Merry Christmas!!!!!

We hope you all had a very Merry Christmas. It was probably a little more lively than ours. But we enjoyed the day, if you know what I mean!!! As you can see Dad spent a little bit of time snowblowing and shovelling the neighborhood. What else is a bishop good for? Thank you so much for your gifts and love. We appreciate all of you and wish you all a Great New Year!!!

Just a note...

...I hope the note wasn't too long.

Just some going-ons…

“On my way up here I kept racking my brain, trying to figure out where I had heard of the Rotary Club. I knew they were a service-oriented organization but I felt like I had a connection to the Club somehow, somewhere – like I had been attended a meeting before.”

“It wasn’t until I walked through the door that it finally hit me. Every so on when I was younger, my dad would take me to a luncheon, very similar to this one. He was a member of the Rotary Club. I don’t remember anything that was said, I don’t remember anyone’s name, but I do remember the tremendous display of hospitality – it’s nice to see things haven’t changed.”

This was my ad hoc opening to a budget presentation I gave the other day to one of the local Rotary Club chapters. Corny, I know, but it went over pretty well. Our director was out for the week and I was asked to step in. It was a rather surreal experience. It just seemed like yesterday that I sat calmly at a table full of grown-ups during a Rotary lunch meeting trying not to draw attention to myself. I’m sure I acted as awkward as any 15 or 16 year-old could. Now? Well, I couldn’t stop thinking that here I was, standing in the front of the room of this Italian restaurant speaking on the intricacies of the City’s budget with leaders in business and other professions – it was kind of cool, strange, and downright weird to think that those experiences happened half my life ago.

Jenn and I walked/ran the City Manager’s annual 5k run on Saturday. Up until Wednesday I didn’t think I would run because my legs were having this pinching feeling in my upper left leg (cue Mom’s groin pull joke). I decided to run anyway that morning and even got a medal for 3rd place in my age group (11th overall) with a time of 21:26. Most importantly I won the Budget Bowl in the office, besting eight other budget runners, coming back in the last mile to pass one of my friends in the last 500 yards. You gotsta do what you gotsta do, especially when bragging rights are at stake. I am now officially taking a break from exercise in general for at least three weeks. I may, however, get on a bike, especially since our budget running group is going to start training to do a triathlon in April – and most of them are avid bike riders – whereas I get tired if there’s not a 40 mile wind at my back. I think I'll have to make a phone call to the padres to seek their expertise on training. Maybe mom can give me some tips with her experience hitting those hills with the beach cruiser.

Lastly, for those Ipod Touch users out there, whatever you do, DO NOT download the free application, Tap Defense. Time will pass without you ever realizing you’ve been playing for the last 7 hours. However, it did come in handy during priesthood – Just kidding (no, but seriously). Also, I (nerd) may or may not have (nerd) looked online (nerd) for strategies to pass (nerd) certain levels.

Pity to the brothas

Pregnancy hasn't been much of a big deal this round, so I don't have many complaints. I think with just nine weeks to go, that is rather notable. But with that said, I do have to air one complaint -- Nick is such a sensitive sleeper! I'll freely admit that I started snoring somewhere around month five or so of the pregnancy. Before bed each night, I stack up three pillows, use saline nasal mist (that I am pretty sure Jim gave us the last time we were in Utah), Mentholatum (Chad, I don't know how many pregnant girls were sleeping during the marathon, but this is God's true intended use for the product.), and put on a breath rite strip. With all those preventative measures in place, Nick can at least usually fall asleep with me in the room. I guess those things hold off the congestion enough that all my air passages don't really start rattling until they wear off. If Nick could just stay asleep, I don't think there would be a problem, but he has to get up and pee at least once a night, so then he's already awake, and all above mentioned preventative measures have long since worn off. Never mind that every time he rolls over he wakes himself up and then complains about my snoring. He has spent the latter half of many nights in the spare bed in Aiden's room.
Now, compound on top of the usual "congestion of pregnancy," the occasional cold I pick up working with sick people all day. This was how I discovered that the sleeping problem is really just with Nick and not my own. Last night, I was so congested that there was NO airflow through my nose, thus no turbulence, and no rattling of airway passages. As we were falling asleep he asked me if I could sit up or something because I was snoring. False! I was obviously not snoring. I was just breathing quietly through my mouth. When I realized this and pointed it out, I don't think the difference mattered to Nick. Then all the stories of the boys sharing a room and Nick doing horrible things to them for making any kind of noise came rushing back to me. This should really only go on for a couple months more, but my pity goes out to those of you who spent more than half your life in a room with someone who really won't be happy until you quit breathing.

26.2

As I stood in corral # 13 waiting for the governor to end his “everything-is-bigger-and-better-in-Texas” spiel, I couldn’t stop thinking about two things: 1. What was I thinking when I signed up for this and 2. Do I use the cover of nearby bushes to pee for the 5th time in 20 minutes (like everyone else was doing) or do I use the port-a-potties a little further away. On the latter matter, I finally decided to jump the corral gate, run to the long barricade of port-a-potties (no lines this time – only frantic runners). Needless to say, I made it back with plenty of time to spare. I only had to think about issue # 2 one other time at about mile 17.

With the risk of sounding overly dramatic, running a marathon was definitely the toughest, most physical endeavor I have ever gone through – the only thing that came close was the first day of J.V. water polo my freshman year. Coach Rob had us swim 4 sets of 20x25 butterflies on the 30 second (which we never made anyway) followed by 5 pushups between each 25 yards. It was absolutely insane, possibly psychopathic. The marathon was like that, except longer without the sudden nausea. I only felt like chucking once, at the 23 mile mark while I was high-fiving a group of little girls waiting for their Dad (the sign they were holding indicated as much). My thoughts drifted back to the BYU biathlon of 2001. I swam a mile and was just finishing the 10k run when the Lucky Charms I had eaten that morning made an unexpected appearance. The acidic remnants of marshmallowy horseshoes, hearts, and clovers stained the ground in front of the Richards Building at least until winter. Mayka beautifully captured that scene while I crossed the finish line. If it were up to me, the photo would have won an award. If it were up to Jenn, it would have been burned long ago. If anyone wants to see this awesome sight, I'll email you a copy.

Enough of the days of yesteryear. Instead of just talking about the run in general, here are a couple of observations I made along the course.

Mile .00001: I was wondering how long before someone would make the obligatory “are we there yet” joke. Not anymore.

Mile 1: I’m feeling pretty good at this point. I didn’t expect anything less but I kept having these weird quasi-dreams about cramping up or having my knees buckle or ankle twist in the first mile, or slipping on some empty Vaseline tubes.

Mile 2: Best sign so far: “You Are All Kenyans!” It reminded me of when we would tell Samantha: “Sheena of the Jungle!” and she would take off running as fast as she could. But don’t worry, I didn’t fall for this sign. Now if someone would have said “the power of ten tigers” all bets are off. In fact, just call me “The Phantom” from now on.

Mile 3: I just got rid of my long sleeve shirt that I started the run with (it was 39 degrees at the start). Apparently they give all the clothes to charity. I also wore some black gloves with the Tweety bird imprint on them that have been in the family for decades. I was going to throw those to the side but decided to hold on to them for posterity. There are just some things that are too important in our family history to get rid of, like the slot machines, dad’s key chain collection and especially mom’s hot glue gun collection.

Mile 5: I see Jenn and Trevor waving and cheering me on. I feel like a gazelle.

Watch out Plains of Serengeti!

Mile 6: I’m just starting to notice different teams. Some teams are running for charity, others for a cause or cure, and others have the same family name on the back of their shirts. Next year we should run it as a family. No, serious.

Mile 13.5: The marathon leaders are doubling back during a small section of the course. All I can say is “WOW.” These guys are flying at a 5-minute mile pace. The only time I’ve ever run that fast was after I broke the jalapeno jar.

Mile 14: What is mentholatum doing on the course? Why are people handing it out on popsicle sticks? Were they expecting a runny nose outbreak? Is it like using Vaseline? I am full of questions. I thought I knew everything about the marathon experience. They didn’t tell me about this. Where do I apply it? I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Mile 15: Most annoying, overused sign: “Don’t look now but someone is chasing you.” Don’t look now but that sign was old at mile 1.5.

Mile 22: So far as I’ve seen a giant turkey hat, a bare-chested guy with a Santa hat, and a dude with a model 747 on his head. I was also just passed by two ladies in pink tutu’s. Umm, I got crazy and wore gray underwear…

Mile 23: I’m eavesdropping on a conversation between two runners. Apparently Lance Armstrong said that in a marathon, the halfway point is mile 20. I’ve also heard that the last 5 or 6 miles is all mental. Yeah, let me tell that to the guy whose legs are cramped up and being worked on by medical staff: "c'mon man, it's only a compound fracture, it's all in your head!" That always kills me – of course it’s physical. If it weren’t, you could run forever. That’s like chanting overrated – it just doesn’t make sense. Chess: now that’s mental.

Mile 23.5: Nearly three miles to go and I can’t believe I haven’t heard a sound from my knees. Of course I’m afraid to look in case they fell off at mile 21.

Mile 26: The finish line is in sight and Jenn is there to give me a high five, Trevor yells “no retreat, no surrender.” I yell back, “they all doubted me!” The finish couldn’t have been better.

Overall, the marathon was an awesome experience. I had fun, enjoyed the scenery, high-fived every kid that had their hand out and even made a couple of friends. With a goal of 4 hours, 30 minutes, I was content at crossing the finish line at 4 hours, 22 minutes. I ran the first half at 1 hour, 57 minutes, obviously falling off pace the last 6 or 7 miles, but it was a learning experience. Jenn asked me after the race if I was going to do it next year. I told her not to ask me that at the moment. Now that I have had a couple of days, I’m eyeing the 4-hour mark. Lastly, thanks for all the phone calls, best wishes and advice.

Our Halloween Spider

Have you ever seen a spider with a yellow armor back like this one? 

It is amazing to watch him spin his web.  

I've only seen him spin the center portion and wonder 

at how he connects it from the deck to the tree.

The second picture shows more of the web's intricacy.

  It spans at least 4 feet.  Amazing!  

Deer

So, we hit a deer. We were on our way to "Day out with Thomas" in Rusk, TX, About 3 hours away. 2 hours into the drive we plowed straight into a deer going about 70 mph. We were perfectly fine, but as you can see, our car is not. They towed it away and we had to call some friends from the ward to pick us up. (the closest rental car place was 50 miles away-we were in the middle of nowhere).

A nice couple dropped us off in "town" and we spent the next 3 hours drinking slushies and watching Oliver play at Sonics. Our friends finally got thier and brought us home. They are letting up borrow thier extra car until we find out what's up with ours this next week. Because of the value, we are assuming they will just total it.

At least Oliver will have a birthday to remember.

High Tops and Chicken Legs

I remember in the 7^th grade coming home from the shoe store, probably Big 5, with Mom having bought me a pair of black Nike high-top basketball shoes. These weren’t just any old pair of slick looking high-tops. No… Nick owned the exact same pair. The only difference was about 3 shoe sizes. Those who were around at the time remember the minor fallout. Looking back I don’t remember it being too huge of an ordeal but I wasn’t naïve to see that feelings of ire were not felt. Whether Nick or anyone else ever realized it or not, I felt bad. Really bad. Part of me wanted to ask Mom to take them back and get a pair of no-ankle support Converse All-Stars (shout out to Trevor). The other part just said to keep quiet, which I did.

Stories and memories like these have a longer shelf life than Samantha’s 4^th grade picture. Memories like these have a way of giving perspective on how life’s script changes or repeats itself – for better or for worse. As with the Nike shoes, growing up I found myself copying my older brothers in many aspects. I don’t really know why. If pressed I would probably attribute it to laziness - it’s much easier to make decisions when the result of someone else’s choice seems to turn out well. Whether it was listening to The Cure, playing water polo, taking that karate class in Brawley, going to BYU or even wearing oversized black high-tops, I did what any other younger brother would do: copy.

Well, in a month’s time I will be running the San Antonio Marathon. But I need to say that regardless of past copying or imitating my elder siblings, I am not doing this to copy Nick. He has run three marathons, having run one last Saturday – an amazing feat (or feet as it were). You would never know it because of his humility and unassumingness.

I’ve wanted to run a marathon since my freshman year when I opted out of the Salt Lake City Marathon and instead ran a 10K, (a whole other story in which I slept under a tree in front of an ex-mission president’s home). I didn’t feel confident running 26 miles. I had trained a little but got scared. Spencer ran the marathon and all those who know the story are aware that once he crossed the finish line, he was carted off on a stretcher, hooked up to multiple IV’s, and saved the life of a pit bull by using mouth-to-mouth – all within 5 minutes of finishing the race. An amazing story to say the least.

Unlike Salt Lake circa 1997, I’ve given myself sufficient time to train and not back down from this physical task I’ve wanted to conquer since my freshman year. Maybe it's in my genetic code. I’ve been training since March. When I ran my first run, I waddled for 2 miles and nearly passed out. Things have definitely improved. I’ve lost about 15 pounds over the last 3 months and just ran 18 miles the Saturday before last, It has also helped that I went and got some new shoes a couple of months ago. They provide more cushion than the BYU secondary, which is good on the Tusti-knees.

This time I am not chickening out. And speaking of chickens, my chicken legs and I (as illustrated below) have made dramatic strides in strength and conditioning. Don’t look now but I think a 3-inch vertical may be in reach.

Not Quite the Turnaround Fadeaway but...

There’s a part in the movie Old School (on TNT of course) where Will Farrell, fighting for the continued existence of his and his friends’ quasi-fraternity, is put against the formidable James Carville in a debate contest. Farrell then, going against everyone’s expectations, including his own, eloquently (albeit loaded with platitudes) lays out a coherent position. It’s obvious he transcends his intellectual shortcomings the moment he seems to “snap back” into reality after laying out the argument. It’s almost as if he wasn’t himself; almost like he blacked out. Of course, Carville is speechless and Farrell is presumed to have won the debate contest. The ending to the movie is as predictable as Elder Uchtdorf referencing his pilot experience in a conference talk (not that there’s anything wrong with that). All lived happily ever after.

Well, something similar happened to me last week. I’ll get to that in a second.

As is customary, I waited until the last possible day of the month to go to the stake center for a renewal of the temple recommend. The Office wasn’t on because of the vice presidential debate, so I felt like if the wait became too long, I wasn’t really missing anything (is it November 5th yet!). Jenn advised that I go a little early since it seemed to get a little busy when she went the previous month.

So I show up at 6:40 pm, about 20 minutes before the doors open to the stake offices. I walked through the doors into the foyer and quickly observed that there were already 10 to 12 people sitting or standing and staring vacantly at each other! It was a little disheartening to say the least. It got me thinking. I wasn’t really surprised that there were so many people after arriving early, but I was strangely and tangibly disappointed. It’s like using the bathroom in the mission field at a member’s home—you always went into it knowing there wasn’t going to be any toilet paper but you were always disappointed when there really wasn’t.

So alas, there was no “toilet paper” and I didn’t feel like chanting “cheeks stay together”(i.e. hold it until next month), so after quickly scanning the room for a sign-up sheet (nothing) I accepted the dire situation, planted myself against a nearby wall and chalked up my situation as an opportunity to weaken my penchant for impatience. I brought an Ensign to read during the wait but couldn’t help looking up at the foyer doors. Person after person performing the same routine I had gone through just seconds and minutes earlier: walk into the foyer, look in vain for a sign up sheet, and find a space against the wall.

Over a five minute period this happened at least 10 times, which meant the wait room was now rivaling the National TV townhall debate audience – about 20 of us. The truth is I started to get fidgety. I was going to be weaseled out of my place in line by the lady who just came in with one of those limo-sized, penthouse-like baby car seats (that parents have to cram down between the pews at church, ripping off the wood finish in the process) and sat down right in front of the stake offices as if she were flying on Southwest or something. I envisioned a showdown of apocalyptic proportions: shoving to the front of the line, fraudulent claims of discrimination, ferociousness, preferential treatment and recklessness not seen since Congress’ role in irresponsibly encouraging subprime lending.

So I acted. This would be my moment of transcendence. The next few minutes were a blur, almost a “black out” if you will. I fast walked with blazing, hip-swinging speed toward one of the ward’s clerk’s office down the hall. I needed a pen and paper, and I didn’t have time to dilly dally. With composure and authority I kindly asked the gentleman in the clerk’s office (who was about my age and definitely TIVO’ing Battlestar Galactica at home) for a pen and paper.

“Uhhh, what do you need it for?” he asked.

Already feeling contempt for this inquisitor, I replied, “There are a million people in the foyer for Stake temple recommend interviews and no sign-up. I don’t want to be here longer than I have to.”

“I guess,” he said with irritation in his voice as he handed me a sheet of printer paper and pen. “But don’t be surprised if the stake rips it up once they get here. They don’t like when people do things like this.”

I was speechless. Are you kidding me? When people do things like what? Like taking the initiative in what could have turned out to be Armageddon. Ahhh, I love how we are so worried about the jots and the tittles in church life. Can you imagine the prophets and presidents of old (or new for that matter) taking issue with a filled out, “non-official” sign-up list? Maybe, but that was just amazing to me. It wasn’t like I was going to ask people in the foyer to sign a petition to make Stephanie Meyer an honorary member of the Quorum of the Seventy.

I laughed out loud to his comment, thanked Galactica Guy and scurried back to the foyer. I had to forget about him and his technotronic rigidity to protocol. Since I had been gone, at least two new faces appeared. Now came the moment of truth. With a rolled up Ensign in one sweaty hand, a pen and paper in the other, I walked slowly but steadily to the center of the foyer. Eyes pierced me with all the suspicion a roomful of anxious and guarded members could muster. For a split second I thought about capitulating, slowly retreating from whence I came, finding the place on the wall that had undoubtedly been overtaken by a newcomer. Then I saw the baby in the SUV-car seat and my resolved strengthened. I spoke up.

“I figure that since we still have ten minutes left before the stake opens their doors, we can start an ad-hoc sign up list.” For a couple of long drawn-out seconds, no one said anything. I felt like Napoleon Dynamite at the end of his “Vote for Pedro” routine. Crickets chirped with nay a seagull in sight. Then quietly a voice behind me spoke up. It belonged to an older woman of about 75 years. She kindly asked me if I was the Stake Executive Secretary. All eyes were on me like Pizza on the day before Fast Sunday. I responded to her that, no, I was “just a rogue lay member concerned by both the number of people here and the order in which the stake presidency calls us in for interviews.” A sign of ease visibly came over her face. She thanked me and told me it was a wonderful idea. It was as if her “approval” of the list allowed others to speak up. The floodgates opened and the list of names started flowing like the salmon of Capistrano. I made the list and honestly listed myself as #9.

About 10 minutes later, the stake president arrived at 7 pm sharp and with a bewildered look on his face, asked aloud with a smile crossing his face, “Do I dare ask who got here first?” I had placed the list on an end table in the foyer on which people could sign in once they arrived. Was he going to take the sign-up list, put a match to it, laughing in my face while everyone joined in? I made my way over to the list, showed it to him while explaining what had happened. You know what he said?

“That is great!”

So much for the list being shredded to pieces by the evil conspiring stake presidency. And with that, he called the first person back and I was out of there by 7:35. Not too bad. As a side note, the Stake Executive Secretary arrived at about 7:15 (!) wandered out to the middle of the foyer and asked, “Okay, who got here first?” I just shook my head. Of course he redeemed himself when one lady wanted to go early (before me) because she had to be leave at 7:30 pm. He stuck to his guns, asked her what number she was on my list (22) and told her they would try their best but they would have to go in order. Yes! Score one for Justice and Fairness in the World.

So that was my “debate” moment; stepping out of my comfort zone when I absolutely needed to, breaking down and repackaging my natural inclination for sideline observance. Zig Ziglar would be proud. I’m just glad I won’t have to go back for another two years. Maybe I’ll remember to take back the pen.

Kim's not the only one

So, I'm pregnant. Yea! About 2 months along. I'm due in May. Anyway...this is the first picture of the little one. She wasn't sure which side was which, but we were able to see the heart beat. Pretty cool. Anyway...so whoever draws my name for Christmas, get me a gift card so I can buy maternity clothes. I don't think sweats and XXL t-shirts are going to cover me this time around (with my job and all).

Presidents and Palestine

Anyone see the debate yesterday? Two quick observations:

1. I've never heard of some of those countries that were named: For example, where's Pahkistan? That must be right next to upyourcrackistan, down the river from ilikeplayinghackystan, and just on the border of donttalkbehindmybackistan.

2. I thought that presidential candidates were by law supposed to support Israel. I mean, c'mon, the only people who support Palestine are those that don't really understand the history of the conflict.

Stupid Alert-Make that REALLY Stupid.

Congratulations Nick and Kim on their soon to be baby girl! This is my early gift to you.

http://www.dolebaby.com/view.html?id=38aea3ed87c134c7b861aecc105f4472

Lagoon Outing

I don't mean to rain on Trevor's recent post, but this is the only time Dad has to show me how to post pictures with my blog. So it is what it is.
Anyway, these are some of the highlights of our trip to Lagoon that was so much fun!!!

Can't wait to start my new life

I remember a long time ago, back when Wells Fargo was in the moment of eating up First Interstate bank, that the rumor went about that we might make it all the way out to San Antonio. It was an exciting moment for most of us. I'm sure most of us were more than eager to familiarize ourselves with another place, especially one as prominent as San Antonio. Even Samantha was excited, to the point that she was determined to "start a new life." I forget exactly how, but I recall vaguely her desire to be more outgoing, nice and just create a completely different personality.
Well, unfortunately, Samantha was unable to make that change and we all ended up staying in Madera.
I guess it's my chance to fulfill that dream. I have left Utah and am now living in San Antonio trying to be someone that will be generally hated by the student body. But hey, the rewards, right?
I've been in San Antonio for 4 days and I've already noticed the differences. I've been told I could get laid (if nothing is wrong with me) in South Padre Island. And at my first class a straight girl invited me to go with her bi-friends to a lesbian bar. Though I declined, I'd be lying if I didn't say I wasn't tempted.

So San Antonio is great. And go cougars.

Boy or Girl

My ultrasound is on Friday morning, and I can't wait to find out if this baby is going to be the first Tustison girl (of the grandchildren, not to slight Samantha's double X status) or yet another boy to add to the rising crop of grandsons. I'm curious who is leaning which way. Aiden says he really wants a girl, but last night he told me he thinks it might be a boy. What do you think?

Fifth Sunday

Every fifth Sunday after church, our ward puts on a MAJOR lunch-in in the cultaral hall for the entire ward. Yesterday it was Barbeque Potatoes with tons of sides. Pretty cool, huh?

Before & After

You've all seen our house already but

I thought we'd show you what it used to look like.

It's amazing what a lot of paint will do.  

Only 2 more rooms and 4 closets to go!

Nicholas Reunion

Well, you all missed quite the reunion. This picture basically tells it all. Oliver playing in the fire-pit, bushes, and dirt with the other kids.

Things I Learned at Tustifiesta

I know this is way after the fact, but I have been compiling these for awhile (on my Itouch) and I thought I would finally share them with you.

1. You are considered rich if you use a dollar bill for a bookmark.
2. Room temperature soda over ice DOES result in a flat soda.
3. Wife beaters look better on females.
4. What you do in the ocean will generally go unnoticed.
5. Shoo-ski still rocks.
6. To be cool, you must have a MAC.
7. Buckees has the cheapest ice in the country.
8. Several relatives CAN live together for a week and still leave happy and contented.
9. "America's Got Talent" - has nothing on the Tustison Talent.
10. I can't wait for the next Tustifiesta!!!

You know what they say about guys with big feet....

So, now that I've read Chad's article about Dallas 15 times, I figured it was time to add another blog entry.

This past Saturday, some friends of ours invited us to go to Sessme Place, which is a water park for little kids. Well, after our day at the park had ended, I took the boys into the restroom so we could change clothes. As I was standing there in the buck getting ready to put my clothes on, Rhys was looking right at my, uh, yeah... Anyway, while he's staring right at it, he says, "Daddy, you've got a big.... feet."

What can I say? The kid calls 'em like he sees 'em.

Houston, errr Dallas, We Have a Problem...

I'm always doing research on other cities and ran across this story.  It would be funnier if it weren't so disturbing.  I thought it was a joke at first too.

Dallas commissioner's meeting

The link has now been updated.

Surfside Beach Memories

Just a couple of pics

Yes, that is me at the Dome of the Rock, and you can see the push-ups are working out.



The first to play hacky sack at Armageddon



At the Sea of Galilee


Just enjoying the sites in Umm Qais.


Just a few random shots. Hop you like them.

Get the tortillas ready.

So we all know how much we love Chorizo. I mean, talk about a staple food growing up. Nothing could beat a Saturday morning waking up at 5:30 with the smell of chorizo and eggs cooking in the kitchen (followed by some tortilla chips, of course). Well, nothing could beat that until now.



All I want to know is, what day are we having this at the beach house?

How many items can you identify with?

Check this out. Although it's a blatant rip-off, it's still pretty funny. I thought it especially funny considering Mom's recent family photo suggestion.

What is fellowshipping?

So last night, the bishopric called and asked me to speak in church this Sunday on fellowshipping. I don't know anyone except the primary kids and a couple of guys I play with on Thursday nights for basketball, and you know what, I'm fine with that. I haven't gone on splits in 8 years and bolt to the car right after church while I wait for Jenn's weekly ad hoc YW's meeting even when the car interior tops 300 degrees. It's like when Zack asked Screech to wait in line for the U2 tickets in Season 3. You just know he's not qualified and he'll probably screw things up anyway (which he did). I don't want to be one of those speakers who get's up and says, "Sometimes I think a person is asked to speak on something because that person needs it the most, and that's true in my case....etc....." Not that there's anything wrong with that - I just don't want to go there.

.
Anyway, I was thinking about telling the story of how we almost left the church in Madera since Sister Donnavan didn't greet Mom during Relief Society or talk about the fried chicken in Delano that the Slaughters brought over after we first moved in. Maybe I should bring up the time that Jenn and I visited BYU during Christmas and Trevor barely introduced us to his "friend." If there is a way I could integrate Spiritual Crocodiles into the talk, it's a definite must, especially since not a lot of people have heard the talk/video/soundtrack/seminary lesson/etc.

.
And since we are the most outgoing and anti anti-social family out there, I was hoping others might have some ideas or different angles in which I could frame this talk. Suggestions are welcomed.

to pee or not to pee, revisited

So, that's pretty much what I saw, but not until the third day I peed on the stick. To be entirely honest, Mayka knew I was pregnant before I did since she saw me crumpled in a useless heap in her hallway and came to check on me. I had no idea what had happened other than the fact that by the time I knew I wasn't going to stay on my feet, Mayka was asking if I was alright. She immediately guessed I was pregnant, but I couldn't believe it because who faints four days after they conceive? By the next week, Mayka's thoughts were haunting me a bit, so Wednesday, I peed on the first stick in a three pack of Equate pregnancy tests. Yes, that is the Walmart brand, and I can not recommend it to anyone no matter how poor, as you will soon understand. The whole reason I bought Equate brand in the first place was because the test I took in February was negative, (I didn't take one in March),the one I took in April was negative. I was expecting another round of negatives, so why pee on a $20 digital stick with a smiley face when I could get three of them for $8.88? So, by Wednesday morning I was rather curious if Mayka was a better doctor than me, so I peed on the stick. Nothing happened, so I threw it in the trash. I didn't really think about it again until sometime four hours later when I again had to pee. I went to the bathroom and saw the test in the trash -- this time with a tiny little vertical line indicating a positive test, but the controls hadn't worked properly. So, still unsure, I waited until Thursday morning and used the second test in the box. Once again, the controls didn't work, but I at least left it sitting out so I wouldn't have to dig through the trash for it later. Finally after way more than 10 minutes, I could see a slightly darker tiny vertical line, but no controls, and the instructions clearly say results read after 10 minutes are not valid. So, Friday morning, I used the last one in what I believed was a defective batch of pregnancy test. This time, within ten minutes, the controls worked, and the test came up with a legit looking positive. So, in the end, it took me almost a week to actually figure out I am pregnant. Now I'm six weeks in, and still not sure if I believe it because I don't really feel like I'm pregnant other than being tired, oh, and the fainting that one day at Clint and Mayka's. Though my family should know before Tustafiesta, after my first doctor's appointment, I just wanted to let you all know now, mostly because Danella wanted to know what I'd wear at the wedding -- maternity clothes.