternative Mother's Day gift to my mom, I offered to take her out to lunch on the first Wednesday of every month. Ashley and Kimball treated me to lunch, I treated Mom and Ashley to lunch, and Kimball treated himself to a big heaping helping of adorableness, making the afternoon one big, jolly affair. Dining alfresco was tops.