halloween

in case you missed him,

The King . . . . .

has left the building.

(I won't even tell you how many hours I spent gluing sequins onto this baby.)

super fan

The Oldest Carrotstick has discovered a latent love for the game of football.She has been to more football games this fall than she ever has in her entire life. (I would say she's watched more football, but that would be an untruth.) She has attended varsity football games at each of the three high schools in our area, and even a number of the freshman football games.

Doesn't it seem odd then that she turned down PB&J's extra BYU Football tickets to the last home game?

What is it about this: that is so much more interesting to her than this?

I wonder. ;)

today's secret ingredient:

This weekend has been very low key. And that's nice. Yesterday we watched 4 hours of General Conference (yay!) And the since I wasn't feeling very well, I also watched way too many hours of the Iron Chef Marathon of a previous season's reruns. It was awesome. Real chefs can create amazing feats of wonder with the weirdest ingredients. Probably the strangest concoction was Catfish and Grape Truffles. Though the host (Alton Brown) cautioned the judge not to throw up, she said it was surprisingly ok. I have my doubts.

The Oldest Carrotstick didn't complain too much about my Iron Chef obsession. She even watched some of it with me, and her eyes were opened a little to the world of haute cuisine.

Today, we watched Conference and had dinner at my mom and dad's. (It was yummy in a very non-catfish truffle sort-of-way.) When Conference was at last over, we packed up our stuff to head home. But before we left, she raided the pantry and grabbed some jerky for the ride home.

In the car, happily munching on her jerky and listening to her iPod, she paused for a second to ask me a question.

"Mom, what kind of bird is a Teriyaki?"

Me: "What?"

OC: "A Teriyaki. Is it like a chicken?"

Me: "Do you mean Pterodactyl? It's a bird-like dinosaur."

OC: "No, Teriyaki. Like Teriyaki Jerky... What kind of bird is that?"

This weekend, thanks to the Iron Chef, the Oldest Carrotstick and I were exposed to a world full of exotic foods -- frog legs, quail eggs, and now: the little known Teriyaki Bird. Dodo? Or perhaps the elusive Teriyaki?

a rose by any other name

I just saw this on a blog:It's called F@t E1vis.

You can buy it here.

I would order it because of the awesome name. And also because its banana/chocolate chip/peanut butter fudge flavored. How could it not be awesome?

But really I just love the name. Even though I don't love fat E1vis.

The Littlest Carrotstick wants to be E1vis for Halloween. I haven't shown him any pictures of the King yet.

I wonder which incarnation he'll choose. This one . . .

or this one?

I'm afraid I'd still choose the cakey one.

duh

Today, after the kids got home from school, I set about lining the boys up with their afternoon jobs. When I finished the list, I noticed the Middle Carrotstick was looking a little glassy eyed, and so I started to repeat the list -- thinking that the blank stare meant he hadn't been listening.

The Middle Carrotstick interrupted me.

"Mom." he said, "I speak the King's English."

well, allrighty then.

schizophrenic

do you think that in my next life, I could come back as a sports photographer?

here's my portfolio, for future reference:

safe? or out? what's your call?

check out this kid's face as he was inches away from being beaned by the ball...

and then there's this one:

Ok. I didn't actually take this one. some other mom did and I'm jealous. this is right after the boys won state and they did a celebratory lap around the bases. check out the setting sun and the rising dust. it's almost poetic, isn't it?

(I promise, this is the last of my baseball pictures. I think.)

What would you want to be in your next life?

seriously?

Though baseball season is long (practice started in April and championship games finished in the middle of July), we seriously enjoyed watching the boys play. It was a good way to spend an evening, sitting down at the ballfield.

To the casual onlooker, here's the team:

See, they're all happy. They won.

And now here's the tabloid version of the team (because inquiring minds want to know):

It was stressful for me because so much rides on the pitcher, and we take our baseball very seriously in this town.

'Cause we take our baseball very seriously around here.

'Cause we take our baseball very seriously around here.

'Cause we take our baseball way too seriously around here.

'Cause he takes his baseball very seriously even when he's not around here.

'Cause we take our baseball very seriously around here.

Also, his mom was almost escorted out of the ballpark for arguing with a mom on the other team during the city championship. (We take our baseball very seriously around here, you know.)

And he doesn't take baseball very seriously, at all.

But seriously, it's a game! And it was fun! When it wasn't too serious. And especially when they won.

(please don't stone me for blasphemy!)

not-so white socks

I just got back from an evening with the ladies in my book group and I feel so energized, I think I will blog. I know. Novel. Me. Blogging. Besides that, the Oldest Carrotstick is feeling neglected by the blogosphere and my failure to document her life. So, with that preface, I will now try to catch up on Old News. (Never fear, Oldest Carrotstick. I will write about you, just not in this post.)

Remember my string of posts bemoaning red dirt and white baseball pants?

What?????

You don't?!!!!!!????!!!

I don't blame you. I bored myself.

So here's a little refresher course. Hopefully it is slightly more entertaining.

Take this guy:

Add some of this:

Throw in a few of these:

And a shot of this:
(Come on, Blue!)

(This is me, trying take pictures through a chain link fence. Some of the parents were arguing the call and asked me if I had any evidence. Unfortunately, I think if you peer into the dust you can see the shadow of the 2nd baseman's foot on the base and the Middle Carrotstick isn't quite there.)

And you'll end up with a whole lot of this:

And sometimes even

a second (consecutive) State Championship Medal!

(These pictures are making me miss summer already.)

rise and shout!

PB&J had a most excellent time in the great state of Texas watching the Cougs take it to the Sooners.

It was joyful and triumphant.

In honor of that historic occasion, please enjoy looking at the following, found here:

Just what every kitchen needs: roadkill armadillo potholders.

Can I get a yeeeeeee-haaaaaw?

life's not fair

I've been playing with Poladroid and turning some of my pictures from the city fair back in July into faux polaroids.

It takes a while for the Poladroids to develop. I'm a little impatient, so that's the hardest part about the program. But it makes me feel all cutting edge artsy-fartsy when they are done!

Check it out. It's kind of fun!

that shower-fresh feeling

it seems it rained mud while I was in the mall today.

forever in love

me and PB&J's wedding was just like this ...



the temple workers didn't much appreciate it.

casey up to bat

wanna know where we've been all summer?

at home.

plate.


watching baseball.

The Youngest Carrotstick has been playing:

which more often than not ended up being: which has been just a little frustrating for the Youngest Carrotstick. It has forced him to plead:

(more than once)

because he likes to hit and he wants to hit it far.

(great action shot, right?)

As the Youngest Carrotstick discovered, the amazing thing about 1st grade baseball is:

And the Youngest Carrotstick really likes to run.

He also really likes to throw baseballs.

In just two more years, he could actually be the one pitching. He's spent the last three months practicing pitching with this kid, at all of the Middle Carrotstick's baseball games. He can't wait to really pitch in a game.
But I sure can.

(I really don't like this picture. I think he looks old. Even with an orange Gatorade mustache. He looks kind of like some of the Oldest Carrotsticks punk friends. I don't want my sweet little baby boy to turn into a little punk.)

(Pretty soon he'll be shaving.)

Machine pitch isn't that bad, son. Please don't grow up.

:(

handy ma'am

fyi: I survived girls camp, in case you were worried. And I even had fun! (Kind of a miracle, considering I only went to Girls Camp twice when I was a Young Woman.)

I have also survived the return home. All the camp stuff is put away, and the laundry is done. I even survived giving a last minute talk in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday.

But then: Monday came, PB&J had to go out of town, and the dishwasher decided to break. Three strikes. Monday should be out. Boo.

Faced with the options of hand washing a dishwasher full of dirty dishes (eewww) and replacing yet another dishwasher (our third in 15 years), I decided to follow the example of my friends Betsy Case and Janice Cooks-Bailey (who have both singlehandedly saved their washing machines from the brink of death multiple times) and try to fix it myself.

I consulted the wisdom of the internets and found no real answer. I poured hot water and vinegar in it and let it sit overnight. Nothing. No go. The motor runs, but no water fills it. So I tried again. "Oh great internets," I pled, "please give me the solution to my problem." I looked at a highly technical dishwasher web page with lots of incomprehensible terms and links to further diagnostics. I read something about floats. I thought of the float in the toilet. Though I have never seen a black plastic ball in the dishwasher, and didn't know where a float-thing in a dishwasher might be located, but there was this weird little upside down cup-like thing at the front of the dishwasher. So I wiggled it, debated about undoing the bolt that held it down, and then decided to pour water over it. A lot of water.

Holding my breath, expecting the worst, I turned on the dishwasher, and behold! It worked!!! And I rejoiced. And I praised the internets and Al Gore. (Not really on the Al Gore part.)

Then I called PB&J.

Me: (all nonchalant) "Hey, guess what I just did."

Him: "What?"

Me: "I fixed the dishwasher."

Him: "Huh?"

Me: "Yah, I fixed it. I pulled the whole thing apart, piece by piece, laid it all out on the kitchen floor, and then single handedly studied each piece, cleaned it, sprayed it all with WD-40, and put it back together again. Even the tricky little e-lec-tronic controller part. And it then . . . it worked"

Him: (laughing) "ok, what really happened?"

Me: (a little deflated) "I poured water over some part inside the dishwasher and it came unstuck and worked."

Him: (still laughing) "Well, I guess I owe you dinner out for saving the dishwasher."

Darn right. And it'll be a nice one too, because dishwashers can be expensive.

Isn't it nice to have a handy ma'am around the house?

I'm very proud of myself, in case you can't tell.