Wednesday, July 27, 2011

"And, Thank You For R07 Engines . . . "

Booggity, booggity, booggity.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Another Hare-Brained Idea!

"The Hampton."

Or, as it is now known, "The Mr. Miller."

Whatever name you use when ordering this sandwich, the fixings are the same: Turkey, avocado, Swiss cheese, mayo, and a mess of other good stuff. The duality of the name is due to yet another one of my hare-brained ideas that I concocted as I was trying with all of my might to come up with an outstanding gift for an outstanding man.

And, now, the backstory (and, of course, there is always a backstory with me): As is the yearly tradition in our church congregation, the graduating high school seniors were to be recognized at a special event, and as part of that event, each senior was asked to identify a teacher, mentor, coach, or friend who had greatly influenced his or her life in a significant way. Christian chose to honor his band director from American Fork High School, Mr. Miller. (He was going to choose me, but that just screamed nepotismmmmmm, and that's just going too far into that Aaron Spelling/Tori Spelling territory. I mean, have you seen her acting on Beverly Hills 90210? Me thinks nepotism was raging in that particular casting choice.) But, anywho!

We wanted to show our appreciation to Mr. Miller for all that he has done for Christian (and Sean too, back in the day) by giving him some small gift. But what? Mr. Miller's office reigns supreme as a rip roarin', true-blue tchotchke catchall with hundreds and hundreds of little knick knacks collecting dust which Mr. Miller has accumulated over a long, storied career. Another little stuffed bear wearing the school colors was exactly what he did NOT need cluttering up the joint. Hmmm. What to give, I wonder? Ponder, ponder, think, think . . . .

That's when I struck gold with yet another hare-brained idea! (Now, we do the "Dawnce of Joy!" C'mon everybody, join in!) I knew that Mr. Miller was somewhat infatuated with the sandwiches at Gandolfo's New York Deli, it being reported that he lunches there at least three times a week. Say wha . . . ? Yes, apparently so. My little hare-brain said to me, "Hey! Let's get Mr. Miller a very generous gift card to Gandolfo's!" Then, my little hare-brain said to me, "Meh. That's so ordinary. We need something extraordinary." And, that's when my little hare-brain started sending smoke signals out of my ears with the brilliant idea that we force suggest to Gandolfo's that they name Mr. Miller's favorite sandwich after him. Brilliant, yes?!

I marched my hare-brained self into the shop, talked a blue streak about what Mr. Miller means to our family, what he means to the community, had a nice tet-a-tet with the owner who knew exactly what Mr. Miller's favorite sandwich is (including his request for extra avacado), and voila'! "The Mr. Miller Sandwich" is not only on the menu board, but Gandolfo's is donating a portion of each sale of "The Mr. Miller Sandwich" toward the American Fork Marching Band's expenses when they go to the Rose Parade in 2012.

When, on the evening of the senior recognition program, Christian presented Mr. Miller with the news that his name would be uttered by lots and lots of perfect strangers as they ordered his favorite sandwich at Gandolfo's, Mr. Miller was all aflutter, if you want to know the truth. He also appreciated the Gandolfo's gift card, btw. (Yes. Yes, we did go down that tried and true road of giving a gift card besides doing the whole naming thing, but, believe me, Mr. Miller wasn't going to turn up his nose at that, you know.) You may now cue the heavenly choir: LAAAAAAAAA! Praise be that that particular worry is over. These things weigh heavily on my hare-brain, dontcha know.

I took the liberty of making even more of a nuisance of myself by contacting the press. Read all about it! Read all about it! (See article below.) (And, unless you have some seriously wicked eyes capable of magnification, you might want to view the article here.) You'll need to scan waaaaaaaaay down to the very end of the piece (please do) to get to the very best and most riveting part of the story . . . if you don't mind me sayin' so.

Nope. No nepotism here. Just one happy dude.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


CAVESTOCK, BABY! What? You've never heard of it? It is something very akin to Woodstock but without Janis Joplin, The Who, or Jimi Hendrix. Also, without the love beads, the five hundred thousand people, and that one attendee who got run over by a tractor while sleeping in a nearby hayfield. So, yeah. Except for those few differences, Cavestock is pretty much like Woodstock. It's far out, man!

Check out Christian and his ad hoc band, The Narwhals (stellar name, no?), playing on that very famous Cavestock stage!

And here you thought, all this time, that Christian needed to be all tuxed up and wearing a little bow tie in order to bang on his drums. Isn't he adorable? Amen to that, Sly Stone and fam.

Saturday, July 09, 2011

Need an Agent, Kid? Call Me!

Forget about J-Lo
"American Idol"

Forget about Cee Lo
"The Voice"

Forget about Li-Lo
"The Parent Trap," state pen, rehab X3

We've got K-Jo
"Kimball Jordan"
in! da! howse!, dawg!!!

Bieber Fever? How about,

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

The Graduate

Well, he done got hisself some book learnin', he did!

I am so proud of Christian for all of the things that he has accomplished this year! Among all of the accolades, awards, recognitions, and distinctions that he has managed to rack up over the past three or four years, the accomplishments of which I am most proud are Christian's accomplishments of personal character. Never one to focus on himself, Christian manages to be a friend to everyone. And, I mean, EVERYONE. His unbelievable ability to always see the sunny side of things and the good side of people makes him a huge 6'1 1/2" people magnet. Add to that his uncompromising efforts to always be doing the right things with the right people in the right places, always trying to do and be his best in all aspects of his life, successfully maintaining his integrity at every turn--those are the things of which I am most proud.

And, that's my boy.

In case my woohooing doesn't clue you in, our graduate shows up at the 00:25 mark

Oh, so very typical . . .

Monday, July 04, 2011

Seems Like Old Times

A jazz quartet practicing in the afternoon.
At our house.
Half of the quartet being Sean and Christian.
An indie group.
One fifth of group being Christian.
Practicing same Saturday evening.
All evening.
For hours.
Til around midnight.
At our house.
Because we have the drummer.
For both bands.
And, both the drummer and his drums live here.
And, a band will usually follow the drummer.
And his drums.
Because drums are heavy.
And cumbersome.
And a pain to haul around.
At least compared to a piccolo.
So our house is the band house once again.
Day and night.
Guess who is in heaven?

Just one little glitch in my state of nirvana: Even with all of this drumming and strumming and singing and plucking and pedal sustaining (haha, Sean), the house seems awfully quiet and empty without a certain little red head and his Deedee-summoning bell . . . .

(Miss you, Little Red. See you on Wednesday!)