football

Went to my nephew’s, Scotty’s, very first football game last week. I had no idea what was going on, so I just cheered when everyone else cheered and then had my Scott explain to me why we were cheering. I still didn’t really get it.

I think my extra X chromosome makes me genetically inclined to reject all football-related information that enters my head. I don’t mean to imply that women are too stupid to understand football because I’m sure I could if I wanted to; it’s just that I get bored and stop listening. All I know is our team won – YAY!

I wore a shirt with my nephew’s name followed by "Fan Club" and a little outline of a football and helmet. Everyone loved it, including Scotty. I put together some links where the family could order their own t-shirts, sweatshirts, cap, or tote bag with the same design, and everyone is getting something with the exception of my Scott who said it was okay for me to wear but that it would make him appear gay.

Scotty’s mom, Grandma Lucy, Uncle Scott (my Scott), Aunt Sally, Grandma Arleen, and Jon were there. Aunt Sally got a kick out of the whole event. She thought everything was funny. She thought the cheerleading was funny and that the game of football was funny. She laughed the whole time.

I brought my camera and thought about bringing my tripod and zoom lens, but didn’t want to embarrass Scotty too much. His mom had a video camera she had borrowed from the neighbor, and she said Scotty was the one who insisted she get some footage, so now I know he is not embarrassed by pictures. Next time, I’m bringing full photographic gear.

After the game, Scotty came over, and we all clapped and cheered for him. Grandma Arleen said, "Our hero!" Jon made the mistake of giving him a big hug and then exclaimed that Scotty was sopping with sweat. The rest of us said hello from a safe distance.

Scotty, who had arrived on the school bus, said he was allowed to ride home with us. We pointed out that it would be a lot of fun to ride back on the bus with his team after a victory (he hadn’t thought of that). We did this partially for his benefit and partially because nobody wanted to ride all the way home with a sweaty, smelly boy.

Scotty did a great job, and we were all very proud of him, and he was deservedly proud of himself. It was one of those family times that make life so nice.

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chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting

I brought my homemade chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting into work today. Everyone was coming up to me and raving about how good it was. Two people told me I should start my own baking business, and one person even proposed. The person who proposed was a girl, but still, I'm considering it. She said we could keep Scott (who she refers to as "Fabio" because of his long blonde hair) around for jar-opening and spider-squishing purposes.

Chocolate Cake Recipe
Peanut Butter Frosting Recipe

what will whole months of tears thy father's eyes

I realized this year how much it means to me to at least have Father’s Day to celebrate. To go back to the house and neighborhood where I grew up; to have that ritual left intact when so many others have been forcibly ripped away from me by death.

Scott and Ashlee spent Father’s Day weekend in the desert with his dad, and my sister’s family and I went to lunch at Soup Plantation with my dad. Kylie was very well behaved, but she did walk into the restaurant and very loudly proclaim how yucky all the food was there. And she did sit directly across from me and immediately say something with a mouthful of food, a small part of which went flying into my plate, landing invisibly and unretrievably there before I even had a chance to take one bite. That is the last time I will sit directly across from anyone under the age of 10. Or maybe 16. We’ll see. I love children, but they are so very gross.

I got my dad a gift certificate to Carrow’s Restaurant because he likes to have breakfast there. I left soon after lunch because I was still not feeling well that weekend, but I was glad to have that time together.



(Title quote is by Shakespeare.)

the juvenal...whose chin is not yet fledged

I didn't get everything done on my to-do list Sunday, but I was busy the whole day, so I was happy with what I did accomplish. I went to my dad's early and started a pot roast with potatoes and carrots in the crockpot. Then I came home and made a double portion of lemon chicken for Scott and I and brought half of it over to my sister's house. (My dad doesn't eat chicken or seafood or a lot of other things, so I couldn't just make a triple portion.) My sister has zero spare time what with a newborn and a toddler, and she said she was hungry when I got there, so I was glad I could do that for her.

Ryan was so cute. This was the first time since his birth that I've seen him when he is alert – usually he is sleeping. My sister had me tickle his chin because she was trying to get a photo of him smiling. He has all this baby fat, and when I tickled him, he pulled his chin in so that it disappeared into the fat and he had no chin at all. It was cracking me up. I think he may have a pointy chin when he grows up.

On Monday, they opened a brand new Johnny Rockets on El Toro which is close to our house, so we went there for dinner. When a song from Saturday Night Fever came on, the staff cranked up the volume and started doing a dance routine. It's funny enough that they do that sometimes, but it was especially funny to watch some of the middle-aged mexican men behind the counter. They knew all the moves, but they were not enthused at all about having to do them.

As we were leaving, one of the managers cheerily said, "See you tomorrow!" Scott said, "Why - do you know where I live?" But not loud enough for the guy to hear. I was laughing, though.



(Title quote is by Shakespeare.)

health shall live free and sickness freely die

I actually felt like I was living my life today instead of watching it go by from a prone position on the couch. This is the first weekend I've felt well in over a month. I did the dishes, planned some meals for next week, went grocery shopping, and made sure there was a sandwich in the fridge for my honey when he got home from his consulting job, since I had no idea when that was going to be.

It was nice to be able to do stuff so Scott wouldn't worry about getting any of it done - he works way too hard as it is. Now he's working two jobs and has a third one lined up for as soon as this consulting job ends. He puts way more than 40 hours in at his regular job alone. Plus he's always doing projects around the house and fixing other people's computers.

He even helps Ashlee's half-sister with her science projects. (They won first prize out of everyone in the eighth grade - he's very proud of that). He is so sweet. Not only does he not mind helping the child who is not even related to him, but he gets totally excited about anything having to do with math or science.

This was going to be a post about me, but somehow it ended up being a post about Scott. :)



(Title quote is by Shakespeare.)

dirka dirka

Scott’s and my favorite phrase now is "I no yike dat" (from Kylie). We also go around the house saying "Shahddup" in a deep-voiced Russian accent (from the Russian guy on The Apprentice). Before that, it was "Dirka Dirka" (from Team America).

We’re very impressionable.



Speaking of Dirkadirkastan, here is a conversation I had with my dad recently:

Dad: George Bush Sr. didn’t go into Iraq because he knew it would be impossible to keep the peace once he was in.

Me: So why didn’t he tell his son that?

Dad: He probably did, but kids never listen to their parents.

hockey and polygamous cults

I was asked commanded by my Canadian coworker to watch the Oilers/Hurricanes playoff hockey game this weekend. I tried, but it was sooo boring. Nobody even scored for the first hour. Lots of slamming each other into the wall, though, which was probably the most interesting thing about the game. I’m just not a team sports person.

She also instructed ordered me to cheer for the Canadian team (Oilers). At first I thought that might make me a traitor, but then all hockey teams are made up of primarily Canadians, so no matter who you cheer for, really, you are cheering for Canada. After an hour of no points, I didn’t care who scored as long as somebody did. I tivoed it, so I ended up fast forwarding through most of it. (Oilers won, btw.)

My Canadian friend and I both want to marry the hockey player, Teemu Selanne. Seeing as how we are both already married and do not want to give up our current husbands, she came up with the idea of moving to Utah and starting a polygamous cult. And what an excellent idea it is. I'm in. Perhaps we can combine our polygamous cult with the anti-terrorist terrorist faction we are also starting.

Ah, so little time, so much to do.
bunny ears

steven strait is the new brad pitt (and orange is the new pink)

I knew who Brad Pitt was before anybody ever noticed him. Well, any of my girlfriends, anyway. Long before. So I am going on the record now saying Steven Strait is going to be big.

I will be referring you back to this post in a few years with an I-told-you-so smirk on my face. Although you will not be able to see my facial expression as I'm typing.

Note to self: make smirky icon for future blog entries.