Able Baker Charlie

I have no idea why I was so excited to bake this cake.  

But I was.

I saw it and got totally enamored with the idea of creating something that was signaled summer to me.  Fresh limes, blueberries; goodness me it looked like it should have been a June wedding dress.

I dunno, maybe I am showing my vulnerabilities.  My softer underbelly.

Or it could be that making pastries like this are contributing to that softer underbelly.

I gotta get a new hobby.

By the way, it's no secret that I have at one time stored old Cooking Light magazines in my home.  Like something you expect to see when clearing out an old widows home wondering why she kept all those Good Housekeeping and Women's Day magazines stacked next to her couch.

Recently, however, I streamlined my sickness.

I cut out the one's I thought looked the easiest, the most likely that our children would eat.

So now all the single pages are up in our cook book cupboard.

Just so that you don't have to sift through it all, HERE is the recipe.  

What's in a blog

I have been pondering the last few weeks about what a blog is.

Web Log

We Blog

I get the feeling that it really comes down to this:

www whatdoIwanttoshowtheworldaboutmylife.com

Does anyone really want to know that stuff? Is it an advertisement for a product noone really wants to buy? Or is it a train wreck we are just really trying to avoid, but we can't? Is it too heavy sometimes, or not heavy enough? Is it for posterity? A journal for the future? Or simply a way to entertain myself and/or my wife? Is it real, or is it a front? Should it dig deep, should it have "meaning"? Or is superficial a better way to go. Can it be both?

What do I want my blog to be?

Does it need to be anything....

Communication Breakdown

So here is the scene in my office today: My assistant, Mrs. S, is out sick. So I am working with Ms. P, whom I have worked with in the past, we have a good relationship. Ms. P is a divorced mother of 3, in her mid 50s, and very nice. So I am coming out of a meeting and Ms. P is talking to someone at the front desk and then makes a comment so I can hear that goes something like this:

“…and then Brandon keeps bugging me for this and that….” (laugh laugh). 

So I say, “Hey, my wife isn’t here for me to bug, so I have to bug somebody.”

To which Ms. P says, “Yea, I have a lot of practice at that. I’m still pretty good at it.”

……………uh…………..uh………….head scratch…………What in the world does that mean?

To which I just nod and say, “Right.” , and then scurry to my office.

My topic today is about inter-communicative oddities. Namely, what to do when someone you are having a conversation with says something that makes absolutely no sense. My immediate reaction is to file a sexual harassment complaint. I mean, times are tough, it’s worth a shot and the kids need summer clothes. Besides, when was the last time you felt like someone insulted you and/or possibly your wife, or maybe insulted the other person in the room she was talking to?  It doesn't matter.  Everyone does it.  She's had a lot of practice at it and she's still pretty good at it.

I guess I could have actually said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?  Could you please explain what you meant when you said......"  But no.  That would be overstepping some social boundary.  I believe it's the same boundary that exists around the "I'm sorry waiter, this isn't what I ordered" territory.

I think my first exposure to this method of communication was when I was about 16 I was standing in my grandmother's driveway.  She and I were talking and her neighbor came outside and shouted something to my grandmother.  She smiled, said, "Yes, yes." and then we turned to go back into her house.  I asked her what her neighbor had said, because I didn't hear it, and my grandmother said she didn't know.

Didn't know?  

I asked, "What if she had just tried to tell you her mother had passed away?  Your response was a smile and 'yes, yes'.  What do you do then."

Older people probably get away with this much more than they should.  I actually think that is how wars are started.  Someone says something like, "Hey, are you harboring terrorists here?"  and the people respond with a smile and "Yes, yes."  What they thought they heard was "Today new barbering therapist's gear."'

"Earn more sessions by sleeving." Or something like that.

Can we all have a word we say when we have something like that happen?  Could there be a code word for the time when you don't understand what the person just said?

Let's use "Jethro".

Artism

When I was growing up, if someone said the word "Autistic" I thought perhaps that they meant something else.

Like Maybe they were from New England and were saying that they were "Ahtistic" like you would hear someone at the museum say, "You know, that Van Gogh was pretty Ahtistic." Like "wicked scaaf".

As you grow older I think that you learn the hard way sometimes what words mean. You can also learn that words can mean the same thing.

I would say that Nick is Artistic.

He loves to draw. He loves to read. He loves, more recently, to write books.

I have scanned in his latest publication.

It's titled The Kingdom of Doom. (I apologize for the gratuitous violence.)




















Moral of the story? Life starts out pretty wonderful. Sure you may run into a few challenges, but in the end you feel so good about things, you're even able to share a little wink.

Showtime

I love watching a movie with you.  

Like when we watch a James Bond movie.

You always know the right places to say, "Oh no!"  

Like when he falls from a high terrace onto a roof.  

Or when he seduces a foreign speaking woman, you don't roll your eyes and say, "as if".  You go right along with it, thinking that it's possible he could have met her today, bought her a drink, and found the plans to save the world in one evening.  All the while caught up in espionage and intrigue.  But deep down inside, I know you don't REALLY believe it.

That's why it's fun.  

We don't even mind the piles of laundry, either.

It's that time of year again

Tournament Time is Here again.

I'm not going to draft you a list of the guests that we have coming, it's all too good to be true and I wont get excited about it until they actually show up.  But it's going to be especially hard this year to try and organize it from  separate offices now:  Matt's and mine.  But since we started planning this year's event back in December, it has been an incredible miracle to see the response.  Even in this environment, we have been able to almost fill the entire tournament.  Mostly returning sponsors, but a larger number of new one's and that's the surprising part.  We're grateful for all the generosity that has come to this event.  Last year we were able to gather over 140 participants and raise over $100,000 for the fight to find a cure for CF.  We are aiming to raise even more this year.

Date:  May 18th, 2009

Location:  The Promontory Golf Club in Park City, Utah

We'll keep you posted.  

This is why we do it.

Ode to my late appointment

"A Coffee and a Nosh sounds good..." you said.  "Meet me at the Salt Lake Roasting Company.  I'll be the one with the frosted hair."

"I'll probably be the only one in a suit."  I said.  You laughed at that one, pretty hard.  Maybe too hard.  "My hair is a little, as you say, frosted as well." I said.

But as I sit here with the unmistakable pungent aroma of coffee and nosh permeating my being, I have come to the conclusion that you have either forgotten about our appointment, or you have chosen to trick me.  Trickery is common when someone is meeting someone for the first time.  

As I sit here, I watch what appears to be the local VFW meeting in one corner.  They are discussing something about Japan, though I can't make it out exactly.  You know when you realize you are being totally obvious that you are listening in and you are afraid you are going to get caught?  That's what I am doing.  They are talking about Mercury or something, certainly not the planet.  Maybe the car.  In another corner I can see a man dressed in a business casual outfit speaking to a woman.  Above the din I can hear words like ".. a lot of success in Canada...." and "...a person in your position...".  A Northwestern type grunge man, or as some would call him a hippy, is pounding away at his laptop with his headphones in.  So cliche.  So Starbucks.  You are now 20 minutes late.  My official cutoff time is 25 minutes.  I notice a woman leaving the counter with a pastry on a plate in one hand and a balancing act involving coffee in the other.  She has somewhat frosted hair.   I almost hope it's not you.  At this point, this late, I figure you're more embarrassed than happy to see me, so let's just bypass the pleasantries.  I will slip out the back door, you can enjoy your nosh.  You'll figure I was killed in a freakish computer accident at work, or perhaps accosted for being the only person in a suit in this joint.  I will call you and leave a message at your house indicating I waited until 20 after and then had to get back to the office.  But our eyes meet, and immediately she notices that I AM the only person in this joint in a suit.  She notices my Merrill Lynch binder on the small, round table in front of me.  A sense of familiarity immediately is apparent on her face.

"Barbara?"  I ask.

"Brian?"

Dang it.

music for a mid-summer night's drive

Warm summer evenings when the shadows are long and the wind is blowing in your car window as you speed away from home with the love of your life at your side listening to this music with the volume set somewhere between loud and inaudible and 4 hours until we have to be home and it's okay that we don't have plans because we can listen to this music all the way there and back and it's even better because we haven't even gotten to summer yet and this music takes me there and back each time I listen to it because it's classic Chris Isaak and sure they're sappy love songs but that's why we love him and we feel sappy sometimes too and since we're in love it's okay to listen to sappy love songs, but then again it's been a long time since we have heard really good music to drive by and I am so glad that we have some now since all I want to do is drive with my love all over the world and we never have to come home and think about real life because now we have a perfect soundtrack for doing something like that together on date night or even on nights when there's nothing special to do but be together.

Smoke gets in your eyes

If you pay any attention to my wife's blog, you know that we had a run in with the law the other day.

We set out to create a slow burning fire in the back yard that would be sufficient to play two roles:  Entertainment for the 7 kids in our back yard and possibly burn some of the 20 tons of leaves we have collected.  Smart idea?  Maybe not, but certainly harmless enough.  2 basically responsible adults in attendance could deter any real problems.

Then the Fuzz showed up.

Correct.  Someone called the PoPo on us.  But when you live in Mayberry, the police and the fire department and the ambulance all use the same vehicle.  As we sat there we had the fire going, kids cooking hot dogs on willow branches, and Jodi dutifully filling bags with leaves when up yonder an ambulance pulled up and two fire fighters got out and started the decent into our little corner of tranquility.  

After pleasantries....

Them:  You know you're supposed to call before you have a fire in your backyard.  Even if it's a recreational burn.  (Is that even a real word?)

Us:  We had no idea, so sorry.  We will call you next time.  (And ask you to bring chips and drinks.)

Them:  Also, you want to burn good dry wood so you have a CLEAN burn.  With all this smoke your neighbors must have suspected a fire and that's why we got the call.

Kid in our yard: She told us to put leaves in there.(Ah, the innocence of youth)

Now, I grew up in the house of a firefighter and I was not aware that you needed to call the fire department and let them know of your backyard cookout in the fire pit.  Otherwise we would have been invited to a lot more fire pit cookouts.

As nice as an experience it was for my kids to see authority come into our backyard and set their parents straight, it was also a little too familiar to me.  It took me back to a time when I was a scout, probably the same age as my son.  On a scout camp in the foothills of Draper.  We had hiked up to the camp from the church (you could do that then, there were no houses.) Our scoutmaster was coming up to meet us from work.  We set camp, started a fire, and proceeded to play games around camp.  As the sun began to go down behind the Oquirrh Mountains, we set our attention to watching down the hills for our scoutmaster.  Draper was a sleepy town of about 6,000 at the time, and you could literally see each road and house.  We immediately noted that there was activity at the firehouse.  Then, to our excitement, a fire truck departed the firehouse and began, lights flashing, to weave through the maze of quite town streets.  We were excited to see where the fire would be as we sat perched on top of the hills with a perfect view.  We began to wager where the fire was.  We then noted that the truck turned and headed towards the canyon road, heading towards us.  Are you catching on here?  We weren't.  Funny, we thought, that the truck was heading right towards where we expected to see our scoutmaster approaching our camp.  Suddenly, as most things with kids of that age are, someone said, "Has anyone checked the fire?".  If it were a movie, the camera would then pan out and show a large orange glow up the hill from where we were.  Sprinting to the camp we noted about an acre of burnt brush and proceeded to pray and prance around the camp stomping to the best of our ability.  Emptying our night's supply of Sprite and water on every glowing ember.  When the truck arrived, guess who was the first one out of the truck?  My dad.  We had a lot of explaining to do, and I guess, looking back now as an adult, the inopportune arrival of our scoutmaster at the exact time as the fire truck probably gave him the opportunity to do some explaining as well.  All in all, no harm done.  We stayed on the mountain, amidst the smokey, crusty ground.

So, yes, I have a history with fire and authority.

I need to go now, I have to get ready for scout camp.

A Kid and A Man

How did this happen?  He's still a kid, but today my oldest son turned 12.  All of a sudden he's one of us.  I can't believe it.  (Cliche warning)  It all happened to fast.  One minute he was a little boy with food all over his face on his birthday.  Now he is a young man with food all over his face on his birthday.  I would tell you, but you would not believe it.

It all started when he did that dang lip sync.

He changed.  He became someone we haven't seen.  I believe that he was one boy who needed a miracle to become a man, in a broad sense.  And I think if I look back at that day and since, that was it.  He's happier, he's confident, he's excited about life.  It is so wonderful to see.  

Welcome Brayden, to the other side of childhood.  Now the journey really begins.

It's finally over....

the first day without my business partner.

No sappy songs here.  But it's like your best friend just moved away.  "Best friend"....heh, we're related.  It's not like I won't see him every other weekend at a family party or the fact that he lives exactly 3 minutes from my house.  

But it will be different.  Life will be different for a while.  There are new opportunities for both of us. 

The forces that be combined against our little effort. 

There are somethings in life you side-step and find ways around instead of being able to conquer head-on.  At least for the time being.  

We're not dead yet. 

Just delayed for a while.  

We have to spend the summer apart (to go back to an earlier analogy).  

You spend enough time with someone, even on a professional level, they become so close to you. 

It's like your daytime spouse, if you will.

You know the same places, the same daytime friends.  The same crappy places to eat lunch.  You finish each other's sentences.  You know, or think you have a pretty good idea, what the other one is thinking.  Someone who will proof read your emails, your letters to clients.  Someone who you bounce crazy business ideas off of.  Someone you set goals with, someone who you share your triumphs with.  Someone whom you also look at after you walk out of the most dirt filled, wretched smelling, disorganized office after an appointment and say, "Well, at least that parrot didn't attack us."

If you have ever had a business partner, you know what I speak of.

So, yes, life will be different for a while. 

The Spanish have a word for a situation like this.

Limonada.  Which, if you translate it directly to English means: No Limo.  

But the second definition means Lemonade.  

Visiting the Zoo

The cabin.

It is a wonderful, magical place.  

But when it is filled with 10 kids under 13, it becomes so much more than that.

It becomes a zoo.  

I'm thinking more of the gorilla display as opposed to the exotic bird house.

We had an incredibly fun time, the boys were, well.....boys.  Brayden's 12th birthday celebration.  Tons of food, candy, playstation, and what could eventually become an Olympic sport - the boys invented Worm Wars.  

This is played by getting into your sleeping bag and wrestling with all the other kids, who are also in their sleeping bags.  

I think the last time I went out of our room to encourage the kids to quiet down, it was 12:43 AM.  

So, really, it was a scout camp without the merit badges.

I think my second favorite moment of the night was when Jodi asked if boys that age are aware that they smell that way and make those noises.  

I laughed, then I said, "Smell what way?"

Nick has started a blog.

Inspired by my wife

My better half just posted about music from the 80's, I love the fact that her first concert was Guns N Roses at the Salt Palace.  I love the fact that she made fun of the girl who listened to the Violent Femmes and Erasure.  Like those people were from another planet.

Well, here's my first concert:

I guess that means we wouldn't have been friends, or at least she would have roller her eyes at me when I drove by with HoJo blasting or better yet, Simple Minds.

I think we all need to confess our first concerts, get them out there.  I believe it makes a statement about our youth that has absolutely nothing to do with who we are today.  I remember having to get extra, extra special permission to go to the Thompson Twins/OMD concert, because it was on a SUNDAY!!!  GASP.  Of course, there is no way I would let my kids go to a concert on a Sunday now, but back then, I think it was before the whole list of things that you shouldn't do on a Sunday was widely distributed.  I remember the crowd going wild, OMD came out first and it was just the two of them and a keyboard.  Then the real show started, it was their "Here's to Future Days" tour.  I bought a picture book and a t-shirt, unfortunately they only had a Medium size left.  Well, those of you who know me realize I have been a "large" all my life.  So needless to say the desire to show off my concert tee diminished greatly the next day when I was walking through the halls of my middle school wearing a shirt that looked like it had been purchased for a small stuffed animal.

What's worse?  Yea, I had one of these strapped on my wrist:

So, not only would Jodi have not had anything to do with me growing up, she probably would have backed me over with a pick-up truck.  And you know what?  I probably deserved it.  Thank goodness for time and, more importantly, spending those formidable years hundreds of miles apart.

Wii HAVE A LOT TO LEARN

Tonight was the Ward Wii party.  

We don't have a Wii.

Turns out, we're the only people in the Ward without a Wii.

We are the only people in the whole city of Kaysville who don't have a Wii.

Even the folks at the rest home have a Wii.

Even the Bishop has a Wii.

Inmates in prison have a Wii.  The world is Wii-ly obsessed.

I am not saying all of this because I want a Wii.  Sure, it would be fun, but, eh...whatever.

This was our second annual Wii party, and though they are very fun, it's a little like this:  You show up to a basketball game.  Right before it starts a guy comes out and makes the motion like he is going to lead everyone in a song.  Everyone falls silent, the conductor raises his hand and on the same count, everyone in the whole arena starts singing the same song.  Turns out, it's a national anthem from a country you have never heard of.  Everyone in the arena knows the song but you, they now begin to look at you as though you should know the song.  You smile and mouth the endings of a few of the words to make it look like you are singing along.  Turns out they realize you don't know the song.  Then they realize you aren't even a citizen in this country.  When the song is over, they come after you, because you don't know the song.  They throw things at you, chase you from town, beg you never to come back.

There, that's what Wii night is like.

But it's not like I don't have video game street cred.  I could have put myself, my wife, and my kids through college if I had only SAVED the money I spent on arcade games, namely Karate Champ, Gauntlet, Defender, Battlezone, Star Wars, and the like.  But now I am old.  And the older I realize I am, the more I want to see if any of these young whipper snappers would like to play an ACTUAL GUITAR, instead of PRETENDING to be a hero.

I think I need to go to bed.  I am really not that set off by all this, I think this is what watching one episode of American Idol does to a person. 

Idol - i - tree

I just finished watching my very first episode of American Idol.  I have to admit, it is something I have had no interest in whatsoever.  PEOPLE are PASSIONATE about it.  I wanted to watch it tonight because my client's niece is on there.  She's the one from Sandy, Utah that sang the Corinne Bailey Rae song.  Megan Joy, I think.  Well, here it goes....

I liked it.  

I NEVER watch T.V., the occasional golf game on Sunday, I think the last thing I actually sat down to watch was the Olympics.  I really kind of enjoyed how talented, yet not so talented everyone was.  I could actually see why people get into it.  Perhaps I will watch it again next week.         Perhaps.

2 favorite comments of the night, though, and they didn't come from that Simon guy.  One was from Nick, our 6 year old (after Simon makes a particularly mean comment to one of the performers):

"He's mean......can we fight him?  I would like to fight him."

The other was from Allie, our 4 year old:

"When I am on that show, will you vote for me?"

Of course, sweets.  As soon as I figure out how to vote.

Who Wins?

VS

Why is the apple so close?

Since My Three Sons are not all blogging, we will call it

My Two Sons.

Son 1

and Son 2

Please, enter at your own risk.

Junkie

I have many things of which I am a junkie:

Jodi

Lightning

Music

Golf

Geography

and Guitar.  

I know things about guitar and guitar players that people shouldn't know.  Like what guitar Jimmy Page used to record the famous solo in Stairway to Heaven: It was a Fender Telecaster, not, as some would mistake, his trademark Gibson Les Paul.  Or what the difference is in a tube amplifier compared to a transistor amplifier.  I am the one who goes to a concert and stares at the stage, not at the people, but at their guitars.  Like how sweet is this one?

So while I was playing tonight and listening to my daughter sing into my microphone, she was literally singing absolute wacky lyrics, I had to catch myself,  I was loving it so much.  I could have played all night while she sang.  She, by the way, is an incredible singer.  I will have to post some of her more amazing performances.  

I decided to let you know that I am a guitar junkie.  Whether playing, watching, listening, or holding.  I love guitar.  There, I said it.  I have a problem.

But it doesn't necessarily lead me to bad things, I mean, how do you think I got Jodi to marry me?  

By playing her "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" on our first date, that's how.

I should be writing cards

Last week My Blessed had her annual Valentine/Birthday combination.  I love it, its a weekend of All Jodi and it sometimes makes me wish it happened every month.  She is so wonderful.  

During this time it is a real cornucopia of Valentines cards and birthday cards.  I read through them and think to myself:

Me:  "What in the world is this rubbish?"

Self: "Yea, like you could do better."

Me: "I totally could.  Do these people who write these cards have any friends at all?"

Self:  "You don't, what are you worried about?"

Me:  "It's like these writers have had no contact with human beings in any social setting.  Maybe they were raised by typewriters."

Self:  "Ooh, look!  Pants are on sale."

Let me give you a couple of examples of what I am talking about, and you tell me if I am the only one who believes somehow we are being fleeced: (from actual cards)

"wishing you a very warm birthday."

"A Birthday is just another first day of a 365-day trip around the Sun.  Enjoy the journey!"

"I hope all your birthday wishes and dreams come true."

"Wishing you everything happy for your birthday."

"Here's to another year of experience."

I guess the most disappointing part of this is that these cards are $1.99 - $2.99.  So, I searched the world over and found this incredibly sweet blank card. I figured I could write better prose than some sweaty, bearded man working in a small shack in Istanbul who was writing these other cards.  I picked out this one:

I loved it.  After looking for hours and hours and reading really, really bad copy, I was ready to move on with presenting the card to my wife before she had another birthday.  I turned it over......$6.95.

So what the card publishers are telling us is that really, we are better writers than they are.  They know it.  So cards that we make are naturally going to be worth more, because we are going to bring up the story about the guy in the place with the thing, and it was sooo funny, we laughed until we cried, etc., etc.  

The cards they write are rubbish, so they are worthless.

RECESSION MONEY MAKING IDEA #152

Start a card company called Crap Cards.  "We know it's crap, but hey - you didn't write it."