I despise frivilous lawsuits. Students can sue teachers over bad grades. Criminals can sue homeowners for tripping on their property. And now, husbands can sue wives for being ugly.
No, seriously.
http://now.msn.com/man-sues-wife-for-being-ugly-after-their-ugly-baby-is-born
A woman in China was sued by her husband after she gave birth to a baby the husband considered so ugly he insisted she must have had an affair. After all, his wife was gorgeous and he clearly believes he is a dreamboat, so how could they have an ugly baby? When it came to light the woman had had a lot of plastic surgery before they met and the new daughter merely inherited her old face, the man not only divorced his wife, but sued her for the equivalent of $120,000 -- and won. The presiding judge ruled the man had technically married the woman under “false pretenses.”
There are so many things wrong with this scenario.
First, doesn't this guy know that just because two people are really, really, ridiculously good-looking, doesn't mean they won't have a Frankenstein of a kid? It's not a guarantee, man.
Second, how many times did this lady go under the knife? Did he never see any old photos of her? I guess if I used to look like Quasimoto (sp?) I'd hide my old pics, too.
Third, the judge sided with him?! Seriously? How was that false pretenses? So if you marry a woman that fake tans and you have a kid that looks like Casper, you can sue her and win six figures? Or if she dyes her hair? Fake nails? Colored contact lenses? Makeup? Where does it stop?
This just highlights what shambles our definition of marriage and family is in. This guy, rather than rejoice in the blessing of his newborn child, divorces and sues his wife. What a winner.
This is just plan sad. But when you first read the article, if you're like me, you still laughed.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Tres Anos
If time flies when you’re having fun, then my marriage has been the most fun time of my life. Three years ago I took my place at the end of an aisle and waited for my bride. She was worth the wait, not only that day, but in my life as well. I simply cannot imagine my life without her. “Where would I be? What would I be doing?” I ask myself. The answer doesn’t really matter, because nothing could be as sweet as the life I have been blessed with.
In our most recent year of marriage we had a few milestones. We purchased our first home. What a process that was! We continue, albeit slowly, to work on our home and add our personal touches. Once it’s finally presentable we will actually have people over. So we’ll see you in 2015.
We also became parents this year. To our four-legged child. Before you go thinking Heather gave birth to some weird kid with two extra limbs, we got a puppy. She has enriched our lives in ways I never even thought, and prepared us, in a way, for children. Down. The. Road. Our lives changed so much the day we brought her home. There is so much more responsibility, logistics about schedules, slobber and poop. Just like a human baby. I love watching my wife teach our puppy. She is consistent, patient and stern when she needs to be. It hammers home that fact that she will be a wonderful mother. Down. The. Road.
Wife went back to school. God revealed to us that she is in the field he created her for and she should take the next step toward a more permanent career in her field. I swell with pride watching her do her homework. It’s such a simple thing, but it shows that she values knowledge and wants to be successful. As she learns, it validates some of the things she already does at work, and that is awesome.
To my wife, thanks for working at SeaWorld camp seven years ago. Thanks for dating me. Thanks for saying, “Yes.” Thanks for saying, I Do.” Thanks for putting up with me everyday. Thanks for teaching your students, our pup and me. Thanks for being a Godly woman with unwavering faith. Thanks for bringing balance to my life. Thanks for never doing, saying or implying anything that suggests I am not enough. Thanks for loving me when I should be unlovable. Thanks for the last three years. Thanks for the next 50. Thanks.
I love you.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
New Addition
Our home is now filled with the pitter patter of little feet. Four of them.
It may seem out of the blue, but according to Wife, she's been wanting one for the past two-and-a-half years of our marriage. Who am I to deny her something she's wanted for so long? A week ago we brought home our new addition, Kona. She is a shepherd mix from the Helen Woodward Animal Center. Wife had seen her on their adoptions website and we both thought she was very cute. Then she disappeared from the website and we figured it wasn't meant to be. If you know my wife, you know that one an idea is in her head, nothing will move it out. So she checked the website daily. All of a sudden that cute little sherpherd mix was back. "It's a Christmas miracle!" I kid you not, those were her words.
I left work early the next day so we could take a look. As I walked to my car, Wife called and informed me that we had to wait 30 minutes because she was being looked at by a family. As you may know, we both pray about our decisions as a couple. In our respective cars, unknown to the other at the time, we each prayed that if we weren't supposed to have her she would be adopted.
Thirty minutes passed, painstakingly for Wife, and she called back. Still available! We arrived at the shelter and set up a meeting. She was just as cute as her picture on the website. Perfect coloring and ears that flop halfway. She took to Wife immediately and pretty much thought she was a lap dog. Sure, it's cute now but when she's full-grown that simply will not be okay. She seemed high energy and a little mouthy, but what puppy isn't? Now came decision time...
If you know my wife at all you know how she is at making decisions. She deliberates. Then she analyzes. Then she ponders. Then she asks me what I think. Then she thinks some more. After the mental anguish, er, process, we adopted our little pup.
Her first night was flawless. She moved around a lot in her crate, but she never cried once. The next day we stayed at home and let her get used to the house and to us. She even handled the firework shows like a champ. That day she was a bit wary of a few things, including walkers, runners, skateboards, other dogs and various household appliances. With each passing day, however, she gets more comfortable and can now be on the same sidewalk as a runner and not bark. She seems very intelligent and is pretty much housebroken already. I wish I got a cookie everytime I went to the bathroom.
We have begun the training process with her. She knows how to sit and is working on stay. We ignore her when she nibbles our feet. She seems to really want to be good and please us. She wants our undivided attention and itsn't happy unless she is with us. This has, thankfully, gotten better each day and we can both leave a room without her being reduced to a puddle of whimpers.
She can, of course, be incredibly frustrating. I have to remind myself that she isn't going to behave like a five-year-old dog because, well, she isn't a five-year-old dog. I'm learning patience, albeit slowly. Overall she has been a wonderful puppy this week and we are very happy about our new edition.
Meet Kona:
It may seem out of the blue, but according to Wife, she's been wanting one for the past two-and-a-half years of our marriage. Who am I to deny her something she's wanted for so long? A week ago we brought home our new addition, Kona. She is a shepherd mix from the Helen Woodward Animal Center. Wife had seen her on their adoptions website and we both thought she was very cute. Then she disappeared from the website and we figured it wasn't meant to be. If you know my wife, you know that one an idea is in her head, nothing will move it out. So she checked the website daily. All of a sudden that cute little sherpherd mix was back. "It's a Christmas miracle!" I kid you not, those were her words.
I left work early the next day so we could take a look. As I walked to my car, Wife called and informed me that we had to wait 30 minutes because she was being looked at by a family. As you may know, we both pray about our decisions as a couple. In our respective cars, unknown to the other at the time, we each prayed that if we weren't supposed to have her she would be adopted.
Thirty minutes passed, painstakingly for Wife, and she called back. Still available! We arrived at the shelter and set up a meeting. She was just as cute as her picture on the website. Perfect coloring and ears that flop halfway. She took to Wife immediately and pretty much thought she was a lap dog. Sure, it's cute now but when she's full-grown that simply will not be okay. She seemed high energy and a little mouthy, but what puppy isn't? Now came decision time...
If you know my wife at all you know how she is at making decisions. She deliberates. Then she analyzes. Then she ponders. Then she asks me what I think. Then she thinks some more. After the mental anguish, er, process, we adopted our little pup.
Her first night was flawless. She moved around a lot in her crate, but she never cried once. The next day we stayed at home and let her get used to the house and to us. She even handled the firework shows like a champ. That day she was a bit wary of a few things, including walkers, runners, skateboards, other dogs and various household appliances. With each passing day, however, she gets more comfortable and can now be on the same sidewalk as a runner and not bark. She seems very intelligent and is pretty much housebroken already. I wish I got a cookie everytime I went to the bathroom.
We have begun the training process with her. She knows how to sit and is working on stay. We ignore her when she nibbles our feet. She seems to really want to be good and please us. She wants our undivided attention and itsn't happy unless she is with us. This has, thankfully, gotten better each day and we can both leave a room without her being reduced to a puddle of whimpers.
She can, of course, be incredibly frustrating. I have to remind myself that she isn't going to behave like a five-year-old dog because, well, she isn't a five-year-old dog. I'm learning patience, albeit slowly. Overall she has been a wonderful puppy this week and we are very happy about our new edition.
Meet Kona:
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Your Team Doesn't Always Have To Win
Sports fans are funny. We attach ourselves to organizations, teams, and players. If "we" don't win, we are devastaed. If "we" do, we are elated. We make up excuses as to why "we" lost, sometimes hanging on to those excuses for years. We always want "our" team to win.
Junior Seau was a great football player. Growing up as a Charger fan, he embodied the lightning bolt. He seemed to have twice as much energy as everyone else on the field. He was fun to watch. When news of his death hit, my mom sent me a text message that read, "Brings back so many memories of when you were young worshipping the Chargers."
I really did, man. I would set up a shrine every game in our living room. Clothing, cards, memorabilia, even my trashcan. I don't know if I thought it brought them good luck, but I did it every week.
That year the Chargers made it to the Superbowl, where the 49ers destroyed them 49-26. It's funny, because I will always remember the score. I guess it was burned into my brain right alongside anger, sadness, frustration and wonderings of why. Why did they have to lose? Why did they have to lose so badly? Why did the Niners have to be so stinking good with their Steve Young and their Jerry Rice? Why were we so overmatched?
My mom's text message made me realize that your team doesn't always have to win. She didn't say that Junior brought back memories of them losing the Superbowl. He brought back memories of me. That made me step back and realize that even though that team lost big time, there were some awesome times that year. Natrone Means bowling people over. Tony Martin sprinting down the sideline after catching a bomb from Stan Humphries. Andre Coleman returning kicks for touchdowns. Junior Seau perfectly timing the snap count and sacking the quarteback before he even knew what happened. Kurt Gouveia slapping the ball away in Pittsburgh to send "us" to the Superbowl. Driving to The Murph to welcome the team home from Pittsburgh with blue towels hanging out the car windows to mock those terrible Terrible Towels. The hope that "we" might win the biggerst game in football.
We lost. It really seemed to matter then. It doesn't anymore. Long after we are gone, people will forget what we have done. No matter our profession, no one will really remember. They will remember the kind of people we were and the impact we had on others. My mom didn't remember the Superbowl blowout. She remembered her son's ridculous shrine to "his" team. She remembered the effect that team had on others.
Your team doesn't always have to win.
Junior Seau was a great football player. Growing up as a Charger fan, he embodied the lightning bolt. He seemed to have twice as much energy as everyone else on the field. He was fun to watch. When news of his death hit, my mom sent me a text message that read, "Brings back so many memories of when you were young worshipping the Chargers."
I really did, man. I would set up a shrine every game in our living room. Clothing, cards, memorabilia, even my trashcan. I don't know if I thought it brought them good luck, but I did it every week.
That year the Chargers made it to the Superbowl, where the 49ers destroyed them 49-26. It's funny, because I will always remember the score. I guess it was burned into my brain right alongside anger, sadness, frustration and wonderings of why. Why did they have to lose? Why did they have to lose so badly? Why did the Niners have to be so stinking good with their Steve Young and their Jerry Rice? Why were we so overmatched?
My mom's text message made me realize that your team doesn't always have to win. She didn't say that Junior brought back memories of them losing the Superbowl. He brought back memories of me. That made me step back and realize that even though that team lost big time, there were some awesome times that year. Natrone Means bowling people over. Tony Martin sprinting down the sideline after catching a bomb from Stan Humphries. Andre Coleman returning kicks for touchdowns. Junior Seau perfectly timing the snap count and sacking the quarteback before he even knew what happened. Kurt Gouveia slapping the ball away in Pittsburgh to send "us" to the Superbowl. Driving to The Murph to welcome the team home from Pittsburgh with blue towels hanging out the car windows to mock those terrible Terrible Towels. The hope that "we" might win the biggerst game in football.
We lost. It really seemed to matter then. It doesn't anymore. Long after we are gone, people will forget what we have done. No matter our profession, no one will really remember. They will remember the kind of people we were and the impact we had on others. My mom didn't remember the Superbowl blowout. She remembered her son's ridculous shrine to "his" team. She remembered the effect that team had on others.
Your team doesn't always have to win.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Dinner for Eight: Inventors Edition
The third installment of Dinner for Eight features inventors. I will not know the names of some of these people, but would love to talk with them about their inventions and, you know, maybe score a freebie or two.
1. Alexander Graham Bell (Telephone) – I’d like to see Alex sitting at the dinner and someone pull out a smartphone. He’d be all, “Oh, what is that?” They would answer, “It’s my phone.” And then good ole Alex would probably have a coronary. And then he’d wonder, “Wait, so people walk around staring at their phones all day?” “Yep,” I’d say, “So much so that they tumble into fountains at shopping malls.”
2. Leonardo DaVinci (Just about everything) – They say that he had drawings of something like a helicopter. So naturally I’d have my dad’s chopper sitting outside. Leo could check it out and maybe go for a little ride. I could show him pictures of military choppers. He’d say, “Man, that’s what mine was missing. Guns mounted on the side!”
3. Unknown (Bacon-wrapped hot dogs) – I would invite this guy (it had to be a guy) so I could give him a gold star. You sir, took two wonderful things and combined them in an awesome way. What made you think of this culinary masterpiece? We would, of course, have some bacon-wrapped dogs for dinner.Bell and DaVinci would marvel at the culinary masterpiece. And all would be right with the world.
4. Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird (Ninja Turtles) – I’d thank these guys for my childhood. Ninja Turtles were so cool in so many ways. First of all, they were turtles who could walk, talk, and fight crime. Second, they used words like “cowabunga.” Third, they loved pizza. What more does one need? I'd get all my Turtles from my parent's attic and we'd play some serious heroes in a half-shell. Turtle power!
5. Unknown (Wheel) – So many things would be nothing without the wheel. Cars wouldn’t do much. Planes would land a little rougher. Pat Sajak would host Fortune. Shoes would have to be used for, um, walking. Anyway, the inventor of the wheel would show up and I’d hand him a pair of those Heelie shoes and watch him go nuts. Wait, that would mean I’d have to buy a pair of Heelies. Nevermind.
6. Harold E. Edgerton (Strobe light) – How cool would my dinner party be with a strobe light? It would like we were all eating in slow motion, but nothing would feel slower. Everyone would be confused. DaVinci, Bell, and Mr. Wheel would be off their rockers. I would have to put a sign on the door before people came in stating very clearly that this dinner party may cause seizures. That might scare people away. Hmm.
And the "What the heck?" guest of the evening:
7. Unknown (Snuggie) – The inventor of the Snuggie would knock on the door. I’d answer it with a bathrobe turned backward. He/She would say, “Oh hey, you’ve got yourself a Snuggie.” I would reply, “Nope. This is my bathrobe turned backward. Pretty much the same, huh?” Then Mr./Mrs. Snuggie would see my door slam in his/her snug little face.
8. The host. The planner. The maker of the seating chart. Oh neat, more seating dilemmas. I feel like it would be nice to seat all the old time inventors together. But I also feel like everyone would want to play some Ninja Turtles. This seating chart doesn't really matter. So long as Mr./Mrs. Snuggie is locked out, we're good to go. Man, now I want a bacon-wrapped hot dog. And a strobe light.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Dinner for Eight: TV Character Edition
For my second dinner party, I will invite TV characters. They have to be characters, meaning fictional. So I won’t be inviting Alex Trebec. Not that I would anyway. I’ve heard he’s not very nice. Oh, and they can’t be animated. That party comes later.
1. Jack Bauer (24)– How could you not invite this guy? I know he may not bring much to the table in terms of stimulating conversation, but as long as he yells, “We’re running out of time!” at least once, this dinner will be golden. He’d also have some interesting stories about, you know, being tortured and stuff. Plus, my text message alert is the CTU telephone ring, and that might get a reaction out of him.
2. Shawn Spencer (Psych) – Wait for iiiiit. This is one of my favorite TV characters. He is witty, sarcastic, and downright goofy. The one-liners he delivers are pure gold. He would be great comic relief. Plus, if anyone got murdered, he’d use his keen observational psychic skills to solve the mystery. I’d be tempted to also invite his partner Ovaltine Jenkins Gus, but I don’t think there’s room.
3. Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) – Okay, I know he’d be complaining the entire time about how we weren’t eating Thai food on his Thai food night; or how his seat is not in the cross breeze of the open windows or it's in a spot where there is a glare on the TV. But still, dude is hilarious. And you know that at some point, Bauer would get fed up with him and just scream. Anything that gets Bauer to scream is added bonus. Bazinga.
4. Dr. Gregory House (House) – As long as he’s back on Vicodin, he can come in. He was pretty boring when he wasn’t. He would also be comic gold, but in a much darker way. He would find a way to insult everyone at the table and make them feel about this big (I’m holding my thumb and forefinger very close together). I’d like to see him insult Bauer. No, I’d like to see the aftermath. You know, when Bauer shoots him in the kneecap. Of his good leg.
5. Lucy Ricardo (I Love Lucy) – As if this table needs more comic relief. There are two reasons I’d invite Lucy: to have her stomp on some grapes in my kitchen and to see what she actually looks like in color. I think it would mesmerize me.
6. Veronica Mars (Veronica Mars) – I don’t care that I’ve never seen a second of this show. I don’t care that it wouldn’t really be Kristen Bell attending my party, but her on-screen character. Just knowing the love for sloths she harbors, she gets a seat at my party. If Bauer was screaming and House was insulting, she might leave that safety zone of 3-7 on the emotional scale and cry. Then I’d give her a sloth to make her feel better.
7. For my “What the heck?” guest I choose the little sister from Family Matters. You know, What’s-Her-Face Winslow.I just want to ask her what happened to her? Where did she go? Did she get grounded for like five years? Was she arrested for trying to murder Urkel? What has she been up to since her disappearance? I know she would just sit there all quiet for the entire meal, but I’d be too busy listening to Spencer make jokes and Bauer scream at Cooper to care.
8. Me – The host. The organizer. The maker of the seating chart. Here we go again, another seating chart. I’d sit Bauer and House across from each other. I think they’d try to kill each other with stares. Spencer would have to be at the foot of the table so he could see everyone. Just in case someone does decide to be homicidal. Mars and Ricardo would probably get along. Cooper would probably refuse to sit down, no matter where I put him. It’s not “his spot” after all. And Winslow, well, I’d sit her somewhere outside. Because nobody would miss her. Bazinga.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Dinner for Eight: Sports Edition
While driving to work last week, the morning show I was listening to was talking about Dinner for Eight. This is where you create a guest list for a dinner party of eight people, yourself included. So you get to invite seven people over for dinner. Any seven people. Alive or dead. I quickly realized that I would not be able to only have one dinner party. That's just too hard. I'd end up cutting my wife from the guest list. Then after dinner, I'd be sleeping on the couch. So here is my sports edition of Dinner for Eight:
1. Michael Jordan - I am not nearly as enamored with his Airness as I was as a child of the 90's, watching him dominate the sport. But he is still considered by most as the greatest basketball player to ever play the game. I'd mostly just want his autograph, even if it was on a dirty napkin. Then he'd probably try to start a poker game with a $50,000 ante. At that point, I'd send him home. In his private jet.
2. Steve Prefontaine - If you don't know Pre, you probably aren't a long-distance runner. Or at least related to one. Pre was a runner back when runners were rock stars. He died at the age of 24, before he had even entered his prime. At the time, he owned every single American record from 2,000 meters to 10,000 meters. That is absolutely insane. I would talk to Pre about how he managed to push his body beyond what it should have been capable of. I would ask him to predict how fast he could have been if he were living in today's world of better nutrition, training, and technology. I'd also ask him the secret to his epic 'stache.
3. Ryan Hall - Possibly as close to a Pre-like figure as we have today, marathon-wise. The man is the fastest American marathoner. Ever. And that includes African-born runners who have gotten U.S. citizenship. I saw Ryan run once in high school. Dude was fast. Now he's fast over a much longer distance. He can basically run the pace of my fastest mile (4:39) for 26.2 miles. I can't fathom that. He is also a believer in Jesus and lets his running flow out of his faith. I would probably want Ryan to stick around after everyone else left so we could talk faith and running. After we digested, we'd head out on a run. Something short...you know, 15 miles or so.
4. Dr. James Naismith - The inventor of my first love: basketball. He nailed two peach baskets to the walls of a gymnasium, gave some guys a soccer ball, told them not to kick it, and the game was born. I'd ask him his thoughts on today's game. Could he ever have imagined it would become what it is? He'd have some opinions about Michael Jordan transcending his game. And, like most red-blooded humans, he would be raving mad about LeBron's Decision. Before he left for the night, I'd thank Dr. Naismith for inventing the game that I grew up playing. Perhaps we'd play a game of H-O-R-S-E. On a real hoop. Without Michael, just to be fair.
5. Bill Bowerman - The University of Oregon long-distance coach when Prefontaine ran there. I'd pick his brain about getting the most out of his athletes. I'd ask him what he thinks about the current state of Nike, which he founded. We'd get out the waffle iron and whip up some running shoes. If you don't know what I'm talking about, watch Prefontaine or Without Limits, both biopics on the life of Pre. Bowerman might be a little tough to have at a dinner party, being so gruff and all. But he'd be great to talk to.
6. Michael Phelps - How could you not want to talk to someone so dominant? My sister grew up a competitive swimmer, so I can appreciate what this guy has done. I'd also be curious to see just how much dinner he could eat, being that he downs like 12,000 calories a day when he's training. Then I'd snap a picture of us and post it on my sister's Facebook wall. In the caption I'd be all, "Me and my buddy Michael Phelps." But if he tried to bring in any weed, I'd have to snap the picture at the door and send him on his way. Then he'd go to the corner store in search of massive quantities of Doritos. That's what happens when you do drugs, kids. No one wants you to come over for dinner.
I think every dinner should have a "What the heck?" attendee, so...
7. Tonya Harding - Stay with me here. Wouldn't it be interesting to get inside that head? I mean, what was it like to know you couldn't win, but want to so badly that you resort to getting someone to crack your competition's knee? Does she regret it? Was it worth it? Of course, I'd seat her well away from my rolling pin or anything else that could look like a knee-striking object.
8. Me - The host. The organizer. The maker of the seating chart. Oh, don't even get me started on the seating chart. Logically, Jordan and Naismith should sit next to each other. Pre and Bowerman. Ryan Hall would be cool for me to sit next to. But no one wants to sit next to Harding. Could I do that to Phelps? If I put Harding at the foot of the table so as to not seat her next to anyone, I'd have to look at her all night from the head of the table, and no one wants that. See, I told you not to get me started on the seating chart.
That's my Sports Edition of Dinner for Eight. Tune in next time for another group of dinner guests.
1. Michael Jordan - I am not nearly as enamored with his Airness as I was as a child of the 90's, watching him dominate the sport. But he is still considered by most as the greatest basketball player to ever play the game. I'd mostly just want his autograph, even if it was on a dirty napkin. Then he'd probably try to start a poker game with a $50,000 ante. At that point, I'd send him home. In his private jet.
2. Steve Prefontaine - If you don't know Pre, you probably aren't a long-distance runner. Or at least related to one. Pre was a runner back when runners were rock stars. He died at the age of 24, before he had even entered his prime. At the time, he owned every single American record from 2,000 meters to 10,000 meters. That is absolutely insane. I would talk to Pre about how he managed to push his body beyond what it should have been capable of. I would ask him to predict how fast he could have been if he were living in today's world of better nutrition, training, and technology. I'd also ask him the secret to his epic 'stache.
3. Ryan Hall - Possibly as close to a Pre-like figure as we have today, marathon-wise. The man is the fastest American marathoner. Ever. And that includes African-born runners who have gotten U.S. citizenship. I saw Ryan run once in high school. Dude was fast. Now he's fast over a much longer distance. He can basically run the pace of my fastest mile (4:39) for 26.2 miles. I can't fathom that. He is also a believer in Jesus and lets his running flow out of his faith. I would probably want Ryan to stick around after everyone else left so we could talk faith and running. After we digested, we'd head out on a run. Something short...you know, 15 miles or so.
4. Dr. James Naismith - The inventor of my first love: basketball. He nailed two peach baskets to the walls of a gymnasium, gave some guys a soccer ball, told them not to kick it, and the game was born. I'd ask him his thoughts on today's game. Could he ever have imagined it would become what it is? He'd have some opinions about Michael Jordan transcending his game. And, like most red-blooded humans, he would be raving mad about LeBron's Decision. Before he left for the night, I'd thank Dr. Naismith for inventing the game that I grew up playing. Perhaps we'd play a game of H-O-R-S-E. On a real hoop. Without Michael, just to be fair.
5. Bill Bowerman - The University of Oregon long-distance coach when Prefontaine ran there. I'd pick his brain about getting the most out of his athletes. I'd ask him what he thinks about the current state of Nike, which he founded. We'd get out the waffle iron and whip up some running shoes. If you don't know what I'm talking about, watch Prefontaine or Without Limits, both biopics on the life of Pre. Bowerman might be a little tough to have at a dinner party, being so gruff and all. But he'd be great to talk to.
6. Michael Phelps - How could you not want to talk to someone so dominant? My sister grew up a competitive swimmer, so I can appreciate what this guy has done. I'd also be curious to see just how much dinner he could eat, being that he downs like 12,000 calories a day when he's training. Then I'd snap a picture of us and post it on my sister's Facebook wall. In the caption I'd be all, "Me and my buddy Michael Phelps." But if he tried to bring in any weed, I'd have to snap the picture at the door and send him on his way. Then he'd go to the corner store in search of massive quantities of Doritos. That's what happens when you do drugs, kids. No one wants you to come over for dinner.
I think every dinner should have a "What the heck?" attendee, so...
7. Tonya Harding - Stay with me here. Wouldn't it be interesting to get inside that head? I mean, what was it like to know you couldn't win, but want to so badly that you resort to getting someone to crack your competition's knee? Does she regret it? Was it worth it? Of course, I'd seat her well away from my rolling pin or anything else that could look like a knee-striking object.
8. Me - The host. The organizer. The maker of the seating chart. Oh, don't even get me started on the seating chart. Logically, Jordan and Naismith should sit next to each other. Pre and Bowerman. Ryan Hall would be cool for me to sit next to. But no one wants to sit next to Harding. Could I do that to Phelps? If I put Harding at the foot of the table so as to not seat her next to anyone, I'd have to look at her all night from the head of the table, and no one wants that. See, I told you not to get me started on the seating chart.
That's my Sports Edition of Dinner for Eight. Tune in next time for another group of dinner guests.
Friday, December 9, 2011
A Christian's Take on Tim Tebow
The people or issues that get the most media attention are what are most important to us as a society. Right or wrong, this is what it is. Or just what the media thinks is important, maybe. No matter how you slice it, given his media attention, Tim Tebow is pretty darn important right now. Everyone has an opinion on Tebow. Countless articles have been written, interviews conducted, and things said. Our words about Tim Tebow, whether written or spoken, say far more about us than they do about him.
Tebow is constantly criticized and rarely praised. Why? Is it because of his unorthodox throwing motion? Because he runs too much and throws too little? Because Broncos fans love him so much that Kyle Orton was let go? No, it is none of those things.
Tim Tebow is criticized so often because he is a born-again Christian and not afraid to talk about it. People are quick to say that his faith flows out of his football, and the two should be separated. People say God doesn’t care about sports, and to believe He does is ludicrous. People are wrong on all these points. First of all, Tebow’s faith doesn’t flow out of his football. It is precisely the other way around. His football flows out of his faith. Tim Tebow is a Christian first, a football player second (or third). Thus, the two cannot, and should not, be separated. Christians are not called to only talk about God or “act” like Christians within the four walls of a church on Sunday. Those, in fact, are the Christians who are ineffective in spreading the love of God and his kingdom. Christians are called to take their faith wherever they go, because it is who they are. Notice I did not say a part of who they are. There is no part about it, it is everything. As far as God not caring about sports; God cares about what His children do, especially when they use what they do as a way to show Him to other people. Now I am not saying that Tebow has won these games simply because he is a Christian, but the bottom line is that if God wants Tebow to have a good game, he will have a good game. If He decides Tebow will have a bad game, then he will. And that is when we will hear the uber-ignorant, “Where is your Savior, now?” crowd. He is right where He has always been. Everywhere. The fact that people would use a loss or a bad game as “evidence” that God doesn’t exist, God doesn’t care about Tebow anymore, or Tebow is an idiot speaks volumes about us as a society. None of those volumes are good.
Many people attack Tebow for his faith. Those that attack him for his football skills (or lack thereof, as some say) are simply masking their disdain for his evangelical lifestyle. He brings the ball too low and takes too long to release his throws. He abandons pass plays too quickly in favor of the run. His accuracy has issues. Perhaps, but consider the people God has historically used to lead people. He uses the weak to lead the strong. He uses the humble to lead the proud. He chose lowly fisherman and a tax collector to be by His side. He has used people who lack public speaking skills to motivate crowds of people. Why then, can He not use a quarterback with a jacked up throwing motion to lead a revolution in the football world? I am not saying Tim Tebow is leading a revolution, but he will if that’s what his Father wants from him.
C.S. Lewis wrote, “One must keep on pointing out that Christianity is a statement which, if false, is of no importance, and, if true, of infinite importance. The one thing it cannot be is moderately important." That is why Tebow cannot “tone it down” as Jake Plummer and even fellow-Christian Kurt Warner would have him do. The media attention Tebow has garnered proves that this issue is pretty important to us. I argue that it is infinitely important.
People argue that if Tebow celebrated touchdowns by some display of faith in Allah it would not be tolerated. If he were Muslim, or some other religion, society would not stand for it. Bull. The world today preaches tolerance and coexistence, but wants those things for everyone other than the Christian. Those who believe in the Lord and Savior of the Bible are told to shut their hypocritical mouths and let others do what they want to do. If Tebow celebrated a touchdown by kneeling down facing East, the same people who criticize him for being an outspoken Christian would not have a problem with it. The NFL would, of course, and they would flag him for going to the ground in his celebration, but that’s a whole separate issue.
People want to see Tebow fail simply because he is a Christian. Because he makes them uncomfortable. Because he makes them think about God and a Savior and Heaven and a multitude of other things that they want to ignore. Maybe that’s why I want him to win. Why are we so quick to hate a man who is an actual role model? He praises his Savior, family, and teammates. He does not exalt himself. He plays the game his way, unorthodox as it may be. I sincerely hope he continues to succeed. I hope this is a new era in football and the sporting world in general. I hope the system they have set up in Denver continues to work.
I hope we all, in one way or another, get Tebowed.
*These are the opinions of the writer of this blog. Please keep any comments clean, or they will be deleted.*
Thursday, September 22, 2011
At the Dentist
I'm a cavity-free kid. That's not the point of this post, but I like not having to have a power drill attack my teeth.
I had gotten some x-rays done and was waiting for the hygienist to clean my teeth. She was stuck answering a million questions from some old lady who, from the sound of it, had no idea what a tooth was. A boy was taken into the exam area next to mine. It's all pretty open, architecturally speaking, so I could hear the x-ray technician talking to him. He was probably in his early teens. Maybe younger. I've never been able to judge age very well. I hear this conversation:
Technician: Now you had a route canal, right?
Kid: Yeah.
Tech: Has it been hurting you at all?
Kid: No. Sometimes it hurts if I don't brush my teeth for awhile, but then I brush them and it doesn't hurt anymore.
Tech: How long is awhile?
Kid: Um, like three days.
Tech: Three days?! You go three days without brushing your teeth?
Kid: Well, sometimes I lose it and (intelligible teenage mumbling)
Tech: You lose what, your toothbrush?
Kid: Yeah.
Tech: You don't keep it in the bathroom?
Kid: Yeah I do but (more intelligible teenage mumbling)
The tech did the whole dentist thing and asked about flossing and told him how he should brush and floss at least once a day, but preferably twice. Then she came over to my area and got these pictorial guides to brushing and flossing to give to the kid. She shot me a smirk.
Me: Did he say three days?
Tech: Yeah.
Me: Wow.
Okay, that's just gross. If I didn't brush my teeth twice a day, I would feel like they were just going to jump out of my mouth to go find a cleaner place to live. And logically speaking, if something hurts when you don't brush your teeth, then stops hurting when you brush, wouldn't you put two and two together and brush daily? I guess math isn't his strong suit. Along with oral hygiene.
I had gotten some x-rays done and was waiting for the hygienist to clean my teeth. She was stuck answering a million questions from some old lady who, from the sound of it, had no idea what a tooth was. A boy was taken into the exam area next to mine. It's all pretty open, architecturally speaking, so I could hear the x-ray technician talking to him. He was probably in his early teens. Maybe younger. I've never been able to judge age very well. I hear this conversation:
Technician: Now you had a route canal, right?
Kid: Yeah.
Tech: Has it been hurting you at all?
Kid: No. Sometimes it hurts if I don't brush my teeth for awhile, but then I brush them and it doesn't hurt anymore.
Tech: How long is awhile?
Kid: Um, like three days.
Tech: Three days?! You go three days without brushing your teeth?
Kid: Well, sometimes I lose it and (intelligible teenage mumbling)
Tech: You lose what, your toothbrush?
Kid: Yeah.
Tech: You don't keep it in the bathroom?
Kid: Yeah I do but (more intelligible teenage mumbling)
The tech did the whole dentist thing and asked about flossing and told him how he should brush and floss at least once a day, but preferably twice. Then she came over to my area and got these pictorial guides to brushing and flossing to give to the kid. She shot me a smirk.
Me: Did he say three days?
Tech: Yeah.
Me: Wow.
Okay, that's just gross. If I didn't brush my teeth twice a day, I would feel like they were just going to jump out of my mouth to go find a cleaner place to live. And logically speaking, if something hurts when you don't brush your teeth, then stops hurting when you brush, wouldn't you put two and two together and brush daily? I guess math isn't his strong suit. Along with oral hygiene.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Rants. And a Few Raves.
1. The Sad Meal
McDonald's has managed to sink to new levels of lame. The new "Happy" Meal will have fewer fries and apples in place of the fries they take away. First of all, Happy Meals have like ten fries to begin with. I mean, they come in that tiny paper sleeve the size of a postage stamp. So in this new version, there are like eight fries. Neat. And they come with apples regardless of whether you want them or not. No, no, you don't get a choice of all fries or less fries plus apples. They just give you less fries plus apples. You wanna know why? Because parents are idiots. They can't tell their kids no, so McDonald's feels like they have to change something because everyone blames them for kids getting fat. News Flash: it's not the Happy Meal's fault! If your kid asks for McDonald's, and you don't want them to have it, say, "NO!" I don't eat at McDonald's, and haven't in a long time. Not because I think it will make me fat, but because I don't think their food is very good. But when I have kids, if I want to give them a special treat in the form of a Happy Meal, I don't want it to have apples in it. That is NOT a special treat. They can have apples at home. And they will. They can't have golden, delicious fries at home, because no one can replicate those things. The fries, by the way, are the only thing under the arches worth eating in terms of taste. So now my kids are forced to have apples because people can't tell their fat kids no. Thanks, guys.
2. My Fellow Motorists
Stop taking my safe driving as an invitation to cut me off. I do not tailgate people. I would like to, you know, get home without ending up in the back seat of the car in front of me. So if I am leaving, let's just say, 15 feet between my car and the one in front of me, that is not an invitation to cram your 14-foot vehicle in between us. You see, now I am tailgating you. Just because your vehicle can fit doesn't mean it should. Knock it off. Please.
3.Heinz
They just made a new fast food ketchup container. After like three years of research and development. Three years, really? What was the problem? Well, you see, people were so upset with the difficulty and mess of the old containers, that they would just completely skip ordering fries if they were going to eat in their car. Oh no. Heaven forbid people don't order fries. Okay, I get that fries are important to a ketchup company, but come on. Here's an idea: get out of your car and actually walk into the restaurant. Then you can make all the ketchup mess you want. This new ketchup container is called the Dip n' Squeeze. Or Squeeze n' Dip. I don't remember, but neither option sounds like ketchup. You can squeeze it out one end, or peel back the cover and dip right in. Are we still talking about ketchup? It has three times the ketchup of the old packs. Here's my problem with it: because people are so dumb about ketchup, this new container costs like three times as much. Restaurants give these away free. How long will this last when they pay three times the old price for ketchup? Get ready to be charged for ketchup or see the price of your beloved burgers and fries go up. Have fun with that. Why are two of my rants about fast food? I'm not even sure, because I don't even eat it.
4. People Who Honk at Me While I'm Running
I don't know you. If I do, you're in a car. By the time the heart attack you just gave me goes away and I look in the direction of the horrible noise, you have sped by. I can't tell who you are. "Hey, I saw you running the other day," you'll say. "Oh did you honk at me?" You'll reply, "Yeah, that was me." "You owe me a new pair of shorts, because your honking caused me to soil mine. They're like 15 bucks. I don't take checks. Thanks."
McDonald's has managed to sink to new levels of lame. The new "Happy" Meal will have fewer fries and apples in place of the fries they take away. First of all, Happy Meals have like ten fries to begin with. I mean, they come in that tiny paper sleeve the size of a postage stamp. So in this new version, there are like eight fries. Neat. And they come with apples regardless of whether you want them or not. No, no, you don't get a choice of all fries or less fries plus apples. They just give you less fries plus apples. You wanna know why? Because parents are idiots. They can't tell their kids no, so McDonald's feels like they have to change something because everyone blames them for kids getting fat. News Flash: it's not the Happy Meal's fault! If your kid asks for McDonald's, and you don't want them to have it, say, "NO!" I don't eat at McDonald's, and haven't in a long time. Not because I think it will make me fat, but because I don't think their food is very good. But when I have kids, if I want to give them a special treat in the form of a Happy Meal, I don't want it to have apples in it. That is NOT a special treat. They can have apples at home. And they will. They can't have golden, delicious fries at home, because no one can replicate those things. The fries, by the way, are the only thing under the arches worth eating in terms of taste. So now my kids are forced to have apples because people can't tell their fat kids no. Thanks, guys.
2. My Fellow Motorists
Stop taking my safe driving as an invitation to cut me off. I do not tailgate people. I would like to, you know, get home without ending up in the back seat of the car in front of me. So if I am leaving, let's just say, 15 feet between my car and the one in front of me, that is not an invitation to cram your 14-foot vehicle in between us. You see, now I am tailgating you. Just because your vehicle can fit doesn't mean it should. Knock it off. Please.
3.Heinz
They just made a new fast food ketchup container. After like three years of research and development. Three years, really? What was the problem? Well, you see, people were so upset with the difficulty and mess of the old containers, that they would just completely skip ordering fries if they were going to eat in their car. Oh no. Heaven forbid people don't order fries. Okay, I get that fries are important to a ketchup company, but come on. Here's an idea: get out of your car and actually walk into the restaurant. Then you can make all the ketchup mess you want. This new ketchup container is called the Dip n' Squeeze. Or Squeeze n' Dip. I don't remember, but neither option sounds like ketchup. You can squeeze it out one end, or peel back the cover and dip right in. Are we still talking about ketchup? It has three times the ketchup of the old packs. Here's my problem with it: because people are so dumb about ketchup, this new container costs like three times as much. Restaurants give these away free. How long will this last when they pay three times the old price for ketchup? Get ready to be charged for ketchup or see the price of your beloved burgers and fries go up. Have fun with that. Why are two of my rants about fast food? I'm not even sure, because I don't even eat it.
4. People Who Honk at Me While I'm Running
I don't know you. If I do, you're in a car. By the time the heart attack you just gave me goes away and I look in the direction of the horrible noise, you have sped by. I can't tell who you are. "Hey, I saw you running the other day," you'll say. "Oh did you honk at me?" You'll reply, "Yeah, that was me." "You owe me a new pair of shorts, because your honking caused me to soil mine. They're like 15 bucks. I don't take checks. Thanks."
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Two Years
Today I celebrate two years with Wife. I cannot believe how quickly the time has passed. Next thing we know, it's all rocking chairs, Ensure, and forgetting who the other one is. This year has brought us closer, and some great things have happened to us. Most importantly, we have seen just how powerful a marriage can be...
Marriage is a ministry. After all, the love Christ has for the church is described as the love a husband has for his wife. The way we treat each other in marriage should show Christ to others. Sometimes when you are just living your life, unbeknownst to you, that is exactly what happens. I have been reminded of this twice this year.
Our old neighbor and I were talking one day before they moved out. He said, "Yeah, my girlfriend and I were talking and I said, 'They must really love each other because I never hear them yelling at each other.'" Coming from someone who yelled constantly, it's not that hard to be considered a non-yeller. But nonetheless, he noticed that something was different about Wife and me, and that is a good thing.
The woman who took their place next door is a very nice single mom. We get along great and watch each others pets when we go out of town. Wife was home one afternoon, and the neighbor's daughter came over and handed her a card. "This is from my mom," she said.
I know that we haven't been friends for a long time, but I am so very thankful to have such amazing neighbors. I have seen an incredible love between you two that I not only admire, but am also praying for. You both have Christ's love written all over you and it is quite a picture. Just want you to know that I am praying for you to have a beautiful and blessed life together.
Wow. We just live our life. Together. We laugh a lot. We respect one another. We love one another. We love the Lord, and try to let Him show in how we carry ourselves. Apparently, sometimes, we succeed. What a blessing it is that God gives us such a wonderful opportunity to showcase His love.
My wife is amazing, and it is far beyond what she knows. I got a new job this year. Before that blessing, there was a lot of wondering, worrying, and confusion. Men want to be good providers for their families, and when money is tight, they worry about not being good enough. When I had no idea what I was going to do about getting a different job, but wanted to do something, I wasn't sure if I was being a good enough provider. My wife never did anything to make me think that she thought that. I never once felt like I wasn't good enough due to anything she said or did. She prayed with me. More importantly, when I was long asleep and she was still awake, she prayed for me. When I was blessed with a new opportunity, she was my biggest cheerleader. She has no idea how much it meant to me to feel worthy in her eyes. She could have asked me why I wasn't searching harder. She could have complained about not having cable. She never did. To my wife, I thank you. Thank you for being my love, my confidant, my prayer partner, my friend. I love you more than I can express. I thank God everyday that He blessed me with a life where I am married to you. I look forward to many more years of showing His love to those around us, even if all we are doing is just living our life. Together.
Marriage is a ministry. After all, the love Christ has for the church is described as the love a husband has for his wife. The way we treat each other in marriage should show Christ to others. Sometimes when you are just living your life, unbeknownst to you, that is exactly what happens. I have been reminded of this twice this year.
Our old neighbor and I were talking one day before they moved out. He said, "Yeah, my girlfriend and I were talking and I said, 'They must really love each other because I never hear them yelling at each other.'" Coming from someone who yelled constantly, it's not that hard to be considered a non-yeller. But nonetheless, he noticed that something was different about Wife and me, and that is a good thing.
The woman who took their place next door is a very nice single mom. We get along great and watch each others pets when we go out of town. Wife was home one afternoon, and the neighbor's daughter came over and handed her a card. "This is from my mom," she said.
I know that we haven't been friends for a long time, but I am so very thankful to have such amazing neighbors. I have seen an incredible love between you two that I not only admire, but am also praying for. You both have Christ's love written all over you and it is quite a picture. Just want you to know that I am praying for you to have a beautiful and blessed life together.
Wow. We just live our life. Together. We laugh a lot. We respect one another. We love one another. We love the Lord, and try to let Him show in how we carry ourselves. Apparently, sometimes, we succeed. What a blessing it is that God gives us such a wonderful opportunity to showcase His love.
My wife is amazing, and it is far beyond what she knows. I got a new job this year. Before that blessing, there was a lot of wondering, worrying, and confusion. Men want to be good providers for their families, and when money is tight, they worry about not being good enough. When I had no idea what I was going to do about getting a different job, but wanted to do something, I wasn't sure if I was being a good enough provider. My wife never did anything to make me think that she thought that. I never once felt like I wasn't good enough due to anything she said or did. She prayed with me. More importantly, when I was long asleep and she was still awake, she prayed for me. When I was blessed with a new opportunity, she was my biggest cheerleader. She has no idea how much it meant to me to feel worthy in her eyes. She could have asked me why I wasn't searching harder. She could have complained about not having cable. She never did. To my wife, I thank you. Thank you for being my love, my confidant, my prayer partner, my friend. I love you more than I can express. I thank God everyday that He blessed me with a life where I am married to you. I look forward to many more years of showing His love to those around us, even if all we are doing is just living our life. Together.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Treasures in the Sink
This post begins gross, but will be hilarious by the end. Bear with it.
If you live in an apartment, take the pipes off your bathroom sink.
You may be wondering why I am telling you to do this. Let me back up a bit. Our bathroom sink clogs up once in a while. What with the mane that Wife has it's a small wonder that our sink drains at all. It's also a small wonder how she is not completely bald with the amount of hair that ends up in the drain. Every so often, I take the top off the drain stopper and use tweezers to pull out clumps of hair mixed with face-wash-lotion-stuff. This usually works to restore some semblance of flow to the pipes. Sometimes we have to use Draino. But it's always worked. Until this last time.
I pulled out a ridiculous amount of hair. We were out of Draino. The pulling out of hair seemed to actually make it worse. The sink drained at a snail's pace. So I decided to pull the pipes off and really get all the junk out.
First of all, the smell. I mean, really. There is no need for anything to smell as bad as the gunk in your pipes. Oh there was hair. And black gooey paste. Not sure what the heck that stuff is, but once you just accept it, you can grab it with your bare hands and squish it around. And then, the treasures...
You never know, in apartment, who lived there before you. Based on the mail we still get (despite numerous "Return to Sender. They have not lived here for over a year" responses) our humble abode has been occupied by Scientologists, Bed Bath and Beyond shoppers, and people who really, really need to pay their credit card bills. So these mystery people have not only lived here, but also somehow managed to get some very interesting things into the pipes of our sink. I found them as follows:
1. The ink tube of a ball point pen
2. A bamboo-esque stick (sort of like those chop stick looking things that women put through their hair, only shorter)
3. A toothpaste cap
4. A very rusted quarter
Yes, all four of those items were in the pipes of our sink. It is amazing that the water ever went down the pipes with all that junk for hair to get caught on.
Here is my analysis. Perhaps a child lived here at one time. That explains the quarter and possibly the toothpaste cap. The pen and stick, I believe, were accidentally dropped into the pipes by women attempting to push their masses of drain-clogging hair into the pipes to restore water flow.
So, yeah, if you live in an apartment, check the pipes. You may end up with a few good laughs and make 25 cents.
If you live in an apartment, take the pipes off your bathroom sink.
You may be wondering why I am telling you to do this. Let me back up a bit. Our bathroom sink clogs up once in a while. What with the mane that Wife has it's a small wonder that our sink drains at all. It's also a small wonder how she is not completely bald with the amount of hair that ends up in the drain. Every so often, I take the top off the drain stopper and use tweezers to pull out clumps of hair mixed with face-wash-lotion-stuff. This usually works to restore some semblance of flow to the pipes. Sometimes we have to use Draino. But it's always worked. Until this last time.
I pulled out a ridiculous amount of hair. We were out of Draino. The pulling out of hair seemed to actually make it worse. The sink drained at a snail's pace. So I decided to pull the pipes off and really get all the junk out.
First of all, the smell. I mean, really. There is no need for anything to smell as bad as the gunk in your pipes. Oh there was hair. And black gooey paste. Not sure what the heck that stuff is, but once you just accept it, you can grab it with your bare hands and squish it around. And then, the treasures...
You never know, in apartment, who lived there before you. Based on the mail we still get (despite numerous "Return to Sender. They have not lived here for over a year" responses) our humble abode has been occupied by Scientologists, Bed Bath and Beyond shoppers, and people who really, really need to pay their credit card bills. So these mystery people have not only lived here, but also somehow managed to get some very interesting things into the pipes of our sink. I found them as follows:
1. The ink tube of a ball point pen
2. A bamboo-esque stick (sort of like those chop stick looking things that women put through their hair, only shorter)
3. A toothpaste cap
4. A very rusted quarter
Yes, all four of those items were in the pipes of our sink. It is amazing that the water ever went down the pipes with all that junk for hair to get caught on.
Here is my analysis. Perhaps a child lived here at one time. That explains the quarter and possibly the toothpaste cap. The pen and stick, I believe, were accidentally dropped into the pipes by women attempting to push their masses of drain-clogging hair into the pipes to restore water flow.
So, yeah, if you live in an apartment, check the pipes. You may end up with a few good laughs and make 25 cents.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
New Endeavor
My cooking blog is officially online. I love food. I love cooking food, most likely because I'm excited to eat it. I hate hearing people say they can't cook. Yes you can, you just won't. Check out this blog, and hopefully you can start expanding your kitchen-ness. I try to use simple recipes that are easy to follow and execute. There's not much on the site yet, but will expand soon.
So check it out at http://thisiswhatjoncooks.blogspot.com/
See you there. Happy fooding.
So check it out at http://thisiswhatjoncooks.blogspot.com/
See you there. Happy fooding.
Surprise for Me
I surprised Wife with the Big Ditch, she surprised me with a weekend in Mt. Laguna. If you know me at all, you know I love mountains. Any mountains, really.
We stayed at the Mt. Laguna Lodge in a rustic little cabin. No frills. Just right. On Thursday night, we fell asleep to howling winds and woke up Friday to a world covered by white. It snowed off and on the rest of the weekend.
Friday was spent just hanging out in the cabin and watching the snow. On Saturday we drove into Julian and ate at Mom's. Just a tip, there is no line if you go in the snow. We actually got a table! After our chicken pot pie and apple turnovers, we started the drive home. Wife decided she wanted to hike Stonewall, a hike we have done in the past. Let's see, go home or hike. Tough choice. The trail was, well, interesting. The snow was beginning to melt at this point, and the trail was slushy and muddy. On the way up, we attempted to keep our shoes relatively dry. On the way down we just plowed through the puddles, or lakes, as they were by then. The views from the top we spectacular.
Thank you, Wife, for a wonderful weekend.
We stayed at the Mt. Laguna Lodge in a rustic little cabin. No frills. Just right. On Thursday night, we fell asleep to howling winds and woke up Friday to a world covered by white. It snowed off and on the rest of the weekend.
Friday was spent just hanging out in the cabin and watching the snow. On Saturday we drove into Julian and ate at Mom's. Just a tip, there is no line if you go in the snow. We actually got a table! After our chicken pot pie and apple turnovers, we started the drive home. Wife decided she wanted to hike Stonewall, a hike we have done in the past. Let's see, go home or hike. Tough choice. The trail was, well, interesting. The snow was beginning to melt at this point, and the trail was slushy and muddy. On the way up, we attempted to keep our shoes relatively dry. On the way down we just plowed through the puddles, or lakes, as they were by then. The views from the top we spectacular.
Thank you, Wife, for a wonderful weekend.
Before the Storm
After the Storm
Overhang of Snow
Over the Desert
View from Stonewall
Lake Cuyamaca
Us
Friday, April 15, 2011
Roadtrip
Wife and I took a great road trip out to Williams, AZ and the Grand Canyon. It was a surprise for her, and she had no idea where we were going until a few hours into the drive. She had never seen the Big Ditch, so I thought it would be a nice trip for her.
We drove to Williams, AZ which is about an hour from the actual entrance to the National Park. Williams sits right on Route 66, and yes, reminds one of Radiator Springs. I kept waiting to see a buck toothed tow truck and a racecar. Keeping with the theme of our trips together, we got some wild weather. Most of the time it was freezing and snowing.
Rather than make an eight hour drive to not see the canyon, we drove up there in treacherous conditions. No, seriously. Did we need chains? That's debatable, but the roads were barely visible. When we got to the park entrance, this is what the lady says, "Just so you know there is zero visibility and the entrance fee is not refundable." She was not very nice. At all. We paid the fee (good for seven days) and proceeded. Yeah, proceeded to slide all over the roads any time we tried to brake. You see, the roads inside the park are not plowed as well as those leading to it. I could not stop at the stop signs, because when I did, we barely got going again. My California upbringing came in handy, as I California stopped every time. Well, we got to the canyon, and the lady wasn't kidding. Zero. Visibility. Canyon wall...fog. That was it. I felt really bad that Wife couldn't see it. I assured her it was out there, and it was indeed grand. That would have to wait until later. When we got back to the hotel, we couldn't get in the driveway. There was too much snow and the tires wouldn't give us any traction. We kept circling the block for different approach angles and speeds. After failing about five times, we had to shovel part of the driveway, and eventually got in.
We spent the next day hanging out in Williams and waiting out the rest of the storm. We did find a wonderful restaurant, the Pine Country Restaurant. It was one of the best breakfast I've ever had. So many homefries! And a breakfast burrito. What more do I need in my life?
The following day was our drive home, but since we still hadn't seen anything but the "Not So Grand Fog Bank" we made one more trip up the hill. That was easier said than done. We had to get up early to have enough time, and it was below freezing outside. The snow had frozen on the car. I managed to pry the doors open, but could not get the trunk open. With our stuff crammed in the back seat of the Mighty Corolla, we were set to go. I went to close Heather's door, and it promptly popped back open. Yep, the latch was so cold it was stuck in the "door open position." So we did what anyone would do. We began the drive up the hill with Wife holding her door closed. Once it thawed out enough, the latch would move again, and we got the door closed. And Wife didn't fly out onto the road. Successful, if you ask me.
It was absolutely gorgeous up there. If you've never seen the Big Ditch in the winter, you have to make a trip. It is such a contrast, with the deep browns and reds of the canyon walls lined with white. Wife finally got to see the Grand Canyon, and overall it was a great trip. We got to see one of God's most beautiful creations and have a death defying adventure in the process. I have always loved road trips. I love them even more now that I get to share the road with my bride.
We drove to Williams, AZ which is about an hour from the actual entrance to the National Park. Williams sits right on Route 66, and yes, reminds one of Radiator Springs. I kept waiting to see a buck toothed tow truck and a racecar. Keeping with the theme of our trips together, we got some wild weather. Most of the time it was freezing and snowing.
Rather than make an eight hour drive to not see the canyon, we drove up there in treacherous conditions. No, seriously. Did we need chains? That's debatable, but the roads were barely visible. When we got to the park entrance, this is what the lady says, "Just so you know there is zero visibility and the entrance fee is not refundable." She was not very nice. At all. We paid the fee (good for seven days) and proceeded. Yeah, proceeded to slide all over the roads any time we tried to brake. You see, the roads inside the park are not plowed as well as those leading to it. I could not stop at the stop signs, because when I did, we barely got going again. My California upbringing came in handy, as I California stopped every time. Well, we got to the canyon, and the lady wasn't kidding. Zero. Visibility. Canyon wall...fog. That was it. I felt really bad that Wife couldn't see it. I assured her it was out there, and it was indeed grand. That would have to wait until later. When we got back to the hotel, we couldn't get in the driveway. There was too much snow and the tires wouldn't give us any traction. We kept circling the block for different approach angles and speeds. After failing about five times, we had to shovel part of the driveway, and eventually got in.
We spent the next day hanging out in Williams and waiting out the rest of the storm. We did find a wonderful restaurant, the Pine Country Restaurant. It was one of the best breakfast I've ever had. So many homefries! And a breakfast burrito. What more do I need in my life?
The following day was our drive home, but since we still hadn't seen anything but the "Not So Grand Fog Bank" we made one more trip up the hill. That was easier said than done. We had to get up early to have enough time, and it was below freezing outside. The snow had frozen on the car. I managed to pry the doors open, but could not get the trunk open. With our stuff crammed in the back seat of the Mighty Corolla, we were set to go. I went to close Heather's door, and it promptly popped back open. Yep, the latch was so cold it was stuck in the "door open position." So we did what anyone would do. We began the drive up the hill with Wife holding her door closed. Once it thawed out enough, the latch would move again, and we got the door closed. And Wife didn't fly out onto the road. Successful, if you ask me.
It was absolutely gorgeous up there. If you've never seen the Big Ditch in the winter, you have to make a trip. It is such a contrast, with the deep browns and reds of the canyon walls lined with white. Wife finally got to see the Grand Canyon, and overall it was a great trip. We got to see one of God's most beautiful creations and have a death defying adventure in the process. I have always loved road trips. I love them even more now that I get to share the road with my bride.
Route 66 through downtown Williams, AZ
Us in Williams
National Park entrance sign
The "Not So Grand Fog Bank"
Treacherous Conditions (well played Mighty Corolla)
Icy Roof
I think there's a car there somewhere
Oh, it was under about four inches of snow
Wife brushing the car (check out the overhang)
Snow covered trees after the storm
I think this deer can hear anything...or fly away
Oh, there it is. I see it now.
Contrasts in the desert
Us bundled up
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