Thursday, December 11, 2008
There's no good pictures on google images of leg wrestling, but this^ is pretty awesome.
Ok, Before Hilary gets on here and starts boasting her brains out, I wanted to get the story straight on the leg wrestling match.
If you don't know Hilary, you don't truly understand the meaning of the word competitive.
- Last night she yelled at sweet Emily Hinchey for having a poinsetta pot that was "way cuter" than our poinsetta's pot. (Hot Shopping Tips on our blog: Cute pots at CRoss Dress For Less). Don't worry, Hilary, our nativity set is like 8 times larger, and our little snow man creatures DOMINATE their minnie and mickey mouse wedding Christmas ornaments.
- "Is there anything you can do better than me?"
- "I bet you I can chug this water faster than you" I admit she is a champion water chugger--in fact that was one of the things that sealed the deal. LDS pun intended.
So, after ensuring safe landing areas, 8 minutes of trash talking, and one unsportsmanlike fart in the face (Hilary's fart, my face) just before we began--which totally threw me off my game and probably gave me an asthma attack and should have been a 15-yard penalty, aside from the fact that ham hock and beans is probably an ILWF (International Leg Wrestling Federation) DOPING VIOLATION, then a ten-minute odor abatement period--we started the wrassle.
So she won Round 1 out of three by not flipping me over but by twisting me to the side.
Round 2: my legasaurus totally flipped her over her head. I'm surprised she isn't wearing a neck brace today. I'll admit, she's a tough girl. But I won't admit that her legs are stronger than mine.
Round 3: she won in the same inconclusive way as in the first--in a manner suggestive that she was manually supporting herself on the side against the wall or the counter.
She won't rematch, not for eternity. I say I'm entitled.
I want Holyfield! You seen what these guns can do in Desert Storm, I'll show you what they can do in the ring! Caesar's Palace, Atlantic City!
Please blog your support for the rematch.
P.S. Do not point out the irony that I allege she is the competitive one. I am not doing this so I can win. I am merely a humble seeker of keeping leg wrestling pure in justice and fair play.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I coach the Moscow High School JV basketball team. We got beat tonight by 65 points by a team with only seven players. I thought teams only lost by that much in heartwarming Disney inspirational movies. The difference between my team and the Disney team, however, is that my team most assuredly will not win the championship at the end of the season like they do in the movies.
Thankfully there's a new rule in Idaho basketball this year--the Mercy Rule. If a team is down by 30-points in the fourth quarter, the game is played with a running clock. That rule has taken effect twice in two games now. And considering we were down by 30 points in the second quarter, I begged the ref to start the running clock right after halftime tonight but he didn't oblige.
The Varsity played after us and got beat by 30, which, by the way, by Moscow Girls' Basketball standards, is not a blowout.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
That comment may well be said of Andy's first Halloween costume. In case it's not guessable, he's a Piece of Crap (he even had Tootsie Rolls to offer--which inspired his other costume). Notice that for our second Halloween party (the church one), all Andy changed were his accessories.
A couple weeks ago, Andy and I had a getaway to Coeur d'Alene. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. On the drive home, Andy asked me three random questions.
1. When the Hoover Dam is holding back as much water as it possibly can, how many more drops of water will it take before the entire thing breaks?
2. If you fill up a water balloon to its recommended max, how many more drops of water do you think it will hold before it bursts?
3. You know how you can fill a glass of water so full that the water is above the rim of the glass? How much more water can that glass really hold?
He asked these questions in quick succession and I had no idea where he was going with this. Immediately he started whining that he had to use the bathroom sooooo bad. I think maybe his eyes were even watering. He pulled over and ran into the woods to release some tainted water. He got back to the car and said, "Man, I'm lucky I didn't get hurt in there. I saw a huge albino python spitting all over the place" (how's that for phallic symbol, Katie?).
That's not nice.
Friday, October 31, 2008
I remembered Hilary and I (My views do not represent hers) had recently watched this cartoon from my youth back in the late 1900s:
Watch it--It's good. Note the ending, which departs from the age-old Aesop's fable's usual ending where the lazy grasshopper is kicked out into the winter (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
You all know me and how I love to debate. By no means do I want to create a spirit of contention. Nor do I mean to make an overt liberal argument--just a rumination. Thank goodness for the grasshopper that he could fiddle. There are lots of people who can't give back in any way and can't play any sort of figurative fiddle for society, that's for sure. Are we still motivated to help them if they're helpless? Then there are lots of people (but not all) who won't end up giving back because they're lazy. How do we distinguish between them? It's not easy to draw that line. The government tries to, believe it or not. And much of this trying, ironically, is thanks to Bill Clinton's welfare reform. There are definitely other ways to interpret the grasshopper cartoon--the tobacco product placement model--the insects are people too, and should not be eaten view--and the "I can find secret phallic symbols in any Disney cartoon" approach.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Lex, but ya still gotta love 'em.
Ain't thousands of tress here
More like ten of 'em.
Leaf colors were stolen
From all over the rainbow.
'Cept for turquoise and pink--
We saw none of those.
Or navy or midnight
Simply red, orange, and yellow
Is all that we seen.
But don't get me wrong.
I ain't a'whinin'.
It ain't the tree's fault;
It's for no lack a' tryin'.
They desperately tried
All them colors to catch.
Blue just took off
Before it was snatched.
Pink was too fast.
Must'a had somewhere to go.
But all them other colors
Were just too darned slow.
But lucky for us.
'Cause, all we'd be seein'
Over and over
Is green after gre-en.
Relish it now
Even if there's no blue.
'Cause red, orange, and yellow
Will soon have better things to do.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
"East meets West" was the name of the benefit dinner and auction we volunteered at last night. People were encouraged to dress up in Asian or cowboy western attire. Although I was tempted to paint my face white and go as a geisha girl, I reverted to my I-don't-so-much-really-like-dressing-up ways and just slipped on my Harley Davidson boots. Andy conveniently has a small plethora of western wear, including his $5 bargain boots. Nothing says "Hey, everybody. Look at me" like a 6'7" white boy in camel colored cowboy boots, a belt buckle and a flannel shirt.
We were gonna get a picture with this guy sporting a kimono, but we thought he might Jackie Chan us, hence the solo couple.And all I can say right now, being 3 months pregnant (not quite, actually), is thank goodness for stretch denim. Trust me, I realize my thighs and booty are ginormous. I really should learn how to pose so I accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative.
Andy suggested we create a cowboy boots club. He accepted the nomination to be president (mostly because his boots could totally kick my boots' butt), and announced that his first order of business as president was to make me polish his boots. The club was dissolved right then and there.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
These are the criteria, in order of importance:
Value (Price combined with how satisfying it is Satisfying=emotional and hunger satisfaction)
Culinary Harmonious Ingredient Combinations
Service and availability (hours, locations) of the restaurant that serves it
I have eaten many a burger in my day. So I got CRED!
I would say that with these criteria, Jack in the Box's Jumbo Jack gets the gold medal.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
If you have never been to Moscow, Idaho before, let me paint a picture. Imagine golden, rolling wheat fields as far as the eye can see. Image a beautiful college campus smack dab in the middle of those same fields. Then image a town where the best shopping is at Ross Dress for Less and the most exciting part of the week is the Farmer's Market on Saturdays. Needless to say, creativity is invented here in Moscow, Idaho.
To keep busy, here's a few things we've done. Andy rocked the fishes world on the St. Joe River; I got my world rocked on the UofI field playing powder puff football; and I'm giving the whole homemade bread thing a whirl. I optimistically signed up a month ago to bring two loaves of homemade bread to a luncheon. Now that I've finally made them, I'm having a hard time cutting the apron strings, if you know what I mean. I can't believe my mom makes bread all the time and never hesitates giving them away. I gotta admit, I'm coveting my loaves.
Speaking of buns in the oven . . . Andy and I are gonna have a little one running around pretty soon. And by "little" I mean young, because anyone who knows the both of us knows that if anyone's kids are gonna be little they ain't gonna be ours.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
First-Hand Account By Captain Andrew Violet Voltaire
Ahoy thar, Matey! I see ye be readin’ me blog. Mayhaps ye be lookin’ to hear a yarn o’ the adventurous ilk. What ho—I espy a calm driftin' in from the nor'-nor'-east— lift the skin up, and put into the bunt the slack of the clews (not too taut, me tars), an' lay-to as I sate yer ‘unger for such a tale whilest I search me recollection’s vaults and hearken ye back to yore, of the high seas of the Pacifica, where nary an armada claims dominion on account of the vastness of the briny blue, and the squalls compare to what ye lan’lubbers give the name mountains. Twas biological—the treasure we sought—The Marlin, named as it were for its similitude to the marlinspike, a most missile-like billfish, with a temperament to match, this Makaira indica. Known to grow to 18 feet, this largest bony fish, an’ known to lay waste to any crew o’ swabbies that knowest not ‘ow to keep their ‘loof in the swells o’ danger.
I, Captain Violet “Andy” Voltaire have steered me crew aboard the Lightin Eel o Hades and swashed an’ buckled in many seas a’fishing, from the Caribbean across the whale-road to the gulf of Juneau to the sandbars of Cape Fear and up the unruly rivers of Idaho, but me buccaneer eyes never laid eyes on such a Istiophorus as the black marlin o Haw-igh.
Unlike most buccaneer quests, which ye shan't witness beginnin ere Apollo's orb reaches apex o' noon, the marlin pursuit commenced before the sun’s rays shone.
The ocean would grow fierce that day with seawaves grand and many a squall splashing up to yonder crow’s nest, as we were soaked in salty swells, starboard to port, prow to stern, from the fore mast to the mizzenmast, spankersail to jib to fore royal an' back, meanwhilest I thought meself consigned to Davey Jones’s locker. After that mighty wave crashed upon me eyes, I saw clear an’ dampened the pipes an’ roused the layabouts from the poop deck and the urinals, an’ as they hoisted twixt two sheets, me stomach festered. Havin’ taken a matrimonial sabbatical from the honorable life o’ pirating, on the beach an’ golf resorts o’ Haw-igh, me sea legs, I confess, had run a jibber an’ gone all a flibber. Me vomittin’ was such as to put the towerin’ volcanoes o’ Haw-igh t’ shame. But, say I, Arrrhh! Insult me not, lest ye desire yer ears lanced from yer very heads an' parboiled before yer eyes. I’m still seventy times seven the searfarier and buccaneer as any of ye blackguard knaves and scurvy-waggs.
And ahoy! Soon as me barfin were through, the battles of sportfishing were nigh to inauguration. Mark my words, as a pirate ‘oo has seen many a rising and setting of the pearly orb that lights our nights—When the seas are highest an’ the crew be near to mut’ny, then it is that the crafty and mighty marlin strikes.
And strike she did, like a thundering bolt with a bill, irresistible as me enticement lure were, bobbin and draggin aft of the Lightnin Eel. We were what ye landlubbers call trawlin, but what among pirates is called the DOTS: Draggin Of the Traitorous Scab, which is akin as well to your waterskiing, ‘cept sans the accoutrements ye call skis; and the dragg-ed, traitorous scab shark bait frets not over his SPF and gets no priv’lidge to be drinkin’ Pepsi afterwarrrd. Follow ye yet me yarn, whilest I wax and wane poetic in the ’nalogy? Mostly trawlin-for-sharks-with-human-bait be a thing o’ serious labour punishment o’ the capital ilk, and not a past-time for a holy-day such as me newly wedded and me took. Tho’ it is true that pirates do their executionin’ with quite a bit o sport.
Immediately I was at the stern, with the lee-lab spankin’ and me canny crew aside me as I heaved and hoed upon the sportfish rod. Shiver my timbers what a mighty fish she was, and worthy opponent, with more stratagem and swiftness than the Armada EspaÑa!
The marlin dove deep, hell bent on escortin’ me to Davey Jones’s locker. Then lusty crew hoisted 'twixt two sheets and the Lightnin Eel lunged to port, compensating for the mighty tug of the beast, an' positioning me for to better reel, in this human versus Ichthyosaurus tug-o-warrr we call fishing. Perhaps these Marlin beasts call it human-ing, and many a taxidermied homo Sapiens rests glassy-eyed above a marlin mantle? What ho, ye dubious! But Captain Andy Voltaire would never perish in aforementioned fashion! Captain Voltaire bests not always his foes, but never has he been captured at the high sea. Without even the aid of fastenin’ my person to the mizzenmast, for fulcrum and for leverage, Yours Truly Captain Voltaire Peerless Pirate of Pacifca, reeled and tugged I at the wicked Marlin in such a fierce battle the likes of which those waters had not seen since Captain Cook’s thwarted attempt at abducting Kalaniopu'u, king of Haw-igh, in his penultimate battle at Kealakekua Bay (a fine place to meet yer demise, or to snorkel, me tars). Arr! Shiver my timbers, back we turn the tale to the struggle at hand and at fin. Akin to weighin anchor by me onesy, difficult this whale-wrestle was. This is a fitting and felicitous metaphor I made, but ‘cept neither back nor forth swims the heavy anchor, nor does it ram the stern as our lusty marlin did. And what a sharp dagger the fiend fish wielded! Nearly as cutting as the swash of me cutlass was the bill of aforementioned unruly marlin, second sharpest and quickest blade ye’ll find from Johannesburg to Christchurch, from Panama to Gibraltar.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Hilary liked the lower one the best. There were dozens of little red crayfish, if you're in Latah county and you need to go crawdaddin'
We like Moscow so far. At least I do, and Hilary says she does. But she misses her family and sisters. She misses you this much.
I ride my bike to school in 10 minutes and Hilary is to work (in car or on bike, don't matter) in 5 min.
We are meeting some cool cats in our ward, and we just got ward activities chairpersons callings.
Picked bucketsablackberries last sunday and there's a great road biking path from Pullman to Troy (25 miles of black powder)
Hilary has our house looking classy and with a little pizzaz, but not too "funked up" yet, as she would say. Sometimes the bathroom is kinda funky if you ask me, but our rental duplex has a pretty good fan.
Here's the hills SE of Moscow:
Hilary and I rocked Hawaii's world. We spent an awesome week on the Big Island, and a few days on Oahu. Mauna Lani, the Kohala Coast resort with the condo we stayed at, was superb. It was a golfer's paradise, and not too shabby for non-golfers like me.
Here's an list, in the order that they occur to me:
+ Snorkled in the bay (Kakeukalau'ihawie'wainanu if I remember right) where Captain Cook met his death. Some crazy and colorful dolphins showed up at sunset and started showing off.
+ Tried to body surf on the black sand beach at Waipio.
+ Drove the rental jeep through a river in Waipio Valley and swung on the rope into the splash.
+ Ate fruit
+ Saw the volcano and hiked in the national park!
+ Snorkeled with a sea turtle
+ Almost made it to Jamie and Terrance King's wedding
+ Missed a flight
+ Slept in
+ More off-roading
+ Hilo, Kona, Pololu Valley hikes
+ Watched windsurfers and kite surfers in Oahu near Kailua
+ I went deep sea fishing and deep sea barfing. I caught a 165 lb. Marlin. Eat your heart out, Santiago! Alas, Hilary wouldn't let me taxidermy it and hang it on the mantle. Why not, honey? As Lyric Payne would say, sometimes my wife is such a stick in the mud
+ Got sunburns
+ Midnight swimming in the fancy pool at out condo
+ shopping in Honolulu
+The Pololu Valley
+ Started my own fire rubbing sticks at the Polynesian Cultural Center
+ Went to the Laiae temple, and saw the Kona temple
+ Hiking through Sugar Cane
+ Tour of the WWII submarine
It was real real neat.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Puns are always intentional with me.
I have been impressed and grateful and bien satisfecho:
- Grilled Egg Salad sandwiches with avocado. (After Church)
- Linguine with shrimp scampi and sautéed red peppers and yellow squash
- Spinach salad with short grain brown rice with grilled salmon fillet
- Gigantic trifle with chocolate pudding, whip cream, devil’s food cake and toffee bar (took me three days to finish it off)
-Fresh peach pie
-blackberry ice cream
All with a great degree of difficulty score and bonus presentation points. She’s pretty amazing. This is all just in the past few days. I’ve always wondered what fat Andrew Jorgensen would look like. We’ll all meet him soon. J
I'll be posting more about our Hawaii pirate vacation when I get my CD rom to work. In the meantime, here's a wedding photo.
With Time-elapsed lots of food technology: