Chapter 3 would be "Shimmy"

1.  First Dodger game of the season.  Woot!  It was good to be back.  And good to be out for under the miserable greedy thumb of Frank McCourt.  Welcome Magic Johnson, et al!  Plus, we won and there were fireworks and the predicted rain never came.  My face was exploding with happiness by the end of the night. And, as always, we got on the jumbo-tron.  My first book should be on the art of getting on the jumbo-tron.  Chapter 1:  Know your cameras.  Chapter 2:  Dance like a lunatic.

2.  At a meeting on Saturday night where several members of the world church leadership were present they opened things up for questions from the congregation.  In my head I was shouting, "NOOOOOOO!!!!!  PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"  Because people ask the dumbest questions.  Oh, they're so dumb.  Oh, why??!  WHY!!!!???? And to prove that all of my fears were founded the very first question was, "Elder Snow, could you please tell me why we say, "I'm going to church" when the technical term for the building is the meetinghouse?"  Oh, for crying in the mud.

3. I watched my friend Teresa's baby twice this weekend and on both occasions I spend a large portion of my time there kissing on his face.  Because, ugh, those cheeks.

4.  I went to Cafe Rio for the second time in my life and I finally got why people go bananas for it.  The first time I was unimpressed.  But this time I wised up and got the pork salad and was convinced.  Plus, they have crushed ice AND cherry coke.  I don't actually like soda very much.  Coke in particular.  And don't get me started on diet coke.  Why don't you just dump a cup of sugar in a bottle of cough syrup?  But I have a soft spot in my heart for cherry coke.

5.  Remind me to never drink Cherry Coke again.  Because my body is not prepared for that kind of sugar and caffeine consumption.  So for about 5 hours after I had some my brain was all, "Buzz, buzzzz, buzz buzz buzz.  BUZZZZZZZ."

I've lost it

Well, I've lost it. It's been a pretty good run, but I've officially turned into the Least Funny Person on the Planet. All week long I've been trying to think of anything clever or funny to write about and I've got nothing. I knew I would lose it eventually and now I'm going to have to move into a home for people who don't get the joke - where the only thing on TV is Jay Leno and Everybody Loves Raymond.

To prove that I've lost it here's a list of things I've considered writing about:

1.) The show I watched last night on PBS about people dying on Mt. Everest
2.) The blouse I'm attempting to sew and the fact that I don't actually know how to sew clothes
3.) Sandwiches and how much I love them
4.) How driving over the Grapevine made the inside of my head explode which made me want to die some slow and horrible way because it would be less painful.

See, more boring than cardboard. Admit it, you've already moved onto more exciting things like trimming your toenails or calling your accountant.

I'm sorry. Come back in a week. Maybe it's just a phase.

Prepare the bagpipes

Two things that will be the death of me by the end of today:

1.) All those Easter lilies. My allergies are staging a revolt. They're armed with muskets and are charging the walls of my sinuses.

2.) Eating my weight in Easter candy. I haven't had this much chocolate since that one Easter when Amanda and I went a teensy bit overboard with the baskets and ended the day lying in a pool of chocolate drool with green plastic grass stuck in our hair.

Teacher of the Year

I was sitting in the fiction section at the library the other day, reading page 12,573,477 of Atlas Shrugged, and I overheard about 5 minutes of a tutoring session wherein the tutor discussed the following topics:

Biblical disasters
The Wright Brothers
Dirigibles
The Smithsonian
Amber harvested in Denmark and Puerto Rico
Hottentots

Hottentots! Awesome.

Year in Review...So what if it's a little late. Deal with it!

Because I'm a hopeless band wagon jumper I have decided to do a year in review. And because my brain has about the same memory capacity as cardboard and I can't remember my phone number, let alone what I did in January, this should be pretty fun. Let's begin:

January - Um, I don't remember much about January. See, I told you. Oh, wait, Casey left for Brazil.

February - February is pretty much a blank. I think I may have probably gone to work.

March - Benjamin Spence Knecht, Golden Child, Blessed Nephew, Winston Churchill Impersonator, Heir to the Knecht Family Silver was born. Everything else pales in comparison. Things that would have come in first had I not become an aunt would have been going to my first ever pro-tennis tournament. Super fun! And getting the new beautiful mattress that cradles me to sleep every night. I love you mattress! Let's get married!

April - Did April even happen this year?

May - Camille left for Ohio.

June - Gina and Chris were married. The World rejoiced!

July - All I can remember from this month is that I spent a lot of time picking up poo produced by a little retarded dog named Maynard.

August - Happy Birthday to me!

September - The Dodgers didn't make the play-offs

October - My knee locked. I wanted to die. Serioulsy. The pain. I'm feeling nauseated again. On to...

November - Had three days off in a row, the first since spring break. Hey wait! Spring break was in April. It did happen.

December - Moved in with Katie. She does not leave open cans of tuna on the kitchen counter for days. She's perfect!

Yep, that was pretty exciting. Happy 2008!

I've learned to whisper in her office

Things I have heard other patients say through the the vents of my doctor's office while I fight off her attempts to squirt yet another nasal spray up my nose:

1.) "Is it going to get any bigger?"
2.) "I've been peeing blood for 3 weeks now."
3.) "It made my toenail fall off."
4.) "The rash started on my back but now it's on my butt."

When I filled out the survey yesterday on how my visit was I wrote, "Very entertaining."

Buckshot

Just a few thoughts that individually don't quite equal a full post but can ban together and wear matching jackets that say "November 19, 2007" on them.

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Behold the Golden Child:

Yep, the funk is gone. How can you be cranky when there are cheeks like these to kiss. Impossible.

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Part of my job description today is tissue-passer-outer. I had two moms break down on me this morning. Sobbing and sniffling and wailing about the INJUSTICE of the schools and their FEELINGS were HURT and they're so CONFUSED!!!! It got so bad that one of our school psychs put this note on my desk:

Buck up ladies! Pie is just around the corner!

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What are your thoughts on Christmas before Thanksgiving. I'm opposed. Sure, I love Christmas but hearing "This is My Grown-up Christmas List" a week before Thanksgiving puts me in a Scrooge-y mood. We get a whole month plus 3 days this year to celebrate (the most that is possible) and there are already Christmas lights up everywhere.

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Because our office kitchen temperature usually hovers around negative-too-cold-to-sit-still-without-your-fingers-freezing and because some people I work with don't understand the universal sign of "I'm reading so please don't bother me,"* I usually go out to my car on my lunch break and listen to Jonesy's Jukebox. Dominic Monaghan (one of the wee little hobbits) was sitting in for Jonesy today and I have to say that he has some fine taste in music. Radiohead and Paul Simon. Nice. They must have good satellite service in the Shire.

*This is not to say that I don't like talking to people on my lunch break. If I'm not reading then please chat with me. But if I'm reading when you come into the kitchen I'm not doing it because I had nothing better to do while I waited for you to talk to me. I actually read because I like to and I'm probably in the middle of a really good part so shh.

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Only one more link on my Post-it Note Thanksgiving chain. Wahoo!!!

Funk

Things that should get me out of the funk I have found myself in today:

1.) Cheery visit with Liz and Liz tonight
2.) My bed is nice and cushy and is calling to me even as I type. Listen, you can hear it... (rachel....rachel...come to me.)
3.) It is sunshiny outside but not hot like it has been
4.) Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow which will include...
a.) Trip to the gym, because nothing cures a funk like 45 minutes of death on the eliptical
b.) Holy French Toast. In case the eliptical fails me
c.) Christmas shopping, which I actually feel like doing
d.) Amanda's birthday, which will necessitate a phone call to her which always cheers me up (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!)
e.) The triumphant arrival of Sam, Stacy, and Ben the Blessed Nephew (accompanied by Katie) from Idaho-Land of the Spud!

But until all of those things happen I'm going to do the dishes. Doing the dishes has a very healing affect on me. Be gone funk!

I'm It.

I've been tagged by my cousin Karina (Hi Karina! Can't wait for the baby!)

Here are the rules:

1. The player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves.
2. At the end of the post, the player tags 6 people and posts their names, and then goes to their blog and leaves them a comment, letting them know they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog for the rules.

1.) I'm afraid of stairs. This is because I'm constantly falling on them, both going up and coming down. I could take you on a tour of BYU and show you all the staircases that I have fallen on. I try not to show it because I don't want to look like a baby but whenever I walk down stairs I'm always a little nervous because I'm sure that this is going to be the time I fall and break my neck and become an invalid.

2.) The sound of people chewing makes me want to tear my ears off. I think this is one of my mutant powers that I have to harness. But until I do, it's a killer. And I'm not talking about people who chew with their mouths open. This sends me over the edge of insanity, but it's pretty universally agreed upon that it's rude and disgusting. (Always. It is never not rude and disgusting. Don't do it. I mean it. And please, for the love of all that is good and holy, don't talk with food in your mouth. It is never appropriate. Especially on the phone. I've got to stop talking about this because I'm starting to have anxiety. Serenity Now!) I'm talking about the sound of people chewing with their mouths closed. Poor, unsuspecting people just eating their breakfast, who don't even realize that my soul is dying listening to them eat their Grape Nuts (this was every morning for four years while eating breakfast with dad before seminary). They're not even chewing loudly. A normal person wouldn't even notice you chewing a banana but to me it's like you have a microphone in your mouth that is connected to an amp in my ear and every chomp and squish is magnified. I'm okay in groups. The conversation usually masks all the chewing. It's the one on one that gets me. There have even been a couple times at work when I'm by myself in the lunch room and the radio isn't on and I've heard myself chewing my sandwich and had to stop eating. See, it's not you, it's me. I'm the freak. Although I'm not alone. Casey has the same problem. Shout out to Brazil!!

3.) I like my freckles. I think they're cute. I like it when I go to the beach and they really pop out.

4.) I still want to be an astronaut when I grow up. Since I was a kid I've wanted to go into space and whenever someone would ask what I wanted to be I would say an astronaut. My plans were foiled when I realized that my best chances for becoming one was to either be a scientist or join the military. My hope is that one day NASA will be looking for someone to write funny anecdotes from the International Space Station.

5.) I love maps. I want to wallpaper my apartment in them. Several years ago I decided that I needed to learn where all the countries in the world were and not just be able to tell you their general location but be able to pinpoint them on a blank map with no borders. I'm working on learning all the capitals of the world now. I also love geology, you know rocks and plate tectonics, that sort of stuff. I think it's fascinating to see how the earth was formed. I think I'm secretly a science geek - which gives me a little hope for the whole astronaut thing.

6.) I like tomatoes but halfway through my hamburger or sandwich I will take it out if there is one. For years I would put a tomato in my hamburger, knowing that I would eventually take it out. It wasn't until about a year ago that I realized I didn't even have to start with the tomato.

Okay, I tag Amanda (because she hasn't posted in about 85 years), Heather, Liz W., Liz L., Laura, and Andrea. Ready...GO!

Definitely Not Dreaming

Things I saw on late night TV in between the hours of 11pm and 2am during a failed attempt at falling asleep which made me think that I may have actually fallen asleep and was having either a lovely dream or a terrifying nightmare:

1.) Richard Simmons on Dave. His white man afro is a powerful force to be reckoned with. Strangely, I was more afraid of the picture Dave showed of him in a suit then I was of him wearing his usual tank top and shorty shorts on the show.

2.) Sondre Lerche on Dave. Lindsay turned me on to him a few years ago and his songs are entirely sing-along-able.

3.) Jake Gyllenhaal on Conan. His full beard makes him look like a German mathematician. Had my teacher looked like him I probably would not have failed Geometry.

4.) Former Mexican president Vicente Fox on Craig Ferguson. It was a battle over who had the most luxurious accent.

5.) Carson Daly. Why does his head remind me of Guy Smiley?

6.) Pastor Melissa Scott – widow of that crazy TV evangelist who, while alive, wore those child molester tinted glasses and wrote gibberish all over a white board. She was singing. Possibly in tongues.

7.) Bob Ross, whose white man afro kicks Richard Simmons’ to the ground and calls it names, painting a happy little mountain vista. His soft and gentle voice was finally what put me to sleep. Thanks Bob. I owe you.

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On an entirely unrelated note: Laura may have celebrity sightings but I have celebrity commenters. Well, I should probably say "celebrity" in this case. Bean, from the Kevin and Bean show, posted a comment on my other blog. I'm going to believe that it's actually him and will now tell everyone that we're BFF.

The Fair: A Tutorial

You are so lucky you know me. "Why," you ask, "besides your charming personality and extra large crayon collection?" Well, on top of those fine qualities, I also happen to be a fair expert. I'm always shocked to learn of people who have lived here their whole lives but have only been to the fair once and had sort of an okay time but didn't really want to go back. This is because they've never gone with me. The LA County Fair is the greatest place on earth! And because I'm a loving and generous friend I'm going to give you a little tutorial in how to get the most out of your fair experience.

1.) Enter through the Blue Gate. There are a few other places to park but unless you want to be mauled by rabid teenagers with more piercings than brain cells, go through the Blue Gate. Plus you get the added bonus of walking through a tunnel once you pass the blue gate. Tunnels are fun and mysterious and lead to adventure. In this case, they also lead to donuts the size of your face.

2.) Do not waste your time on the carny rides. A few rides are okay, like the Big Yellow Slide (you all know the BYS, right? If you're at the fair on Saturday come look for me on it.) All other rides are mostly death traps and while you're plummeting to your untimely end you're missing out on all the really fun stuff like...

3.) Vendors, vendors, vendors! I love walking through the exhibit halls because where else can you buy a bag of beef jerky, a bamboo plant, magnetic jewelry, shammies, a quilting machine, shatter-proof dishes, a Back Bubble, plus register to vote, get rid of constipation, pick up a pamphlet from the Masons and listen to the Elks 99 Orchestra all in one building. You should also have a look at the spa section on your way to the Flower Building, but be careful of the those vendors. People who sell spas and grills would put their grandma in a cage match with a robot to make a deal with you.

4.) The arts and crafts buildings are great places to see amazing things. Last year I saw an entire crocheted sea-scape and a hook rug with Elvis on it. People craft the kookiest things. It's also in here that you get to see the table setting competition. Do NOT miss this.

5.) The main animal section is great because you get to see all the babies (Is there anything cuter than a barn yard baby? I don't think so.) but if you really want to get up close and personal with an animal you need to go to the back barns where they keep the cows that are going to be shown and sold. They don't have gates on the stalls and you can walk right up to a cow and pet it. This will make you feel real country like, until snot starts dripping from their noses and you run away screaming like a girl. You can also convince a guy to open up the gate that leads to the horse stalls. When I was a kid I met a woman who had two fingers bitten off by a horse so I'm not real big on petting them but they're pretty to look at. Oh, and don't wear sandals. You know exactly what you're stepping in when you go into those barns.

6.) Animal races are worth it. Whether it's horses on the big track or the pigs by Building 6, it is worth sticking around to watch. Gina told me that at the Utah State Fair they have a turkey stampede. Now that would be something to see.

7.) Have a mullet count. I'm planning on doing this on Saturday. On Wednesday I saw a bunch but I didn't keep track. I will not be so lazy the next time. The place is exploding with really trashy people! They're everywhere. The fair is like one big giant Wal-Mart, except it's magical so all those people who usually drive me bonkers in Wal-Mart suddenly because hysterically funny when they're holding onto a turkey leg. I hope Screaming Mom with No Bra made it to the Dimension Bra booth. (Side note: the bust the bra is on looks like it could be peach but it's not. It's glowing! I asked that man in the background if I could take his picture and he smiled like I was from People Magazine.) Here's a fun story to illustrate the type of people you get to see: We were walking towards the animal area and in front of us was a highly mullet-ed couple. Mr. Mullet was holding onto the Pro-Cord with one hand (this is the "It" Item at the fair this year. It looks like a yellow hernia donut), and his other hand was wrapped around Mrs. Mullet and was SCRATCHING HER BUTT like it was a winning Lotto ticket!! Knights of Columbus! I almost choked on my Dr. Bob's ice cream cone from laughing.

8.) Get a Dr. Bob's ice cream cone.

9.) This brings us to Fair Food. I know that some people think buying food at the fair is a waste of money and a few years of your life from that early heart attack you're bound to have from ingesting so much grease, but not eating at the fair is like going to a movie theater and sitting out in the lobby. For book club a few months ago we read the Devil in the White City, which is about the World's Fair in Chicago, so naturally our food theme for the night was fair food. We had caramel apples, funnel cake (way easier to make than you would ever expect), fried zucchini, onion rings, and cotton candy. Besides the Food You Would Want at the End of the World theme we had a few years ago, it was the best night of food we've had, and that wasn't even REAL fair food. Really great fair food must fit into the following categories: it must be either fried, drenched in chocolate or on a stick. Which is why the deep fried chocolate dog on a stick may be the ultimate fair food. Go with an open mind, an empty stomach and a wallet full of cash because they will charge you $6 for a corn dog. It's worth it. Eat it!

10.) Invite me to come along. My excitement for the fair it contagious.

There, you're set. Go to the fair. Count the mullets, pet the animals, eat the food, enjoy yourself. But do not get your fortune told. She wasn't even dressed like a gypsy.

A Tally

A tally of Saturday:

Miles logged: 214
Venues where I sang Valderee Valderah: 2
Oktoberfests we stumbled upon: 1
Elks we saw: Just 1 but it would have been higher if we had remembered our membership cards.
Traffic jams I found myself in after midnight: 2
Handicap spots I parked in: 1
Times I had to turn around to get up the mountain: 2
Minutes we waited at the intersection at Highland before we could turn left: 14
Amount we paid for that miraculous parking space: $25
Amount we would have paid if he had asked: $75
Times I thought apricot stilton cheese was made by angels in heaven: 18
Wishes I made that Carol Channing would adopt me: 5
Times I thought that anyone who doesn't live here is a chump: about 100.

Such a lovely day.

A few words on Pink Martini at the Hollywood Bowl. Yahoo, hooray and wowie! If you weren't there then you have no idea what fun actually is. There were several times throughout the show that I thought my only viable option for happiness would be to rush the stage and beg them to let me please, please, pretty-please be in their group and have fun with them forever. I'll be a back up dancer! I'll schlep the harp around! I can play the kazoo and make brownies for everyone! When they were playing Bolero and the fireworks were going off my face exploded from smiling so much. Those two post-bedtime traffic jams didn't even faze me.

Notes on a baseball game

My first trip to Dodger Stadium is etched in my memory like...um...something etched (I'm horrible with similes). I was eight-ish and my dad picked me up at my grandparent's house where I had spent the morning, no doubt playing King Leonardo and watching the People's Court, because that's what we always did with Grandma. (Sometimes we laid shelf paper in the cupboards. But Grandparent Memories are for another post.) We drove out to the stadium and I remember passing by the murals on the 101, specifically the one with all those kids up on the wall (You know that kid holding the basketball has grown up to be a certified bunny killer). We met up with Dodger Dave, and I distinctly remember my dad saying under his breath, "Oh brother," when we saw that he was wearing his Dodger uniform. Dodger Dave has never been known for his subtly. I remember that we were up somewhere in the reserve seating and that it was sunny and warm but that's about all from the game. Do you remember in color? All of my memories are mostly of color. This memory is all green grass and yellow sun with a flash of blue and white from Dodger Dave. And it has solidified my notion that Dodger Stadium is the greatest place on earth. I don't have a single bad memory from there. Only perfect ones.

Mom, Dad and I went to the Dodger game last night and, as usual, it was great, even without making it on the Jumbo-tron. We won (wahoo!) and it was short (home by 10:30, although like all good Dodger fans we left in the middle of the 8th) and we were surrounded by non-obnoxious people. This is about all you can hope for when going to a sporting event - that the people sitting around you aren't no-neck hooligans who will eventually spill beer on you. Our neighbors were lovely and charming. The one behind us especially. I've named him the Baseball Sage. He was wearing a pink Oxford and was expounding on all sorts of things to his young companion (I wasn't sure what their relationship was. The Sage was clearly a professor and my guess is the kid was his TA or a student who wanted to suck up to get a better grade by indulging the guy. Although at one point he went up and bought the kid a rootbeer float. Hm.) He kept talking about the ideal of baseball and it's many complexities. Academics like that make me both roll my eyes and giggle at the same time because 1.) What a windbag and 2.) What a character. And you should have heard him sing Take Me out to the Ballgame. Two words: Gusto and Vim.

While at the game I made a few observations:

1.) In baseball there are the long pants and the short pants. But future Hall of Fame pitcher Greg Maddux wears medium pants, or man-pris if you will. (And I will).

2.) Man-space is not just a theory.

It is a proven fact that if two male friends go anywhere and they are give the option to not sit next to each other they won't.

3.) I make it a habit to ask people how long they've worked at the stadium. I have never once heard anyone say anything fewer than 25 years. Case in point: Sid the Usher. I think he could be 119. I wonder if he's single.
*

4.) It's the old time stuff I love the most about Dodger Stadium. Vin Scully up in his box. Nancy Bea at the organ. Sometimes Tommy Lasorda will come out and watch a few innings. I even love that they reverted back to the old colors of the stadium. Certainly the Baseball Sage could go on for days about the traditions of baseball but I won't bore you. I'll just say that he would be right.
5.) All stadiums should be landscaped with palm trees.

6.) Baseball teams should not be allowed to change their colors just because they feel like it. I'm looking at you Padres. Dad pointed out that their uniforms are the same colors as our ushers'.

7.) Watching David Wells lumber around the bases after he hit a miraculous double makes me so happy that we don't have a DH in the National League.

8.) Baseball is awesome.

*Remind me to find that picture Camille sent me of Sid's old-man butt that she took last spring. Classic.

My Governor is Austrian

I was a little grumpy yesterday. Something threw me into a funk and I found myself stomping around and mumbling to myself as I watered my plants, which I'm sure entertained/terrified Mrs. Across the Way, who was also out watering her plants. I forget that I'm not actually invisible and other people can see me when I talk to myself, which is all too often.

Fortunately the grumpiness didn't last long. There were several factors that lifted the funk and restored the Blue Bird of Happiness to my soul:

1.) I was finally successful, after a 2 week campaign, in convincing my doctor that it would be beneficial to me and everyone else around me if she gave the thumbs-up for my allergy medication to be refilled without me having to go in and see her. I don't want to have to spend $10 and an hour after work to hear the same thing I've heard for every doctor, which is, "Oh my! Your nasal passages are really blocked! Squirt this stuff into your nose twice a day for the rest of your life." The nose has been squirted and joy is in my heart.

2.) I found my MIKA cd in my glove box and listened to it all the way back to the Duke's.

3.) I picked up my pictures that I had framed and they look terrific. Like they're real art or something. I wonder if I could get Simon Schama-lama-ding-dong to critique them.

4.) Chipotle for dinner. Yum.

5.) This blog has gone international! Acording to the old blog minder, I have received 22 hits from a domain in Austria. Mystery! I don't know anyone in Austria. Who are you little Austrian friend? I will now give you a little German: Ich liebe dich. Ich möchte kartoffelsalat. Sitzen sie sich!

Four years of German and that's about all I can produce. Herr Baker would be so proud. If you ever see me in person, and you ask nicely and bring me a brownie, I can sing a song about a cat with white paws auf Deutsch. It is sehr charming.

Auf wiedersehen, Darlings!

Cry Baby

I cry a lot. Amanda, testify! (Amanda has seen me at my most tearful moment, that being the end of Million Dollar Baby. Sweet Tuna, that was a sad movie. We weren't just crying silently to ourselves. Oh no. We were sobbing openly, weeping as if all the bunnies in the world had died. The government came over and declared our apartment a wetland preserve after we finished watching it because loons started migrating in.) You would be amazed and probably concerned over how much I can cry. I like to think of it as a medical condition because most of the time I physically cannot stop myself from crying and I'm looking forward to the day when I can no longer function in society and I can start collecting disability and live off of your tax dollars.

But that's where the benefits of being a chronic crier end. Because have you seen me cry? It is not pretty. My chin quivers, my face squinches up and my eyes, which already have a bit of the Orient* in them, turn into puffy red slits. It does not help that I lose all ability to speak when I cry and I can't explain to people that it's a condition and I'm pathetic and please stop looking at me with sympathetic eyes because it makes me cry even more.

I've spent years trying to look less frightening when I cry. I have perfected the art of the gentle swipe. Amateurs make the mistake of wiping the tears away at the eye, which makes you look worse because it only irritates them more. The best way is to let the tear fall down your cheek and then gently swipe it away with your fingers. This also makes you seem delicate and makes people feel sorry for you rather than embarrassed to be around you. It's possible I'm deluding myself into thinking this.

Either way, here is a mostly general and in no way complete list of things that make me cry:

1.) Sad things
2.) Happy things
3.) Other people crying
4.) Kindness
5.) Crippled homeless people
6.) Good-byes
7.) The elderly
8.) Most stories on NPR
9.) St. Jude commercials
10.) The Olympics
11.) James Blake winning his very first career five-setter last night
12.) Remembering times when I cried
13.) Sam, Stacy and Ben moving to Idaho



Because that last one encompasses numbers 1, 3, and 6 (with a little bit of 2 because it's an adventure for them) you can imagine that I'm a little teary today.

Quick, tell me a joke.

*Sam, also blessed with a bit of the Orient, has a theory: Genghis Khan and his men plundered as far west as Bulgaria, which, as we all know, is pretty close to Switzerland, which is where our very neutral and chocolate loving people are from. I could be the heir to the Mongolian Empire for all you know. Bow! Bow to the Empress!