tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38505084386370768072024-03-13T03:38:41.366-07:00los cooper cincoour life is an open blogthe cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-47568497097712211472011-01-22T09:44:00.000-08:002011-01-28T16:35:43.284-08:00is that elvis or a fetus? you decideboard games are fun. when i say board games i am referring to any game really that involves skill, knowledge, or a combination of both. games that depend too much on the non-skill/non-knowledge based trait of luck aren't that fun. strategy games are fun, but they generally take too long. card games are okay, but they involve too much chance. and last, but not least, as i'm not a mouth-breather, role playing games have never interested me that much (which is surprising considering my affinity for star wars). accordingly, board games are my recreational non-athletic game of choice.<br />
<br />
mostly i like board games because i'm somewhat of a seasoned professional in this arena. i'm pretty good with trivia and all of its iterations, as well as, guessing words and giving clues for other to guess words. i also excel at spelling frontwards, but especially backwards. i'm so-so at charades, but my high-level of skill in the other areas makes up for it. i would have to say, however, that my specialty is drawing. <br />
<br />
a co-worker recently told me about a game i'd never heard of: impossible pictionary. naturally, i was intrigued and felt somewhat challenged as nothing pictionary had ever thrown at me proved to be impossible (just ask milton bradley as they tried for years to stump me until i unofficially retired). impossible pictionary, though...<br />
<br />
alright, i'll bite. what is this impossible pictionary of which you speak? <br />
<br />
basically, it's pictionary, but you split up into boys vs. girls (always makes for a good date night to have a battle of the sexes when it comes to board games and run the risk of driving your marriage/relationship to within inches of formal dissolution) and then each team tries to come up with impossible words for the other team to draw. the only rules are no legal or medical terms... at least in her family since everyone is a doctor or lawyer.<br />
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i requested some examples of words they have used to see if i felt it would even be worth my time to throw my hat in the ring. <br />
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so, "falafel" she says. <br />
<br />
difficult? maybe. <br />
<br />
impossible? hardly. <br />
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i started a rough sketch of how i would approach the task of drawing a falafel and was well on my way to certain masterpiece that even a blind person could have guessed before i asked for another example. my co-worker then explained that part of the strategy is to provide a word to the other team that might be somewhat embarrassing for them to draw. <br />
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take, for instance, the word "menopause". now even i will concede that this word could be somewhat difficult, especially if one is attempting to draw it in the presence of mixed company. another co-worker of mine, however, didn't seem to think it would be that tough and suggested that you just draw a uterus with a ghostbuster-esque circle and line through it. <br />
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brilliant. the genius of the masculine mind. <br />
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then again, as nice as concept as it was; one little problem: how easy is it to draw a uterus? <br />
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well, in my experience, a lot easier than one might think.<br />
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i shall explain... <br />
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to date, my record in pictionary is like a bazillion and one. but my near spotless record hasn't always been that way. there was a time that it was actually completely spotless and as unblemished and pure as the snow falling on the streets of salt lake city on that cursed winter night when my unbeaten record fell. <br />
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this night took place during the early days of the courtship between the blogmaster and mrs. blogmaster-to-be. it was a seminal event in our relationship that almost led to the ruination of the budding romance between us.<br />
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as it were, mrs. blogmaster and i were engaged (not to be married... at least not yet) in a heated battle of pictionary with a couple other couples. it was a close match with each turn counting that much more than the last one. we may have been teetering, we have been trying to secure a lead... i don't remember; but, what i do remember was that it was finally my turn and just as sure as casey at the plate i was ready to spark our comeback or seal the deal depending on whether we were behind or about to run away with it (memory doesn't serve). <br />
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the following is the play-by-play:<br />
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the blogmaster has selected his card and it looks like the word is "elvis". yes, we can confirm that the word is in fact "elvis". <br />
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shouldn't be a problem for the blogmaster seeing as how he is from las vegas and has seen his fair share of elvis impersonators. what's more, if we consider his considerable skill in sketching caricatures, this one should be in the bag for his team.<br />
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here he goes. the timer has been turned, the sands are flowing...<br />
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looks like he is starting out slow. taking his time focusing on the details to ensure that the drawing is clear and unmistakable. no need to rush.<br />
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good call. it looks like he is going with elvis in his later years: a little more portly, big hair and big sideburns... these feature being more exaggerated and identifiable with elvis should make the drawing more identifiable and easy to guess. he is a wizard.<br />
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the hair and sideburns are in place. looks like he's moving to the face with some thick rimmed glasses. unreal... glasses? who would have thunk? <br />
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no guesses yet, i think his team is waiting for the whole picture to come together just for the drama of it all.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanRzCJlxttWKXgAs23oFRdclo1nIMsemFA8Mm3l8qmiJii8BlrrPklej4Cg4TCaHhgLaJ2gZjkECt-mgiVfzOpuNaWztZTsxCv6OUNH2oC8E60l192_WLe2FjTReFY6UnMwjWzeEZE1g/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanRzCJlxttWKXgAs23oFRdclo1nIMsemFA8Mm3l8qmiJii8BlrrPklej4Cg4TCaHhgLaJ2gZjkECt-mgiVfzOpuNaWztZTsxCv6OUNH2oC8E60l192_WLe2FjTReFY6UnMwjWzeEZE1g/s400/IMG.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">step-by-step recreation of the drawing from an upside down view as mrs. blogmaster-to-be would have viewed it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>wait... it looks like mrs. blogmaster-to-be is mustering up a guess...<br />
<br />
here it comes:<br />
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mrs. blogmaster-to-be: "fetus!"<br />
<br />
silence. <br />
<br />
crickets chirping.<br />
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did she say fetus? did she really say that out loud? awkward. the blogmaster is stunned. it's as if time has stopped. actually, it has... the last grain of sand just slipped through the birth canal portion of the hour glass. <br />
<br />
in all fairness to mrs. blogmaster-to-be, the hair does somewhat resemble a gelatinous fetus, but i'm afraid i've never seen a fetus wear a pair of thick-rimmed glass, hold a microphone, or wear a one piece chest hair a-blazing jump suit. but, we'll give her the benefit of the doubt since she's looking at the picture upside down. <br />
<br />
we can't believe our eyes. this can't be good. in fact, it looks like the blogmaster is expressing his frustration towards mrs. blogmaster-to-be and i think mrs. blogmaster-to-be just told him where he can stick it. ouch. he better keep his pie hole shut and take the loss like a man. double awkward. their friends are staring at them. we're all feeling a little uncomfortable now.<br />
<br />
end scene.<br />
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okay, so fetus and uterus are two different things, but they both end in "us" and i had to have some kind of transition from one story to the other.<br />
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bottom line is that the blogmaster still needs to learn to be a gracious loser. luckily, he doesn't have to be gracious too often. however, the other night we played a game (girls against boys, of course) and the girls won. i graciously accepted defeat and admitted out loud without any hint of rancor or resentment that the ladies had won.<br />
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mrs. blogmaster was so shocked that i had conceded defeat so willingly that she grabbed a video camera in order to film me with my tail between my legs. i gladly admitted on camera that i was actually happy and somewhat relieved to see the ladies win as it was quite possibly the first time ever in the history of cooper family get togethers that the women had defeated the men. <br />
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in fact, i was so pleased at the outcome i encouraged mrs. blogmaster's filming of the momentous occasion for posterity's sake as i had once feared our kids would never see this day... at least now it was documented and even our youngest will be able to look back on a glorious moment he is unlikely to remember or ever experience again. mrs. blogmaster was so geeked out over the win she even put the scoresheet on the fridge for a few weeks to make sure i could remember my defeat at the hand of the ladies.<br />
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it was a great day for female board-game players everywhere.<br />
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so, in closing, how's that for gracious defeat? maybe next time i'll talk about the ultimate frisbee football game that pretty much ruined Christmas a few years ago. stay tuned.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-88301729189021363402011-01-15T19:13:00.000-08:002011-01-21T20:38:13.684-08:00jan. 15, 2011: the blogmaster versus the mountain<i>editor's note: </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>on january 15, 2011, jeremy cooper woke up with an uncharacteristic urge to go for a jog and scale the local neighborhood mountain. after a period of several minutes the blogmaster did not return. mrs. blogmaster assumed the worst and while she was en route to the cooper's life insurance agent to inquire as to the availability of funds on the blogmaster's policy, a search and rescue team was dispatched to locate the poor soul's remains. the blogmaster's whereabouts are still unknown, but the following words were found etched in the sand not far from something resembling the carcass of a well-dressed man. we presume that the message can be attributable to the blogmaster as it was etched in lower case lettering.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>i would ask that you begin to prepare yourselves emotionally or at least until such time as the whereabouts of mr. cooper are determined as it is quite possible that this will be the almighty blogmaster's final post.</i><br />
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part 1: the idea<br />
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today is saturday, january 15, 2011. i woke up this morning with a desire to do something physical so as to make myself feel better for having eaten several pieces of pizza and a bowl of ice cream and hot fudge the night before at approximately 21:00 hours. <br />
<br />
the thought occurred to me that i should go for a jog heading due east and attempt to scale the west face of the first mountain i ran into. the fact that i seriously considered doing this should reveal a lot in terms of where i was at emotionally: desperate. i am not a lover of recreational running whether it be on a treadmill, on the street or on a trail. i hate it. i know hate is a strong word, but to be honest, it's not strong enough to describe my sentiment of sincere despite for recreational running. <br />
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let me qualify my comment to clarify that while i do indeed hate recreational running, i am perfectly fine with running during an actual sporting event like, say, a basketball game. running to escape a local street gang of ninjas who outnumber me in terms of bodies and superior weaponry is also acceptable; although, i generally prefer to incorporate my superior skills in the areas of stealth and subterfuge to hide right before their very eyes and, thus, preserve energy for the counter attack.<br />
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notwithstanding my disdain as noted above, i decided i needed to do something cardiovascular to get my heart rate pumping. running seemed to be as good an option as any. i even thought it might be fun if mrs. blogmaster joined me and we did one of those cute couples jogs, so i asked her to come along. a swift "no" was her unflinching answer. <br />
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"why not?" i inquired. as if anyone would ever need to give a reason for not wanting to go run just because we can.<br />
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"because i want to sleep."<br />
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part 2: the preparation<br />
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fair enough, but sleep wasn't about to stop me. my intentions were manifest and the scaling of that mountain had now become my destiny. as a result i slipped into some of my old basketball shoes, did some half-hearted stretching, grabbed the 3rd or 4th generation mini ipod that pretty much never gets used and headed on my way. hence, if for nothing else, the run was good in that i was able to get some use out of our severely neglected ipod. it's tough being an ipod these days when there's a couple iphones and an ipad in the house.<br />
<br />
my jog had commenced. i was ready to quit after about 50 yards, but i showed true grit and stuck with it. the music was a nice distraction from the boredom and pain, but someone must have created an "uninspiring songs to run to" playlist because every song that shuffled through my earphones would have been more appropriate to use as an inducing bedtime medley for the kids rather than a sir edmund hillary-esque escapade. oh well, i wasn't about to stop to try to figure out how to change things up since stopping would almost certainly end my trek as it was unlikely i'd start up again.<br />
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thus, i persisted.<br />
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actually, the day was pretty nice and the paseo i took was empty, so, to be honest, it was a fairly pleasant experience. i had plenty of time to think about important things... like the premise for this blog post, which is more than i've been able to do for the past couple months, so, i guess it wasn't all bad. thing is, i hadn't hit the mountain yet.<br />
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part 3: the mountain<br />
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suddenly, i arrived at base camp some two thousand feet above sea level. the air was thin and the climbing gods seemed to be staring me directly between the eyes. for a minute, i could have sworn the mountain gestured a mocking smile my way as if to tease me... not unlike a pretentious austrian bodybuilder.<br />
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i gathered my equipment (read: ipod) and set a pace that seemed reasonable for accomplishing my first goal of 2011. i commenced and made it without stopping until i reached the first switchback. i paused momentarily there in order to gather myself mentally. the ensuing stretch was certain to be the most difficult of the climb as it was the steepest incline i would face. i focused and listened closely to one of jack johnson's less energetic tunes before shaking my hands a couple of times and then digging in for the final push.<br />
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"one foot after the other," i kept telling myself as i put my head down and hoped that each time i looked up i would be just steps away from my destination. i spotted a sign at the top and made it my mark... "if i could just get there, i can make it," i thought. the sweat was dripping, my breaths were getting shorter...<br />
<br />
"is that aimee driving like a bat out of hell in the general direction of our life insurance agent's house?"<br />
<br />
almost there...<br />
<br />
wait! what's that?<br />
<br />
<i>and that's where the trail goes cold, zombies. some say the blogmaster never tasted death and merely transcended the space time continuum this morning through some strange wormhole transfer between parallel universes triggered by the uncanny, yet unsightly, body motions he was engaged in as he climbed the final pass. others say he still roams about the valley scratching blog posts on whatever surface he can find. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>we may never know. we can only hope. very nice. very nice. but, maybe in the next world.</i>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-22357464109156901032010-12-02T08:16:00.001-08:002010-12-02T08:28:01.444-08:00CALLING ALL ZOMBIES (this is Mrs. Blogmaster)!!!Today is the Blogmasters 35th birthday, something he's been looking forward to since last year. Since Dec 3, 2009 he's said he's almost 35. I guess this is something he's been looking forward to. Naturally I wanted to do something special for him and thought I would ask all Zombies out there to write Jer a little Happy Birthday something. It doesn't need to be much, it could just be Happy Birthday or HB, for short. All I know is Jeremy loves to get comments on his blog. He'll often call me from work or send me a text saying, "Did you see the comment on the blog?" He's like a little kid at Christmas staring at the comments as presents to open, or a sister or friend calling to tell you about a great sale or item they just bought. It's hilarious! And who knows how many times he checks the blog in anticipation of comments. There are few things that make Jeremy smile like he does when reading comments. So, if you would be so kind to take a moment and shout out a Happy Birthday to the now 35 year old Blogmaster I would sincerely appreciate it. ~The Mrs.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-27255790376379719942010-10-29T08:17:00.000-07:002010-10-29T08:17:27.433-07:00if you already read the last post, you should maybe re-read itas i was re-reading the last post i authored, i forgot about some stuff i wanted to mention regarding the greater cooper family Christmas card photo shoots. if you haven't re-read yet, i recommend that you do so.<br />
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yours truly,<br />
<br />
the blogmasterthe cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-84097865040704977472010-10-28T23:14:00.000-07:002010-10-29T08:14:49.379-07:00all words (we totally rocked barry manilow last weekend), no pics (but some comments on the ones below)mis amigos, it's good to be back in front of the keyboard. you should know that writing on the blog is therapeutic for me and, so, i thank you for allowing me to express myself on a no-charge platform that is available to anyone with an internet connection. you're too kind.<br />
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couple things. first, we totally rocked barry manilow.<br />
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thanks to some good friends of ours, this last weekend mrs. blogmaster and i did something totally crazy. i'm talking wild stuff... way out there.... something we'd never done before. in fact, i'm almost embarrassed to say just what it was, but since this is pretty private forum in which i often express my most personal and sentimental secrets, i'll share:<br />
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we went to a barry manilow concert on the strip. there i said it. it's out there. now i feel so free and cutting edge. hopefully none of you think less of me, but this is just who i am. and this was no ordinary barry manilow concert... it really actually was your parents', or maybe even grandparents', barry manilow.<br />
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this was a once in a lifetime opportunity i couldn't afford to miss and so i passed up not one, but two invitations to go watch some boring mma fights. as if. that's just not how i roll. i live life on the edge. i wallow in places most of you would fear to tread. i mean, c'mon, it's barry manilow we're talking about here. <br />
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i'm not sure how old barry is, but based on the way he runs across the stage i'm pretty sure he's had a couple knee and hip replacements. the guy looks pretty feeble. that being said, he can still sing and play the piano. it's clear the guy is talented, but i've got to think there's a lot of extremely talented people that never get nearly as popular as he does. i don't quite get it.<br />
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i also don't get older, more mature women who still coo over barry and his finely frothed and feathered hair. it was kind of funny to see them stand up for as long as their prosthetic knees and hips would allow and wave their arms or cheer their longtime hearth throb along, funny in a good and bad way. i half expected to see some depends or granny trow to be thrown up on stage. although, i have to admit, i was up on my feet a couple of times myself feeling the love with mrs. blogmaster. but, it was kind of nice to be able to sit for most of the concert. very relaxing. just the way a concert should be... if you roll an oxygen tank into the concert with you.<br />
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actually, the concert was pretty enjoyable even if we were the youngest people in the audience and i only recognized about 4 of the songs (the copacaban encore was sizzling). barry puts on a good show and has some catchy tunes, so it was a memorable experience i will cherish for many years to come. plus, we always have a good time with our friends... so, to them and barry, i say thank you!<br />
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as for the family pics below, it's kind of funny i ended up posting them because at the time we took them i was certain they weren't going to be any good. let me set the scene for you: taking pictures on a sunday afternoon with our boys at an extremely dusty underpass. not a good combination. <br />
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i didn't want to be there. the boys didn't want to cooperate. and dust was getting on everything. aim, on the other hand, was all over it and kept us sharp. and i'm glad she did because when i was checking the pics out on the camera a week ago i saw some potential in them i hadn't noticed before (which is most likely due to the fact that i was threatening the boys within an inch of their lives on numerous occasion during the photo taking). <br />
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taking group pictures with uncooperative kids. i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. there's a special place in hell for the most nefarious of satan's minions where such ilk are banned to an eternal damnation of being forced to try to get kids to hold still, look at the camera, and smile... and all at the same time. maybe it's just my kids.<br />
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actually, i know it's not just my kids. every year my parents, big jeff and special k, have this grandiose idea to take a pic of the litter of their grandkids for a Christmas card they send out to half the world. they always have a theme that focuses on Jesus Christ given the holiday and so the kids are typically dressed up in nativity garb and playing the parts of those involved. traditionally, the nativity is seen as a very holy, even sacred, event that is viewed as a hallowed moment in time to billions of people throughout the world. our photo sessions with the grandkids are anything but that... and with the Christmas season fast approaching, i thought it appropriate to share some about our joyous experiences in snapping photos together.<br />
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first, there's the older kids. now a days they're doing a lot better when it comes to holding still and looking at the camera, but they're not so great about leaving the younger kids alone. it is virtually impossible for them to not irritate they're younger siblings. then there's the younger kids who won't sit still or look at the camera. and usually at least on of the younger kids is essentially on strike and boycotting the picture altogether by passionately crying and temper tantruming his/her way into the wonderful world of photoshop.<br />
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to make matters worse, special k is usually running the show which is kind of like the blind leading the naked. big jeff, on the other hand, has become especially adept at spotting the futility of such situations and so he's long gone by the time the cameras start clicking usually at work on the day of thanksgiving or shortly thereafter. he has gotten to the point where he contributes as a third party advisor to the end product and financier of the endeavor. and then there's the rest of us, the parents. <br />
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every year, no matter how futile our attempts were the previous year, we all still stand behind kenna jo trying to get the kids to look up, hold still and smile. herding cats is the cliche that comes to mind. and it doesn't help that special k holds off on taking the pics until everything is perfect. not gonna happen, mom... just fire away, shoot now and ask questions later. and so in attempt to get the kids to look up in sync and smile, we've attempted many creative antics to catch their attention, but most of the time we just sit there and snap, whistle, yell, or clap at the kids. it's as if we think that 5 adults all yelling at the kids from different directions to look at us is going to convince them to do just that. it's pure chaos. it's no wonder we can never get them to focus.<br />
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of course, there was the year that i put a pair of pantyhose over my head and ran around behind my mom like an escapee from an insane asylum. the overall shock factor of seeing such a display caught the kids' attention for a few minutes, but that didn't last long and left most of them with a look of awe/horror. then there was the year uncle ryan puled up his shirt and started slapping his belly to the children's utter delight. this technique was met with great success at first, but once the novelty wore off we were back to the drawing board. <br />
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we've tried everything. hiding fruit snacks behind the baby Jesus, having my sister strategically place herself in the photo to prop up a child who can't actually stand, bribery, threats, etc. nothing seems to be overly effective. but, somewhere between the mysterious workings of luck and the modern technological marvels of a program like photoshop and the paid professional efforts of a graphic designer, we get an acceptable pic and my parents are eventually able to put out a decent product.<br />
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however, i usually approach the entire experience with mixed feeling since my three boys are generally relegated to the stand-in roles of shepherd 2 or 3 or the non-gold bearing wise men. it's rare they get the money roles of joseph or baby Jesus and i don't even have any girls to be mary or an angel, although that doesn't stop my mom from letting a baby girl be baby Jesus... something she and i don't see eye to eye on seeing as how i feel cross dressing at such an early age has to be contrary to the spirit of Christmas. at any rate, with the recent influx of new grandkids in the greater cooper family, the boys have been moving up the ranks to take on such coveted roles as shepherd 1 or the wise man who gets to carry the gold... seems like we even expanded the angel role to include some dudes now. joseph, however, has still been an elusive gig for us to land and colston ate himself out of the baby Jesus role his first year, but we're still encouraging the kids so that they know as long as they meet the right people, shake the right hands, and get a solid spray tan or two before the photo shoot that even they have a shot at getting a premier spot on the greater cooper family Christmas card. <br />
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back to the blog photos...<br />
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get excited, zombies. there are more pics from that photo shoot on my sister-in-law's camera coming soon. btw, thanks adam and t-cakes for putting up with us. if i looked like i wanted to break your camera at the time, just know that it wasn't you, it was me... actually, it was my boys.<br />
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but, as the barry would say, "i can't smile without (them)" or "looks like we made it" through yet another photo shoot.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-86158942037955643342010-10-21T20:26:00.000-07:002010-10-22T08:01:39.292-07:00more pics (good witch, bad witch), with some words mixed in (colston exacts his revenge)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAhQo4l95xPTEtZ7yO-MClsm7xMPFAGf6N_31wEogOIPyVxzD5xUYGArDBWWMiptsJyw_3La_5EHJasgb8xV_DBrMTiV3zZ4oCCtJdjQga7AJrEjL1LpSK3CzCUrfOZCeoHv1stGA8_c/s1600/DSC07611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAhQo4l95xPTEtZ7yO-MClsm7xMPFAGf6N_31wEogOIPyVxzD5xUYGArDBWWMiptsJyw_3La_5EHJasgb8xV_DBrMTiV3zZ4oCCtJdjQga7AJrEjL1LpSK3CzCUrfOZCeoHv1stGA8_c/s400/DSC07611.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>it's that time of year again when a good little mormon girl known better known as my wife, gets dressed up like a person who makes a habit out of practicing in the art of black magic and joins a coven of like-dressed individuals to sip some word of wisdom forbidden tea, aka witches' tea. isn't all hallows eve great?<br />
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seriously, i really enjoy halloween. of course, i'm the guy who made the pitch for salem over cape cod and have always wanted to tour the haunted mansions advertised in the airport of new orleans. as i've said before, i'm a sucker for the supernatural. i'll admit it, i love the prevailing spooky atmosphere, the excuse to dress up and pretend to be someone you're not, and the desire to watch scary movies. problem is, with all the costume parties and technological advancements in children's costumes, halloween is becoming almost as expensive as Christmas. <br />
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when i was a kid, a costume pretty much consisted of a sheet, some hand-me-down clothes, or a plastic jumpsuit with a character printed on it and a cheap plastic mask. now, my kids get all diced out in body armor suits that feature ripped abs, biceps and pectoral muscles. and then there's the adult costumes... i found a pretty sweet green lantern costume that i was really tempted to purchase because it actually looked like green lantern, but it was too pricey. aim, on the other hand, doesn't have as much self control as i do and she has more reasons to dress up. problem is, most female adult costumes in this day and age seem to be patterned after the wardrobes (or lack thereof) of many of the professional dancers making a living in this town. i can hardly take my kids with me to shop for costumes anymore. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEtBroXWup9drtJxMk_YnidQR8ldSNvgUy5cnxcWp-ZsLNaoW9T8AvjOtAPo99_y-4NrSJJn6GGony3unH8b6o-eKrAN_MBx3r71I6AM3jxT4AEybsxYk8cxkzHYXTEb27tqMj9NIOtM/s1600/DSC07605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEtBroXWup9drtJxMk_YnidQR8ldSNvgUy5cnxcWp-ZsLNaoW9T8AvjOtAPo99_y-4NrSJJn6GGony3unH8b6o-eKrAN_MBx3r71I6AM3jxT4AEybsxYk8cxkzHYXTEb27tqMj9NIOtM/s320/DSC07605.JPG" width="204" /></a>at any rate, as noted above, the costumes aren't cheap and it doesn't seem like we can just stop at one anymore. for starters, we did a <a href="http://blonde-designs.squarespace.com/blonde-designs-blog/2010/10/17/vintage-tv-costume-party.html">group theme</a> thing with some friends at a get together last weekend. i must admit, we looked good and it was fun, but, i don't know that i'll ever wear the stuff i wore at that party again and i wasn't even trick or treating there. then tonight, aim threw on the witch garb and got her broomstick on as you can see in the pics. side note: if i must, i'll take credit for the white witch idea and, yes, i think she looks amazing, so deal with all the pics or skip over them. so far, aim = two costumes, jer = one. then colston wanted to be the flash, jameson wanted to be snake eyes, and luckily caleb chose one we already had in stock: beyond batman. i don't even want to do the math.<br />
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plus, if i throw in the cost to replace the window colston broke last week, and the dvd player he ruined, or the couch cushions he drew on (yes, all last week), then i start to really get depressed. then there was his incident from last night. <br />
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so, i was sitting in the kitchen talking to a friend when all of a sudden colston comes down saying he's hungry and goes straight for the candy. i shoot that down in a hurry and tell him to go to bed (it's like 9:30), but he pretty much ignores me and keeps saying he's hungry. <br />
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i assume he's really not hungry but just wants candy, so i don't give him anything. he persists, so i finally give him some grapes and a cookie and send him on his way. i don't hear from him the rest of the night and conclude that he's either passed out due to severe starvation or gone to sleep. either way he's being quiet. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSEmP0ODmxTn46Eym5dmDsspts4Q1IHTxrj7hkhGPS0PKUri0I3-CssMaukXPlQIz0CwKBw4J1EMfE1AMPjLxb4Y3Curqdi1CHNFWFMpjTA76GPjsznEpROJd7gBmzKOuCUot5nB70S94/s1600/DSC07606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSEmP0ODmxTn46Eym5dmDsspts4Q1IHTxrj7hkhGPS0PKUri0I3-CssMaukXPlQIz0CwKBw4J1EMfE1AMPjLxb4Y3Curqdi1CHNFWFMpjTA76GPjsznEpROJd7gBmzKOuCUot5nB70S94/s320/DSC07606.JPG" width="320" /></a>fast forward to this morning. the boys are getting ready for school and the older two head into where colston is sleeping. all of a sudden i'm hearing all this talk from the room about how colston has pooped his pants. my first thought is that it's not likely seeing as how he's potty trained, but the complaints keep coming. my next thought is, well if he did drop a deuce in his drawers, at least its contained within his drawers which means there will be minimal mess to clean up on the bed, floor, windows, and any other conceivable thing you'd never think a kid could get doo doo on.<br />
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but then, the words that pierced my ever so sensitive ear drums left one of the boys mouths: "he pooped on the floor." at this moment a feeling of extreme frustration overcame me as this is not the first time colston has dropped trou and unloaded in his bedroom. usually it's number one, but it's not like that's any better. at that point i go into his room to get to the bottom of this and tell him to clean it up. of course, he's too tired to do it; but, i'm not about to let him slip out of this one because he's conveniently tired, so i tell him he's still going to have to take care of it when he gets up. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ujWegz6957nQ-lgh5Z-JHAScPv6vY2L4155y2RofPDEwRYPz-zMTxyTjAHGCVFe32fqO32_4eaccY27nxoq_HRMmpejaunDTw7Q-4LIFyk-B89LdjzPhPwBCuHPSxW4KbK7Gs62sypI/s1600/DSC07615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ujWegz6957nQ-lgh5Z-JHAScPv6vY2L4155y2RofPDEwRYPz-zMTxyTjAHGCVFe32fqO32_4eaccY27nxoq_HRMmpejaunDTw7Q-4LIFyk-B89LdjzPhPwBCuHPSxW4KbK7Gs62sypI/s320/DSC07615.JPG" width="320" /></a>next thing i know i'm out of the shower and catching some breakfast downstairs on my way out the door. before i leave i pause to ask my wife is she was aware of the fact that colston had gone number two in his room upstairs. the main reason i do this is to make sure that in case colston hadn't cleaned it up yet, she would take care of it before i got home (that's a veteran move right there). well, it just so happens that she had heard the news and, in an effort to keep me informed of what's going on in our children's lives, she relayed to me that when she asked colston why he pooped on the floor in his room, he told her the reason. <br />
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his reply: because i was hungry.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4QDF0MMKGMaBXFl8uJhfJyimTfxkVuVJsIBhHz4_PL-lv-HrP2U7i26Exs5AalglN4LOJAAzeVgjlJqLbyz1poBSR2Uk_a4rCAhmAkGAbM_IXr61HODhq9s86m4eyKxbupzBdT77caWE/s1600/DSC07607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4QDF0MMKGMaBXFl8uJhfJyimTfxkVuVJsIBhHz4_PL-lv-HrP2U7i26Exs5AalglN4LOJAAzeVgjlJqLbyz1poBSR2Uk_a4rCAhmAkGAbM_IXr61HODhq9s86m4eyKxbupzBdT77caWE/s320/DSC07607.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>this can only lead me to believe that this was his passive aggressive way of getting even with me for not giving him any candy the night before and sending him to bed: going number two on his bedroom floor. it's pretty funny actually if it's not your kid, but, as luck would have it, colston is just that: my kid. <br />
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in closing, let this be a lesson to us all: the next time you don't get what you want, public defecation is an effective form of retaliation as it makes a powerful, if not pungent, statement without anyone getting hurt.<br />
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well played, son. well played.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-90132414794228135342010-10-18T23:02:00.000-07:002010-10-18T23:13:19.456-07:00no words, only pictures (and lots of them)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0uTJr1cg8Q4B11ZRHCER1CkIfELBZL6KkFu1YaFTfhayQU1vBPNXFCywm1ktSVcGPAjcB3DYLsaQXVmbrIMoSGuE7RbBQ679F2wIE7hBfVPmryeKYepAJ5XVWNXs9Ls1XUxwjNS2DN0/s1600/DSC07565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0uTJr1cg8Q4B11ZRHCER1CkIfELBZL6KkFu1YaFTfhayQU1vBPNXFCywm1ktSVcGPAjcB3DYLsaQXVmbrIMoSGuE7RbBQ679F2wIE7hBfVPmryeKYepAJ5XVWNXs9Ls1XUxwjNS2DN0/s400/DSC07565.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-38876128945374709432010-10-14T23:12:00.000-07:002010-10-15T08:17:53.252-07:00the 15 year itch: trophy husbands and high school reunionsfirst, and most importantly, mrs. blogmaster is doing much better. she still has her moments and isn't quite out of the woods yet, but overall, i would have to say she has improved dramatically. this is a good thing. i'd like to blame my recent absence from the blog on my all consuming efforts to take care of my dear wife in her time of need, but that would only be partially true... depending on who you ask. rather, i am caught yet again with my pants on the ground searching for a new inadequate excuse for neglecting my faithful followers... if there are any left out there. <br />
<br />
so, on that note of reconciliation, i will attempt to jump start this idle blog from the dead in effort to see if i can regain the hearts and minds of the zombie nation. and in my triumphant return to the keyboard, i will hearken all the way back to the summer of 2010 and recreate mrs. blogmaster's first outing in public following the epstein bar diagnosis. it just so happens that said outing occurred for the sole purpose of attending aim's 15 year high school reunion in provo, utah.<br />
<br />
for starters, before you fill up the comments section of this post with all types of "15 years? you don't look old enough to have a 15 year reunion already" let me just say, you're right.... at least for me. aim is actually 7 years older than i am. just kidding. yes, we are that old... actually, i'm older. i'll be 35 in december.<br />
<br />
back to the reunion. i've never attended any of mine and, in general, i'm not a huge fan of them. more on that some other time. but, being the good spouse i am, i was willing to support aim in attending her own as the dutiful trophy husband i've become so accustomed to being. apparently, this is important to her and i've learned to accept the fact that mrs. blogmaster basically married me for my frighteningly good looks and unusually large head.<br />
<br />
at first, i was slightly offended when she would ask me to not talk around her friends as i felt that i was so much more than a simple piece of eye candy... albeit a delectable, if not succulent, hunk of a finely chiseled gourmet chocolate... you know, the european stuff and not that plasticky american crap; but, eventually the whole charade kind of wore down when we moved back to vegas as she knew it was pointless to carry on as before since everyone already knew me anyway.<br />
<br />
but provo is a different story... all her friends there still fall for the ruse. and if it's important to her, it's kind of important to me as long as i get something out of it and it's convenient. such was the case here because i got a new pair of sunglasses. problem is, all of the stores in provo quit selling sunglasses in june and start stocking their shelves with their fall and winter apparel in july. apparently, the sun doesn't shine during the fall and winter in provo and sunglasses are unnecessary. i had to go to three different stores before i could find a pair that i liked enough without paying a grip of cash and then aim didn't seem to think they passed muster when i modeled them for her. it's rough trying to fulfill the ideal trophy husband image when your wife doesn't think the sunglasses are up to par... i was feeling self-conscious already.<br />
<br />
once purchased, and not a moment too soon, off we went to the park during the day (i would never wear my sunglasses indoors or at night even though i like the song). having become comfortable with the glasses, i was able to take on a completely different persona and, as a result, slid right into the trophy husband character aim needed right then. <br />
<br />
and for those who don't quite get where i'm coming from, you need to understand that as far as i can tell aim was something of a big deal at her high school back in the day and, so, i guess her friends need to see that she married someone that appears to be as big of deal as she was back then. enter me. <br />
<br />
actually, she will never admit to this stuff and will actually be quite upset at me for typing any of it at all, but that's what she gets for making me be her trophy husband for all these years... besides she doesn't know the password to the blog to get on and delete this, so she'll just have to deal with it. no way i can give her that information... she'd delete the majority of my best work. that's just the way it is... one of the perks of being a trophy husband i guess.<br />
<br />
what? i won't even give my brother-in-law the password to his facebook account i set up and manage for him, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. he pretty much freaked out when i set it up for him and invited a bunch of people to be his friend since he seemed to think that essentially meant he was asking each of them to go steady with him.<br />
<br />
at any rate, the reunion was a success. i tore off my shirt five minutes after i got there and did ab points for hours to the absolute delight of her high school buddies and then finished up with chris farley's chippendales routine to round things out. i feel like it reinforces our children's sense of security to see their dad doing these kinds of things for their mother, so, all in all, i'd have to say it was a quality family outing. add to it that before the event had ended, at least 43% of aim's friends told her she'd married the exact kind of guy they thought she would. i saw her smile and beam with pride even though she was pretty wiped out from the epstein bar stuff. that made it all worth it for me.<br />
<br />
i guess that's about it... and just in case the satire is lost on all y'all, aim demands no such thing of me and i did no such things while at the reunion (my abs aren't even fully visible unless i get an artistic spray tan). this much is true: we did go to the reunion and an attendee did tell me he's a zombie, but that as i type up my blog posts i need to be more vigilant in stopping sooner than i do and backing away from the keyboard. so, with great reluctance, i will now stop and back away from the keyboard. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-43816024521979277572010-07-28T21:51:00.000-07:002010-07-29T08:38:26.128-07:00a series of unfortunate events for mrs. bit all started with an innocent family friendly game of soccer on the greater cooper family vacation outside of zion's national park, but what i mean by friendly is really competitive. whenever the cooper family in its most organic form engages in any kind of contest, sparks are likely to fly. add in-laws and grandkids into the mix, and the stakes get even higher.<br />
<br />
take for instance kenna jo asking me if i got higher on the climbing wall than my two brothers-in-law after a day of recreation in zion ponderosa. then there's my brother (i won't say which one) taking out his own daughter at 3rd base during the kids versus adults whiffle ball game. and it was during this same game a brother-in-law (i won't say which one) wasn't about to let the munchkins win and i wasn't about to let the adults mess up the batting order for the sanctity of the game. of course, that was just during the last greater cooper gathering. that's not even counting board games or political discussions during countless other group events, both of which rarely take place anymore. <br />
<br />
fast forward to the soccer game the night before the family outing ended. there was some mixture of my brother, my wife, myself and a kid or two against my sister, kathryn, and a few in-laws out on the pitch and it was intense. we went up one early on, but all of a sudden the score was tied. next thing i know mrs. blogmaster is taking a cross from someone and squaring up to launch a howler to the goal.<br />
<br />
at once, mrs. b cocked her leg back ready to unleash that stay-at-home mom pent up fury on that poor futbol, when, somewhat unexpectedly, my sister ever so slightly tapped the ball just accurately enough to the point where mrs. b's bombastic kick connected not with its intended target but with my sister's shin. <br />
<br />
i believe a certain law of physics states that no two solid objects can occupy the same space at the same time. so it was with aimee's foot and kathryn's shin, with aim's foot being on the unfortunate end of that collision. let's just say we all heard a sound and it sounded like someone twisting a grip of bubble wrap packaging in one swift motion... and it wasn't kathryn's shin. snap. crackle. pop.<br />
<br />
aim's a tough cookie, though, and she seemed to want to stay in the game so i suggested she play keeper since the goal was just one single garbage can and that shouldn't have required much movement. so, she limped over to her new position and prepared for the ensuing battle. <br />
<br />
play on? maybe not. <br />
<br />
in the fog of war, things become somewhat hazy and it's difficult to keep one's wits about him. things are often said or done that push the boundaries of moral relativism under the guise that the ends justify the means. such was climate of the remainder of the game that day as i attempted to instruct my wife on the finer points of being a goalie... after all, i did serve my mission in the futbol worshiping country of argentina. i know a thing or two (but not three) about playing goalie.<br />
<br />
first, when an opposing player is approaching you unmarked with the ball, and it's just you and him, i was taught to charge the ball and minimize the angles said player has to take a shot. such action quickly limits the oncoming player's ability to get the shot off he wants and forces him to commit to a shot/pass earlier than he might like.<br />
<br />
second, don't let the ball go in the goal.<br />
<br />
third, there is no third.<br />
<br />
the first time a player approached aim it was just the player and her. i raised my voice instructing, or coaching as i like to say, her "to charge the ball." no such luck. apparently, mrs. b's foot was more injured than i thought... unfortunately, that thought didn't occur to me at the time (see the fog of war comment above). mrs. b didn't take too kindly to my, as they say in argentina, speaking in voz alta (literal translation: high voice), and quickly reciprocated my verbal fiery darts with a few of her own, cautioning me to not say another word. <br />
<br />
i recognized that tone and knew better than to push my luck, so i watched quietly as a brother-in-law raced down the field and scored again thinking certainly mrs. b would charge the ball this time. not so, my friend. it just wasn't meant to be. thus, we left field on the losing side of the match that day... some of us sulking, others of us limping. <br />
<br />
long story short, we made a stop at the kanab general hospital the next day. x-rays came back negative and the doc said it was a bad sprain, but mrs. b still got some crutches. turns out after a few more x-rays in vegas, mrs. b had tore some stuff, little things called ligaments. i wasn't surprised, her foot was like a balloon. she got a cool little boot that she gets to wear around, but all in all, it looked like we'd be over this in a month or two.<br />
<br />
that was then.<br />
<br />
not long after mrs. b tried to kick straight threw my sister's shin, she woke up next to me in a hotel room in southern california with a swollen eye. you'd have thought i punched her seeing as how she looked like rocky balboa during his first fight with apollo creed (the one where they had to take the razor blade to his eye because it was so swollen). well, it wasn't the result of a fierce boxing match, it was a severe case of pink eye... and during our little get away sans kids. what? so, here she was with her little walking boot for her foot and a swollen and irritated pink eye.<br />
<br />
but, wait folks, it doesn't stop there.<br />
<br />
next thing we knew mrs. blogmaster woke up on another morning and couldn't hear out of her left ear or swallow too well with her center throat. so, she does what any sensible person would and goes in to get it checked out. apparently, everyone has a middle ear (everyone with ears that is) and, apparently, it can get clogged up which clogging can last up to two weeks. such was the case with little aim. well, yesterday was the two week anniversary of the date she was told this and the deafness is still going strong. plus, she still thinks she's swallowing glass every time she gulps.<br />
<br />
then there was a fifth ailment...<br />
<br />
so, not only did mrs. b have the foot, the eye, the throat and the ear to worry about, close to a week ago, mrs. b starts feeling a little drowsy and out of sorts and she gets diagnosed with mono. you know, that sickness teenage boys and girls get from open mouth kissing all the time. here's what i can't figure out, i don't have mono and my allegedly monogamous wife does. go figure. the only conclusion i can come to is that edward or jacob must have mono. <br />
<br />
and you thought we were all done...<br />
<br />
not more than two days ago, the results of aim's blood test came back saying she's got this epstein barr virus thing. it's a bit of a bummer because there's not much that can be done about it and there are strong links between it and two rare forms of cancer. we're still waiting to get some more information on the whole deal, but it's surprising to me how many people suffer from this ailment. luckily, it sounds like it's something that is treatable, although not curable, so we'll play the cards we were dealt the best we can (thing is, i don't know how to play any card games other than uno... but, at least i'm good at that).<br />
<br />
anyway, i just thought i'd let everyone know what's happening with the queen of the house of cooper, not for your pity or so you'll feel sorry for us; but, maybe you can say a little prayer for the mrs. during her bout with the numerous maladies she now faces.<br />
<br />
i would be remiss if i did not express a very sincere and heartfelt thank you to the family members and friends who have gone way over the top and out of their way to help us out. i can promise you that it is much appreciated and will forever be remembered. you are all true friends. your acts of charity and kindness are both inspiring and uplifting to mrs. b and me.<br />
<br />
one last thing to mention before i bid you all adieu for the week: as if the above weren't quite enough for the fair lady aimee to have to face all at once, when i rolled over in bed again this morning to catch a glimpse of the incomparable morning beauty of my muse, either there was a glitch in the matrix, i was having a strange bout with deja vu, or mrs. b was channeling rocky balboa... again; only this time it was the other eye that was swollen up. that's right, aim's now nefarious nemesis, more commonly known as pink eye, had struck again. is that even possible?<br />
<br />
unbelievable. the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-83258675319586346832010-07-21T17:02:00.000-07:002010-07-26T21:25:39.838-07:00hurry... somebody write this down: bladder augmentations<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">in this day and age of elective cosmetic surgery where typically any and everything bigger is better, i think we might be on to something here: bladder augmentations. i know such a procedure would improve the cooperfive's lifestyle dramatically. especially during movies. especially during road trips. especially when you are the father of three boys which roughly translated means dad is the only one who can accompany the offspring to the loo anymore. more on this later.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">before i get into what now might seem to be my quarterly post, i owe my loyal zombies an explanation. true, i may have let you down last month by not authoring a single post and then waiting all the way until the 21st of this month to finally go ahead and share my unsolicited opinions. i know it's rough trying to get by each day without the occasional sermon from the blogmaster and for that i apologize. i never meant to abandon or hurt any of you. all i can say is i'm sorry. that and i've been a little short on inspiration lately. and when the inspiration has come, the motivation hasn't been there. bottom line: it's hard out here for a semi-professional blogger trying to chase that dollar in this economy. please forgive me and return to the fold. i won't let it happen again.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">now, as far as bladder augmentations, i really see a burgeoning industry about to blossom here. take for instance 4/5 of the cooperfive, that 4/5 being every member of the clan except for me, and their lima bean sized bladders. i can't relate. it's like i don't even know these people... i mean, they'd rather urinate and be comfortable than get to a destination more quickly or sit uncomfortably through a throw-away scene during a movie. i don't get it because i, on the other hand, have jedi-like internal discipline that gets me through just about any meeting, movie, or drive across half the big island of hawaii just because i was determined to hold it in. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">my point in mentioning this topic has something to do with my recent jaunt in public restroom hell. said jaunt took place about a month ago when the greater cooper family was on one of its annual outings to go see the grand canyon. long story short, we never made it to the grand canyon, but that's a post for another day. we did, however, successfully arrive at the world renowned vacation destination more commonly known as jacob lake while en route to the grand canyon. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">jacob lake is a little spot on the way to the north rim that has a restaurant with good milkshakes. we stopped here to regroup our family caravan after the cooperfive made a brief stop in kanab to get mrs. blogmaster's foot x-rayed (another post for another day). that was before mrs. blogmaster got strep throat which was before she got pink eye which was before she got mono (all posts for another day). meanwhile i have managed to escape the carnage of attacking viruses and germs unscathed. kind of like will smith in <i>i am legend</i>. or superman in everyday life. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">anyway, the cooperfive got to jacob lake just as big jeff and special k were high-tailing it back into their car in an effort to catch the grand canyon before having to be back to st. george to see tarzan at tuacahn that night. this is how greater cooper family vacations go: a hybrid of boot camp and a field trip on steroids. <span class="Apple-style-span">i wasn't about to get out of dodge that quickly, though. we had just gotten there and i had to try one of the milkshakes at the restaurant there in town as we had been told these shakes were the stuff dreams are made of. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">for those who are unaware, i love ice cream and all its derivatives... including milkshakes. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">for me, at least 50% of an enjoyable vacation hinges on the quality of food you are able to eat. if there is a reputable milk shake place in a town i visit, i must try it. it's pretty much natural law. and not only must i try it, but i will eagerly anticipate the cool soft creamy consistency of milk, whipping cream, and sugar touching my tongue over and over in my mind until i do, in fact, try it. <span class="Apple-style-span">ice cream is the ultimate game changer, mood swinger, and tool of bribery all rolled up into one. and so, such was the mood i was in while eating lunch, biding my time patiently, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before it would be just me and a cup of frothy and delicious milk shake. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">in moments like that, i can withstand just about anything as it seems that i'm in the departing gate of an airplane bound for some blissful make-believe world where the refrigerator is constantly stocked with quality ice cream and frozen yogurt dispensers are a standard fixture in every kitchen. deep down inside i know such a world does not exist, but sometimes it feels so real to me.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">and so there we were. eating lunch and surveying the menu to decide which flavor of milk shake each of us would get. <span class="Apple-style-span">it wasn't all that different from opening birthday presents, but on someone else's birthday. everything was going just as i had dreamed it would until caleb says the words that when spoken in the public arena are like poison being slowly dripped into my ears.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"i've got to go potty."</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">maybe aim will take him. not a chance. he's way too old and it's always my turn when we're together, especially on vacation. plus, she was on crutches at this point. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">i say something like, "fine, let's go. make it quick."</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">so, we go to the restaurant's restroom which, unfortunately, is in a very narrow hallway and roughly the size of two porta-potties glued together: not only difficult to get into and out of, but difficult to maneuver to the urinal and toilet once you are in there. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">it was like negotiating a rubik's cube. <i>say there,</i><i style="font-style: italic;"> kind sir, can you take a step back while i open the toilet door? now you, stranger, over there take one step to the left while i slide sideways into the stall. once i'm inside, you'll need to move back to your original position so i can close the door. after that, you two are on your own. </i>needless to say, we made it. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">no big deal. i can handle taking one kid to the public restroom. no skin off my back, i've got a big fat famous milkshake coming my way. not so fast, my friend, for no sooner do i go to order when mrs. blogmaster tells me that now colston has to go to the bathroom, too. <span class="Apple-style-span">i feel a hint of frustration start to swell somewhere within my upper bosom, but i just tell myself "milkshake, man. keep your eye on the prize."</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">off i go with son #3 (luckily son #1 is fully potty trained and capable of using a public restroom on his own). of course there's a line for the restroom by now and we wait. we finally get in and navigate the internal labyrinth, more efficiently this time, but colston's the kind of kid (like his dad, i'm ashamed to admit) that has to drop trow’ all the way down to his ankles when urinating in the urinal. don't ask me why. we just do it because we can, i guess (not that i do it anymore, i quit years ago. he can still get away with it, though).</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">colston takes care of business. we exit. a load has been lifted off my shoulders thinking the only thing now keeping me from enjoying my milkshake is the speed at which those puberty loving teens behind the counter can whip it up. not fast enough, apparently, for no sooner had i secured my milkshake in hand and begun to enjoy every bit of it and its delectable divinity that mrs. blogmaster motioned over towards son #2 anew and said, "he's got to go to the bathroom again." </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">you've got to be kidding me. he just went 10 minutes ago. can't you see i'm eating a milkshake here? am i a pigeon? is this a hot dog? what's gives? </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"i think he had a bit of an accident," she says. "he told me he thought he was passing gas, but something came out (pardon the detail, faint of heart zombies)."</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">you've got to be kidding me... did i already say that?</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">in that moment i literally felt the seed of frustration already firmly planted in my fertile bosom start to spring forth a mighty stem with powerful branches budding at a break-neck pace.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"caleb, let's do this." i resolutely demanded. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">back to the bathroom, through the maze, into the stall, to grandmother's house we go...</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"let's survey the damage, caleb." off came the drawers and sure enough, there was some skid markage.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"looks like you're going commando for the rest of the day, son." that didn't seem to bother him, but then again i'm the one who had to clean the underwear there in the enclosed stall. i guess i could have left them there, but that didn't occur to me. then another issue popped up: what do i do with the shorts once i wash them? do i just walk out of here with a pair of little boy's underwear in my hand? not a chance. that can mean only one thing: i've got to hide them in one of my pockets. so, i did. luckily, i had cargo shorts on.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">that was no fun. but i did it and there was still plenty of time to enjoy my shake. what could possibly go wrong now?</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">maybe son #3 having to go to the bathroom again. that's right, my two youngest boys both had to go to the bathroom twice each within a 20 to 25 minute time period all while i was trying to enjoy my milk shake. not a good situation for me.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">at this point, the budding frustration in my bosom had full-on blossomed into a mighty redwood as i marched over to colston who was standing outside the front door of the restaurant where several other old people had congregated to wait for a seat. i stepped up to colston and leaned over to ask him if he really had to go to the bathroom or if he just wanted to ruin his dad's life (just kidding, i just asked him if he really had to go or if he wanted to go because he had seen his brother go. it happens all the time). </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">unfortunately, he wasn't as interested in answering my question as he was in showing me the butterfly he had just noticed in the potted plant he was inspecting.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"look dad, a butterfly." </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"do you really have to go to the bathroom?" was my uninterested reply.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"dad, a butterfly." </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">in my head: <i>son, i'm about ready to stomp on that butterfly, although i'm starting to think you don't have to go due to your lack of a response. i must confirm this suspicion, though.</i></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">so, i ask again:</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"colston, do you really have to go?"</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">he's still not looking at me or acknowledging my question at this point so i grab the top of his head and turn it until his face is facing mine in order to get his full and undivided attention. his eyes, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">however, stay fixated on the butterfly.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">seriously? does it really have to be this hard? </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">i then ask him one last time, somewhat sternly, "hey, do you really have to go?" he nods his head, yes. at this point, i'm at my witts end and to make matters worse i hear one of the older ladies not sitting far from us, who apparently had been observing the entire exchange between colston and me, say, <span class="Apple-style-span">"oh, look at the pretty butterfly," in an effort to acknowledge the observation of the poor little boy whose dad couldn't have cared less about his precious discovery. for, here was an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of nature outside of one of earth's most spectacular stages with my youngest son and all i could think about was running him to the bathroom so i could enjoy my shake. but, it was a good shake. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">and so, for one last time in that span of just under 1/2 hour i made my way back to the hobbit sized public restroom, with which i was on a first-name basis at this point, so colston could hit the stall and take care of some grunts. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">i sat there observing the boy with my arms folded thinking that if anything can redeem this series of visits to public restroom hell, it was my milkshake which i left safely in the hands of mrs. blogmaster. even then, i could picture it in my mind sitting there loyally waiting outside for my imminent return. that would calm the storm. that would put me at ease and cause me to forget all my worries and allay all my fears.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">and with that thought in mind, we triumphantly made our way back outside to be reunited with my cup of ice cream. but then, as i reclaimed my milkshake<span class="Apple-style-span">like, like a giddy little school girl, </span><span class="Apple-style-span">from my dutiful wife and raised the straw up to my anxious lips, i looked down into the cup only to see no more than a 1/2 inch or so of melted milkshake remaining. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">i was devastated. it was a betrayal of the most devious kind. i felt as though i'd been double crossed by both the milkshake and my wife. the milk shake failed to repel the glutinous sips of my dubious wife in an act of duplicitous, not to mention gratuitous, reciprocation. i was so disgusted i couldn't even finish the damaged goods left for me and i summarily discarded the cup into the closest trash can before stomping over to the family car. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">the drive back to st. george that afternoon wasn't a pleasant one. it started with a vociferous lecture from me to the boys in which i established a decree in the family of cooper that never again would there be two quick trips to the bathroom in this family when there could be one. not on my watch. i tried to get them to understand this concept, but i'm afraid my pleas fell on def ears. on the other hand, my stink eye stares in mrs. blogmaster's direction were certainly not without merit as my message of supreme immaturity and rank selfishness was received loud and clear. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">but, then to top it all off, it was as if the demons who dwell in public restroom hell, who seemed to be zeroed in on the blogmaster that day, ready and willing to torment me at every possible moment, had orchestrated one final act of mischief to put me over the edge. for at long last after we had trekked down and arrived at our seats towards the bottom of the tuacahn amplitheater to see tarzan, and as i set my drink down (which was then serving as a poor man's substitute for the milk shake that had been so coldly taken from me earlier that day) which subsequently tipped over due to my lackluster efforts to hide the drink from the grabbing hands of the kids who would have surely robbed me yet again of the blissful joy i was expecting to experience from another sugar-laden treat, and as the soda seeped across the ground like a spreading pool of blood oozing from a wounded body, mrs. blogmaster tapped me on the shoulder and pointed down at colston who was informing us anew that he had to go to the bathroom... again. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">you can't make this stuff up.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">that was just the start of it. after that whole ordeal we made the mistake of going to see a 2.5 hour movie with the kids and buying them adult sized drinks beforehand. i kid you not, jameson left the theater no less than five times to use the restroom. i think he missed one hour of the movie. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">then most recently, on our way to idaho, mrs. blogmaster informed me she needed to use the restroom. duly noted, love, i thought at the time. but as we cruised up 1-15 and as my mind jumped back and forth among the myriad issues a driver at high-speed with multiple passengers in the car has to consider, i drove right by an exit leading to a perfectly suitable restroom facility. </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">my bad.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">only then did i inquire as to whether mrs. blogmaster would be able to make it to the next stop, which who knew when that would be. she then informed me that when she says she has to go to the bathroom on a roadtrip, that she has to go right then and there is no time to wait. thing is, the time immediately before that request, some 30 minutes earlier, she told me she had to go, but that she could make it for another 15 minutes or so. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">go figure.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" face="Calibri, sans-serif" size="11pt" style="margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">after pleading my case for a minute or so, in an attempt to clear my good name as a husband who does want his wife to be able to urinate when she needs to, mrs. blogmaster stated that when she tells me she needs to go, she expects my one goal in life to become the deliverance of her to a restroom facility. thus, in summary, life, eternal salvation, my job, the safety of others, and much, much more can all take a back seat to aim's urge to pee.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" face="Calibri, sans-serif" size="11pt" style="margin: 0px 0px 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">and to think all of this could have been so easily avoided with a few bladder augmentations. </span></span></div></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"></span>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-9270967528013656392010-05-13T20:55:00.000-07:002010-05-14T12:57:08.690-07:00an abridged treatise on sarcasmi sometimes drive aimee crazy. sometimes this happens because she is oversensitive and sometimes it happens because i get a kick out of... as her father would say... cooking her sausages or frosting her cookies. juvenile? sure; but we always look back at the cause of such consternation and laugh. in fact, some of these moments have provided the entire family with fond memories, the likes of which we'll cherish for years. for example, it's unlikely the boys will ever forget the time their mother threw a bag of chocolate chips at their dad and said bag exploded sending shards of chocolate chip shrapnel flying throughout the kitchen while the rest of us went ducking for cover (good thing aim's aim was off or else i might still be picking chocolate chips out my skull).<br /><br />at the end of the day, these little episodes can usually be attributed to the fickle art of sarcasm. i have been called the "king of sarcasm", although, as noted in a previous post, i would prefer the "supreme chancelor of sarcasm" if i had my druthers. either way both labels might be an understatement, even if they were somehow combined. because of the extreme state of my sarcastic personality, aim often threatens to send me to a sarcasm detox camp which threat might be effective if such a place existed... little does she know, it doesn't. thus, her threats ring hollow and the surging sarcasm cells continue to grow within me, getting stronger every day. <br /><br />you see, sarcasm is like that poisonous sushi dish that only the elitist of elite japanese chefs can prepare. and when someone partakes of this rare and dangerous delicacy, one of two things will happen:<br /><br />1. you will have an exquisite meal, fit for the gods; or<br /><br />2. you will die <br /><br />so it is with sarcasm. you either deliver a comment that leaves everyone tickled pink and a much better person for having heard it or leaves everyone offended with egg on the commentor's face. i have been on both sides of this equation as i have tasted the glory of a successful delivery in the perfect moment, but i have also absorbed the agonizing shame of inserting my foot firmly in my mouth. i prefer the former. <br /><br />still, each embarrassing moment leaves me thinking my sarcastic days are behind me, but just when the withdrawal symptoms are starting to subside my dear mom says something that just dangles there like bait in front of me, begging for a response and, all of a sudden, the little red devil of sarcasm appears out of nowhere on my shoulder whispering ever-so witty comments in my attentive left ear until i fold: hook, line and sinker. game over. il finito. right back on the wagon.<br /><br />thing is, i don't think sarcasm is all bad. it can be, but if used properly sarcasm can be a source of wholesome and delightful humor. in my estimation, there are two basic forms of sarcasm from which all other forms of sarcasm flow. they are:<br /><br />1. the kind meant to demean people, ideas, or situations<br /><br />2. the kind meant to over or understate a situation in an attempt to extrapolate humor out of an otherwise unfunny situation<br /><br />i won't lie to you, zombies, as i have participated in both forms. but, here on the blog, i operate almost exclusively in the latter form of sarcasm because i want to make you all to be rotflao'ing (i think that's the acronym). problem is, sarcasm doesn't typically elicit that type of a reaction... it's usually just results in a subtle chuckle or benign smirk, but the kind that keeps a smile on your face all day and might even bring you back for more. i never mean to demean people... other than spineless politicians (redundant, i know), but i realize that sometimes it might come across that way. <br /><br />as such, my modest proposal to you, zombies: don't take anything i say at face value especially since the other tool i use as much as, if not more, than sarcasm on this blog is satire, i.e., i like to affectionately point out the fallacies of myself and others by presenting them in such a way that makes them painfully obvious to the reader but uncannily oblivious to the author. bottom line: the only time you should take my words seriously is when i mean for them to be such... you'll figure it out sooner or later. even my mom's starting to catch on after 35 years of listening to me. thus, there's hope for everyone.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-26063675276759170352010-04-20T20:55:00.000-07:002010-04-22T22:13:36.786-07:00defining tlc: the princess and the pigi may have mentioned that mrs. blogmaster has been a little under the weather lately. well, that was like two weeks ago, but tonight, even as i sit here tardily typing only my second post this month, mrs. b lay in bed still not fully recovered from what's been ailing her ever since her birthday. <br /><br />turns out the apple of my eye's tonsils are about four times their normal size (per a medically trained professional). knowing that her tonsils are uncannily enlarged makes aim feel like a freak of nature.... or superfreak, if you will. i tend to prefer the term "mutant" to "freak" as such a label gives her a better chance of being able to join a group of superheros like the x-men, and then wear spandex all the time and go by some wicked awesome nickname like the tonsilator or tonskillz. what have you. i only bring up aim's afflictions so that you, my beloved zombies, may play a pivotal part in settling a point of dispute between the mrs. and me. <br /><br />the origin of this particular debate reared its controversial head some three or four days ago as i sat dutifully at my dear wife's side on what one could have easily perceived to be aim's deathbed. fortunately, for all our sake, reality was getting the better of any misconstrued perceptions of my muse mustering her last breaths and that dour old chap better known as the grim reaper was no where near knocking at mrs. blogmaster's door. alas, mrs. blogmaster seemed unaware of the science of the matter and, in an effort to curry some compassion from her companion (i.e., me), the lass locked her longing eyes with mine and lamented that she was in need of some tlc.<br /><br />ever so anxious to please, i grabbed hold of this information and made every effort to internalize it accurately and to its fullest extent so that i might give that which my dear wife desired at that moment. unfortunately, in my mind, the term "tlc" was not entirely clear to me as i figured it could be interpreted in at least one of three different ways. <br /><br />first option: tlc could mean the grammy award winning american girl-group, consisting of tionne "t-boz" watkins, lisa "left eye" lopes, and rozonda "chilli" thomas. if i'm not mistaken, these gals were at their musical peak during aim's high school years meaning this trio of r&b crooners could have had an immeasurable impact on her impressionable life in such a way that she continues to look back on said heroines as a source of strength and healing. fortunately, i know aim well enough to know that even now as she is reading these very words she hasn't the slightest clue in infierno as to who tlc is. thus, it is unlikely she was referring to them when asking for some tlc and i was successfully able to eliminate this option from consideration.<br /><br />with r&b out the door, tlc could only mean one of two things: (1) either mrs. blogmaster wanted to cuddle and particpate in every derivative innocuous form of cuddling known to man or (2) she wanted to participate in a more mature form of cuddling. therein lie the dilemma and i was hellbent on getting this right for the sake of my suffering wife. <br /><br />at first glance, many of you might not think this quandary to be as quizzical as i'm making out to be... and you're probably right as it's probably not. but, sometimes you just have to be sure, because, for instance, if i were to say i wanted some tlc, it would most likely mean something slightly different than if my wife, or pretty much every other woman in the world, were to say they wanted some tlc. but, you never know... so, i had to be sure. <br /><br />that being said, i thought to myself, "let's not play games here... let's get to the bottom of this." i knew in all liklihood she probably wanted to cuddle, communicate, read books, paint toenails, braid hair, go for a walk on the beach, participate in a dramatic reading of <span style="font-style:italic;">twighlight</span>, or pretty much any other activity known to man other than the alternative form of "mature" cuddling... in fact, i estimated that there was about a 99% chance that the former forms of cuddling were the types of cuddling she was wont to particpate in, e.g. the non-mature cuddling activities.<br /><br />however, as you may have surmised, there was still a 1% chance that she might have meant "mature" cuddling and if that were the case i wanted to be sure i was there for her in whatever way she needed me to be. and, so, to be sure i just flat out asked, "just so we're clear, when you say "cuddle" you're not saying you'd like to engage in "mature cuddling" (or something like that), right?" <br /><br />i can't recall mrs. blogmaster's exact response, but let's just say she made it abundantly clear, in no uncertain terms, that she was in league with pretty much the rest of the female world in how she would define tlc. and, as expected, it was nowhere near what i would have expected it to be had i asked for the same. for a minute there, i was hoping she might strive for new heights of greatness by distinguishing herself from the rest of the female species. you know, rise above traditioal stereotypes of what a woman should want... guess she's just one of the sheep.<br /><br />on the bright side of things, i guess we know now and, as a result, i don't ever have to make the embarrassing mistake of assuming "tlc" means something that it clearly does not. crisis averted. problem solved. myth busted. <br /><br />we all lived happily ever after... at least until aimee decided to poll everyone she's come across since by inquiring as to what they mean when they or their wives ask for a little tlc. turns out, not to my surprise, that most guys lie when answering and most women agree with my wife to the point where during one such polling a female friend finally turned to me and said in a "this-pretty-much-confirms-what-we-already-knew" tone of voice: "well, jeremy, i guess you're a pig." <br /><br />maybe... but, i must ask: what's so piggish about wanting to listen to a little ionne "t-boz" watkins, lisa "left eye" lopes, and rozonda "chilli" thomas when i'm in the mood for some tlc?the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-39733869222914124342010-04-04T08:06:00.000-07:002010-04-04T14:16:24.927-07:00mrs. blogmaster is one year olderit just so happens that mrs. blogmaster's birthday is on easter sunday this year. i guess its bound to happen once every six or seven years, but i don't really recall the last time it happened... which is kind of surprising because mrs. blogmaster can be somewhat of a diva on her birthday. more power to her. it's her day and i'm happy to celebrate the moment of her birth to the greatest extent possible; as such, that other semi-important event... the resurrection... may have to take a backseat to the other important event i just mentioned.<br /><br />i'm only kidding of course, but aim did inform me yesterday morning that she was going on a "mom hiatus" for the weekend which was her right due to the fact that her birthday fell on a weekend (meaning she gets the entire weekend off in order to celebrate). fine. following that logic then, i guess i get the rest of the week off when my birthday falls on a weekday. i'm not counting on it. <br /><br />like i said, she deserves it... she's more than earned it; but, i don't know if i have the mental, physical, and emotional capacity to handle aim on her birthday when she is also sick. aim can also become a little diva-like is when she gets sick. i guess if someone gets sick, you should take care of that person and, for some kooky reason, that's what human beings have come to expect from one another. thing is, i never get sick and when i do, i downplay it as much as i can and don't expect any pampering. because of this, i typically, and maybe callously, downplay other people's infirmities, as well. <br /><br />unfortunately, aim kind of takes the opposite approach to sickness and whenever she's a little under the weather she's usually within inches of losing her life. well, at least in her mind she is. and along with aim's said mortal illnesses, or as like to call them stuffy heads or runny noses, she expects the exact kind of care given to her that she gives to others. there's nothing wrong with that, she deserves it... i'm just not hard-wired that way, so i typically don't respond the way i should. rather than remain at her side all day long ,i'll usually come up with some lame excuse like, "i have to go to work" and then leave her on her deathbed. it's amazing she's survived all these years. <br /><br />the reason i bring this up is because i have now mentioned two instances in which mrs. blogmaster has the potential to expect diva-like treatment (keep in mind, i'm not saying she doesn't deserve this type of treatment, i'm just telling you how it is). and so later last night, on the eve of mrs. blogmaster's birthday, she tells me she's not feeling well. uh oh, diva-like treatment to the second power. i all of a sudden felt as though i was staring down the double barreled shotgun of sickness and birthdays. luckily im shifty and can dodge the lethal spray of visceral buckshot coming from such a shooting iron and planned to give the queen of cooper manor a small slice of a poor-man's diva-esque treatment:<br /><br />yesterday, or the day before aim's birthday, i realized i hadn't gotten her a birthday present. i had a couple hours at one point to do some shopping for her, and so i did. while i was shopping for aim's b-day present/s i found a great deal on some shoes and a shirt... problem is, they were for men and they just happened to be my size. being the bargain shopper i am, i couldn't resist. plus, there really isn't anything wrong with buying something for yourself while you're out shopping for someone else's birthday, is there? is still got her some gifts and spent more time and emotional effort looking for her stuff than mine. it's all good.<br /><br />besides, i rushed around to three different stores to buy the ingredients for aim's birthday menu today which will be catered... by me. <br /><br />it actually started last night with hagen daaz's chocolate and almond covered ice cream bars. maybe as close as you can get to balboa bars without going to newport. good substitute, but not nearly as good as the real thing. rich man's diva treatment: charter a sesna to newport just to get a balboa bar and then head back. poor man's diva treatment: the aforementioned. they'll do for now. oh, and she had a sparkling glass of grapefruit flavored perrier. <br /><br />will do a light breakfast this morning: yogurt parfaits, some more perrier and the traditional cinnamon rolls. <br /><br />then some brunch: eggs benedict. aim has become a big fan of eggs benedict ever since she had hash house a go go's eggs benedict. i will be preparing something similar to eggs benedict but instead of using canadian bacon i will be using prosciutto and a little spinach. mine are pretty good, but not as good as hash's. unfortunately, that's what the poor man's diva gets. we'll have some more perrier and the leftover birthday cake our friend stephanie made and brought by... possibly the best tasting birthday cakes i've ever had. and it looked really, really cool.<br /><br />dinner: homemade pizza napoli style minus the coal-brick oven. i've got the ingredients to make some wannabe settebello's/grimaldi's pizza, unfortunately i don't have the know-how or the brick stove (and i forgot to buy some pine nuts) to fully replicate. we'll see how it turns out. finish off the perrier and maybe give aim a glass of her favorite: pellegrino (i personally can't stand that stuff). <br /><br />twilight dessert: no we are not going to eat the book, edward, or jacob for dessert; rather, we will probably pour aim her final glass of pellegrino as the sun starts to go down, but not before we use it to chase down some lava cake and vanilla bean ice cream. should be good.<br /><br />so, that's the menu. everything always sounds so much better in my head than when i actually taste it. we'll see how it turns out.<br /><br />in closing, let me just say that although mrs. blogmaster deserves rich-man diva-like treatment, she married the man that only has the capacity to give her middle-income diva-like treatment... for now. all in all, she is the polish that makes the cooperfive shine. time and again she amazes me with her dedication to perfection and desire to be a good person. she won't allow anything of value to be cheapened by complacency or apathy. sincerity is key with her. she can be a very sensitive person and that keeps her keen on other people's feelings which is the catalyst behind her desire to help anyone in need. i love seeing that very motivated, yet selfless side of her. and i would be remiss if i didn't mention that aim is also a pillar of spiritual strength to the family whose dedication to our faith is nothing short of inspirational. row hi who, babe, you grace us all with your presence.<br /><br />i also failed to mention that aim is pretty easy on the eyes... so easy i feel like my corneas are getting a massage every time i look at her. note to zombies: it always helps if at least one person in the relationship is smoking hot. it's done wonders for ours. <br /><br />and with that i sing in a monotone key: happy birthday to you, mrs. blogmaster!!!the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-86940949616467688712010-03-27T09:13:00.000-07:002010-03-28T21:18:04.171-07:00the anniversary but not before a quick political disclaimerif you don't want to read about my politics, skip the stuff in ittalics:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">i just got on the blog to post about phase 2 of the gauntlet and noticed an ad addressing health care reform linking you back to harry !@#$'s website (for those new to the blog, !@#$ is used in place of the four-letter word "reid"). as a disclaimer, i do not in any way shape or form endorse harry !@#$ or the healthcare reform bill that was recently passed. i also don't endorse any stake conveniently holding firesides for brother !@#$ during an election year, but don't get me started... <br /><br />as for health care...<br /><br />i, like anyone with a heart or conscience, admit that health care needed some changing and credit to the democrats for having the anatomy to actually do something about it. unfortunately, according to friends of mine who are native to other countries with the very kinds of health care systems the left covet but who have also lived in america as non-resident aliens (note to zombies: these friends are anything but conservative), something moving towards a universal system is not any better than what we have now... their words, not mine. in fact, more often than not, the reason some of these individuals came to america was to escape the health care of the other country, ie canada. both systems have their pros and cons, but more often than not I have heard negative commentary from people i know and trust who have actually lived in and dealt with both systems. <br /><br />plus, i think there is also the issue of whose corruption and cronyism you trust more: the governments' or the capitalists' because you are flat out lying to yourself if you try to claim that a given side is immune from either. i tend to side with adam smith and the invisible hand because the market is less binding and generally responds more quickly and willingly to consumer dissatisfaction and similar market forces than the government does (those pesky set terms and the ability to make law and all); that being said, we need both forces at work as together they serve as a nice check and balance against each other. <br /><br />this reform may bring some balance to the spectrum, but most of us gun-toting free market capitalists fear that this may be a step in the wrong direction (for the record, i don't own a gun, but i do own several light sabers). for if political geniuses like sean penn and bill maher get their wish and this system drives insurance out of business, eliminates competition, and leaves the government with all the power... well, you know what they say about absolute power and barney frank and fannie may and freddie mac. i'm happy to be proven wrong, but i am inherently incapable of admitting that politicians can get things right unless, of course, i agree with them.<br /><br />last word on this, my main concern is that if this new system disincentives some of our best and brightest from the medical field, in other words if the quality and cutting edge advancement of our health care services goes down because the prestige/financial incentive evaporates from the field, the words that come to mind to describe my feelings towards those who passed this legislation in spite of major opposition to it are too strong to utter on this blog.</span> <br /><br />that is all. i've vented and now i'm going back to semi-professional blogging in the comedic arena full-time. politics gets me too riled up and into too much trouble with friends. <br /><br />the cooperfive recently spent a few days in san diego while i was there for a work seminar. san diego is a pretty sweet city. we used to spend a week or so there each summer growing up in the mission beach area, but i'd never really spent much time downtown in the gas lamp district. i know they recently revitalized that whole area, so it wasn't as cool then as it is now, but i was really impressed. i kept having to ask myself why we don't come to visit more often, but then i'd remember that it's because it costs money.<br /><br />not long before the san diego trip, aim and i celebrated our 12th anniversary. it was a fairly uneventful celebration this year as mrs. blogmaster requested that we not do much. being a guy, i actually thought she was serious about that... on second thought, she probably wasn't. but, hey, we've only been married 1 and 1/5 decades, how am i supposed to know that kind of stuff yet... give me some time to get to know her a little more. <br /><br />at any rate, we spent the evening watching a show i don't really recommend called "diary of a mad black woman" or something like that. i'm almost ashamed to even admit that we had the dvd, but someone at work whom i trust almost implicitly when it comes to movie recommendations recommended it and actually gave me a copy of the dvd to watch, so after we'd had it for like 6 months and there was nothing at red box, the dvr, or on tv, we finally gave in. <br /><br />it had a few funny lines here in there, but overall i felt like i was watching a seminary video or that <a href="http://thecooperfive.blogspot.com/2009/02/nothing-says-i-love-you-like-i-think.html">love dare movie <span style="font-style:italic;">fireproof</span> i wrote about a while ago</a>, but for the bet channel. interesting, but not my cup of tea.<br /><br />the movie is about some pompous wealthy lawyer who treats his wife like garbage and eventually kicks her out. she, in turn, finds true happiness through some young handsome thing with sweet cornrows who works for a moving company by day and the tv show <span style="font-style:italic;">criminal minds</span> by night. there was a nice underlying Christian message throughout the show which is always nice to see, but watching this show before bed was kind of like hearing the mormon tabernacle choir sinker in on the ipod at an inopportune moment like i shared in a recent post... if you know what i mean. <br /><br />thing is, the couple in the movie had a few fights which reminded me of the one or two fights mrs. blogmaster and i have had over the course of our marriage. right. and when i think that far back i am reminded of virginia and helen's house: the century and a half old house we lived in as newlyweds while attending school in provo, utah. lots of fond newlywed memories there. take for instance the time that aimee, being the good dutiful wife she is, made a special dinner for the two of us... perhaps an anniversary dinner.<br /><br />for the record, i think mrs. blogmaster is an excellent cook. admittedly, cooking was not really something she'd had a ton of experience with coming into the marriage, but i didn't care... that's not what i married her for. over the years, however, she has become quite the culinary wonder, to her credit. she, on the other hand, feels fairly inadequate when it comes to this area of homemaking, but keep in mind, she's a perfectionist. <br /><br />on this particular evening, aim decided to try her hand at little dish i like to call chicken cordon bleu. pretty ambitious for a novice. but when she brought it out and served it up, it looked and smelled great. in fact, it even tasted great, leaving me thoroughly impressed. after one bite went down smoothly i proceeded with little inhibition until i started to notice a minty fresh-like aftertaste. curious. no matter, maybe it was some new age recipe that incorporated some odd ingredient to give a traditional favorite a modern flare. i'm down with that. but the taste persisted and seemed to even get a little stronger. and then i noticed a greenish liquidy looking color that appeared to have bled off of the string holding the ham and cheese together and onto the chicken meant. it was at that point i either realized or had to ask, is that dental floss in the chicken?<br /><br />sure enough, it was. ever the industrious woman, aim had made good use of our dental floss by incorporating it into the preparation of this celebratory meal (i'm not sure how much we were flossing back then). i couldn't have cared less. it still tasted great overall and the effort aims had gone to in making it to begin with was all that mattered to me. one thing for sure is that i had the best smelling breath i'd ever had after eating cordon bleu when i walked away from that meal.<br /><br />back to san diego.<br /><br />while driving in the car...<br /><br />caleb: "dad, i've got a rash from colston's underwear." <br /><br />me in my mind: <span style="font-style:italic;">what am i missing here? how the heck does that happen?</span><br /><br />colston in his unassuming little three year old voice, with a slight lisp: "i've got my own underwear."<br /><br />it was then that i remembered caleb had thrown on colston's underwear that morning because he had been too lazy to get his own out of his suitcase. these types of comments are commonplace during a road-trip with three boys.<br /><br />then there was dinner at the mexican place on coronado island.<br /><br />colston: "i've got to go potty."<br /><br />i look at aim hoping she'll bail me out but knowing full well it is infinitely my turn given all the diaper changing and potty breaks she takes care of when i'm not around. i look back at coles. <br /><br />me: "let's go."<br /><br />we get in el bano and, of course, there aren't any kids sized urinals. great. not surprisingly, coles insists on using the urinal and he also insists on dropping trow to the ankles which means i have to pick up the kid and hold him on par with the urinal so he can keep the stream in the urinal while his pants are down. note to readers: this is an odd site to the common passerby, me standing there holding a kid with his drawers down to his ankles while he goes tinkles in an adult sized urinal.<br /><br />as luck would have it, he gets stage fright and doesn't go. i wait patiently, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else in the bathroom, until time is up and we call it quits. we head back out to finish the meal. not more than three minutes later.<br /><br />colson: "i've got to go poops."<br /><br />i don't even bother to look at aim this time and grab the kid by the hand hurrying him along to the restroom again... those sizzling shrimp for the shrimp fajitas aren't going to sizzle forever. <br /><br />we get into the bathroom and this time he has no choice but to use the toilet. we enter the stall and he refuses to let me put anything on the toilet seat as a buffer between the seat and his cheeks. fine. i place him on the seat where he braces himself from falling in by placing his hands on the seat itself. i try not to throw up. please tell me hand sanitizer is as potent as i'm hoping it is right now. a couple of grunts later he's done and insists on flushing the toilet even though it flushes itself. at this point i don't care what he touches in the bathroom and let him feel around for the flusher. he finally believes me when i say he can't flush it and we leave the stall and wash his hands like he's a surgeon prepping for surgery. now back to the fajitas if i can still muster up an appetite.<br /><br />i sit down and start to eat. not more than four minutes go by.<br /><br />colston: "i've got to go tinkles."<br /><br />me: "that's it, babe. it's your turn."<br /><br />let's move on to the pictures... <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C_tB9InvEJzNO-9RVJyVYeYR4vnAUSisPxq5orHpH0NffUME1AqzmpNY-CdJXwATDnnVddqM_ShAMBXD243LvhgoOHjVWAY2VS7z2w9oj2S9wh3z5YkJk4X6hZ7UkJnv5HXhdtzR0NI/s1600/DSC05711.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C_tB9InvEJzNO-9RVJyVYeYR4vnAUSisPxq5orHpH0NffUME1AqzmpNY-CdJXwATDnnVddqM_ShAMBXD243LvhgoOHjVWAY2VS7z2w9oj2S9wh3z5YkJk4X6hZ7UkJnv5HXhdtzR0NI/s320/DSC05711.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453820160747200018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" 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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhBbRpVStbdNzwgvJQBRCyCpn6KFDjgpADHRwEqifoKwexJeR0frcEUFciaPRg2A2J6fb88EXCf_3TaE6LvSpJK4rWISdJ0f6vHokaiq-W6_GMPsJziZog0HzGYXazCBxtezVGvhcSO8/s320/DSC05713.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453820170155817474" /></a>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-31001887657236611182010-03-22T20:58:00.000-07:002010-03-24T09:40:36.960-07:00scooping poop for disneylandto-do lists seem to be the bane of every relationship. ours is no exception. sometimes i will get home from a long day at work just as mrs. blogmaster is heading out to yoga, the latest birthday dinner party, book club, church youth activities or some other extracurricular event but not before she slips me a to-do list. to put it nicely, i hate it. generally, the last thing i want to do when i get home from work is more work, but that's the way it is.<br /><br />thing is, i'm not any better in that some mornings i'll wake up, get dressed, and jet off the work only to send mrs. blogmaster an email of to-do items that she can busy herself with during the day (it's not like she has myriad other things she has to get done). to put it lightly, she hates it. <br /><br />thus, the moral of the story is that we've both learned the hard way that to-do lists are a menos eficaz (that means less effective in spanish) way of making deposits in one's emotional bank account. in fact, it typically has just the opposite effect. as such, we tend to only make these types of requests when there has been a recent direct deposit in the emotional bank account such that the emotional cup runneth over. on the other hand, sometimes we don't care if the account is overdrawn and just want the other spouse to get something done we don't want to do ourselves (how's that for mixing metaphors? does anyone even have an idea of what i'm talking about anymore?).<br /><br />moving on...<br /><br />as with all things blogmaster related, there is, of course, some endearing anecdotal evidence, sitting as an illustrative backdrop, against the moral of this story which you zombies should wisely view through the ever-changing to-do list lens of life. <br /><br />partake... <br /><br />if memory serves, i was the latest perpetrator in the union of mrs. blogmaster and myself to unleash a to-do list on the better half. one of items on this to-do list included: make sure you sign us up for <a href="http://disneyparks.disney.go.com/disneyparks/en_US/WhatWillYouCelebrate/index?name=Give-A-Day-Get-A-Disney-Day">disney's give a day get a day</a>. for those unfamiliar with this type of sorcery, the bottom line is that if you sign up to volunteer a day's worth of service for some noble cause, then you get a free ticket to disneyland. not a bad deal if you think about it: volunteer a day and get something in return. nothing says charitable service like a quid pro quo beneficial arrangement. thus, in the spirit of providing philanthropy with the intent of being compensated for it, i thought the cooperfive might as well throw our collective mickey mouse eared hats into the ring and get some free tickets to disneyland by serving our fellow human beings. <br /><br />thing is, i didn't actually end up serving human beings... i served animals. pets at a pet fair to be more specific.<br /><br />yes, you read my words correctly. my lot in this whole ordeal was to serve animals at a pet fair. to my pleasant surprise, i only discovered my assignment upon receiving my confirmation email from the program. at first i was pretty stoked since as an active member of the mormon church and an eagle scout i have had plenty of opportunities to serve; however, these opportunities have usually involved manual labor and physical exertion. it is not uncommon for me to profusely sweat or hurt myself during a mormon service project... and all for something we generally refer to as "blessings", not tickets to disneyland. <br /><br />lest ye think i'm complaining, i'm not. i enjoy helping out where i can, i'm just saying that service for me doesn't traditionally involve helping out at a pet fair. it usually involves blazing a trail in the vegas heat or carrying a piano up the stairs on my back. a pet fair sounded like a nice change-up from the usual... kind of fun, actually. i especially got excited when i saw that part of the job description included being a pooper scooper. rad.<br /><br />to illustrate...<br /><br />having grown up a cooper, i heard my fair share of cooper pooper scooper name calling. as funny as is to hear that over one bizziliion times as a kid, it's still a barrel of laughs when i hear it today as an adult... even like three moths ago when someone dropped it on me at church. i was laughing so hard that i wasn't laughing at all. name calling is one thing, but with this pet fair, though, i had the opportunity to actually put my money where others' mouths had been for so long in that i could actually dig in and scoop some poop, thus, earning my rightful moniker.<br /><br />funny thing is, on the other end of this machination mrs. blogmaster anxiously awaited my reaction thinking i would be bummed about an assignment that involved scooping up canine feces given my sour disposition towards coddling pet owners, coddled pets and, one could safely assume, their poop... au contraire mon frere! <em>for, unbeknownst to me, mrs. blogmaster had specifically chosen pooper scooper duty as my service project in direct retaliation for my having left her a to-do list which included signing us up in the first place.</em> the funnier thing is that i was actually looking forward to the event for some odd reason... maybe i was because of its potential blogability. how's that for backfired, lover?<br /><br />unfortunately, i didn't really get to scoop any poop as there wasn't much excrement left on the ground at the event. either all the dogs were constipated or the owners were responsible enough to clean up their own stuff. i'm not sure. i did get to count some dogs, hand out some doggie bags, and assist in unpacking a car to help set up a ferret display, though. it was good times. <br /><br />i especially enjoyed the idiosyncrasies of the near fanatic pet-owner crowd. they definitely are their own culture. in fact, <a href="http://thecooperfive.blogspot.com/2009/02/birthday-number-two-for-son-number.html">i once authored a blog post touching on my feelings towards those who seem to value their pets more than their offspring</a> (although, i think some of this crowd can't tell the difference anymore). <br /><br />i'm not hating on the peta type, their hearts are in the right place and maybe the pets are all they have... to which i say, i'm glad you have someone. but then there's the couple with the ferrets that seem pretty normal on the surface, but upon closer look something just doesn't seem right and i have to wonder...<br /><br />for instance, how does that first conversation about being a ferret owner (and not just any ferret owner, but a multiple ferret owner that goes to pet fairs to parade ferrets) go over with the significant other for the first time? maybe there's some bar or online dating site where pet lovers go to chat/hang out and there's this pretense that everyone involved is little over the moon for their pets. if that's the case, then fine: caveat emptor... that's one thing (although, with the stigma on-line daters already have, do you really want have the potential for weird to the second power by making it an on-line dating website for ferret groupies?). <br /><br />in contrast, if the conversation is more of a coming out of the closet event in the sense that it's a sudden "hey, i know we just met, but i've got to tell you that i'm really into ferrets... i mean <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> into ferrets! i've got five of them that i parade at pet fairs every once in a while. they're a big part of my life. are you down with that?" well, then that's quite another situation. <br /><br />and then i have to wonder if there's even proper etiquette in that culture to govern when such news is properly sprung. is it proper to lay it all on the line during the first meeting/date? or is there some more strategery involved in the sense that one is better off waiting until a few dates have gone by and here's some emotional investment already in the bag? inquiring minds want to know. <br /><br />hey, if you want to refer to your pets as your children, more power to you. i get the bond. i cried every time we lost a pet as a kid. in fact, i got a little emotional when i just found out my parents took the cat we all hated to the pound the other day... and i seriously disliked that thing. i get it. i just don't get the dog strollers. unless your dog is injured, old, or legless, dog strollers are an abomination to humankind. <br /><br />in summary, the service project was fulfilling. it was especially fulfilling when i printed out the free vouchers for disneyland yesterday. at least i got to do something interesting like count dogs rather than something boring like prepare meals for homeless people like mrs. blogmaster did. where's the fun in that? my mom, on the other hand, takes the cake. special k's project consisted of her reading to birds. i said birds. <br /><br />what is this world coming to? do i need to remind you all of what happens to the humans on <em>planet of the apes</em>? consider yourselves warned.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-52049153573482903112010-02-25T19:50:00.000-08:002010-03-06T08:13:21.520-08:00jameson presents on bugsy seigel: it's what we've always wanted as parents... that our son could portray a gangster<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KQUY2UhbM0L-PquyZiO1JpY734d9BU1D3eG7l02ucRvSEQEzYDxNNAL08VMQ9HM2RLyJ6h9ssAAPPqYsM1Lbx71OVlJGQkdksF3rqDhv5FehQYZWHUIudR5HqYb7rmSPPBdzsQszDaU/s1600-h/DSC05411.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KQUY2UhbM0L-PquyZiO1JpY734d9BU1D3eG7l02ucRvSEQEzYDxNNAL08VMQ9HM2RLyJ6h9ssAAPPqYsM1Lbx71OVlJGQkdksF3rqDhv5FehQYZWHUIudR5HqYb7rmSPPBdzsQszDaU/s400/DSC05411.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445549334114209010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-RypGP02e-OPkkQTi9fe55IcuumOr_KrL5oh8jWXrmOrg3y3Kzy1mB24NEzZDpzVBFn9ktEZ3lvCeEseYiAAyh12iMuQFvJn6CJgYv3GvM4AXvCvMyRHy-Z-JOa1dG75Gyy3J30am8s/s1600-h/DSC05410.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-RypGP02e-OPkkQTi9fe55IcuumOr_KrL5oh8jWXrmOrg3y3Kzy1mB24NEzZDpzVBFn9ktEZ3lvCeEseYiAAyh12iMuQFvJn6CJgYv3GvM4AXvCvMyRHy-Z-JOa1dG75Gyy3J30am8s/s400/DSC05410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445549327193469138" /></a><br />jameson recently had to do a project for class on a famous nevadan. at first when he told me about it, he said the person had to have been born in nevada and that the person had to be dead. that really narrows the field quite a bit seeing as how hardly anyone is actually born in nevada anymore. everyone's a transplant. and anyone who is famous and from nevada, is still alive. <br /><br />the obvious choice would be the blogmaster since i am a proud native, problem is, i'm still alive and i wasn't about to take one for the team just so the boy could do a presentation on me. when jameson first told me about the project, i spent some time in deep thought trying to be a helpful parent, but wasn't really able to come up with anyone. after a while i just forgot about it and figured he or mrs. blogmaster would figure it out. <br /><br />next thing i knew, he had been given the option of presenting on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bugsy_Siegel">bugsy seigel</a> or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benny_Binion">benny binion</a>. ah yes... two of nevada's favorite sons. we nevadans can all hold our heads high in honoring the memory of these two examples of model citizens who blessed our great state with their presence and respective contributions. oh, that every parent could have a son or daughter grow up to be a gangster/murderer who establishes mafia run gaming in a desert town before being taken out by the mob himself. on the other hand, if the mafia is out of reach or one doesn't want to set his/her sights quite so high, each child can still set his/her sights on opening a trashy casino or two and be implicated in a murder and other crimes. allegedly. we should all be so lucky. <br /><br />virginia has chumps like thomas jefferson and george washington, but we've got bugsy and benny... at least our guys didn't own slaves. apparently, the teacher changed the requirements of the assignment since bugsy wasn't born in nevada. i just think it's funny that nevada's heritage lies in a bunch of knuckleheads like these dudes. on the other hand, what else should i expect from a town that lives and dies the poker table? besides, i shouldn't judge... we've all been faced with the option of: should i kill this guys or not... he's losing me money? it's not an easy choice to deal with.<br /><br />back to jameson...<br /><br />so, jameson put together a report on bugsy's life along with creating a tombstone replica of bugsy's tombstone. i helped jameson with the report and ended up researching bugy's life quite heavily by skimming wikipedia. first, let me just say that writing papers for kids these days is so much easier than it was when i was a kid thanks to the internet. i can't complain though, 'cause i can't imagine going through college or law school without the internet either.<br /><br />thing is, i think kids shouldn't even waste their time learning how to write anymore... what's the point? if someone wants to learn latin, morse code, how to use a rotary dial phone, a fax machine or how to write, then to each his own; but, do it on your own time. schools should be teaching kids how to type from 2nd or 3rd grade on. to people like mrs. blogmaster, penmanship is an art that should not be undervalued... i say, bullocks, it's an inefficient waste of time, especially for error prone kids. word processing for kids would make every parent's life easier... plus, end products would look much better.<br /><br />the reason i bring this up is because jameson had to hand write his report. no big deal, if you get it all right the first time. but not so good when you have to erase a few times here and there with a cheap eraser... after a while the report starts to look like an ancient manuscript that survived a world war or two. so, instead of having more time to do important things like play x box or watch <span style="font-style:italic;">the suite life of zach and cody</span> (kill me now), jameson has to re-write his paper. consequently, while elementary school kids and the guys who still use those really old school printing presses that required you to place every letter on a page in backwards in order to print it are wasting their time with that stuff, the rest of us are typing blogs, emails, books, and the like in a fraction of the time. <br /><br />can you imagine if i had to handwrite this blog? one good thing is that my posts would probably be shorter. but, they wouldn't be nearly as legible and they'd probably be less coherent than they already are. <br /><br />back to jameson again...<br /><br />at some point that night before his project was due, we finished it. i was pretty involved in helping, maybe too involved... but that's debatable. i couldn't let him turn in garbage when it comes to writing, i just couldn't... not the blogmaster's son. it was actually an oral report he was going to be giving, as well, not just a paper he turned in. so, i'm sitting at work the next day and i get a voicemail from jameson saying that the vice principal liked his paper so much that he wanted jameson to come back the next day to be videotaped as he presented it. <br /><br />my first thought was, uh oh, was i a little too helpful on jameson's project? but, i quickly rationalize it all (a git we lawyers have) figuring it was all good since wikipedia was literally the sole source of research for the project and he physically wrote it out. all i helped him with was sentence structure, grammar, overall paragraph organization, and research. not that much, really. anyway, like i said, he did write it out all by himself... three times. let's just say, jameson tries to get his homework done before i get home so his mom will check it and go over it with him instead of me. it's funny, because i learned that lesson early on in life, as well (to avoid having my dad help me with homework). thing is, from about 2nd grade on my mom wasn't able to help with any of my math homework... that stuff was way too complicated for her. <br /><br />bottom line: jameson did a splendid job preparing and presenting his report on someone who should be very close to all nevadans' hearts: bugsy seigel. if you live here, hang a picture of him on your wall next to Jesus (or moses, if you're jewish, or oprah or any holywood star if you're spiritual, but not religious, etc.).<br /><br />here's some pics of jamebo and his ilk looking very debonair in his gangsta' get-ups:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t9fUqv2PZhvKI04sVYMTBFw_Ctvl_RPV0rBeN4xSpO22To1Xa0SreDkyZWz7e9rIrvoQROU_-0LB3kY7PMBIYwKSTLrnuagdqA8SGmueygSntRPO5FiuIugVDwcyUSpiEamSI02wsQg/s1600-h/DSC05420.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t9fUqv2PZhvKI04sVYMTBFw_Ctvl_RPV0rBeN4xSpO22To1Xa0SreDkyZWz7e9rIrvoQROU_-0LB3kY7PMBIYwKSTLrnuagdqA8SGmueygSntRPO5FiuIugVDwcyUSpiEamSI02wsQg/s400/DSC05420.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445548660331366370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74MzXEmcu5m04c75tlq9a__OHLNHhEjDEtflTUiuUwllI_RaCyO-7VCLcmivLqC-AM_mNQ5Au6_lfrJD8qWypHUJe7rFwtMp_JiYyAJWE3UCENVRhbBmIFGjjI_nJQhz5YVrdNK51Rrg/s1600-h/DSC05417.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74MzXEmcu5m04c75tlq9a__OHLNHhEjDEtflTUiuUwllI_RaCyO-7VCLcmivLqC-AM_mNQ5Au6_lfrJD8qWypHUJe7rFwtMp_JiYyAJWE3UCENVRhbBmIFGjjI_nJQhz5YVrdNK51Rrg/s400/DSC05417.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445548646837370386" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRaN9PGa8hPhgkXrEcarKMuBw5WjIyKCAqsG6dNykPz9EpQwA8MWP3tEBoxkFeeMRMb07kvVXx75LkXRD35-BmGwKZkudn3X-XOEQZomC0rmF-NBHXwuhbCjvPqB2Frr2ACh_eeQLFQg/s1600-h/DSC05418.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRaN9PGa8hPhgkXrEcarKMuBw5WjIyKCAqsG6dNykPz9EpQwA8MWP3tEBoxkFeeMRMb07kvVXx75LkXRD35-BmGwKZkudn3X-XOEQZomC0rmF-NBHXwuhbCjvPqB2Frr2ACh_eeQLFQg/s400/DSC05418.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445548639188996114" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij88CVJs2sEgS3fYF7oLifk24FeSRH2bGpCjvb2nWeu6bpS9NDS_yYyNUzJIZ4UaNKbw-ba5MguOZ-l2MBPTtV1iVY1WPm2r5QhK0Sas3507Mct_5I_yEAuvQ5tKpAIhNzViL8ccol-cU/s1600-h/DSC05421.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij88CVJs2sEgS3fYF7oLifk24FeSRH2bGpCjvb2nWeu6bpS9NDS_yYyNUzJIZ4UaNKbw-ba5MguOZ-l2MBPTtV1iVY1WPm2r5QhK0Sas3507Mct_5I_yEAuvQ5tKpAIhNzViL8ccol-cU/s400/DSC05421.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445548631194307442" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmgARWygMy3_nvjQlQ7sD6YcrE8Q8cLT_um76bsk7QAL983mCLCFxYFetYJWJF6wofaJVeupQLfkj1msIoMozNAU9K15AueQZ1uXrGoOgXI3108OmtCpquE9n8CuPh3S3nKP34qIV3HEc/s1600-h/DSC05412.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmgARWygMy3_nvjQlQ7sD6YcrE8Q8cLT_um76bsk7QAL983mCLCFxYFetYJWJF6wofaJVeupQLfkj1msIoMozNAU9K15AueQZ1uXrGoOgXI3108OmtCpquE9n8CuPh3S3nKP34qIV3HEc/s400/DSC05412.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445548622224997874" /></a>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-67921471374846033432010-02-21T13:21:00.001-08:002010-03-01T20:19:48.010-08:00phase one of the gauntlet, valentine's day: checki know it's a little late, but i needed to report on phase one of the gauntlet. for those who are unfamiliar with my personal gauntlet, you can read about it <a href="http://thecooperfive.blogspot.com/2008/04/gauntlet.html">here</a>... but basically it starts with valentine's day, then leads to the anniversary, then to aim's birthday, and then to mother's day and all in successive months.<br /><br />luckily for me, the last couple years for valentine's day have worked out pretty nicely since the law firm i work for does an attorneys retreat to newport, california right around valentine's day. being the opportunist i am, i seize the moment and have aim come up with me so we can stick around an extra day or two and we make a weekend of it sans kids. it's a pretty good time. <br /><br />for the most part the weather is pretty good, but sometimes there's some overcast, but nothing too bad. either way, that never stops us from renting some beach cruisers and riding up and down the coast, though. we usually make the trek up to hunington beach and hangout in the little downtown area there always willing to support the ca economy by buying some clothes we don't need and taking in some of the local cuisine. this year we had some fish tacos from <a href="http://www.wahoos.com">wahoo's</a>. they were pretty rad. we have also seem to have made it tradition to stop in on <a href="http://www.shopfashionisland.com/PhotoGallery.aspx">fashion island</a> so that we're tempted beyond capacity to spend even more money on more things i'm sure we could do without. it's actually quite pathetic, but we are unable to resist the allure of this crass shrine to commercialism. we're still bargain shoppers, though, and even at joints like this you can find amazing deals. <br /><br />after hunington beach, we head back towards newport which is nice because that's mostly downhill and the wind's at your back. this year aim didn't crash on her bike, which is always a plus. without fail, we always hit bablboa island to do a little shopping on it's enchanting downtown strip and, most importantly, to grab some balboa bars at dad's. as i mentioned in the previous post, no trip to newport would be complete without a balboa bar. i highly recommend them to all and would even go so far as to say the 3 hour drive there is worth it just to enjoy a balboa bar. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SvfymNLFtiDx3yC69sSvx5mKI7AafqRoRanMEQhCQLZO9vdfDGkl0ollBtmzxSYXjla4881PIYGM6VmqF8lXaMAUlcZ0kc9VBt3hsPozw5JZhTHQiSG4vlOBYMsEM9u8OQJPdxI3-70/s1600-h/P7050077.JPG.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SvfymNLFtiDx3yC69sSvx5mKI7AafqRoRanMEQhCQLZO9vdfDGkl0ollBtmzxSYXjla4881PIYGM6VmqF8lXaMAUlcZ0kc9VBt3hsPozw5JZhTHQiSG4vlOBYMsEM9u8OQJPdxI3-70/s320/P7050077.JPG.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443314167171164642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLfFhfgFgp0ZLugMow75GigfN6V4Vbfu0cfNLKRUa-Q5W1lSC6VpTDk4WYOg2hyphenhypheniAy65gblFvh7NYKOuSYdd-ZCAQlyBimHp3Rhs2LpZifCUhmVfQVvkhRcswUYzMhFqHP7IOK0VUXtI/s1600-h/21137_5418_l.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLfFhfgFgp0ZLugMow75GigfN6V4Vbfu0cfNLKRUa-Q5W1lSC6VpTDk4WYOg2hyphenhypheniAy65gblFvh7NYKOuSYdd-ZCAQlyBimHp3Rhs2LpZifCUhmVfQVvkhRcswUYzMhFqHP7IOK0VUXtI/s320/21137_5418_l.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443315445833268226" /></a><br /><br />all in all, the weekend is a nice break from normalcy and the daily grind of endless responsibilities, work, baseball practices, homework, laundry (so i hear), parenting, etc., etc. visiting southern cal is always a therapeutic, if not nostalgic, event for us. while we only lived in california for three years... and it was nor cal, we still find ourselves longing for the ideal weather, the proximity to the beaches, the good people we met, the food, and that permeating feeling of being on vacation 24/7 when we visit. of course, we only tend to remember the positives of ca while we're there, but that's what keeps us coming back for more.<br /><br />this year was no exception. and add to all the amenities of southern cal the fact that this was a valentine's day weekend getaway and, as usual, it was a match made in heaven. this being the case, there is always a portion of the trip set-aside for some "special" time between aim and me... if you know what i mean. don't worry, i'm not going to get all "tmi" on you here, (although, maybe i already have), except to say that when you have the ipod playing in the background in an attempt to set a sultry/romantic tone for the evening, make sure you're using a playlist that doesn't include any church hymns, mormon tabernacle choir or otherwise... because i can attest that when you're trying to get your love groove on and all of a sudden a crying violin starts cranking out "i know that my redeemer lives", it's a real mood killer. <br /><br />luckily, this is a problem that can be easily remedied. unfortunately, revealing too much information, or the wrong information, during a newlywed game at a valentine's day party cannot. i'll just leave it at that except to say that when addressing the question about what first attracted you to your spouse, steer away from anything that might sound like "her spaceship-looking nose." just a gratuitous pointer from the erudite blogamaster. you can thank me later.<br /><br />here's some pics of us on our way to the v-day party. note that aim's not mad or overly embarrassed yet because this was pre-spaceship nose comment. also, note the spaceship like nose. lastly, please note that i wasn't intentionally trying to pull-off that "i'm way too cool to even be interested in this photo" look on my face, i was just born that way... there's nothing i can do about it. <br /><br />happy belated valentine's day from these two lovers!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibc15rc7AP12ybv9MZglsFSt3HdeuQXEHFRnkj01c3qLqr0qgsV2Mrra2NU0Havch_fZ51xcgbrRH27VVMku7tdhUoJSIwms9Lo8jNxhjgYkBBWIk0jyLq45F-FAAFPXEz6PbXomdcD3E/s1600-h/DSC05443.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibc15rc7AP12ybv9MZglsFSt3HdeuQXEHFRnkj01c3qLqr0qgsV2Mrra2NU0Havch_fZ51xcgbrRH27VVMku7tdhUoJSIwms9Lo8jNxhjgYkBBWIk0jyLq45F-FAAFPXEz6PbXomdcD3E/s400/DSC05443.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443324402837229122" /></a>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-61229949598152561022010-02-21T13:19:00.001-08:002010-02-27T13:16:43.395-08:00a celebration is an order: colston turned fwee!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3y9GmvEXBMidUVR33Lqq4a_qS9peiFPll9epvYnZPu9Wm7zmUcfs85U1YWOFl6zI_R240T0TusxEZavHXCmH8EPwTQryqO9ZuOC4bSUuv4i0Vn3rXqmYAglKy298BuqrIy-KxqYHSZo/s1600-h/DSC05366.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3y9GmvEXBMidUVR33Lqq4a_qS9peiFPll9epvYnZPu9Wm7zmUcfs85U1YWOFl6zI_R240T0TusxEZavHXCmH8EPwTQryqO9ZuOC4bSUuv4i0Vn3rXqmYAglKy298BuqrIy-KxqYHSZo/s400/DSC05366.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442409744031438834" /></a><br />earlier this month, our youngest, colston, celebrated his third birthday. or as he would say, he turned "fwee." colston has a little bit of a lisp, but i'm not too worried about it. his mother, on the other hand, sometimes acts as if it's so outlandish that any minute, charles xavier is going to appear out of nowhere with a white haired black chick and ask if colston can join his school for gifted mutants. babe, it's not that pronounced... ok, maybe it is, but he'll grow out of it and if he doesn't, i'm sure he has a bright future as the x-man who beats down bad guys by furiously amplifying the sound waives of his lisp at them. in the meantime, no sense in giving the poor kid a complex. thank goodness he doesn't read the blog.<br /><br />the birthday was nice and low key... at least for everyone but the evening's entertainer: me. we only invited family and a neighborhood buddy of his or two, but i had the wondrous idea of preparing frozen hot chocolate, frozen bananas and balboa bars rather than the traditional stuff. the idea sounded great in theory, but i have since learned that balboa bars aren't that easy to replicate and since it was my idea, it was all on me, but, as usual, aim made for a great help-mate and did all the decorating and the like.<br /><br />for those unfamiliar with the term balboa bars, these are one of my all time favorite ice cream novelties. one reason the term may not ring a bell is because you can/should really only eat these things on balboa island in newport, california. basically, they're an ice cream bar, dipped in chocolate that freezes into a shell, but not before you choose a topping to cover it in (oreos, nuts, almonds, sprinkles, etc. fyi: almonds are the best). aim and is spent the weekend before the b-day in newport where i had my fair share of balboa bars and, as such, we were both channeling the deliciousness of this delicacy and thought we'd give it a whirl in lv. long story short, the bars weren't bad but they weren't great. the frozen hot chocolate was much better and the frozen bananas were pretty tasty, too. <br /><br />back to colston...<br /><br />it was kind of funny, but colston had a black eye on his birthday. we don't know how it happened since it was inflicted while my parents were watching him. don't ask, don't tell, but you can see the remnants below. the i've posted span the course of about three days which is approximately the amount of time we spent celebrating cold stone's birthday in one way or another. i especially like the shot of coles the day he apparently got a hold of the gel and try to pull of his best glen danzig impression. what's more is he's guarding that truck and trailer toy he's sitting by in the pic with a scowl that no fool would want to mess with... and if any particular fool did, i would pity him. just ask caleb. joking, kind of... funny thing is, jameson had a black eye, too, when we got back from cali (word on the street is that caleb is responsible for both of them). it's an eye for an eye thing in this brotherhood.<br /><br />bottom line, colton is inexplicably adorable. i don't know if it's the cheeks, his belly, his little voice or the fact that he's probably the most jovial toddler you'll ever meet, but he is seriously one of the most endearing souls on the planet. the kid is ticklish on literally every spot of his body and it's almost impossible to resist tickling him on a daily basis. his laugh is not only contagious, but infectious. <br /><br />colston is also a very smart dude having learned to talk, count and recite the alphabet at a pretty early age. he picks things up quickly and is constantly trying to keep up with his older bros... which he's not too bad at, except that he's not near the fiend for speed that they are. i remember the time at disneyland when i was going to rock the tea cups out of this world when all of a sudden i looked over at colston and against the backdrop of blurry park-goers i saw what looked like a giant tomato that was about to pop in place of where colston's head used to be. i immediately slowed down and learned that he's just not into that kind of stuff... fine by me, less likely to break his back at powell that way. in summary, we're luky to c-town on board at the cooperfive and i can't imagine what life would be like today had i not put my special dance moves on aim that special night some three years and nine months ago. she never knew what hit her. <br /><br />ok, getting serious again... the aforementioned is great and all, but i have to admit the achievement i am most proud of when it comes to colston is the fact that he followed in the footsteps of his indefatigable dad by potty training himself. yes, zombies, it's time to clear-up the urban legend you all have likely heard that the blogmaster potty trained himself... it's not an urban legend, it's true. consider it cleared-up. and just like his father before him, c-town decided one day he'd had enough of the diaper life and bam all of a sudden we're saving like $40 a month not having to buy disposable swaddling loin cloths. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">queue joke about the blogmaster being 6, 10 or even 15 years old when he potty trained himself.</span><br /><br />to the contrary, my friends... i've heard it all before, besides, those jokes won't fly in these parts now that i have some proof of my accolade which proof is none other than the flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood heeding the manifest destiny of his genetic make-up by teaching himself to use the loo at the tender age of two. it's in the dna, zombies. accept it. teaches it in the schools... there's science in that logic and, thus, it cannot be anymore disputed than say global warming, err cooling, err climate change. <br /><br />time for the pics...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWfj6EZBT0GHc6J3Sb4M_b_m7A5qZDVIMW_ZHldH61Hfilkpy41GcIHwWHm2oo3REYP2qFzJDKbFtvRkKZqA9duUzRSI03QavvnVCJGUQmLNuAW_lCD0fzWAnDZLisghp4lNhEAFVKSk/s1600-h/DSC05439.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWfj6EZBT0GHc6J3Sb4M_b_m7A5qZDVIMW_ZHldH61Hfilkpy41GcIHwWHm2oo3REYP2qFzJDKbFtvRkKZqA9duUzRSI03QavvnVCJGUQmLNuAW_lCD0fzWAnDZLisghp4lNhEAFVKSk/s400/DSC05439.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442409330137087186" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" 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href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvah6SmDKVvWUeVN7FV8ciX2bc_g1CzCsm8vGmOK7F-L4s9FGpN-S5oUfjqJ6wvqMFiStaoZ_ojMD4JW-NphQqLMYS3XTCbpLWWgc-60cYGBSod1Q-ukAYEVxmGM7m7a-rl8vrtzsT8w/s1600-h/DSC05310.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvah6SmDKVvWUeVN7FV8ciX2bc_g1CzCsm8vGmOK7F-L4s9FGpN-S5oUfjqJ6wvqMFiStaoZ_ojMD4JW-NphQqLMYS3XTCbpLWWgc-60cYGBSod1Q-ukAYEVxmGM7m7a-rl8vrtzsT8w/s400/DSC05310.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442406303227317618" /></a>the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-21012174525033475892010-02-21T13:18:00.000-08:002010-02-24T07:45:48.098-08:00epilogue to previous post: in the spirit of full disclosure, the blogamster has been known to sleepwalk a time or twoafter revealing mrs. blogmaster's penchant for sleep talking in my previous post, i thought it only fair that i expose a somewhat equally unbecoming aspect of my life: sleepwalking. yes, i, the great blogmaster have had a few nocturnal strolls in my day... no big deal, right? i'm not above that. bottom line: when it comes to the patriarch and matriarch of the cooperfive, she's all talk and i'm a man of action... sounds pretty accurate except that it's not.<br /><br />fact is, it's been years since i've slept walk. it's actually only happened a handful of times, but that's probably a few more times than most people. and when you think about it, sleepwalking is a really weird phenomenon. there you are practically unconscious, but walking around and completely unaware of your surroundings. as far as i know, the only other time that really happens is when someone is sloppy drunk... and i don't drink, nor have i ever been drunk, so it's at least really weird for me.<br /><br />i know i'm not the only one, though... some of you have probably slept walked at some point in your lives. either that or you know someone who has. i could be wrong, but most of these incidents were likely uneventful. my misadventures, however, were pretty embarrassing... maybe even more embarrassing than calling for a big hairy wolfman to come hither or singing a monotone tune while in a near comatose state. in my defense, though, it has been quite a while since i last slept walk. in fact, last time i had a sleepwalking incident was probably in the 5th grade which was, coincidentally, the crowning moment of my sleepwalking achievements. we'll save that one for later, though. for now, let's warm-up with a little something else i like to call "urinal or laundry basket: how the heck am i supposed to know when i'm 95% asleep." <br /><br />late one night, back when i was a wee lad, i was fast asleep. the end.<br /><br />actually, that's all i remember, so that's all i can share in the first person. the rest of the story we will have to accept on my brother and mother's word since, according to them, they witnessed the following series of events firsthand. allegedly. i'm still not convinced as i have suspected a smear campaign from my brother ever since the day my brother posted a youtube video of me in a speedo. <br /><br />jeff, mom didn't nurse you because i was in the womb and needed the nutrients as a growing fetus more than you did as an already born baby. deal with it.<br /><br />sorry, zombies... i don't mean to air the family's dirty laundry on the world wide web, but that's the beauty of modern technology... it has allowed me to express feelings and concerns on an intergalactic platform to an extent i never thought possible. i weep in awe.<br /><br />back to the story at hand...<br /><br />for starters, i have done my best to recreate the series of events based on alleged eyewitness accounts, my own fleeting and somewhat drowsy memories and a wikpedia entry on the matter. so, one night, as a wee lad, i allegedly had to take a wee... allegedly. unfortunately, i was asleep when i felt this sudden urge, but because i was in such a deep sleep or because the urge wasn't that strong (we'll never know), my slumbering mind did not snap into full consciousness while the rest of my body apparently did. allegedly.<br /><br />and so i made my way to the restroom. back in those days, we had the dirty clothes hamper in the bathroom, not far from the toilet. the loo itself was in between jeff's and my room and my parent's room. not much of a trek unless you're trying to find it while you're asleep. <br /><br />i remember the light being on in the bathroom and my body being there in the room. i also remember the singular sensation of relieving myself in the middle of the night. i also recall some laughter and then slightly slipping out of my nocturnal state just long enough to realize that my mother and brother were standing at the bathroom door laughing at me. apparently i was facing the wrong direction. allegedly. i guess they think it's funny when someone urinates on their clothes while in the dirty clothes hamper. personally i think that's gross, but to each his own.<br /><br />ok, so it was funny... still is, i guess. thing is, i can't for the life of me figure out why my mom and brother were somehow awoken by me urinating on the laundry basket in the middle of the night. i mean, it's not like that's really loud or disruptive. besides, i'm not so sure i like the idea of my mom having seen me in a urinating stance mid-stream... i was in third or fourth grade at the point... maybe even fifth or sixth. i smell a conspiracy. thank goodness there was no youtube back then... jeff!<br /><br />i think i actually did that twice (urinate on the dirty clothes hamper in the middle of the night while mostly asleep). apparently, the rate of recidivism is fairly high once someone has taken to taking a leak on dirty clothes. it's a vicious cycle.<br /><br />for my last account of the evening, i will share an experience that is almost unbelievable. this particular incident occurred one night when i went babysitting for our neighbors who lived two doors down from us. it was a late night job which wasn't a big deal since i'd done that before, but apparently i'd never been quite as tired during past babysitting jobs as i was on this night. <br /><br />this night i was watching a couple little boys who went to bed around 8 or 9 if memory serves (which it doesn't, that's total conjecture) and after that i was on my own. i guess i got bored and eventually crashed on the couch or something. no big deal, babysitters fall asleep all the time... kids had been good, no drama, just me and the couch cushions now. it's all good. <br /><br />thing is, next thing i remember, my my dad's waking me up in my own bed for my paper route early the following morning. so there i am, getting up when big jeff asked me how the babysitting job went the night before. "good," which was my automatic response. he then asked me how much i got paid. "$7 or $8," i said... but wait, was it that much? i couldn't remember, but in my mind that sounded about right. but, it was so wrong... i hadn't gotten paid at all because i slept walk home before the parents got back from their night out on the town. <br /><br />turns out big jeff knew full well i never got paid the night before because i'd made my way home well before the parents who hired me got home to their house (they'd called my parents looking for me). at first they thought i was hiding from them when they got home because what kind of kid leaves his babysitting job before the parents get home? the kind of kid that sleepwalks two doors down the street back to his house without realizing he's leaving two little boys at home alone helpless and vulnerable. <br /><br />kind of strange. no recollection whatsoever. surprisingly, i still got paid for the babysitting job, but not so surprisingly i don't think i ever got asked to babysit for the family again. <br /><br />thus, we see that aim's not the only one who can't control herself during her sleep. don't judge us.<br /><br />on a side note, let me know if you'd ever like me to watch your kids.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-75349571404119781732010-02-20T16:50:00.000-08:002010-02-20T18:04:10.491-08:00so, mrs. blogmaster has a habit of sleep-talking...it's saturday afternoon and a couple members of the cooperfive are taking naps. naps are a precious commodity around here as they are hard to come by but when some of us do get one we're all much more pleasant to be around the rest of the day. <br /><br />colston is a pretty good napper, but the two older boys think napping is for the birds. in fact they think sleeping in general is for the birds... unless, of course, it's 9:00 am in the morning and jameson has to be to school in 15 minutes and he is home alone and i am on the golf course calling him to get him up and over to his friend cooper's house so they can walk to school together and he's not picking up the phone and he hasn't showed up to school yet and i'm sending people over to knock on the door and he's not answering and i'm starting to freak out now as i'm stuck behind a highway patrolman on the 215 and can't speed up to get home to see what's going on when emcghee breaks in and finally finds him in bed fast asleep. those are the times when sleeping is the greatest thing in the world for the kids... or right before church. go figure.<br /><br />my kids take a similar stance on eating, which is extremely odd to me since, as a kid, i pretty much ate indiscriminately. eating was the activity that took precedence over all other activities. if something looked good, i ate it. if something looked good and i was full, i still ate it. in fact, i'm convinced some of us coopers don't possess whatever synapse or chemical or membrane or whatever it is in our brain that tells your body to stop eating once it is full. if it tastes good, i'll eat it. even if it doesn't taste good, i'll eat it sometimes, too, if there's nothing else to do. <br /><br />to the minors in the cooperfive, though, eating is a burden... that is of course, unless it's time to go to bed and all of a sudden they try to filibuster their way out of going to bed by moaning about being hungry even though we had a very adequate dinner two hours earlier. i have to admit, it's a pretty good tactic on their part as no parent wants to send their kid to bed hungry... that's just neglectful/borderline abusive. plus, my boys are tiny so i think they need to get all the food in them they possibly can. as of late, i've taken more of a tough-love stance when they pull this shenanigan on me and refuse to get them anything, but i still usually let them go find what they can in the kitchen... which is typically something nice and hardy like marshmallows or graham crackers. <br /><br />back to the sleep talking stuff...<br /><br />like the title states: aim likes to sleep-talk. ok, so it's not every night... or maybe it is and i just sleep through it, but every once in a while, i'll be up and she'll be out when all of a sudden she mumbles some weird combination of words and a conversation ensues. usually the conversation is pretty one sided, but i do my best to keep mrs. blogmaster talking so i might further entertain myself. unfortunately, mrs. blogmaster gets a little stand-offish when she sleep talks and, thus, gets very annoyed with my persistence in trying to keep the conversation alive. <br /><br />i usually have to call the dogs off after three or four attempts to keep her gabbing out of fear that as her volatile sub-conscious temperament escalates, she might graduate from sleep talking to sleep kicking or smacking. it would be bad enough to be a battered husband, but i've got to think it would be even worse yet to be a battered husband who gets battered by his wife while she sleeps. either way, i don't want to find out. thus, for the sake of our marriage, i don't push the sleep talking pillow talk too far.<br /><br />the sad thing is that every time this happens, i think i'll remember whatever it is she says so that i can give her a hard time about the next day. unfortunately, more often than not, i usually forget and these gems of moments are lost forever. lucky for us i do remember a couple of choice utterances off the top of my head. <br /><br />one sleep-talking occurrence might not come across as funny on the blog as it actually was in real life, but i will share it nonetheless. this took place not too long ago when mrs. blogmaster and i were watching an episode of <span style="font-style:italic;">glee</span>. at the end of the episode, aim was dozing off and after the show ended, i noticed that she was out cold. as such, i reached over and started to give her a little nudgie to wake her up so we could go to bed. after a couple of jostles, i successfully jogged her out of nocturnal slumber and unlike she usually does, she barely awoke and was clearly still half-asleep. usually when i wake her up she jolts right back into the land of the living with a heightened sense of urgency and eyes popping all around like she just injected a red bull directly into her heart. not this time, though. <br /><br />actually, i was pretty surprised she fell asleep in the first place since she absolutely loves <span style="font-style:italic;">glee</span>. that being the case, i said something about being shocked she fell asleep and how she missed the best part of the show, which was the closing musical number. she, of course, insisted she hadn't fallen asleep and that she had, in fact, seen the final number. i knew she was full of it since she was barely even awake at that very moment and, so, i asked her to prove it by telling me what the last number was (this ought to be good). <br /><br />she tried to cover by saying she didn't know the name of the song, so i said "alright, how did the song go?" <br /><br />with that, half-asleep/half-awake aim, managed to mumbled out a monotone "hum-ma-na-hum-ma-na-hum-ma-na." i have no idea where she got that from, but it wasn't even close to the "<span style="font-style:italic;">don't stop believing</span>" number they actually performed. it was priceless, aim singing some nonsensical rubbish while barely awake and completely unaware of what she was saying. to be expected, she disavowed all knowledge of this moment the next day and i believed her. i wish i had gotten it on camera if for nothing else, for posterity's sake.<br /><br />that was pretty funny, but the absolute funniest thing she has ever said came about around the time "<span style="font-style:italic;">new moon</span>" the movie was coming out... either that or there was a full moon out. those are the only things that could explain why aimee kind of moaned a "com'mere you big hairy wolfman" as she rolled over in bed one night. i'm still not sure how to take that since i'm not an exceptionally hairy man and the guy on the "<span style="font-style:italic;">new moon</span>" movies, while admittedly abercrombie and fitch model'esque, is only like 15 years old.<br /><br />either way, i laughed my head off in my non-expressive/non-demonstrative kind of way and knew there was no way i could forget that one. and now it's documented.<br /><br />guess she'll want me to be chewbacca for halloween. i'm ok with that.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-45539697038197243322010-02-09T22:15:00.000-08:002010-02-10T13:21:25.821-08:00achtung, baby!zombies, <br /><br />i wrote a post tonight that was so long i felt it appropriate to break it out into three separate posts. these posts are the ones that immediately follow this one. i make note of this so that as you read, if something seems a little disjointed or out of context, remember that the individual posts were all part of one great whole in a past life. think pangea or the sum of these individual posts is greater than the whole. your choice. <br /><br />thank you.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-970614181542888772010-02-09T22:12:00.000-08:002010-02-10T07:42:22.045-08:00documentary review: trekkiesone of my other new year's resolutions was to watch at least one documentary each month (like i said, aiming high with the annual goals). ever since i recently watched <a href="http://www.newyorkdollmovie.com/">new york doll</a>, which i also highly recommend, i have been on a documentary kick. that documentary is about a pioneer punk rocker turned mormon. the story is fabulous and the special features an acoustic version of "a poor wayfaring man of grief" performed by his former frontman is pretty dope:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E4axKHtMNKw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E4axKHtMNKw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />but, that's neither here not there seeing as how the first installment of my documentary series was <span style="font-style:italic;">trekkies</span>. as you can guess, <span style="font-style:italic;">trekkies</span> is about obsessed star trek fans. actually, "obsessed" is being too kind, these guys are actually certifiable whack-jobs who need a serious intervention in their lives. nevertheless, chronicling the happenings of their sweet spirits is not only interesting, but amusing.<br /><br />i've never been a trekkie myself, but because i like star wars quite a bit it is not uncommon for people to assume i also like star trek or that trekkies and star wars fans are one in the same. not so, my friends... nothing could be further from the truth. i'll admit that i really liked the new star trek movie, <span style="font-style:italic;">the wrath of khan</span> was great (they put bugs down the dudes' ears for crying out loud) and that even aim was down with one star trek movie we watched about the borg, but that does not make me, or mrs. blogmaster, trekkie material. far from it, to say the least. <br /><br />and if there is any doubt about that, this movie makes any such misperception abundantly clear that such is not the case. check the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3674145561/">trailer</a>. <br /><br />overall, the show wasn't what i hoped it would be, but there were some choice lines that definitely made the 86 minutes worth it. i can't repeat them here because doing so without putting them in their proper context would not do them justice. as such, i recommend that you watch this show with a light heart and with some friends you like to laugh with just to hear those lines. and if that's not sufficient incentive, if for nothing else you should watch this show to take note of the warning signs that may tip you off to a child's involvement with the star trek universe. mothers, don't let your babies grow up to be trekkies... at least not the freakishly extreme kind of trekkies like the ones detailed in the documentary. <br /><br />for those of you who are not good enough parents to watch the show, i have summarized some warning signs for you to look out for, not only your sake, but the sake of your children and any hope you might have of your child ever meeting a member of the opposite sex and creating a child of his/her own.<br /><br />1. intergalactic army space patches for some alien nation, people or planet you have never heard of. if your child starts asking you to iron these on his/her clothes, iron them directly on to his or her back as a lesson of what's to come if they keep watching star trek.<br /><br />2. phaser beam guns or communicator devices held in holsters on their belt that they are willing to wear in public after the age of 6. what in the name of all that is holy. <br /><br />3. a "klingon language for dummies or <span style="font-style:italic;">doghs</span> (that's klingon for fools)" book. they have a written language for not only a fictional people but a fictional alien people hellbent on violence and with massive foreheads that look like brains... need i say more?<br /><br />4. dungeons and dragons books... d and d is a gateway drug to the highly addictive and highly dorky universe of all things fantasy and science fiction. i admit, that fantasy and science fiction are great in moderation, but when taken to an extreme they can spell the ultimate ruination for many a poor and unfortunate soul. either that or these same individuals become really good computer programmers, start a .com company and make billions of dollars before they turn 25. even then, no amount of filthy lucre can quell the severe degree of scrutiny they'll go through during those ever so tender early adolescent years.... oh well, to each his own.<br /><br />that is all i have time for tonight, zombies. stay tuned for february's documentary review (okie noodling). you're in for a treat.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-51696302846114587482010-02-09T22:10:00.000-08:002010-02-09T22:11:46.072-08:00restaurant review: settbello pizzeria napoletanai made a new year's resolution this year to try a new item of food selected from a list of "vegas musts" by some food critic guy and a chef in a recent issue of a local publication (the desert companion) i read when i'm bored at work. there were twenty items on the list, but six or seven of them were adult beverages... of which i do not partake... and one other one was fried intestines, so that left about twelve eligible edibles. thus, one item per month for the rest of the year. as you can see, i aim high when i set my goals... we should all be so ambitious. and altruistic i might add as this has given me a way to give back to you, my zombies. as luck would have it, i have decided to review each item i try over the course of the next year and, as a free-service to you, i will share my thoughts in an effort to broaden your culinary horizons.<br /><br />first stop: <a href="http://www.settebello.net/">settebello pizzeria napoletana</a>.<br /><br />settbello is one of the two best pizza places in vegas (gramaldi's being the other) and it's not even close (ok, anthony's is in the discussion). supposedly, in order to make the kin of pizza settebllos makes you have to be part of some exclusive italian pizza club or something. here's what there site says about it:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The Vera Pizza Napoletana (VPN) was established by Antonio Pace in Napoli, Italy in 1984. Signore Pace led a group of pizza makers whose sole purpose was to protect the integrity and defend the origin of the pizza making tradition as it began in Napoli over 200 years ago. <br /><br />The VPN charter requires that members use only specific raw ingredients to create the pizza dough, that the dough be worked with the hands, never using a rolling pin and that it be cooked directly on the surface of a bell shaped pizza oven that is fueled solely by wood. The charter also requires specific types of tomatoes be used and only the use of fresh milk or buffalo milk mozzarella is acceptable.</span><br /><br />i've been to settebllo before, so when i went a couple of weeks ago it wasn't a first, but i hadn't tried the specific pizza selected in the magazine article i mentioned above: the carbonara.<br /><br />here's the description from the site:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Crushed Tomatoes, Pancetta, Egg, Fresh Mozzarella, Basil, Parmigiano-Reggiano, Extra Virgin Olive Oil.<br /></span><br />it was good... but not as good as their signature dish, the settebello. this particular pizza, i can't get passed... which is why i hadn't tried any of the other pizzas. it's that good. here's the description:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Crushed Tomatoes, Pancetta, Wood Oven Roasted Fennel Sausage, Roasted Mushrooms, Toasted Pine Nuts, Mozzarella, Basil, Extra Virgin Olive Oil.<br /></span><br />we also tried the diavola:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Crushed Tomatoes, Finnochiona (Peppered Salame), Roasted Red Bell Peppers, Crushed Red Peppers, Garlic, Mozzarella, Extra Virgin Olive Oil.<br /></span><br />this one was also good, but if i had to rank them, i would say: 1. the settebello, 2. the carbonara, and then 3. the diavola. the settebello is as standard a pizza as settebllo the restaurant can get: sauce, cheese, sausage, basil and pine nuts (my favorite). it's close to traditional american stuff, but not so close that it's little caesars (not that i'm coming down on lc, it serves a purpose) and yet distinct enough to be a delicacy in its own right (the olive oil and pine nuts are a great addition, but the fresh mozzarella is divine). the carbonara is pretty similar to the settebello except that they put some fried egg on it... not bad, but it takes away some of the succulent flavor of the settebello which makes it not nearly as good as the same. the diavola is a nice change up in that it's a little spicier than what you're used to on a pizza... but it lacks the overall flavor of the other two, especially the settebello.<br /><br />you can't go wrong with any of them as they're all exquisite, but if you're a first timer there, i would definitely start with the settebello and branch out from there. but, before you even get that far, the caprese salad is a must... i might like gramaldi's pizza slightly more than settebello's, but settebello gets the nod on their caprese salad. we also tried the insalata carpaccio this last go and really enjoyed that, as well. here's the description: <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Bresaola, Parmigiano-Reggiano, Caciocavallo Cheese, Arugola With a Splash of Balsamic Vinegar and Extra Virgin Olive Oil.</span><br /><br />bottom line: i recommend all of the items listed above.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-26246690117128053762010-02-09T20:14:00.000-08:002010-02-09T22:14:40.756-08:00pedicure part 2some of you may recall a previous post i authored in which i detailed my first experience with receiving a pedicure. only the hardcorest of zombies will note that said post took place almost a year ago to the day during an attorneys' retreat to newport beach. yes, for those who have done the math, we just had our annual attorneys' retreat in newport again and, yes, i was fortunate enough to get another pedicure... but that's not all.<br /><br />first, i stand by my previous assessment that pedicures are a wonderful thing and the fact that i enjoy them says nothing about my unquestionable masculinity. second, even though i have not had a pedicure since i first had one a year ago, i have been long looking forward to the newport trip so i could receive my second. finally that day came and after a bruising battle of a football game on the beach and a rain soaked biking expedition to balboa island, my esteemed male colleagues and i made our way to the local albertson's shopping center pedicure chop shop for some self-pampering. <br /><br />the five of us who were secure enough with our masculinity to embark on such an endeavor entered the nail salon and were immediately greeted by a score of vietnamese women who showed us to our chairs and commenced chiseling away at the roughshod on our feet. but that wasn't all, one of the ladies asked if i wanted a neck and shoulder massage. is the pope catholic? let's do it. <br /><br />next thing i knew, though, was that she was asking me in broken english to lift up my shirt. huh? then the next thing i knew is that she was not only asking me to lift up my shirt, but to remove it. huh? then the next next thing i knew was that my boss and another colleague of mine had already peeled their shirts off and were getting the rub down. so, if all your friends jump off a bridge, should you jump off the bridge, too? absolutely... if it means getting a massage. off went the shirt and on went the massage oil.<br /><br />let me be clear... we weren't in private rooms tearing off our tops and getting massaged, we were in the main area of the entryway to the salon whose whole front wall was a window to a fairly busy shopping center parking lot in broad daylight. oh, and i was the one closest to the window... surprisingly, i didn't care. i guess it was the super relaxing massage i was getting that calmed my nerves and tamed my apprehensions.<br /><br />in addition, there was an older lady sitting next to me and then on the other side of her were my boss and co-worker. when the tops came off and she was surrounded by some not so strapping fleshy males, she was all of a sudden smiling in a laughing at us and not with us kind of way. but, as noted above, i couldn't have cared less although it was kind of awkward... and i'm sure that anyone who might have waked in at that moment would have been beholden to quite the site. you come in, thinking you'll enjoy a people magazine, an episode of harpo the she-devil, or private viatnamese language lessons and the first thing you see is three pale white guys whose better days in terms of being in physical shape are well behind them not only sitting in your starship enterprise chair but getting a combination pedicure/massage. like i said, quite a site in that it's not quite the site you were expecting. feel free to take your patronage elsewhere.<br /><br />all i'm saying is, don't hate me because i've got finely trimmed, filed, waxed, and buffed toe nails. hate me because i not only have finely trimmed, filed, waxed, and buffed toe nails, but because i've also got finely trimmed, filed, waxed, and buffed finger nails... oh, and did i mention i got all that done simultaneously with a massage. to say the least, these ladies were master salespeople. every five minutes they were asking me if i wanted something more, all while being under the influence of nail polish fumes, massage oil and the massage itself... i didn't know what to say. actually, i just kept pointing to my boss and saying, "whatever he's getting." and, of course, he was getting whatever they were proposing... at least according to them he was.<br /><br />and that was just the pedicure. the rest of newport was great, too... but that's a story for another day.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3850508438637076807.post-61983337008862078402010-01-30T07:44:00.000-08:002010-01-30T13:01:38.429-08:00i'm dreaming of a white mlk day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhb687qSy6kyhaX7eTv5eKrZRObGQqXB6Awd8OjcVge4IyffsS83TRyL5FAMx_Ra_0eRyHlb_KoF1zkIqua3KGVs-eOylU1iXOzHc3Sk77kZt6vQLGLp_xwcKvqKGf6NSn5T96FYVriU/s1600-h/DSC05221.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhb687qSy6kyhaX7eTv5eKrZRObGQqXB6Awd8OjcVge4IyffsS83TRyL5FAMx_Ra_0eRyHlb_KoF1zkIqua3KGVs-eOylU1iXOzHc3Sk77kZt6vQLGLp_xwcKvqKGf6NSn5T96FYVriU/s400/DSC05221.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432581810459873394" /></a><br />earlier this month, the cooperfive spent mlk weekend up in park city for some fun and wintery sun in the snow... that's all i'm getting at with the title, e.g. spending mlk day in the snow... you know, instead of dreaming of a white Christmas, a white mlk day. it's funny because of the how it seems to contradict itself on its face with the white snow reference and the racial inconsistency between a day meant to celebrate civil rights when whites are the ones who have typically suppressed those rights, but the post title really has nothing to do with race (i feel like my mom what with having to explain my double entendres and all, but i don't want anyone to read anything more into it than that. i just couldn't resist the comedic irony of the double entendre. really. no racial insensitivity here on the blog... i'll leave that to the likes of nevada senators and vice presidents. <br /><br />moving on...<br /><br />so, anyway, we converged for some skiing, snowboarding, tubing, good food, games, and all-around fun in the hills of park city, utah. it was quite the trip. here's a pic of two of the boys in front of the house we stayed in (4 families... 20 something kids and believe it or not, it wasn't all that crazy):<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB5Tqh-5VmO-ZRCj94uaQJfHkXn1YUpEzPPkImdbuH79QxD1dpQvv4Scdu9EHgtQ7zXNKW2WIECLBIIadWj8arJMrLfBR3cM8J7PyXSodWnrXzl8lB0UxkSqMkYaCqmG8YD5dPaQcPBo/s1600-h/DSC05228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB5Tqh-5VmO-ZRCj94uaQJfHkXn1YUpEzPPkImdbuH79QxD1dpQvv4Scdu9EHgtQ7zXNKW2WIECLBIIadWj8arJMrLfBR3cM8J7PyXSodWnrXzl8lB0UxkSqMkYaCqmG8YD5dPaQcPBo/s400/DSC05228.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432578535200788770" /></a><br /><br />mrs. blogmaster grew up skiing but hasn't gone since we got married many moons ago, so i was excited to see her strut her stuff on the slopes. aim loves being outdoors, doing something physical, going fast and throwing caution to the wind. in fact, this is how she broke her back and her elbow and wrecked a few of her dad's cars, but these are all stories for another day (actually, i think i've shared the elbow one before). <br /><br />at any rate, i was still excited for aim to get her downhill slope on, but somewhat worried in the back of my mind because if the mvp goes down, the rest of the cooperfive fall apart. trust can be such a double-edged sword. unfortunately, i don't have any video or pics of mrs. blogmaster in action, but all the reports i am getting is that she picked up right where she left off... really fast, good (for someone who hasn't skied in 12 years) and crazy. that's my babe. <br /><br />i was also really excited for jameson and caleb to snowboard and ski, respectively (jameson was way too cool to ski). jameson has started to wakeboard pretty well, so i was anxious to see how he would do on a snowboard... he actually did really well. caleb was a downhill wonder on the skis and seemed to love every second of it. i can't say i'm surprised, they obviously have just the perfect combination of their mother and little boy daredevilism in them to take on just about anything (now that's a dangerous combination). check out some of these vids of the boys' in action: <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzKlUGtul2SiVrhIXccAbtLCpyHQQaatKuenj_g1DP42y9BJZTKL7vbsMmEQL_qMhUGVgFPPudweP4oFgEneA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzVcbQsggBd4DQEgPiESG36zzON_NeAKy4sMvEdy1WGqLbWudL1Vwve7YhVEdwf_sFaVdtT800FNKxOiQFpPw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzxsVsBmMTrnyS3EMx8HtLDfIUr2lfT_LMJ6sXIrts683MN_E1TQoTMFjYYkJUafp8I9o3m1EntzNnS1Vtduw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />colston, on the other hand, is a little more reserved than his mother and brothers, so c-town and i sat out the day of downhill fun. we did, however, go up with aim and the boys to get everyone settled in and then returned a little early to get some pics and pick everyone up. i had a blast just watching aim and the boys. i have only been skiing once, back when i was a kid, but i kind of always wanted to do it more, so i was glad to be able to see my boys getting into it and having a good time. i hope to join them in the near future. <br /><br />i was especially happy to see aim thoroughly enjoying herself. she was definitely in her element and i can only hope that this is the first of many, many cooperfive ski/snowboarding trips... unfortunately, we don't have any of the equipment necessary which leads me to this big fat thank you to all who lent us stuff to use. that thank you is really meant for t-cakes, t-bone, the rest of the hodges clan and kurt h. you are all wonderfully generous people and helped make our trip so much more comfortable and cheaper than it would have been otherwise. we couldn't have done it without you. as they say in castellano: muchismas gracias! <br /><br />one quick noteworthy story from the trip. after mrs. blogmaster and the boys had been skiing and boarding all day and it was time to head back down on the gondolier, aim discovered she could actually ski the rest of the way down the mountain rather than take the ride. of course, aim hadn't had enough, and opted to ski rather than sit down (i wonder why our kids can never sit still). jameson was having such a good time, too, he wanted to tag along with mom. at first aim said no, but then had a change of heart and told him to come along. <br /><br />big mistake. apparently, going down the mountain is a lot harder and longer than the stuff jameson had been doing. as a result, he had a pretty miserable trip down the mountain and when i met them some half an hour later at the bottom, he looked like he had seen a ghost and immediately uttered out, "i'm never snowboarding again." he was overreacting, of course, and has already decided to try it again at some point, but it was kind of a bummer to finish the day that way. plus aim wasn't able to unleash her inner speed demon and end on a good note. maybe jameson was meant to slow her up so she wouldn't injur herself in some irreparable way. needless to say, i think aim and james were the last ones off the hill. but no big deal, it was all worth it and still lots and lots of fun. <br /><br />here are the pics: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKcQB-tkGF5Q5KpObjmPKAJlPCBnjZkkeRtPU-4poZPvlbARSHOg5wf-4TRE0IbeycZXvjP9vNKNNF6hn6vlY9CjL8mei06kK9drn8ERevhupjop9zptez_Fx6gCAs-AHSJMrt79dNFM/s1600-h/DSC05223.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKcQB-tkGF5Q5KpObjmPKAJlPCBnjZkkeRtPU-4poZPvlbARSHOg5wf-4TRE0IbeycZXvjP9vNKNNF6hn6vlY9CjL8mei06kK9drn8ERevhupjop9zptez_Fx6gCAs-AHSJMrt79dNFM/s400/DSC05223.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577751903502242" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWnkY5dj2KR8kLbYquilVjoq-jIwbqBQpBdyK-DcwKPKzDkuUENZq5oWb3wL52sobQPOl812gUBZf_G_iRELlBF1WiEkCCdscYcshfkDmWrWvHcQ35-2hfbFPg_8YUzzbp6cPtw6p0iM/s1600-h/DSC05220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWnkY5dj2KR8kLbYquilVjoq-jIwbqBQpBdyK-DcwKPKzDkuUENZq5oWb3wL52sobQPOl812gUBZf_G_iRELlBF1WiEkCCdscYcshfkDmWrWvHcQ35-2hfbFPg_8YUzzbp6cPtw6p0iM/s400/DSC05220.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577741457056578" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-0q4FbCHZNWcF79c55RxX_Cy9kAgNivJBKeD4h_kvneb5NfDAmGmG0SzEX9S-_dW07VB8IEM-4ZvcmbrrUL41qwvxMFD6jTFEFVFwORMNAYWpasswGrTajgUFLnsGZ1JHHg1FaZx1ek/s1600-h/DSC05219.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 377px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-0q4FbCHZNWcF79c55RxX_Cy9kAgNivJBKeD4h_kvneb5NfDAmGmG0SzEX9S-_dW07VB8IEM-4ZvcmbrrUL41qwvxMFD6jTFEFVFwORMNAYWpasswGrTajgUFLnsGZ1JHHg1FaZx1ek/s400/DSC05219.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577731319472674" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNZKEyBJNrwLE5kZTfTiq8dAJfosfsH9mo3rT0Li8Pa-CoD4n-I8omPV9lKDlN-OgvVT4Sg1LRsMz6mCs_SSPJWildHJxbL-rt9T61p35Q79l9deJLKthwax98UQp9DC6aboQMvJmwoY/s1600-h/DSC05218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNZKEyBJNrwLE5kZTfTiq8dAJfosfsH9mo3rT0Li8Pa-CoD4n-I8omPV9lKDlN-OgvVT4Sg1LRsMz6mCs_SSPJWildHJxbL-rt9T61p35Q79l9deJLKthwax98UQp9DC6aboQMvJmwoY/s400/DSC05218.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577721018529682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiI-mrJ1zA80NLI9ANXxgaabQ01IT1XQR8hGDg1re9CHzFAOF9AaFSCaX3ppUVNDNewbl-hZP8rl7EexYVy978l_QVq_o-5SeSyv3hFLGIhVIZSKWhS1Iii5yaUJnYnqgOd5Pu2OSRxg/s1600-h/DSC05215.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiI-mrJ1zA80NLI9ANXxgaabQ01IT1XQR8hGDg1re9CHzFAOF9AaFSCaX3ppUVNDNewbl-hZP8rl7EexYVy978l_QVq_o-5SeSyv3hFLGIhVIZSKWhS1Iii5yaUJnYnqgOd5Pu2OSRxg/s400/DSC05215.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577713555387522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3wMCVF4k6CRGvMhcagmuN7nOT5iZk5WW3l_GBxHfIjWOGK_tYMqEpGDOhFSJ8JlTZt4YsqMi59aRfyQVLqN9ZTPWsyzBhMt-FKfaX_FhFZrIi1PIFF5-Y5mmwM1khek5WDnqxxnPVS8/s1600-h/DSC05214.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3wMCVF4k6CRGvMhcagmuN7nOT5iZk5WW3l_GBxHfIjWOGK_tYMqEpGDOhFSJ8JlTZt4YsqMi59aRfyQVLqN9ZTPWsyzBhMt-FKfaX_FhFZrIi1PIFF5-Y5mmwM1khek5WDnqxxnPVS8/s400/DSC05214.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577124805184914" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0ggpM0PhW0Nhw_zTVCG7TZxp-PC3Cmg8bYyYkOE0N9a8ep-IycKHw3rBNNRSPwike3nyDq8TFnJtLMJPK5p4PP3Cn6mlXYQSlPKmVkuE1fAUVfsQButnR5ppsrCHx5omuegvYpFEiwA/s1600-h/DSC05212.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0ggpM0PhW0Nhw_zTVCG7TZxp-PC3Cmg8bYyYkOE0N9a8ep-IycKHw3rBNNRSPwike3nyDq8TFnJtLMJPK5p4PP3Cn6mlXYQSlPKmVkuE1fAUVfsQButnR5ppsrCHx5omuegvYpFEiwA/s400/DSC05212.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577114865435426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQObXIbX96QdocG9VGLIXTnLSd8sBbgXkCxYKVprp5DrX_IRJt14262i2GuwwGC9lHmLq5WtbAvaAtw1iQgcOv9VrqUDdl7p6ddHY02gEvw7fuzY2TBVFJZ7_PIa1Aw1QBjV1U4Brr3_Q/s1600-h/DSC05210.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 389px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQObXIbX96QdocG9VGLIXTnLSd8sBbgXkCxYKVprp5DrX_IRJt14262i2GuwwGC9lHmLq5WtbAvaAtw1iQgcOv9VrqUDdl7p6ddHY02gEvw7fuzY2TBVFJZ7_PIa1Aw1QBjV1U4Brr3_Q/s400/DSC05210.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577101925879698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefDlGtoZH4j4bteHg1_q2zH2DrBaKyvirXyvRa8hzUKHShhyuxAwbMplElhTvmodNY3phPl6TMJsrog9cqzinjLn6pRAV_NIoPoQ3x60mvEAMA1zag2vPYZ0TzmFSed7UQ6i2pCss81o/s1600-h/DSC05208.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefDlGtoZH4j4bteHg1_q2zH2DrBaKyvirXyvRa8hzUKHShhyuxAwbMplElhTvmodNY3phPl6TMJsrog9cqzinjLn6pRAV_NIoPoQ3x60mvEAMA1zag2vPYZ0TzmFSed7UQ6i2pCss81o/s400/DSC05208.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577091966482514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBXqIdStCs1-3ULPdijq-Nz2Ygb-vjjKtCxJVvwJY_rohb1CIAjpK-sBD_g8gpL0pHEvuPyp_740uu6DMTBrOU43UevwDEqwDVq5Kp1icFBliS7KK9efD92z98Q2UqJctrn5Jmwnd-TI/s1600-h/DSC05206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBXqIdStCs1-3ULPdijq-Nz2Ygb-vjjKtCxJVvwJY_rohb1CIAjpK-sBD_g8gpL0pHEvuPyp_740uu6DMTBrOU43UevwDEqwDVq5Kp1icFBliS7KK9efD92z98Q2UqJctrn5Jmwnd-TI/s400/DSC05206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432577081080469346" /></a><br /><br />we also did some tubing. i did participate in this activity and it was also a lot of fun. the tubing took place at one of those places where they actually have a lift kind of thing that pulls you up the mountain so you don't have to hike up the hill every time. much easier and much more enjoyable than trekking uphill at high altitudes in the cold. the boys really liked tubing, probably as much as skiing and boarding. i really liked it, too. you really move down those slopes. here are some pics i took while jameson, caleb and i were flying down the long/fast run along with some others from the tubing experience: <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZmKSHlWTJL1KSnwj5DPJ5jxO9GU6qDDycJl0Bszyfd28Pz1vAMzbRHo31c-rpKGlD22DXkkKIL0FNe0vH-LAE96W9nP-4aWWCCPmcnD8N6MpJRjHSbXBToIJXDVIPZJ0BP4tHfQ2K34/s1600-h/DSC05236.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZmKSHlWTJL1KSnwj5DPJ5jxO9GU6qDDycJl0Bszyfd28Pz1vAMzbRHo31c-rpKGlD22DXkkKIL0FNe0vH-LAE96W9nP-4aWWCCPmcnD8N6MpJRjHSbXBToIJXDVIPZJ0BP4tHfQ2K34/s400/DSC05236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579968645187954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0r9PwTo5r1E27DwODA1POdXkSFZjzEzgSooyuNFUK8of09QJHd2XOrG_rWbJ2ub3N7PeDadL0oUHW82DdFBFhzrfwHE1uGuHLq5gyhShFuBcCgz6qyvmirdEyON3DOg34fqHuFP40qs/s1600-h/DSC05235.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0r9PwTo5r1E27DwODA1POdXkSFZjzEzgSooyuNFUK8of09QJHd2XOrG_rWbJ2ub3N7PeDadL0oUHW82DdFBFhzrfwHE1uGuHLq5gyhShFuBcCgz6qyvmirdEyON3DOg34fqHuFP40qs/s400/DSC05235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579958245736274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibR8q86VHYET1OjOM360dlKpDtkQnfLhf8-HulRyItJDOA_dzLt_uqTnSaSmrTDd1O0AsyDTlV4EwgY__6zU8Mw3n2X_Khln8I18y9RMA-gctWLSzmHUuAmm7UT7HMkD0sSKsxANyWRNI/s1600-h/DSC05234.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibR8q86VHYET1OjOM360dlKpDtkQnfLhf8-HulRyItJDOA_dzLt_uqTnSaSmrTDd1O0AsyDTlV4EwgY__6zU8Mw3n2X_Khln8I18y9RMA-gctWLSzmHUuAmm7UT7HMkD0sSKsxANyWRNI/s400/DSC05234.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579955880484578" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvJfu6jvl3-k8IQVx1jv-sBUTRAGDg-33XKVa6icyYq8_1egZDX-7IR2c6vpXvubd1sUtkCsldYbAb1cOHCMJJztGUJQ_3KABjXINYg-vYqwy6YB7NjDYLvEfqbJgLmaArnxYgUL8Rrw/s1600-h/DSC05233.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvJfu6jvl3-k8IQVx1jv-sBUTRAGDg-33XKVa6icyYq8_1egZDX-7IR2c6vpXvubd1sUtkCsldYbAb1cOHCMJJztGUJQ_3KABjXINYg-vYqwy6YB7NjDYLvEfqbJgLmaArnxYgUL8Rrw/s400/DSC05233.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579332237736194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDWyMXabVBdDo_A8B_2lXYZ-EA_gDbnRZhlycBTpxBVbEX6rAAKTtdhKPMPvsi9idvY7DLvU0C6rCthoL16q_-Si_99PZGuxqk8o62JaV5FamBian_72F7fe4rZBsVsMlZYCG_W3oWPQ/s1600-h/DSC05232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDWyMXabVBdDo_A8B_2lXYZ-EA_gDbnRZhlycBTpxBVbEX6rAAKTtdhKPMPvsi9idvY7DLvU0C6rCthoL16q_-Si_99PZGuxqk8o62JaV5FamBian_72F7fe4rZBsVsMlZYCG_W3oWPQ/s400/DSC05232.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579323763716914" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiow9bxJDYiura41lAW96iSvrMLSWGfvDcVq_cSCFR6FMB3BNOciqcUTWLj4GGTMSVerFlXNtJnKYV2HIGse-d7-ZrITEuzIjZAKARNMYrd1U7c46xC3xcME6otPnFSYM9SfLqFIK-pmgw/s1600-h/DSC05231.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiow9bxJDYiura41lAW96iSvrMLSWGfvDcVq_cSCFR6FMB3BNOciqcUTWLj4GGTMSVerFlXNtJnKYV2HIGse-d7-ZrITEuzIjZAKARNMYrd1U7c46xC3xcME6otPnFSYM9SfLqFIK-pmgw/s400/DSC05231.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579312892353394" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7PvJYoCf8J7vXMGaCGUDMFm9RXwPMXzZgiWu6jTdGdJgftFqS-2ukPb-XxK1cx2mMAZ6FzvbmDyC79xc9fjt1uQABtsUR10-rErULSYjCyDgrzz7QBK6UHVeCpIECwEdiuTP4rjR38E/s1600-h/DSC05230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7PvJYoCf8J7vXMGaCGUDMFm9RXwPMXzZgiWu6jTdGdJgftFqS-2ukPb-XxK1cx2mMAZ6FzvbmDyC79xc9fjt1uQABtsUR10-rErULSYjCyDgrzz7QBK6UHVeCpIECwEdiuTP4rjR38E/s400/DSC05230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579307124468322" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPmHXNBCap5cf-PyvuDF9Ub_7Uiz72YWiN7Dt5m45eVvkDxTCCx5esR2Wa44D52DiIX8tECNZV5SYxKYnRZ39YpIbnE7YlipnB43_WMHf9_zMQeJrJWt6XOtwULVx1v_1K3-c-QXlY7Y/s1600-h/DSC05229.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPmHXNBCap5cf-PyvuDF9Ub_7Uiz72YWiN7Dt5m45eVvkDxTCCx5esR2Wa44D52DiIX8tECNZV5SYxKYnRZ39YpIbnE7YlipnB43_WMHf9_zMQeJrJWt6XOtwULVx1v_1K3-c-QXlY7Y/s400/DSC05229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432579297553164194" /></a><br /><br />in closing, i also want to thank those who arranged the trip and invited us. we had an amazing time with everyone. it was the perfect weekend getaway for us. goodnight and thank you!!!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMkyoHaXhAAotEj6fb8gjvoxZrvt5Ew7XmUqt9SxdiMOxSxpQ0d9B-31rVt2B79w7HJaNvtM3ZGUZqrHvEv7BPg8vI3bqU9rgjXoS1SGhYcqeCtx2P-T02iIxYQSVNtldBwVIvc5-1yw/s1600-h/DSC05226.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMkyoHaXhAAotEj6fb8gjvoxZrvt5Ew7XmUqt9SxdiMOxSxpQ0d9B-31rVt2B79w7HJaNvtM3ZGUZqrHvEv7BPg8vI3bqU9rgjXoS1SGhYcqeCtx2P-T02iIxYQSVNtldBwVIvc5-1yw/s400/DSC05226.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432580851583619090" /></a>colston in front of the snowman he and i made.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7clp0SxFW1BvtJTRsk3pHQvD1bpNEBLGGkfG1DwHBMf-ZpoDb_kCtV6RQweULi3kRqTxEEGuiKC3lsLzk9YVR_WnvXWt02q2PNQlk0EcdkQNZuZbC1p4OUtYNjEa6-ICvawukhUi-hs/s1600-h/DSC05241.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7clp0SxFW1BvtJTRsk3pHQvD1bpNEBLGGkfG1DwHBMf-ZpoDb_kCtV6RQweULi3kRqTxEEGuiKC3lsLzk9YVR_WnvXWt02q2PNQlk0EcdkQNZuZbC1p4OUtYNjEa6-ICvawukhUi-hs/s400/DSC05241.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432580844117294018" /></a>jameson in the snow after having jumped out of the hot-tub for a momentary thrill. better that than drugs. he is his mother's son.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqX3bYEDBvCBjtpmqFWSPPQVkBVWmrt0PohqqfU1-0tC6LOp4DswDewzdM2l2NcnZnlv30jYeZA7hNo5_cfW1pzCUZi515XTWdIB4s2AbZJrKKSAeHGUbfOuxP0afg1S2GBvVfi26bTcQ/s1600-h/DSC05204.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqX3bYEDBvCBjtpmqFWSPPQVkBVWmrt0PohqqfU1-0tC6LOp4DswDewzdM2l2NcnZnlv30jYeZA7hNo5_cfW1pzCUZi515XTWdIB4s2AbZJrKKSAeHGUbfOuxP0afg1S2GBvVfi26bTcQ/s400/DSC05204.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432580833295845810" /></a>colston listening signing along to some music after a fun-filled day in the snow.the cooperfivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15954261417222692619noreply@blogger.com5