Dear Rosie, Sometimes I do stupid stuff too.

If there is one thing I love in this world, it is a s'more. I love it so much in fact, that one of my gifts for Christmas was all the fixings for s'mores complete with an extra long skewer so I could roast them in our fireplace without getting roasted myself. The combination of melty chocolate, golden graham cracker, and toasty marshmallow is simply divine.

I subbed today for a particularly rotten class of 3rd graders. When the kids are rotten, I like to come home and eat (I'm sure Rosie, you'll agree). I opened up my cupboards and there was my s'more kit calling out to me. What better way to forget the child who tried to make a break out the front gate while on the way to lunch than with marshmallow oozing down your chin? I decided to make myself one.

I didn't feel the need to light our whole fireplace, so I just grabbed a fork, popped on a mallow and lit up the stove. Within minutes, my marshmallow was ready and I slid it off the fork into its bed of chocolate and graham. Before tossing the fork in the sink, I noticed that a bit of the gooey, marshy middle was still stuck on it. So I put it in my mouth.

I head a sizzle, my lips began to burn and I instantly realized what an idiotic thing I had done; I had wrapped my lips around a burning hot fork. I grabbed ice as quickly as I could, but it was too late. The damage was done. Both my upper and lower lips have four long blisters on them...in the distinct shape of fork prongs. I resemble Courtney Love. Or Bubba Gump. And the worst part about it - I can't finish my s'more.

Home Again

Nate and I just got back from our Texas/Florida/Bahamas extravaganza. We had an amazing vacation (details and posts to follow), but I was just as excited to come home as I was to leave on our adventure. How could I not be happy when this is what I have to come home to?

A happy, dancing dog.

A thriving winter garden, ripe for the picking.

A giant, giant bed.

It's good to be back.

Happiest Place on Earth

Earlier this year Disneyland did a promotion to try and get one million hours of volunteer service. They offered a free Disneyland ticket to anyone who went and volunteered for a few hours at one of their designated areas. Seeing as tickets to Disneyland are going for $76 dollars these days, Nate and I jumped on the service bandwagon. We got our free tickets and made a trip down to Anaheim to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

Neither of us are big Disneyland people and so we planned our trip for the evening, when there would be shorter lines and less crowds. We got there at about seven and were surprised that we did not have to pay for parking. Disneyland is not typically known for letting anybody slide by without paying. When we got to the ticket counter we found out why; during the winter months, the park closes at eight o'clock. Oh crap. Our tickets expired at the end of the year, so we just decided to go for it and have a forty-five minute blitz of California Adventure. Let me tell you, it was probably the most fun Nate and I have ever had in 3/4 of an hour.

On the ferris wheel. You can't tell, but it was a great view.

People were kissing inside of the A. Blech.

Climb On!

In the days before his mission, Tim used to be my climbing buddy. We’d usually bring along one or two friends, some music and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and make an afternoon of it. In fact, the first time I ever hung out with Nathan it was rock climbing. It was a bit funny to see my little, scrawny, sad-excuse-for-a-man brother belaying big, hulking, "I could eat you for breakfast and still be hungry" Nathan. I don’t think Nate felt entirely safe as that was his first and only time climbing with us.

The other day Tim and I got to do our first climbing since he got back from his mission. We went to our usual spot off of Highway 38. Aside from the fact that it was freezing cold, it was just like old times.

Timmy, this blog’s for you.

Happy Holidays

Mox does not find her transformation into a reindeer nearly as amusing as I do.

13.1 Miles

Last weekend, I ran a half marathon. I use the term "run" very loosely.

Rosie, the namesake of my future child, was a great sport waking up before dawn, acting as chauffeur to and from the race, popping up several places along the route to cheer us on, and photographing all the action. Here are a few of the highlights.

Kim and I getting ready to start.

Being outpaced by an old man with bad knees.

Happy to be almost done.

Just finished and got my medal.

I think we are all ready for a nap.

Conquering the Black Canyon in an 18' Scanoe

We have acquired a scanoe. What is a scanoe you ask? Good question. I didn’t know either until we had one. It is a square-backed canoe. Scanoe. The more you look at that word the more wrong it appears to be spelled. No matter, moving on.

Nathan is a man of adventure and risks. I am a woman of adventure, but not so much risk. When he suggested that we load all our camping gear up in our big, green, duct tape over a hole, not sure if it even will float scanoe and take it up to the Colorado River for a camping trip, I was a bit hesitant to say the least. Typically when Nate gets a new water toy it ends up broken down or on fire during some point in its voyage.

Nonetheless, he talked me into it, and away we headed to the great state of Arizona.

We put in at Willow Beach (notice giant patch job on the side).

It didn't sink!

Some cave exploring.

Water levels were so low all the beaches were covered with some kind of marsh muck.

I absolutely love this place.

Also, I absolutely love this man.

In all, the trip was a huge success. I'm glad Nate was able to overlook my "I don't want to go because the boat is going to sink and we are going to die" attitude. He's made a scanoe believer out of me.