Grandma's 86th Birthday

Grandma celebrated her 86th birthday today. Sandi sent flowers, which Grandma loved.


Grandma wasn't sure what kind of cake she wanted. When I suggested an ice cream cake, her eyes lit up.


Despite the heavy snow storm, we managed to get a delicious cake from Baskin and Robbins.


Grandma blew out all of the candles.

Where's the freakin' rabbit?

I was teaching my linear algebra students on Wednesday about vector spaces, spanning sets and linear independence. I spent the entire class period working a single problem and making connections between many of the things we had been studying. To demonstrate how useful and correct my methods were, I asked my students to suggest a vector from three-space, and then I proceeded to do the calculations to show just how everything magically works out. Only, with two minutes left in the class, it became clear to everyone, including me, that the numbers were coming out all wrong. It was like building up to the moment when you pull the rabbit out of the magic hat, only to discover that the rabbit wasn't there anymore. Or like doing a magic card trick that goes totally bust:

Me: Pick a card, any card.

Audience member: (Selects a card).

Me: (In a theatrical voice) So your card was....(drum roll)...the ace of spades.

Audience member: Uh...(embarrassing pause)...no.

Me: Oh, crap.

It only took me about 10 minutes in my office after class to figure out what went wrong. I simply forgot to change one sign. 'Hah,' I thought to myself, 'I bet even Newton missed a sign or two in his day.' By the next class period, I was ready with all my computations double-checked. Sure enough, I could make all the methods work for the vector they had suggested. And then just to prove that I had complete confidence that this method would work for any other vector they might give me, I said in my most authoritative voice, "This method would most certainly work for any other vector you'd care to choose." And then to drive the point home even further, I moved on to the next topic in the lesson.

At the police station

(Me at the police station eying a police line up of yogurt containers.)

Police Officer: OK, take your time. Make sure you get a good look.

Me: Yep, I'm sure of it. That's the one that assaulted me. I had to change my shirt and my pants.

Police Officer: Which one?

Me: My blue checkered one. And it was ironed!

Police: No, which yogurt?

Me: That blueberry one, except he was wearing a pink lid at the time.

Police Officer: Then how can you be sure that it was him?

Me: I remember the copyright tattoo right above that pink flower there.

Police Officer: Hmm. (Then into the intercom.) OK, we're done here. Keep the blueberry one for questioning.

(The yogurts slowly file out.)

College Corruption

I sent my oldest son to college, trusting that although he would be exposed to many bad influences, he would be capable of choosing wisely. This trust was completely destroyed when my son came home from school with this:


Imagine my concern as a parent. If only he had come home with a pierced ear or a tattoo. No, it had to be much worse than that. As a concerned parent in charge of the family laundry, I felt there was only one responsible course of action left for me to follow--an "accidental" bleach spill.

The Cheesecake Issue

Living in Utah has taught me that all elections can be boiled down to one or two key issues. For most people around me, these issues are abortion and gay marriage. Any candidate or piece of legislation that is against these two things is instantly credible. There seem to be no other issues worth considering.

I am personally offended by such a close-minded approach to voting. It's not that I mind elections being pared down to one or two key issues. If they weren't, I might actually have to think a little. Who knows what I might sprain in the process. No, the problem with Utah people is that they consistently fail to identify the single most crucial issue facing us--the lack of a Cheesecake Factory Restaurant anywhere in Utah Valley. By those in the know, this is often referred to as the cheesecake issue.

I studiously watched the debate last night, waiting in vain for one of the two presidential candidates to have the moral fiber and courage to address the cheesecake issue. Instead, all I got was a discussion of how to fix the economy, what to do about health care, and a pitiful mewing sound from John McCain about how his feelings had been hurt by John Lewis. No one had the guts to say that all Americans have the right to a Cheesecake Factory. Don't they realize that unless Cheesecake Factories are equally distributed throughout the US, they are implicitly supporting class, race and ethnic warfare? The welfare of our nation is being undermined.

Personally, I love the Cheesecake Factory. They have a huge menu, and the entrees are delicious. Who would have guessed that their non-cheesecake food would be any good? After all, I, like most Americans, would be willing to sit through a mediocre meal for the superb cheesecake dessert. But that just doesn't happen at the Cheesecake Factory. They make sure you can't keep from stuffing yourself with your meal before you try to take on a delicious slice of heaven. There's an issue that I wish my legislators would address.

Honestly, I would vote for anyone who promised to bring a Cheesecake Factory to Utah Valley. I wouldn't even care if they were lying. For me, just acknowledging the existence of this crucial issue would be enough to win my vote. So John and Barack, if you're listening, what me and Joe the Plumber really want is a Cheesecake factory, not tax relief or economic stimulus or health care or affordable education. Appease the sweet tooth of the masses and all will be well. Ignore it, and that sweet tooth might just bite you in the tush.

War of the Worlds Deja Vu

I took half a day off today because I have a bad cold. It's the first really bad cold that I've had in probably a decade. Usually when I catch a cold, I have much more mild symptoms than anyone else in the family. Today was different. I had a fever and felt like my head was going to explode.

That was not the worst part, though. What I hate most about having a cold is that I begin to emit massive amounts of gross, slimy liquids. Not only is it completely unattractive, but anyone who comes in contact with me runs the risk of becoming mutant slime monsters themselves. People cringe and back away when I come into a room. Some even cover their noses and their mouths with a hand, as if that will really protect them from the slime germs that are buzzing around me like flies around a garbage can. I feel so disgusting.

Sometimes it gets so bad that I think I could rival the dying Martians from War of the Worlds. You know that scene where the walking space ships become vulnerable to human weapons, and one of the machines finally crashes to the ground? And then the door on the machine opens and an alien washes out covered in its own self-produced mucus slime? I felt almost that slimy today. It was as if I was constantly in danger of being washed downhill in my own mucus. YUCK!

Seriously, I'll take an injury over a cold any day of the week. Broken ribs? Immediate sympathy. Back pain? People start doing stuff for you. But a cold? People are only willing to help out if they can keep their distance by using one of those grabber things that janitors use to pick up trash without having to bend over. Even then they are holding their breath and maintaining a crouched position so they can dart away if you start to sneeze or cough. In fact, I bet that right now you are probably leaning away from your computer screen despite the fact that your brain is telling you there's no possible way you can catch my cold through a web browser. Am I right?

All I can do right now is mop up my slime with boxes of tissues and look forward to the day when I am no longer a walking, dripping glob of mucus. And if things get really bad, I'll watch War of the Worlds and be glad that I'm not drowning in my own slime. Yet.

No thanks. Really.

As Mark and I were riding the bus to school today, the bus pulled up behind a TruGreen lawn care truck much like the one shown in the picture. On the back of the truck was a picture of a large Dalmatian with a sign that read, "I can spray your lawn today." Fortunately, I have a dog of my own, so I don't need to hire someone to come out and spray dog urine on the lawn. But I feel comforted knowing that if Floppy ever died, TruGreen is there to meet all of my dog urine needs.

Noogies on the Loose in Primary

Last Sunday I was sitting in Primary, the LDS version of children's Sunday school. Little Julia was sitting on my lap, clutching her little stuffed sheep tightly to her chest. She and I have finally developed a working relationship that allows her to be separated from her parents during church. She's a darling little girl, always clothed in a dainty dress with a bow perched in her perfect hair. She's very quiet in class and typically keeps to herself. I can't help but love the kid, though. She's really endearing, particularly when she's amused by something and her eyes start snapping.

I worry about her being in my class, though, since it consists mostly of rowdy boys. Perhaps the rowdiest of them all, dear little Adam, was sitting next to us at the time. He loves to stir up activity by bumping and poking the kids around him. He's not malicious; he never hurts anyone. He just loves action. He also cannot resist a quiet child. So right in the middle of singing time, he reached over and poked little Julia in the ribs. I gave him the, "Keep your hands to yourself, buster!" laser glare as I kept singing. Julia turned her face up to mine, smiled her sweetest smile, and asked me to hold her sheep. I replied, "Sure, sweetie," and took hold of the sheep.

With her hands now free, Julia was ready for action. Usually I see stuff like this coming several seconds before it happens, but this one took me completely by surprise. In one swift motion, Julia swung around in my lap, grabbed Adam in a chokehold, and started vigorously rubbing the top of his spiked-haired little head with her right fist.

I'm pretty sure that my mouth hit the ground. My first thought was disbelief that the little angel knew how to give a noogie. My second thought was even greater disbelief that she knew how to do it well. It wasn't until my third thought that I began to be concerned about poor little Adam's spiked-haired head, which is probably why it took me at least three full seconds to react and drag her off the boy.

After I got her settled back on my lap, I whispered to her that noogies didn't belong in church. With complete confidence and snapping eyes, she whispered back, "Doogies are good." Considering that Adam kept to himself for the rest of singing time, I couldn't really disagree with her.

The fruit flies can die, too

J-girl has been buying a lot of fruit from local vendors, and along with the fruit has come a massive invasion of fruit flies. Our house gets attacked by fruit flies every August. They start out in the kitchen where the fruit is, and then eventually end up in all of the bathrooms. One year we didn't get rid of them until April.

Instead of buying fruit fly traps or spraying poison, we have opted for a more high-tech approach. J-girl gets out the cannister vacuum and sucks them up. I have to admit that it's kind of addictive, hunting down the little pests and then sucking 'em right out of the air. It's not very practical, though, because it only reduces their numbers for the brief time it takes for the next batch to hatch out.

I've been wondering why we have such a problem with fruit flies and our neighbors don't. Last night I caught one of the little guys and took a close look at it. I nearly screamed in horror when I realized that it was the McCain variety of fruit fly. Being a democrat surrounded by republican neighbors, the fruit fly infestation finally made sense. They're not going away until I finally turn to the dark side and put McCain posters out on my lawn. They may even want me to make a donation to the republican party.

I refuse to be intimidated, though. I figure that they will all keel over and die if Obama wins the election. And if he doesn't, well, it won't matter anymore, because my neighbors will be a lot more difficult to live with than fruit flies.

The ants go marching...into the fires of hell, I hope!

I've hated ants ever since I can remember. I think they're evil. I smoosh them whenever I can. I want them all to die.

Everyone else I know is either neutral or pro-ant. That's because ants have gotten a lot of good press. Fables such as the grasshopper and the ants depict them as being hardworking, thrifty, and carefully planning for the future. In A Bug's Life, Disney invited us to cheer as the ants broke free from oppression. Every nature show on ants praises their strength and teamwork.

No one is willing to admit the truth about ants, which is that they are the creepy-crawly version of the vulture. They're nature's clean up crew. What's worse is that they have a personal vendetta against humans.

Don't believe me? Then you're just too brainwashed to deal with reality. Think for a minute. When was the last time an ant did you any good? Can't think of a time? That's because there isn't one. Now think of a time when ants caused you problems. Admit it--several instances came to mind, right? Here are some of mine:

• Ants used to invade the kitchen pantry when I was little. They would crawl up our legs and arms and bite us as we tried to clean them out.
• Ants used to invade my kindergarten classroom. My teacher made us sit on the floor despite the fact that ants were everywhere. It gave me nightmares, and I would wake up in the middle of the night absolutely sure that my bed was crawling with ants.
• One Halloween, I vowed to carefully ration my candy so that I would have candy all year long. The ants found my candy stash a couple of months later and I had to throw it all out. To this day I have a hard time believing in food storage.
• Ants crawled up one of my friends legs and began biting him in tender places. He had to immediately undress and brush them off. OK, so he was running up and down on their gigantic ant hill, but still, to bite a guy there and make him run around in circles, wildly flinging off clothes in all directions right in front of his sisters and their girlfriends? It's just not right.
• Our house was regularly invaded while we lived down in San Diego. They attacked our bedroom, our hallway, and our family room. They weren't as bright as the ants from my childhood, because they pretty much left the pantry alone. Nonetheless, streams of ants across walls and carpets are not acceptable.
  

In all honesty, I didn't start the war between ants and me. They did. That's why I feel justified in using particularly ruthless techniques against them. Just a couple weeks ago I repeatedly drove the tires of my car over a gigantic swarm of ants on the driveway, laughing demonically as I did so. I left a huge patch of smashed, red-brown ants for the wind to blow away. If only my kindergarten teacher had been there to see it.

Then I could have run over her, too.

Repetitive Clothes Wearing

My daughter wore the same thing today to her second day of school as she did on her first day. It's not that she didn't have anything else clean to wear. It's that the outfit was her first choice, was free from any large dirt stains, and was already out of her drawers and lying on the floor, easy to put on for a second day of school. It also helps that her mom and dad didn't realize she wore the exact same thing to school a second time until well after the school day was over. We're not really at the top of our game in the mornings at our house.

As the person who does the laundry in the house, I appreciate an extra day of wear in between washes. And yet, I still feel a little uneasy about it all. I was raised with the understanding that you had to at least change your shirt every school day. My mom also insisted that we change our underwear daily, but since she couldn't see 'em, I didn't change 'em. My daughter, on the other hand, regularly changes her underwear and then puts the same clothes right back on. She brags that last year she wore the same outfit to school for an entire week. We didn't even notice.

Some days I find myself wanting to follow my daughter's example. I think to myself, how many days in a row can you wear the same slacks to work? I figure that if a weekend occurs in between two of the work days, I can get at least an extra day of consecutive wearing. I also wonder if it's OK to wear the same shirt twice in the same week. Will people really know that I didn't wash it between wearings? Would they care if they knew?

And every year, I care a little less about the dos and don'ts of repeated clothes wearing. I'm planning on wearing the exact same clothes two days in a row this semester to see if anyone notices. Who knows? By the time I'm in my sixties, I might have narrowed my work wardrobe down to a favorite shirt and pair of pants that I'll wear the entire semester. And then again, my mom might catch wind of it and start showing up to dress me each morning. Even if she does, she still won't be able to make me change my underwear!

Rodent on the loose

Angel is usually a well-mannered, stay-in-one-corner-of-the-cage type of hamster. While she was at my mom's house during our recent 10 day vacation, she hid the entire time under one large clump of shavings. My mom was worried that she had died, so on the eighth day, she finally dug Angel out to make sure she was still breathing. And then Angel went right back into hiding. When we picked up the cage, the only sign of life was all of the hamster droppings that Angel had managed to kick through the bars. And might I add, for a hamster that is hardly ever seen, she sure produces a lot of poop.

To be honest, I think that Angel is extremely lazy. She won't run on her wheel or in her exercise ball. She doesn't even chew on the bars of her cage at night anymore. She pretty much seems to exist solely to eat, drink and make little grains of black rice.

But deep inside of Angel lives the sole of a rodent. They look docile and sweet, but they are conniving escape artists. Just ask my sister and her kids. While we were visiting them, we regularly saw the pet mouse that had escaped a couple of weeks earlier but had yet to be caught. My sister nearly threw a party the day that her boys managed to chase it outside (some time during the first week we were there), where it dove from the upper deck into the forest, gone forever. Then the degus got out in the garage. It took a couple of days of scheming and plotting by seven boys to corner and capture them. The three boys who managed to do it were instantly elevated to hero status.

Angel herself has managed escapes, albeit not lately. When we first got her, she found a broken bar in her cage and squeezed through the incredibly tiny opening. It took three escapes before we finally figured out her secret. Since then, she has been escape free. And with her lack of desire for activity, I thought her escape artist days were over.

Then Little J decided to buy a new cage at a garage sale. It was one of those plastic jobbies with all the tubes and satellite cages. I have little faith in those cages. They break way too easily, and then you have loose rodent somewhere in the house. With our last hamster, it was loose for nearly a week. It lived under the stove for a few days, leaving a scattering of droppings, and then found a hole in the wood floor that dropped into the gas fireplace in the basement. We found it a couple of days later when we went to turn on the fire. Good thing we saw him scurrying about before we turned up flame.

Back to Angel. Little J and her friend spent a few hours getting the new cage set up and cleaning out the old one. J-Girl declared that she was going to sell the old cage immediately. I told her it was better to keep it handy for when the new cage failed. Both Js looked at me like I had lost my marbles. But when we went to put Little J to bed early tonight so that she would be ready for the first day of school tomorrow, Angel was gone. Sure enough, one of the satellite cages had come apart, and even the laziest of hamsters couldn't resist that. We had no idea how long she had been out or where in the house she might be. We looked all over Little J's room, as well as the bedroom close by, and then gave up. After all, it was the first school night of the year. Fortunately for us, Little J heard Angel scurrying around on a table and managed to catch her. We then duct-taped everything up as tight as we could and then put Angel back into her new cage. I wasn't brave enough to insist on the old metal cage. I know that it's going to take at least two more escapes before either J will admit that the old man might have been right.

Webkinz gets real

Having an eight year old daughter, there was no way that I could escape the world of Webkinz. If you are fortunate enough not to know what Webkinz are, let me fill you in. They're stuffed animals that have a secret code attached to them that allows the owner to access the Webkinz website and engage in many different activities, including games, to earn cash and buy stuff for the online version of the stuffed animal. A mere $13.95 allows you to own the stuffed animal and play for a year on the website. You can buy a smaller version of the Webkinz, called Lil'kins, for $10.95.

I'm not completely against Webkinz, because a lot of the activities that children can engage in on the website involve logical reasoning, mathematics, and reading. But the cuteness level is way too high for my comfort. That's why I was so excited when Ganz, the makers of Webkinz, announced their new line of realistic, dual use (the physical toy and the online version) animals. It's called the Parakinz line, and consists of all the cute, cudely parasites that are such an important part of our lives.

The first release in the line is the Laughy Leech, shown above. Larger than the real life version, it nonetheless features an expandable outer skin and an inner blood bean bag. Pull the blood bag out of the end of the leech and you have the pre-meal leech. Put it back in, and your leech is well-fed and happy. It's suction cup head comes with replaceable 1/4 inch thick circular sticky pads that can actually make the leech adhere to your skin. This lovable pet also has stitched ribbing on one side that makes it curl around your body as you pretend to let it gorge on your blood. Naturally, this Parakinz allows you to access new parts of the Webkinz website that are not available to owners of Webkinz or Lil'kinz. These new features educate you about all the fun parasites can have with your body. The suggested retail price is only $11.95.

Other parasites planned for the line include the Musky Mosquito, Limber Tapeworm, and Nimble Head Lice. If this line is successful, Ganz plans to introduce a line of keychain bacteria and viruses of some of the most popular human STDs through the ages. Imagine the possibility of owning the lovable stuffed animal version of Syphilis. Also, think about the educational value for the children. The possibilities are endless.

Refrigerator decor

Refrigerator decor, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Every marriage goes through tough times when both parties have a difficult time communicating. There are some things or topics that just don't get discussed. In our marriage, we don't discuss the large, white refrigerator sitting in the middle of our kitchen. Maybe it's time to see a marriage counselor.

Kitchen horror

Torn Up Kitchen, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Here's a picture of the current condition of one of the walls in our kitchen. It's freakin' terrifying. Floppy has been hiding out in the farthest corner of the house. I've been hiding out at work. Both of us whimper whenever we have to get close to the destruction. Please, please, please put it back together.

Josh all spiked out

Josh all spiked out, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

This is what Josh looks like after he goes swimming. With all the construction going on in our house, my hair looks about the same.

Josh wins big at swim meet

Josh hanging with the swim team, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Here's a picture of Josh hanging on the lane line listening to his swim coach. His little size might make you think that he doesn't stand a chance at the swim meet, but twas not so. He took first in his heat in the 100 free, beating the next closest swimmer by eight seconds. He came in second on the backstroke. Looks like we have another competitive swimmer in the family.

More wedding photos on flickr

Little J and Chrissy, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Day 32/365: Mark turns 18!

Mark and the Heath cake, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

He was looking forward to this birthday because he thought it would enable him to legally purchase dry ice. Then Kira had to ruin his dream by telling him that he could have bought dry ice when he turned 16. Oh well, at least there's Heath cake.

I am America, and so can you!

Mark and Colbert, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

What could be better for your birthday than Stephen Colbert's latest book? Nation, if you're a Colbert Report fan like Mark, there is nothing better.

Day 31/365: Little J tries to dive

Little J tries to dive, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

I remember how hard it was to learn to dive when I was a kid. For awhile, no matter what I did, I still ended up feet first, head last into the water. Little J seems to have the same problem.

Narration of photo: Little J's teacher demonstrates how to dive. Then she has Little J kneel and put her hands over her head. It doesn't help--Little J still ends up with her head going under last.

Day 30/365: Mark the lifeguard

Mark on duty at the pool, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Here's Mark at work. I need to get more pictures of him when he's lifeguarding. His future wife will be grateful.

Day 29/365: Ken and Matt

Ken and Matt, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

These guys are just way too cool!

Day 28/365: Ken and Konnie get hitched!

Ken and Konnie, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Ken and Konnie finally tied the knot. We're so glad, because we are tired of being caught in the middle of the romance. Ken is our neighbor to the west and Konnie is our neighbor to the east. They are always holding hands and walking back and forth in front of our house. Whenever my kids call out to them as they pass by, they stop and smooch in front of us.

More photos will gradually be made available through this blog and my flickr photostream.

Day 27/365: J-girl has a birthday

J-girl and her Cake, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

J-girl turned a year older today, and it's just not fair, because she still looks like she's in her 20s. What a beautiful woman!

Day 25/365: New batch of chicks

Chick foursome, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

My sister Kris has taken to raising chickens lately. She hatched some chickens a couple of months ago using an incubator. Today, she came home with a box full of more baby chicks. She was quick to explain that only 7 of them are hers; she's raising the rest for a friend. Here are four of the bravest. They were the first ones to leave the corner and begin to explore the chicken coop. Too bad they grow up to be stupid adult chickens. They're very cute when they're this little. For more pictures of the other babies, see my flickr photostream.

Day 24/365: End of English language class

I attended my last class of the Introduction to English Language Course. Now that I know about interdental fricatives and Gricean Maxims, language use will never be the same for me. Now it's on to learning about discourse analysis.

Day 23/365: Father's Day dinner

My wife and kids made the most amazing Father's Day dinner for me. Mark and Matt made clam sauce, J-girl made a marinara sauce with sausage in it, Josh made an alfredo sauce with chicken in a romano cheese sauce, and Little J made a fruit salad. I had seconds on everything, and had to lie on the couch for an hour before I could safely move.

Highlights from Orem Parade

Utah parade culture was once again thriving on Saturday evening. Here is just a sample, call it the best of the best.

Yes, if you own a freaky vehicle, you too can be in the parade.

The first martial arts to mix kicks with karaoke. Twice as deadly.
(Yes, folks, she really was singing.)

An old college flame. She hasn't aged a bit.

The theme of this "float" was so subtle I almost missed it. I told my kids that it should have read, "Drink down, throw up." That made the lady behind us snort.

"Some...bank?" Just a step above having the float be sponsored by Honeybaked with the slogan, "Some Ham!" Why didn't Charlotte think of that one?

My personal favorite, the rock bagpipe band.

Day 22/365: Fireworks

fireworks, originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt.

Death Turtles at Summer Days

I thought that Summer Days was supposed to be a family friendly event. But guess what they had at one of the booths! Yes, you guessed it—a whole nation of death turtles. Little J was thrilled and started begging for one. Good thing that J-girl stepped in and said no. One death turtle per little girl is enough terror to deal with. If there were two, they might invade the house, and then no place would be safe.

Day 21/365: Orem Summer Days

Little J loved the swings.

It was a lot more comfortable after the sun went down.

Mmm, cotton candy and caramel apples!

Carnival booths.

Day 20/365: Dashboard Turtle

dashboard turtle
Originally uploaded by splingermoosebutt

Little J has invented a little game that she likes to play with me. It's called, Stick the bobble-head turtle somewhere in the car where Dad doesn't expect it and watch him freak out. She used to put it on top of the dash, right over the speedometer. The first time she did it, I tried to tolerate its bobbing, beady eyes staring up at me. But after awhile, I could feel the eyes start to bore a hole in my head. I swear it started reading, and then manipulating, my mind. I was totally creeped out. After several chills when down my spine, I finally grabbed the turtle and moved it over to the middle of the dashboard where it was no longer looking at me. I felt immediate relief, as if someone had suddenly removed a pin from a voodoo doll of me.

Lately, Little J has become much more creative in where she hides the turtle. She's placed it down inside the dashboard and in the armrest on the door. Today, however, she went too far. As I was driving down the road and squinting into the sun, I reached up to pull down the visor, and there was the freakin' turtle. I gave out a loud, startled yelp, which was immediately followed by gleeful giggles in seat behind me. Even J-girl started laughing. I grimaced and once again moved the diabolical turtle to the middle of the dash.

I have started thinking that I need to hatch a plot to do the little guy in. After all, it's very believable that he might accidentally fall out of a window or get smashed by a careless teenager. Or perhaps he might start missing his family and feel the need to search them out, sort of like the animals in the movie Incredible Journey, except that this time the mountain lion wins. Hee hee, I chuckle just thinking of the little guy becoming a crunchy mountain lion snack. The only problem is, I don't know where he came from and to whom he belongs. I don't want to break anyone's heart by getting rid of him.

So for now, the twerp is safe. But look out, little shell dude, 'cause your days might be numbered!

Day 18/365: Dragon Boat Festival

We celebrated Dragon Boat Festival on Sunday. For us, the celebration is mostly about making and eating jungdz, pictured to the right. Jungdz consist of rice, stewed meat, eggs, and mushrooms wrapped in bamboo leaves, boiled, and then steamed. They are a pain to make, but they are very tasty and only have to be made once a year, so they're worth it.

You may be wondering what this particular form of food has to do with dragon boat festival. Let me take a moment to explain.

During the Warring States period in Chinese history (something B.C.), the many different people that comprise the country of China had yet to be united under one ruler. Instead, the country was divided into many fiefdoms, each with it's ruling warlord or king. Each ruler sought to extend his influence and the boundaries of his kingdom. Consequently, the country was riddled with intrigue and constantly changing alliances.

During this time, Qu Yuan, the main character of this story, was the adviser to the king of Chu, one of the warring states. When the king died, his son went against the advise of Qu Yuan and formed an alliance with the king of Chin. This wasn't such a great idea, because the king of Chin was a slimeball and was willing to use any method to extend his kingdom. Qu Yuan attempted many times to advise the new king to break the alliance, but to no avail. Finally, the new king got tired of listening to Qu Yuan and banished him from his court. Qu Yuan went to the countryside and proceeded to write some of the best poetry in all of Chinese history.

Eventually, the Kingdom of Chin took over Chu, just as Qu Yuan had foretold. Instead of reveling in self-righteousness, Qu Yuan became overwrought and threw himself into the river, committing suicide. The people were so upset at the loss of Qu Yuan that they jumped in their boats and raced up and down the river in search of his body. When it could not be found, they took clumps of cooked rice and threw it to the fish so that the fish would be too full to eat Qu Yuan's body. The dragon boat races held during this holiday symbolize the people's efforts to find Qu Yuan's body, and the jundgz represent the rice clumps that were fed to the fish. Cheery little holiday, no? At least the food's good.

Day 15/365: Utah Lake Festival and Fishing

We took Uncle Michael to the Utah Lake Festival this afternoon. There were lots of different booths, but the one that attracted us most was the face painting booth. Little J decided she wanted to be a blue bunny. The person who painted Julia did a fantastic job.


J-girl and I also got our faces painted, but just not to the same degree as Little J. Mine didn't look very manly, so I decided not to post a picture.


Seeing all the booths on fishing got Josh in the mood to fish, so we went down to Lindon Harbor and fished for a couple of hours. Can you tell that the fish weren't biting?

Bored bunny.

The Norman Rockwell version of Josh fishing.