happy birthday gene!

So when my oldest sister, Carol, had her first date with Gene I remember sitting on the couch in our living room in Anaheim watching the whole scene. He came in and met everyone that was there and I have this vivid memory where he was wearing a flannel shirt. I know that doesn't sound right for a punk rocker, or "the blonde kid" as he was referred to by my Dad, but that is what was burned into my mind. Kristy (sister #2) asked me what I thought—which seems silly now because at the time I was maybe nine years old—and I said that he looked like a lumberjack (yet another piece to my memory puzzle to back up my flannel shirt rememberance). I didn't disapprove, but I wasn't sold right away either.

Well, it didn't take Gene very long to take a hold of our hearts (except maybe for Dad, but that may be somewhat understandable considering the lame guys that Carol had dated previously—sorry Carol, although I'm sure you'd agree—and she was also his first daughter to date and get married). We're so glad that he married into our crazy family because now he's stuck.
But seriously, we love Gene. He is such an amazing person, father, husband, doctor, surfer, and "kid" to have around. We always feel welcomed, loved, uplifted and enlightened when we are around him. He is seriously a kid at heart and is always up for any adventure.

I even remember being at their house in San Diego and Carol had to tell Gene to come in from skateboarding so that he wouldn't disturb the neighbors late at night. That was probably three or four years ago. Gene will be the 80 year old surfer.

We know that you'll never live too far from the ocean or your year-round perfect weather, but please come visit more often! We do have good snowboarding here and I'm sure that Carol could turn that into some sort of field trip for the girls. You're always invited.

We love you Gene and hope you had a great birthday!

happy birthday tori!

To my little niece Tori-

Happy 1st birthday cutie pie! I'm sad that you are not doing your elephant seal crawl anymore. I hope that you retain that skill though so that you can grow up with naturally mad dance skillz and maybe even become a b-girl on SYTYCD. Although, knowing your Mom & Dad they probably have higher aspirations for you.

Gwen would love to play with you again, so we hope to see you again before you get too old. We should get Lexie in on it as well, and the three of you could get into some trouble together. And I'm okay with the trouble as long as it's three girls at the age of one instead of sixteen!

We love you Tori!

love, Aunt Holly, Uncle Dave, Inez & Gwen

happy birthday tasman!

Today is my niece's 9th birthday. I had the privilege of caring for Tazzie when she was almost two for a few weeks. She has always been such a funny girl, although she's become a little shy as she gets older and needs some time to warm up to us again before she feels comfortable. I blame her parents for living so far from us, but that's a topic for another post. Here are a few of my favorite pictures of Taz:

A Cherubic Scandinavian babe

Classic Tasman moment, when you just look at her and laugh while shaking your head. From the box on her head to her expression to her belly to the fact that she is drenched to her diaper sagging to her knees...it was never a dull moment.

One of my favorite memories, 4th of July in AZ (not recommended if you can't take the heat) with the fam. I just love her expression here.

Shopping

Little hula girl (even though she has Maori blood running through her veins, not Hawaiian)

More recent, and stolen from her Mom's blog


We hope that you had a great day Taz. Nezzie talks about you all the time and loves it when I tell her that an article of clothing she is wearing used to be yours when you were a little girl. We love and miss you tons and tons!


And yes, our family has a MILLION September birthdays. There are still more to come before the month ends.

balloons

happy birthday lexie!

Happy birthday to my niece Lexie! It's her first birthday, she is one-third of the Kewish cousins born in September '06. We are so happy that Gwen will have two cousins her same age, especially when they get older. And although we haven't met her yet, we think she is very cute! See?

happy birthday mallea!

Today is my niece's birthday. She came to visit my parents this summer and we were lucky enough to be here also. Inez just followed her around everywhere and wanted to do everything that she did. See what I mean?


She got to deliver some cookies with me and we also hiked the Y with Dad & Jon.


We also watched lotsa good girl movies like Meet Me in St. Louis, South Pacific, My Fair Lady, State Fair, and Oklahoma, just to name a few (hey, she's a Kewish girl so she's gotta learn these movies inside and out!). We were so glad to be part of her visit!

Mallea, we hope that you had a really great day today. Happy Birthday! We love and miss you!

happy birthday gwen!

Our baby is ONE! I cannot believe how quickly this year has passed. Gwenie has been, and continues to be, such a good and mellow baby. That is, until we go to church and she turns into an oily octopus.

And I must say, she is so cute. She occasionally folds her little hands during the prayer, says "hi" and "cat-cat" when she sees Finlo, and she loves to push noses to get them to beep.

She is getting better and faster at following Inez around. And I really enjoy watching Gwen watch Nezzie and also see them interact. It melts my heart to watch them play, hug, kiss and laugh. The song "Sisters" from White Christmas often runs through my mind when I am watching them together, and now that I thought about that song again it's stuck in my head.

And even though she can't (or maybe just refuses to) say anything remotely close to "Mama," I just love her so much.

Here are a few glimpses of our year with our Gwenie girl.

happy birthday liz!

Today is Liz's birthday. In my opinion, she is the best decision that my brother Joe has ever made. Well, that and wearing the skinny blue and pink striped tie for his graduation picture.



Liz, this is one of my favorite pictures of us from when you guys came into town for General Conference.



And this is from the experience that probably bonded us the most: The Deep Sea Fishing Trip from Hell (DSFTFH).



Actually, this picture isn't from that dreadful trip. It's a photo of our New Year's Eve spread, 85% of which consisted of fish dishes.

Let me back up a bit. The place: Bodega Bay, California. The date: December 1999. The situation: after an unsuccesful San Diego fishing excursion over Thanksgiving break, the decision was made to try again over Christmas break after we had returned to NorCal (Jon, that's for you). And that, my friends, is what led us to the very unfortunate DSFTFH.

On this voyage—that was anything but fantastic—I believe that everyone (Me, Liz, Joe, James, Jon, and Dad) except for the Maori warrior, Vaughn, puked multiple times. But before the puke-fest began, we had a THREE HOUR boat trip out to the fishing spot. Now before anyone can make any Gilligan's Island jokes here, "three hour" is capitalized because of the fact that we had to ride on this uncomfortable little fishing boat for THREE HOURS. I remember hearing the captain on the loud speaker casually mentioning that it would be three hours until we would reach the fishing spot. Liz and I looked at one another incredulously and one of us said, "he didn't just say three hours, did he?" We assured each other that we had heard him wrong, but unfortunately for us we had heard him perfectly. After fishing for hours out at sea, we had to come back for another THREE HOURS. It was cold. We were in the middle of the ocean. The swells were large and frequent. We were stuck on this small, uncomfortable fishing vessel.

Now, my pregnancies have been pretty rough. With the first one, I lost 20 pounds because I couldn't keep anything down. My record was throwing up 11 times in one day. Yet, I have to say that I would prefer being sick with a pregnancy rather than going on this fishing trip again. After this trip, Liz said that is what she thinks hell is like. I did catch a big lingcod, but I have to give partial credit to Joe since he was the one to reel it in due to the fact that I was puking over the side of the boat at the time.

I cannot even convey to anyone just how bad it was. The only good things that came from it were the fish for our New Year's fry, and the memories that are as painful now as they were then. We laugh about now and give my Dad a hard time for taking us. I will forever be grateful that Liz was on that trip along with me as we sat in the cabin with our heads down on the gross, sticky, uncomfortable tables.

Oh, I forgot to mention that our water heater was in need of repair when we got home, so there were no hot showers available to anyone.

Thank you Liz, for going to hell and back with me.

A favorite memory that both Dave and I have of Liz is from our camping trip to Baja, which sounds a lot more glamorous than it really was. She and Joe brought a sandwich maker that you stick into the fire to make toasted sandwiches. There were a lot of good ones: apple pie filling, peanut butter with banana, nutella and banana, just to name a few. But then Joe made one of nutella and Reeses Pieces and we all immediately started salivating and Liz got a little excited and said, "Oh dude, THAT ONE IS MINE" in a full-on robot voice. She sounded just like Vicki on Small Wonder, but she (Liz) is nowhere near as annoying.

Thank you, Liz, for being such a great sister-in-law! Remember when we used to go shopping every time I would come home over a break at school if you were in California with Joe? Remember how you loved, maybe you still do, Mariah Carey? And remember how I'm your fave?

Hope you had a great birthday!! We love you so much, our baby was born on your birthday!

happy birthday kristy

Kristy. So I'm a little late here because your birthday was back on the 10th and I may or may not blame it on Dave pretty much taking over our blog. Regardless, you had a birthday and I would like to take a little stroll down memory lane. Won't you join me?
Nezzie with Aunty Kiki and one of her "cousin buddies"

Here's one of my favorite pictures, I'm not sure where you are exactly (please enlighten us), but I do know that it's either France or Switzerland as a sister missionary.

At the Santa Clara County Fair in a good old fashioned photo booth

What a cute couple, cutting the wedding cake. Tender.

With the Clintons (who we do not endorse in any way, shape or form) in D.C. back in 1994.

By the way, remember how during this trip to DC we got SOAKED in a downpour as we were walking with our luggage to the metro. I had packed for about 20 people and the wheels on my suitcase broke as we were running three blocks to the station in the downpour. I remember sitting and wringing my hair out. Another memorable moment on this trip would be Mom cutting my bangs while they were wet and they ended up being about one inch long. Or when Mom had to take shelter from a (different) downpour in front of an X rated adult store on her way back to our hotel from the mall. I will always have that image in my mind.

Actually, there are so many memories to choose from. For example, remember when I made the mexican casserole that you served VW for lunch and then you took credit for it? Or when we went hiking up King's Canyon with Dad and he drove like a mad man in his "magic carpet." I'm pretty certain that was the trip where we coined that phrase for him as I kept singing the Aladin song "A Whole New World." Or of course our classic story of when you chased me down the street with broccoli on a fork and made me eat it and sit on a snail shell. I can still hear the crunch and then feel the relief I felt upon realizing it was empty.

But one of my favorite memories is going to San Onofre to a little beach party that Carol and Gene were having and listening to Bob Marley for the first time. You had just returned from your scholastic sojourn in Hawaii and enlightened our family with the goodness that is known as reggae. As we drove down PCH in the white bug, windows down we listened to Legend on your "boom box" because that would have been silly to have had a working stereo in the car. It is so vivid to me, I even remember Carol surfing with Gene! Great. Now I miss the beach more than usual.

So there are ten years that separate us, but I have never felt that separation in our relationship/friendship. I am so grateful to have you in my life. You make me a better person, woman, mother and alto (only when we are singing together though). You have a good heart, you are so thoughtful, you are so generous (I cried when I found your CHI flat iron that you left behind for me last year) and you are an excellent example.


I wish we lived near each other so that I could whisk you away and go for a facial and massage and shopping and movie and (fill in the blank). Can you please move closer? I love you! Happy belated Birthday!!

no use

"It's no use, Dad."

"What's no use?"

"Dad! It's just no use!"

This has recently become Inez's all-purpose excuse of choice. Eat dinner? No. It's no use. Go to the bathroom? Can't. It's no use. Go to sleep? Sorry. It's just no use.

Tonight, in an effort to prod Inez into a world where she doesn't leave every room in a state of unnatural disaster, I asked her to gather up the Uno cards littering her bedroom floor. With a sigh, she propped her hands on her hips (like she does when she's about to explain the world's most obvious fact) and said, "Dad. It's. No. Use."

I wonder if she's not exaggerating. I wonder if, in her head, those 50 cards on the floor might has well have been 500,000. What to me was a 30-second taskette (why isn't that already a word?), could have seemed—probably did seem—like an impossible task to her.

"Gather up an incalculable number of cards? Sure, Dad. Why not? Why don't we part the Red Sea while we're at it?"

We adults pull the same trick though. Lose weight? It's no use. Save money? No use. Study the scriptures? Tonight? Sorry. It's just no use.

It's too bad we can't see our pile of cards the way we see our kids' pile of cards.

thirty times a day for a week

Has anyone heard of Gomez? They're a band—from the UK, I think. I've been listening to their single, "See the World" today. Over and over. I always do that when I love a new song. I play it twenty, thirty times a day for a week. Every day. Then, completely sick of hearing it, I won't listen to it again for a couple of weeks. I'll hear it again—accidently—after the weeks have passed, and I'll think, "Meh. It's ok, but I don't know what I got all excited about—it's not thirty-times-a-day-for-a-week good." This is true, but only because I did listen to it thirty times a day for a week. If I hadn't, it would still be fresh and would remain thirty-times-a-day-for-a-week good.

Why do I do these things? Wouldn't it be better to have a bunch of great songs and not a bunch of tired songs that I'm sick of along with one great song that I will soon be sick of?

Anyway, here's the video of the song I will soon hate. Enjoy!

monday morning movie

two hundred

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the nerd is strong in this one

I'm a nerd.

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

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

(It's pronounced "dee dot cee" by the way.)

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

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

These are nerdy things.

Or are they?

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

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

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

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

tivo

I love my Tivo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hate my Dish Network DVR.

thank you, elder holland

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

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

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

"You do whut now?"

"El oh el?"

Those silly pioneers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

a fine whine

I've fallen and I can't get up.

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

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

several small steps

lessons learned on a saturday

1. Avoid making donations to D.I. on Saturdays at all costs. The lines are long and the cars are full.


2. If, due to circumstances or spouses beyond your control, you do find yourself in the D.I. donation lines on a Saturday, steer clear of the so-called "Express Lane - For Small Items" and head instead for the "Truck Lane - For Large Items." It turns out that those small items are surrounded by hundreds of other small items crammed into dozens of 50 gallon trash bags that line the airplane hanger-esque interiors of Ford Excursions and Chevy Suburbans. Meanwhile, the large items—single chairs and weed eaters—sit alone in the backs of open-bed pickup trucks.


3. BYU needs to fully invest in a punter.


4. If you're a fan of Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry, don't worry about buying it—there's no need. Any time you want to listen to it, at any hour of the day, just tune your radio to any north american station. It will be on.


5. If you're shopping for groceries in preparation for Sunday dinner with your parents, remember to ask yourself (or, more productively, your wife) if there's anything else you need before leaving the store. If you don't, you will find yourself returning to that store at 10:38 p.m.


6. When you get ready to make that late-night grocery run, remember to take your wallet with you. If you don't, you will find yourself returning home for it at 10:45 p.m.


7. Those new mini shopping carts at Maceys are a lot of fun, but be warned that you're going hit your shins on that bottom bar. You just are.


8. And finally, it appears that eleven month-old girls can go from being one-step non-walkers to ten-step living room cruisers in just one Saturday.

just when I thought I was a decent parent...

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

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

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

Nobody wants that. Don't listen.

no more barbie

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

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

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

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

sugar and spice

So she freaks out when there is a measly little fly in the room. But this is okay to hold? I don't get it.