monday morning movie

two hundred

In this, our two hundredeth post, we would like to share with you a few of the wonderful things that this internet of ours has to offer. First, we give you Geostationary Banana Over Texas. That’s right. Geostationary Banana Over Texas. Don’t ask us what it’s all about (we have no idea) or whether or not it’s for real (we have a pretty good idea, but still, don’t ask) because we’re not telling.

Next, we have… nothing. That’s it. That’s all we’ve got. We used up all of our entertaining internet links in yesterday’s post. We’ll come up with some more for tomorrow’s post, but for now, you’ll have to make do with the banana.

You can go back and look at this again if you need more.

Anyway, though we may be low on internet frivolity, we do have one inspirtional link (okay so there are multiple links that follow, but they are all on one site). Chip Schultz, a friend of ours and the husband of Tracy and brother-in-law to Beth who has been a friend of Holly’s since a very young age.

See? That’s Holly there on the right and Beth on the left, ages three and four.

So Chip is in the middle of a coast-to-coast bike ride. He is the founder and director of O.M.E.H. and is an extremely inspirational individual (yes he actually carried that flag the whole length of the marathon!).

(Photo borrowed from Chip’s blog.)
Another inspirational person that Chip looks up to and actually met is Dick Hoyt. Check him out, and try not to cry. We could not turn off the water works around here.

And we really love the quote by Henry Ford that Chip has made his motto for life which is, “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t…you’re right!” So take a look at his site and then think about your life for a while—that’s what we did.

P.S. You can also see more about Chip through his family’s blog .

the nerd is strong in this one

I’m a nerd.

I don’t mean that I’m a “a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person” (thank you,—although, I suppose whether or not that definition fits me is debatable. I mean that I, at times, can be a bit of “an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit” (thanks again, d.c).

See? I just called a website by a nickname! A nickname that I made up for it! NERDY.

(It’s pronounced “dee dot cee” by the way.)

Yikes. That was even nerdier. I just gave instruction on the correct pronunciation of a nickname I made up for website. A reference website! Let’s just move on…

My nonsocial hobbies are numerous and embarassing. I get excited about movies based on toys and comic books. I read comic books. I (mis)quote Star Wars. I watch Gilmore Girls. I have theories about Lost. I listen to podcasts about internet security. I listen to podcasts, full stop. I play addictive online games involving bricks and sleds. I write long-winded blog posts full of links and sentences ending with phrases like “full stop.”

These are nerdy things.

Or are they?

Now that I’ve written all this out and had a chance to look it over, my evidence of nerdity doesn’t stand up too well. Nonsocial? Check. Single-minded and intelligent? Not so much.

Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back to the first definition.

P.S. Here’s one last link: I’m not sure what to do with this.

P.P.S. Forget what I said about watching Gilmore Girls.


I love my Tivo.

Actually, that’s a lie. Holly and I don’t even have Tivo—we have a DVR from Dish Network, but you can’t start out a blog post saying, “I love my Dish Network DVR.” That’s like saying, “I love my electric pencil sharpener.”

No, I’m going to call it a Tivo and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

So, I love my Tivo and here’s why: It lets me watch the stuff I want to watch when I want to watch it. For those of you out there that already know the joy that is Tivo, I realize that last sentence must sound pretty ridiculous.

You’re saying to yourselves, “Of course they let you watch what you want to watch when you want to watch it. That’s what they do. That’s what they’ve been doing since 1997. What rock have you been under?”

I’ve been under a big, heavy rock called Not Having a Tivo Until a Month Ago. It’s really dark under there.

But, now that we’ve got one and we can watch Catherine Tate, 30 Rock, Arrested Development, and Conan whenever we want to, we find ourselves… watching them whenever we want to. This is turning out to be a bad thing.

If the old, boring, endless-channel-surfing, why-is-there-nothing-good-on television experience was a time-waster, then this new, exciting, can’t-wait-to-watch-all-my-favorites-tonight Tivo nirvana is a gluttonous time devourer.

And it’s not like I’ve got spare hours out there that I don’t mind being devoured. I don’t.

I hate my Dish Network DVR.

thank you, elder holland

Yesterday, I griped about working late hours, feeling drained when I got home, and not being able to spend as much time with the girls as I would like. And today, because life is just like this, I left on time, came home full of energy, played with the girls until their bed time, read them to sleep, worked out at the gym, and got to hang out with Holly when I got home.

Then, because life was just starting to make its point, Holly and I happened to read Elder Holland’s talk from April’s general conference, The Tongue of Angels. You know, the one where he informs us that “no misfortune is so bad that whining about it won’t make it worse.” Yeah, that’s the one.

Here’s a digression. While I was running, I started thinking about what the pioneers would think of the average, modern-day gym, with its legions of treadmills and stationary bicycles facing rows and rows of television screens, each broadcasting Kylie Minogue videos, hot tub ads, and street ball tournaments. How would you even begin to explain a Hummer to them? Or the internet? Or blogging?

“You do whut now?”

“El oh el?”

Those silly pioneers.

On my way into Maceys tonight (I really don’t make a Maceys run every night, even though according to this blog, I must), I passed a homeless guy. I thought about giving him some money, but then I did the thing in my head where you worry that the money would just go toward sinful living, and then you feel horrible and self-righteous and judgemental (and cheap) for thinking something like that. Then my brain went a step (or six) further—I actually went through the following in my head (and yes, I am aware that all of the following and most of the preceding is completely insane and probably very offensive to the homeless. I apologize in advance):

“It’s too bad there’s no way to really know if the money you give that guy will go toward food or shelter or something that he really needs. There ought to be a way to know in advance. You know… I could test him. Offer him a choice. I could buy a bottle of whiskey or a pack of cigerettes or something and then offer that stuff to him—on the one hand—and on then offer him money on the other. Then, if he chooses the bad stuff, I’ll know for next time not to give him any money. That would work. Wait, but then I’d have to do that for every homeless person I see. I’d never remember who was who—who had passed and who hadn’t. Hmm… Maybe I could put together a database to keep track of everyone. Make it searchable. Add profiles with photos. Post it online, open it up to everyone. That would be a real service, you know? You could just do a quick search on the guy as you are walking into the store, like, from your smart phone or something.”

These were actual thoughts that were forming in my brain. Holly, tell me again why you agreed to marry me.

Can you digress from a digression? I think that’s what just happened here.

Anyway. All crow eating, pioneer bashing, and mind wandering aside… it was a good day. It was a great day. I guess they’re all great days, if you think about it.

If you’re the one wondering whether or not you should be giving away a couple of bucks and not the one wondering where the next couple of bucks are going to come from, you really don’t have anything to be whining about in the first place.

a fine whine

I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.

For the past few eons, lifetimes, decades, years… ok, months, I’ve been logging long days at work. LONG days. As in 9:30p.m. is lunch time and by the way, there’s no time for a lunch break, LONG days. I’m exagerating, but not by much (Holly will back me up on this). Long days make for late nights. So, when I finally get home, and eat dinner and put the girls down (on the rare lucky nights that they’re still awake when I get home), and take a breath… it’s midnight and I’m exhausted (not pioneer exhausted, but spent) and the last thing I want to do is, well, anything.

I’m tired of being a hamster by day and a vegtable by night.

several small steps

lessons learned on a saturday

  1. Avoid making donations to D.I. on Saturdays at all costs. The lines are long and the cars are full.
  2. If, due to circumstances or spouses beyond your control, you do find yourself in the D.I. donation lines on a Saturday, steer clear of the so-called “Express Lane – For Small Items” and head instead for the “Truck Lane – For Large Items.” It turns out that those small items are surrounded by hundreds of other small items crammed into dozens of 50 gallon trash bags that line the airplane hanger-esque interiors of Ford Excursions and Chevy Suburbans. Meanwhile, the large items—single chairs and weed eaters—sit alone in the backs of open-bed pickup trucks.
  3. BYU needs to fully invest in a punter.
  4. If you’re a fan of Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry, don’t worry about buying it—there’s no need. Any time you want to listen to it, at any hour of the day, just tune your radio to any north american station. It will be on.
  5. If you’re shopping for groceries in preparation for Sunday dinner with your parents, remember to ask yourself (or, more productively, your wife) if there’s anything else you need before leaving the store. If you don’t, you will find yourself returning to that store at 10:38 p.m.
  6. When you get ready to make that late-night grocery run, remember to take your wallet with you. If you don’t, you will find yourself returning home for it at 10:45 p.m.
  7. Those new mini shopping carts at Maceys are a lot of fun, but be warned that you’re going hit your shins on that bottom bar. You just are.
  8. And finally, it appears that eleven month-old girls can go from being one-step non-walkers to ten-step living room cruisers in just one Saturday.

just when I thought I was a decent parent…

I keep hearing that I should listen to a podcast called This American Life. I’ve been meaning to give it a try for the past few weeks and yesterday, on my way home from work, I finally listened to my first episode, Unconditional Love.

I’ve given you the link to the episode, but If you are a parent, I recommend that you do not listen to it. Unless you have a desire to feel that your parenting skills are on par with those of Britney Spears, don’t listen. It will convince you that your children are the ones enduring you (not the other way around) and that you’ve never had a difficult day in all of your selfish life.

It might also make your eyes watery as you drive. When you reach home, it’s possible that it will cause you to give your surprized wife and daughters lengthy, embarrassing hugs followed by lengthy, embarrasing (watery) gazes and a few clumsy declarations, like “I love you guys” and “No, seriously—I SO love you guys.”

Nobody wants that. Don’t listen.

no more barbie

The only thing that happened between Nezzie’s innocent three-year-old kisses of yesterday and the tilted head, eyes closed, mushy kiss that she tried to give Dave today, was the watching of Barbie of Swan Lake.

This morning I overheard this dialogue between Inez & Dave:
I: I love you Dad.
D: I love you too, Nezzie.
D: Nezzie we don’t kiss like that.
I: But sometimes girls kiss boys like that.

Lesson learned? Even if renting a movie from the library is only $1 for a whole week, the answer will be NO.

It is a pretty annoying movie to listen to, besides the music.