A Note From “Gwem”

When Gwen writes, her ‘n’ is always written as an ‘m’. So the other day when the girls were playing something in their room, Gwen made this sign to keep Olive out so that she wouldn’t destroy their creation.

It should read, “No babies allowed”. Also, I’m not exactly sure how “allowed” became “allowem”. Nevertheless, this sign makes me smile every time I see it.

I find it a bit ironic that it actually reads, “Mo babies” as if they were saying more babies are allowed, in which case this sign is very appropriate after all.

swoggle me eyes

Inez: (watching Peter Pan) Dad, why does Captain Hook say “swoggle me eyes?”

Dave: I think it’s just the way pirates talk. I don’t know what it means though.

Inez: Yeah. Me neither.

(thinking)

Inez: I think it means “what the heck.”

questions & answers

Inez: why do you have to wait until you’re eight to get baptized? Why can’t you get baptized when you are one?

Dave: Well, I guess it’s because you don’t really understand what baptism is when you are one—you just don’t know enough yet.

Inez: Dad, I know about everything! …except tarantulas.

Dave: Really? How do you know everything? Where did you learn it all?

Inez: Dad! Swimming lessons! Preschool!

Dave: Right. Right.

Inez: Dad, do tarantulas have little hands at the end of their legs?

Dave: …

monday morning movie

in the spirit of chocolate rain

Now that Chocolate Rain isn’t stuck in your heads anymore, we thought this time we would give you a little ear and eye candy. We present you with the worst music video ever made:

Thanks, Matt.

that nez

This morning after just having returned from our morning walk down around the temple, Gwen fell asleep in the stroller and was easily transported to the crib and fell back asleep. Miracle of miracles. It was 10:45 am and the leftover birthday cake was staring me down. Inez had been begging for cake all morning and I caved, but mostly so I could eat some of the frosting. I know what you are thinking and please don’t judge. You will have to just trust me when I say that my Mom makes the best homemade fudgy frosting, otherwise I would not have eaten something of that nature right after working out. I am wiping the saliva off my mouth as I type, which is kind of tricky if you are typing with two hands.

Well, after a few bites of cake, Inez decided that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. She often does this with desserts, which totally baffles me. Anyway, I gave her some of her soymilk to help wash it down and the following conversation occurred:

Inez: Mom, can I have a chocolate straw with my milky?
Me: No, you are had enough sugar from the cake.
I: MOM, you are not doing what Jesus said.
M: Oh really? And what does Jesus say?
I: He says you have to share everything.

At this point of my post, I would include a picture of the cake, but sadly at the time of publication there is no cake left to photograph. My sincerest apologies. Instead here’s what is left.

put on your sunglasses

Tonight as I was cleaning out my inbox (which had 256 emails) I ran across this gem that my brother James had sent me last November. It’s kind of long, but the unintentional comedy factor is well worth your seven minutes. Well, at least three.

embarrassment

Update: The following happened to Dave (not Holly). We apologize for the confusion. :)

This last Sunday, after unloading our girls, diaper bags, manuals, scriptures, and kitchen sinks from the car and heading into our local chapel (Right on time, of course! And by “right on time,” I mean “20 minutes late.”), I paid a quick visit to the men’s restroom.

As I was leaving (still in the doorway), a fellow church-goer passed in front of me, moving quickly. I took a step back and to the left in an effort to avoid a collision. In doing so, I unknowingly hooked one of my back pockets onto the claw-like handle of a drawer that was built into the hallway wall—just to the left to the restroom door. I began to walk away (in my memory, this next part happens in slow-motion) and the inevitable ripping sound followed. I stopped. One of my eyes twitched involuntarily. I felt a light breeze on the back of my legs, that under normal circumstances, would have been refreshing, but in these abnormal circumstances, was most certainly not.

Questions raced through my mind. Who puts a drawer in a chapel hallway? Right by a bathroom? Who uses this drawer? What on earth is in it? Does the Bishop ever pause in the middle of an early-morning meeting and say, “Now, where did we put those files?” and then hear his Executive Secretary respond, “Oh, they’re in the hallway drawer. You know, the one by the bathroom. With the claw-like handle.”

When he was drawing up the plans, did the architect of this chapel foresee me, years later, standing there, pale-faced and ventilated, in his corridor of shame and laugh maniacally? I’ll bet he did.

I covered my back-side with a church manual, shuffled out of the building, drove home, and changed pants. Did I return to church that day? Yes. Did I return with dignity? No. No, I did not.

the man in the ketchup bottle suit

I had a dream the night before last that a bunch of people dressed up as condiments (ketchup bottle, mustard, salt and pepper shakers, etc.) were running a foot race. The condiment suits were huge, bulky getups—like baseball mascot outfits—and everyone was really struggling to run in them. The ketchup bottle guy’s suit was taller than the others and his bottle top got snagged by a low-hanging wire, which knocked him to the ground.

For some reason, I thought this was the funniest thing in the world and I started laughing in my sleep so hard that I shook the bed and woke Holly up. She asked me what was going on, and still half-asleep, I told her what I had dreamt. I continued to laugh—seriously, harder than I’ve ever laughed before—for another five minutes. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t say three words before erupting into another burst of laughter. The absurdity of all this caused Holly to start laughing to, which only made me laugh harder. It wasn’t until I splashed some water on my face and completely woke up that I could physically stop laughing.

Holly has been making fun of me non-stop ever since.

;( :)

Dave and I were reading the scriptures the other night (because we are SO righteous) and we read the following passage (Mark 6:14):

“And king Herod heard of him;(for his name was spread abroad:) and he said, That John the Baptist was risen from the dead, and therefore mighty works do shew forth themselves in him.”

We both had a laugh (you havin’ a laff?) because our brains automatically converted the passage’s punctuation into emoticons. Then we tried to figure out what the first one means. Winking AND frowning at the same time? What would that even mean?

Then we decided that we have been on the computer way too much recently and that we are both going to hell. ;(