So, the other day, Saturday, I think, (too many commas--I will improperly start a new sentence). My four-year-old daughter Mimi (if you read this blog, you know Mimi) went with me to the bike store to buy a new intertube for my bicycle. On the way home she started asking how to spell a lot of her friends' and cousins' names. I told her and she apperently wrote them down.
We were conversing during that ride. She would say stuff like, "blah, blah, blah."
In reply I would say with fieghned interest, "Yep! Sure Honey. Hmm. Sounds good."
In my defense I don't care about the ramblings of most four-year-olds. Even those that I genuinely love.
Later that day Mimi asked if she could drop something off at her friend Schmireland's house, our next door neighbor. That kind of thing happens regularly, so I allowed it. She came right home after the drop off and started working on creating musical instruments out of paper. She made a drum and a "kitar," which I assume is a guitar-like instrument. Then she started filling little plastic bags up with stuff.
When I asked her what she was up to, she again said, "blah, blah, blah," or something like that.
Later, at about six-thirty the doorbell rang. It was Schmireland. Behind her, Schmaris and Schmayden, other neighbors.
"Hmm," I thought, "what are all of these people doing here?"
It turns out that what they were doing here was showing up for the party that Mimi had invited them to.
It turns out all of the blah blahs that I had been so enthusiastically responding to were Mimi's asking of my permission and telling me all about the party she was going to have that night.
So we had a party.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Why, In My Day...
My son, Ike, has two trophies for his participation in a community soccer league. Trophies for participation. He is very proud of the trophies, as anyone would be. Mimi, his sister, is very jealous of the trophies and longs for the day that she too will have trophies for participation.
The weird thing is that the teams that Ike has played on have never won a single game. Not one. I have been to all but two of the games he's played and his team has never won. I know, I know, they don't keep score at his age. But, it's not like both teams scored so many goals that it would be impossible for me to keep track of the score. So, I guess that the trophies are for learning and growing in the sport. But, it seems to me that part of learning and growing in a sport is learning to lose gracefully, because in the real world you don't always win and it's not always fair.
Which brings me to my next point. My kids are snooty. A few weeks ago, while I was mowing the lawn, Ike and Mimi got into a water fight. I didn't mind, it kept them occupied while I worked. They were each using an empty plastic water bottle, you know, the kind that are ruining the universe. They would fill it up in the house, run outside and splash each other. I was only slightly worried about them dripping on the kitchen floor. No big deal really (Buffy wasn't home). After about twenty minutes I noticed that there were a couple of empty water bottles sitting on the driveway. Ikers and Meems still had theirs--chasing and splashing each other like Hannah and Mags at beet harvest time. My thought process follows:
*Why are there two emptys on the driveway?*
*I'd better pick them up*
*What? Why are there more emptys in the garage?*
*One, two, three...ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve empty water bottles?*
*Doh!*
I realized Ike and Mimi had not been filling up their bottles at all, but had been raiding our water storage. They had been supplying their water fight with Dasani water that had been bottled and shipped from the Alps, or Canada, or the Rocky Mountains, or a tap Down Town, or somewhere. I could not believe the snootiness that must have gone with their decision to use bottled water.
Mimi: Ghastly, what tap water does to my skin. Harrumph.
Ike: Yes, yes. Can't stand the smell of the stuff. Tut, tut.
Mimi: Of course you know I intend to drench you with this bottled water.
Ike: Of course. Proceed. Charles, bring me seven bottles for my response.
Charles: I am the butler and therefore I will bring you what you wish for.
So, Ike and Mimi have been paying off the water bottles. About three weeks worth of allowance ought to do it. Meanwhile, I have forced them to bathe themselves in regular tap water, minus the gold dust.
The weird thing is that the teams that Ike has played on have never won a single game. Not one. I have been to all but two of the games he's played and his team has never won. I know, I know, they don't keep score at his age. But, it's not like both teams scored so many goals that it would be impossible for me to keep track of the score. So, I guess that the trophies are for learning and growing in the sport. But, it seems to me that part of learning and growing in a sport is learning to lose gracefully, because in the real world you don't always win and it's not always fair.
Which brings me to my next point. My kids are snooty. A few weeks ago, while I was mowing the lawn, Ike and Mimi got into a water fight. I didn't mind, it kept them occupied while I worked. They were each using an empty plastic water bottle, you know, the kind that are ruining the universe. They would fill it up in the house, run outside and splash each other. I was only slightly worried about them dripping on the kitchen floor. No big deal really (Buffy wasn't home). After about twenty minutes I noticed that there were a couple of empty water bottles sitting on the driveway. Ikers and Meems still had theirs--chasing and splashing each other like Hannah and Mags at beet harvest time. My thought process follows:
*Why are there two emptys on the driveway?*
*I'd better pick them up*
*What? Why are there more emptys in the garage?*
*One, two, three...ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve empty water bottles?*
*Doh!*
I realized Ike and Mimi had not been filling up their bottles at all, but had been raiding our water storage. They had been supplying their water fight with Dasani water that had been bottled and shipped from the Alps, or Canada, or the Rocky Mountains, or a tap Down Town, or somewhere. I could not believe the snootiness that must have gone with their decision to use bottled water.
Mimi: Ghastly, what tap water does to my skin. Harrumph.
Ike: Yes, yes. Can't stand the smell of the stuff. Tut, tut.
Mimi: Of course you know I intend to drench you with this bottled water.
Ike: Of course. Proceed. Charles, bring me seven bottles for my response.
Charles: I am the butler and therefore I will bring you what you wish for.
So, Ike and Mimi have been paying off the water bottles. About three weeks worth of allowance ought to do it. Meanwhile, I have forced them to bathe themselves in regular tap water, minus the gold dust.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Newby
So, today we go in to find out which flavor of baby we are having (mmmm...baby flavors). I am going to ask for baby-shampoo-flavored baby, Buffy probably will ask for lavendar-scented-lotion-flavored baby. We, of course, will not order a maconium-, placenta-, or vomit-flavored baby, but we'll probably get one anyway.
But, whatever the flavor--or gender--one way or another we have another family member coming in October. Excuse me for a moment while I have a panic attack (shove it down... shove it down... breathe, breathe... good). Ike is not quite six. Since he was born we have had at least one person in our family who regularly poops his or her pants. I suppose that trend will continue for the forseeable future (I am getting older after all). I also suppose that my suit jackets will continue to have various body fluids staining the sholders. And bedtime will continue to be a four-hour chess game that starts at 5:00 PM and involves all the cunning negotiation skills of both the hopelessly outnumbered parents and the ever more confident children.
I guess it also means we'll have a new face to kiss. And new bum cheeks to pinch. And a new mind to fill. New fears to calm. New hands to hold. A new stocking to hang. New portraits to hang. Songs to sing. Laughter to hear. And new love to give.
I can't wait to meet this kid. I'll let you know what we find out.
UPDATE: 'tis a boy.
But, whatever the flavor--or gender--one way or another we have another family member coming in October. Excuse me for a moment while I have a panic attack (shove it down... shove it down... breathe, breathe... good). Ike is not quite six. Since he was born we have had at least one person in our family who regularly poops his or her pants. I suppose that trend will continue for the forseeable future (I am getting older after all). I also suppose that my suit jackets will continue to have various body fluids staining the sholders. And bedtime will continue to be a four-hour chess game that starts at 5:00 PM and involves all the cunning negotiation skills of both the hopelessly outnumbered parents and the ever more confident children.
I guess it also means we'll have a new face to kiss. And new bum cheeks to pinch. And a new mind to fill. New fears to calm. New hands to hold. A new stocking to hang. New portraits to hang. Songs to sing. Laughter to hear. And new love to give.
I can't wait to meet this kid. I'll let you know what we find out.
UPDATE: 'tis a boy.
Monday, June 8, 2009
My Debut
Last week I got a call from someone who had gotten a call from KJZZ TV, a local television station that was created as the broadcasting home of The Shmutah Scmazz. They were looking for a couple of vocalists to sing a song on a locally produced show called the Joseph Smith Papers. It is a religious program that examines the writings of the Mormon founder Joseph Smith. I have noticed the marketing and therefore the existence of the program, but have never watched it.
The song was to be a duet, me and another guy, of a hymn penned by Eliza R. Snow. They sent me the music the night before the taping. It was a photocopy from the 1844 edition of the LDS Hymnal. They told me to wear a dark suit and tie and to come to the Assembly Hall at Temple Square at 1:00 PM the next day. That night I learned my part (the upper line).
When I got there they told me that I was no longer singing a duet, but a solo. And they had another song for me to do, A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief. They said, "we want all seven verses, a cappella. Oh, and here is the music. It is the original tune, not the one you find in the current hymnal, but one that is sort of like it, but completely different. We will start taping in .03 seconds, so please learn the music and ... action!" (I may have been paraphrasing by the end of the quote).
Anyone that knows me, knows that much of my musical talent is faked, ur... I mean...natural. I am very good at following musical lines. Singing with a piano, or in an ensemble, no problem. But, I am not a particularly good sight-reader under pressure (not horrible, but definitely not perfect) . Those that know me also know that I have very poor eyesight.
Those same people that know me, if they know anything about TV might also know that squinting and looking panicked as your withered and myopic eyes dart from the fifth, sixth, and seventh verse texts (printed neatly in stanzas at the bottom of the page) to the unfamiliar music lines is not an ideal TV look. In fact, I don't think they like you covering your face--even if it is so that you can see the music and lyrics.
I felt a bit like a 98 year-old man trying to read a cereal box, then sing the words from the cereal box to the tune of the theme from Murder She Wrote while trying not to think of theme from Matlock.
After two attempts at the second verse, I said, "I am not going to be able to do this today."
They said they understood and that they would call me back after I'd had time to learn the music.
I'm not holding my breath.
The Eliza R. Snow song was ok, but just ok. Therefore, I will not let you know when they air the episode.
The song was to be a duet, me and another guy, of a hymn penned by Eliza R. Snow. They sent me the music the night before the taping. It was a photocopy from the 1844 edition of the LDS Hymnal. They told me to wear a dark suit and tie and to come to the Assembly Hall at Temple Square at 1:00 PM the next day. That night I learned my part (the upper line).
When I got there they told me that I was no longer singing a duet, but a solo. And they had another song for me to do, A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief. They said, "we want all seven verses, a cappella. Oh, and here is the music. It is the original tune, not the one you find in the current hymnal, but one that is sort of like it, but completely different. We will start taping in .03 seconds, so please learn the music and ... action!" (I may have been paraphrasing by the end of the quote).
Anyone that knows me, knows that much of my musical talent is faked, ur... I mean...natural. I am very good at following musical lines. Singing with a piano, or in an ensemble, no problem. But, I am not a particularly good sight-reader under pressure (not horrible, but definitely not perfect) . Those that know me also know that I have very poor eyesight.
Those same people that know me, if they know anything about TV might also know that squinting and looking panicked as your withered and myopic eyes dart from the fifth, sixth, and seventh verse texts (printed neatly in stanzas at the bottom of the page) to the unfamiliar music lines is not an ideal TV look. In fact, I don't think they like you covering your face--even if it is so that you can see the music and lyrics.
I felt a bit like a 98 year-old man trying to read a cereal box, then sing the words from the cereal box to the tune of the theme from Murder She Wrote while trying not to think of theme from Matlock.
After two attempts at the second verse, I said, "I am not going to be able to do this today."
They said they understood and that they would call me back after I'd had time to learn the music.
I'm not holding my breath.
The Eliza R. Snow song was ok, but just ok. Therefore, I will not let you know when they air the episode.
Monday, May 11, 2009
We (Buffy and I) just got back from San Francisco, where we attended the broadway touring musical Wicked. Wow! What a show, what a town. We saw sea lions, and trolleys, and girl scouts (oh my!).
The girl scouts were in town, I suppose, for some sort of cookie convention. Billions of pre-teen girls all talking at the speed of sound, with emotions changing and the speed of light, and bodies growing at the speed of weeds. Bless their hummingbird-paced hearts.
We flew into (and out of) Oakland, which means that we started and ended our trip in fear. No offence Oak Towners. It's just that your town scared me. I have a theory that the rainbows of San Fransisco are created and sustained by the storm clouds of Oakland. It's not that San Fransisco doesn't have its share of the scary, what with the Tender Loin, old people heading for the cruise departure pier, and the Ross Dress for Less on Market Street.
The show was everything we could have hoped for. Patty Duke (the 60's TV star) was Ms. Morrible which was fun. Elphaba rocked and/or rolled on all of her solos and Glinda was perky/cute/funny.
Pier 39, the cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, and chowder in a sour dough bread bowl were highlights of our touristy activities. Public transportation is so easy and afordable. I highly recommend a trip there if you haven't recently been.
The girl scouts were in town, I suppose, for some sort of cookie convention. Billions of pre-teen girls all talking at the speed of sound, with emotions changing and the speed of light, and bodies growing at the speed of weeds. Bless their hummingbird-paced hearts.
We flew into (and out of) Oakland, which means that we started and ended our trip in fear. No offence Oak Towners. It's just that your town scared me. I have a theory that the rainbows of San Fransisco are created and sustained by the storm clouds of Oakland. It's not that San Fransisco doesn't have its share of the scary, what with the Tender Loin, old people heading for the cruise departure pier, and the Ross Dress for Less on Market Street.
The show was everything we could have hoped for. Patty Duke (the 60's TV star) was Ms. Morrible which was fun. Elphaba rocked and/or rolled on all of her solos and Glinda was perky/cute/funny.
Pier 39, the cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, and chowder in a sour dough bread bowl were highlights of our touristy activities. Public transportation is so easy and afordable. I highly recommend a trip there if you haven't recently been.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Baby Names
Buffy is expecting. Due on St. Hallow's Eve. So we're just getting geared up. The other night I asked Mimi, our four-year-old daughter with hyper-active bees residing in her head (my thanks to Eric Snider for that joke), what she thought we should name the new kid. With out any hesitation, she spewed forth the following 45 names (I have tried to spell them in such a way that they are fo-net-ik-lee pronounceable, but still name-like):
Glacka
Bookrita
Button
Boxah
Jake
Jacob
Julie
Glassy
Lippie
Stairie
Eerah
Leeba
Slopper
Kaker
Flotter
Jake
Bonka
Stinka
Frilla
Kanga
Jyka
Schtypa
Slobber
Fyrus
Klyber
Fyker
Spitty
Dora
Quako
Julian
Caykah
Cake
Caleb
Scarfalla
Lucebert
Brushalla
Jykin
Plykin
Twisty
Blow-up
D'Wacko
Eerah
Chanka
Lanka, and
Blow-up.
She repeated a few.
Honestly, I have never witnessed such absolute, hilarious, creativity in my lifetime. Buffy and I make funny ones. I can't wait to meet Lucebert. Oops, I mean, Twisty.
Glacka
Bookrita
Button
Boxah
Jake
Jacob
Julie
Glassy
Lippie
Stairie
Eerah
Leeba
Slopper
Kaker
Flotter
Jake
Bonka
Stinka
Frilla
Kanga
Jyka
Schtypa
Slobber
Fyrus
Klyber
Fyker
Spitty
Dora
Quako
Julian
Caykah
Cake
Caleb
Scarfalla
Lucebert
Brushalla
Jykin
Plykin
Twisty
Blow-up
D'Wacko
Eerah
Chanka
Lanka, and
Blow-up.
She repeated a few.
Honestly, I have never witnessed such absolute, hilarious, creativity in my lifetime. Buffy and I make funny ones. I can't wait to meet Lucebert. Oops, I mean, Twisty.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Twenty-five Random Things About Me (from facebook)
1. I have read a bunch of these and have liked every one of them. However, I am not one to share 25 random things about myself. So I'll do 27. With that as introduction, I give you my 25, excuse me, 27 random things about me. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
2. I like Facebook because it makes interacting with a computer seem like interacting with actual friends. Boom, roasted!
3. My legs are not attached like normal human legs. The knees point inward and the feet point outward, which makes me believe that they were attached by Hannah Barbara animation studios circa 1975 (think Shaggy). They are good for donning a mermaid tail, which has never come in handy.
4. The other day I referred to my five-year-old son Ike and my four-year-old daughter Mimi (names have been changed) as "Human Capital." My son replied, "We're not human, capital. We're human, lower-case. You and Mom are human, capital." He's a genius.
5. With the flick of a finger, I can flip my eyelids inside out; I can also turn my feet around just shy of 180 degrees. This has never come in handy.
6. The first thing I ever remember saying to Buffy (my wife—names have been changed) is, "Elizabuff Pendergast (names have been changed), will you marry me?" That, obviously, was followed by awkward silence. Then, nearly two years later, we went on our first date.
7. I have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find a rhyme for the word orange. The closest I have come so far is syringe. That is pretty darn close, you've got to admit. Honorable mentions: porridge, core binge, torn fringe, and spore flange.
8. I enjoy teaching. I have taught secondary grades, college-aged students, post grads, white- and blue-collar workers, and people of the collar (religious). My day job is in leadership training for the state of Utah, but I also contract with a couple of companies and teach one night a week at the Marriott School at BYU as adjunct faculty.
9. I like to write songs. There are dozens of them, little pop songs and ballads. I rarely share them with people, just family and close friends. It's just for fun. I record, mix, master, and print them on my little BOSS 1600 self-contained recording studio (with a compass in the stock).
10. Last week, I had the unfortunate opportunity of holding a meeting with an employee to explain that his zipper is down a lot (nothing indecent, he's just not a detail guy). And how, if he can't keep it zipped up, he will be subject to formal discipline. Awkward.
11. My first car was a Plymouth Reliant K. We called him Don. I broke Don's axle in a medium-speed car chase with Schmaleb Schmohnson's Grandma's car. I ran into a curb on Main Street, which broke the axle; it also caused all of the passengers in the car to hit their heads on the ceiling. Except me, who hit my head on the windshield, which caused the windshield to break. The next morning, my Dad had me go to the Police Station, file a report with an officer, and get the car towed to a wrecking yard—alone and on foot. I can't wait to make my kids do something like that.
12. I love gardening. This is because of my Dad, a trained agronomist, who was always trying to grow some crazy, not-in-this-climate-you-don't plant. My favorite was his foray into peanuts. I keep it simple because of limited space—peas, corn, tomatoes, squash, and a couple of spices.
13. Quaking Aspens: love the look; hate what you've done to my yard.
14. My kids are funny. A while ago they were making up jokes using the following formula:
Q. What do you call a (something 1)next to a (something 2) ?
A. A (Something 1) (something 2)!
My favorite is,
Q. What do you call a roast beef next to a baby?
A. Roast beef, baby!
"Coffee table" and "book" worked well as somethings 1 and 2, respectively.
15. Most days, my singing voice range is three whole-steps away from three-octaves. This has only come in handy once at the Pendergast (names have been changed) family Christmas concert, 2007.
16. My first job out of college included teaching leather crafting. I didn't know how to craft leather at the time, but I sort of learned. I still use the wallet I crafted. It has a Viking's head tooled on its cover.
17. I learned how to drive a forklift in college. This has never come in handy.
18. I am the eighth of nine kids. My oldest brother is 19 years older than I am. I was an uncle before I started Kindergarten. Oh, Mormons, you and your twenty years of having babies.
19. I have 75 first cousins on my Mom's side—not including spouses. I do not know most of these people. I think this could be the subject of a game show called, "Are You My Cousin!?!" Throw in the spouses, seconds, and once-removeds and you've got nine seasons worth of episodes right there.
20. I don't get easily embarrassed by dumb things that I do, but I am quick to be embarrassed for other people.
21. Every year in February, I give Buffy (names have been changed) what I call Valentine's Week. It is a full week of Valentine's Day stuff. The tradition started back in 2001 before she and I were engaged. Each day of the week surrounding Valentine's Day is given a theme, like "flower day" or "candle-lit day." I like it because I find that it is easier to get into a restaurant or to get flowers on days that are not Valentine's Day. My favorite day is "death by chocolate day" where I fashion weapons out of various candy products.
22. I don't keep in touch with old friends very well. Again, that's why I like Facebook—It keeps in touch for me. What's next, familyreunion.com? I hope so.
23. In college, I had a regular gig doing voice-over work. I was one of three voices that would record the monthly audio version of Executive Excellence Magazine. I also did a number of commercials for Salisbury Homes. It was fun because it paid fairly well and the skill set you need for it—reading—is learned in first grade.
24. I have grown a full beard twice in my life. Both times were for a show I was in. Both times I looked horrible. Both times people treated me differently. Once, I went to the LDS temple fully bearded and a worker, assuming I was recently activated, with tears in his eyes took me firmly by the hand and with a husky voice said, "Welcome back, brother." To which I cheerily replied, "Thanks." Ironically, the show I was in was written and presented by the priesthood department of the LDS Church.
25. I wasn't joking about not stopping at 25. I see this as a positive thing proving that I am committed.
26. I am out of things to say.
27. I assume that this 25 Random Things idea was started by someone who was hoping to get personal information from trusting folks to use for less than honorable purposes. So, I will close with my social security number 879-68-7752 (numbers have been changed).
2. I like Facebook because it makes interacting with a computer seem like interacting with actual friends. Boom, roasted!
3. My legs are not attached like normal human legs. The knees point inward and the feet point outward, which makes me believe that they were attached by Hannah Barbara animation studios circa 1975 (think Shaggy). They are good for donning a mermaid tail, which has never come in handy.
4. The other day I referred to my five-year-old son Ike and my four-year-old daughter Mimi (names have been changed) as "Human Capital." My son replied, "We're not human, capital. We're human, lower-case. You and Mom are human, capital." He's a genius.
5. With the flick of a finger, I can flip my eyelids inside out; I can also turn my feet around just shy of 180 degrees. This has never come in handy.
6. The first thing I ever remember saying to Buffy (my wife—names have been changed) is, "Elizabuff Pendergast (names have been changed), will you marry me?" That, obviously, was followed by awkward silence. Then, nearly two years later, we went on our first date.
7. I have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find a rhyme for the word orange. The closest I have come so far is syringe. That is pretty darn close, you've got to admit. Honorable mentions: porridge, core binge, torn fringe, and spore flange.
8. I enjoy teaching. I have taught secondary grades, college-aged students, post grads, white- and blue-collar workers, and people of the collar (religious). My day job is in leadership training for the state of Utah, but I also contract with a couple of companies and teach one night a week at the Marriott School at BYU as adjunct faculty.
9. I like to write songs. There are dozens of them, little pop songs and ballads. I rarely share them with people, just family and close friends. It's just for fun. I record, mix, master, and print them on my little BOSS 1600 self-contained recording studio (with a compass in the stock).
10. Last week, I had the unfortunate opportunity of holding a meeting with an employee to explain that his zipper is down a lot (nothing indecent, he's just not a detail guy). And how, if he can't keep it zipped up, he will be subject to formal discipline. Awkward.
11. My first car was a Plymouth Reliant K. We called him Don. I broke Don's axle in a medium-speed car chase with Schmaleb Schmohnson's Grandma's car. I ran into a curb on Main Street, which broke the axle; it also caused all of the passengers in the car to hit their heads on the ceiling. Except me, who hit my head on the windshield, which caused the windshield to break. The next morning, my Dad had me go to the Police Station, file a report with an officer, and get the car towed to a wrecking yard—alone and on foot. I can't wait to make my kids do something like that.
12. I love gardening. This is because of my Dad, a trained agronomist, who was always trying to grow some crazy, not-in-this-climate-you-don't plant. My favorite was his foray into peanuts. I keep it simple because of limited space—peas, corn, tomatoes, squash, and a couple of spices.
13. Quaking Aspens: love the look; hate what you've done to my yard.
14. My kids are funny. A while ago they were making up jokes using the following formula:
Q. What do you call a (something 1)
A. A (Something 1) (something 2)
My favorite is,
Q. What do you call a roast beef next to a baby?
A. Roast beef, baby!
"Coffee table" and "book" worked well as somethings 1 and 2, respectively.
15. Most days, my singing voice range is three whole-steps away from three-octaves. This has only come in handy once at the Pendergast (names have been changed) family Christmas concert, 2007.
16. My first job out of college included teaching leather crafting. I didn't know how to craft leather at the time, but I sort of learned. I still use the wallet I crafted. It has a Viking's head tooled on its cover.
17. I learned how to drive a forklift in college. This has never come in handy.
18. I am the eighth of nine kids. My oldest brother is 19 years older than I am. I was an uncle before I started Kindergarten. Oh, Mormons, you and your twenty years of having babies.
19. I have 75 first cousins on my Mom's side—not including spouses. I do not know most of these people. I think this could be the subject of a game show called, "Are You My Cousin!?!" Throw in the spouses, seconds, and once-removeds and you've got nine seasons worth of episodes right there.
20. I don't get easily embarrassed by dumb things that I do, but I am quick to be embarrassed for other people.
21. Every year in February, I give Buffy (names have been changed) what I call Valentine's Week. It is a full week of Valentine's Day stuff. The tradition started back in 2001 before she and I were engaged. Each day of the week surrounding Valentine's Day is given a theme, like "flower day" or "candle-lit day." I like it because I find that it is easier to get into a restaurant or to get flowers on days that are not Valentine's Day. My favorite day is "death by chocolate day" where I fashion weapons out of various candy products.
22. I don't keep in touch with old friends very well. Again, that's why I like Facebook—It keeps in touch for me. What's next, familyreunion.com? I hope so.
23. In college, I had a regular gig doing voice-over work. I was one of three voices that would record the monthly audio version of Executive Excellence Magazine. I also did a number of commercials for Salisbury Homes. It was fun because it paid fairly well and the skill set you need for it—reading—is learned in first grade.
24. I have grown a full beard twice in my life. Both times were for a show I was in. Both times I looked horrible. Both times people treated me differently. Once, I went to the LDS temple fully bearded and a worker, assuming I was recently activated, with tears in his eyes took me firmly by the hand and with a husky voice said, "Welcome back, brother." To which I cheerily replied, "Thanks." Ironically, the show I was in was written and presented by the priesthood department of the LDS Church.
25. I wasn't joking about not stopping at 25. I see this as a positive thing proving that I am committed.
26. I am out of things to say.
27. I assume that this 25 Random Things idea was started by someone who was hoping to get personal information from trusting folks to use for less than honorable purposes. So, I will close with my social security number 879-68-7752 (numbers have been changed).
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