FES-TIVITIES

True Blue!

2010-11-30T10:51:00.002-07:00

Utah fan will say, “I don’t always dump beer on a BYU player or his family, but when I do, I dump Dos Equis.”

After the game on Saturday Utah fans were a bit caustic, to say the least, towards the BYU team, and especially towards Bronco during his post-game interview, even after a dramatic win. Bronco was under the stands near the south end zone inside Rice-Eccles Stadium when he was speaking to the media. Utah fans from above were throwing ice, snowballs, and any debris they could get their hands on, all the while berating Bronco with F-words, religious slurs, and homophobic references. The fans were obviously trying to hurt Bronco anyway they could, both physically and otherwise. Not surprising from that fan base, but still outrageous.

The humorous part, however, was the fact that Bronco was under an overhang and wasn’t touched by the debris but the media members were pelted throughout the interview. Apparently, TV and other media sources who tried to use Bronco’s interview had to do some extensive editing to remove the vulgarity and get sound bites on the air. It appears the brain trust of the “fools on the hill” were thwarted by their own man made structure. Over hangs can be so deceiving. After the interview Bronco calmly and coolly told the media to “enjoy the crowd” and departed with his cape floating behind him and the big Y glowing in the dark.

The timing of Utah and BYU going their separate ways isn’t coincidental. The rivalry has been out of control for a while but lately has seemed to have gone to a new level. Utah has a former BYU player and current Mormon coach and yet they despise the hand that feeds them. Utah’s own defensive coordinator was once a player for BYU and they still ridicule the Team Down South (TDS), as Urban Myer coined in his brief stay in Utah. In a word, mad.

Independence will be a great and welcomed experience and one that we should all be looking forward too. Jake Heaps is amazing and out played both of Utah’s quarterbacks. If BYU can get a coordinator who isn’t afraid to play football Heaps might be the greatest BYU has ever seen. I am excited and looking forward to the future and I would much rather be a part of a BYU team that is 6-6 than any other team, whatever their record might be.

We are BYU!

…and remember… “stay thirsty my friends."

Picture Updates

2010-10-12T16:36:00.005-06:00

I thought I should just post a few pictures to show how much Isaac has changed. He is so cute and such a happy baby! Love it!

The Unpredictable

2010-04-29T22:09:00.003-06:00

Once again, I have posted a blog that really isn't a blog in the traditional sense, but a story. It's a true story and one that inspired me, so I wrote it. This is not an update that so many are searching for and it pertains to the mortuary and death, so be warned that it is not an upbeat post.

Death, no matter how you look at it, changes lives. Our relationships in this world are what gives us meaning and when those relationships are severed, whether with warning or not, takes its affects. Even the elderly or sick, who we expect to pass away, leaves a loss in our lives. We sometimes have the tendency to believe that we are immortal and will do whatever it takes to extend life. The biggest challenge we face is accepting the death of those we have shared this earthly experience with, but what happens when the life is taken too young.

The mortuary business is an unforgiving one. You do not and cannot pick the hours, you have no say in the deceased, and you cannot predict your reactions to the death, no matter how many times you believe you have experienced it. But, that is the nature of the profession, unpredictable and cold.

Children are the ones that stay with you the most, but unfortunately, as with any experience in life, you become numb to its affects with time. ‘A child just came in,’ is the comment heard more often than you would like, but a moment later the thought of a life taken so soon is washed away with the mundane and banal events of the day. Superficially we sweep the complicated thoughts away to be filled with glib ones, simply to survive. But what else can we do?

‘Does this affect my life?’ is the subconscious thought that runs through the catacombs of the unsolicited parts of our mind. The answer, most times is no. So we don’t let it affect us. We can’t allow it to affect us and we simply move on and this becomes the routine. However, the unpredictable is bound to happen.

The call seemed like so many others that have come in. A ring of the phone breaks the routine and a simple answer starts the habitual.

“Mortuary,” is the answer.

“Yes, I need to speak with someone who can help me. My son has passed away this morning.” Is the voice of a taciturn father making a call no ones deserves.

“Yes of course.” States the voice from the mortuary.

An hour later a man in his thirties wanders down a long corridor decorated with the portraits of past generations of morticians who paved the way of a business few can grasp. In his arms is a lifeless child wrapped gently in a blanket that beckons of childhood, Winnie the Pooh peering from the material hanging loosely from his arms. If someone didn’t know any better they would believe a child has fallen asleep and a compassionate father is carrying him to his resting spot. In fact this is the scene, however, the resting period is longer than an afternoon nap.

The reluctant employee greets the father just outside the hall that has opened up to a grand room handsomely decorated. The room is welcoming but the vastness of it swallows up any hope of a homely atmosphere.

“Hi, is this Riley?” the employee asks, a stupid question but one that breaks the awkwardness of the moment.

“Yes,” states the father who lovingly looks down at the peaceful child.

“Okay, follow me and we can set him down.”

The father follows the employee to the back room that is warmly lit with decor mirrored like that of any living room expect for the gurney placed precariously in the middle. A blanket laid neatly over it waiting for the child.

“Are we not placing him in the embalming room?” asks the father.

“No, I thought this would be better for Riley until he is ready to be embalmed.”

The father gives no response, but his gratefulness is evident in his eyes. He slowly and soothingly sets his lifeless child down on the gurney. Straightening Riley’s blanket for the last time as he tucks his child in. The ceremony is undecorated but one that brings deep meaning to the life of a father. The employee caught in the moment doesn’t realize that she is staring. Finally, aware of her intrusion she awakens herself enough to stand back and give this father and child their space.

The father looks down at his child. A child that he has raised for four years. A child that has now departed this earthly state and one that he will never have the privilege to play catch with or teach how to drive, see get married, or experience grand children with.

The father reaches down and grabs hold of Riley’s hand, cupping it in his. He leans down and pulls Riley’s hand to his cheek and whispers “we love you Riley, rest well,” speaking not only for himself. The father continues to stare at his child at what seems like an hour. At last, in a soft voice he utters words almost unheard…‘we will see you soon’ he finally whispers. No doubt words that are only meant for him and his son, words that don’t need to be said out loud but saying them a loud validates them and makes the moment real. For pain is only a flash and lifes even shorter and without validation what do we have but imagination.

He lingers in this moment, Riley’s hand still on his cheek. His thoughts are unknown but a guess could be ventured into his pain. For four years this child has suffered from sickness and this is his rest. The father is calm and at peace. The pain is still evident in his eyes and face, but a comfort surrounds this father that would befuddle anyone looking onto the scene. He has prepared himself for this instant and is blessed with the character that makes God proud to be a creator of man and in particular this man.

The employee is still reluctantly eves dropping on the interaction and is overcome with grief. The feelings are overpowering and the tears come without warning and no amount of effort can stop them.

This is the unpredictability of the work. The employee has witnessed numerous and regrettable interactions between a parent and their deceased child, but this particular interaction in this particular moment touches something deep within her. The tears streaming freely at this point simply because fighting them is of no use. The employee reflects on her own life and reaffirms how precious life really is. Children can be the bane of your existence, but they can also breath life so great that joy overflows your heart. No doubt this is not about the employee, but the simple fact that she is able to peer on this scene has changed her forever.

The father breaks his stare and gently places his child’s hand down and covers it with his blanket. He gives one last look making sure Riley looks comfortable, because even in death a child is still your child. He turns and looks to the employee whose tears are evident down her cheek. Barely able to speak the employee tells the father, “we will take good care of him.” A standard answer but one that is stated with great meaning.

“Thank you,” the father replies and looks at his feet as he exits the room, not daring to look back. The employee follows and they walk side-by-side as she escorts the father through the long corridor this time empty handed. They walk slowly to the door both silent in their own thoughts. Reaching the door the father nods to the employee but still no words are said. He opens the door and steps out silently. The employee watches through the fogged windows as he reaches his car. He hesitates before getting in and looks around as if he is trying to remember and take in this day, he wants to remember his son, even on the day of his death.

The employee still watching through the glass is abruptly interrupted by the ring of a phone. For a moment the silence was celestial but the unforgiving business is calling and there is no time for revelry.

“Mortuary,” is the answer.

“Yes, I need to speak with someone who can help me…”

He's Here!

2010-02-23T12:26:00.007-07:00

Well, he's finally here. Isaac John was born on Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at 11:12 a.m. He weighed 7 lbs 3 oz and was 21 inches long. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, what little hair he has is red. Shaun's hoping it will change and I love it!We're not sure who he looks like. Sometimes he looks just like Max and other times he doesn't look like anyone. He's got Shaun's chin and lips for sure and we think he has my nose. Either way he is so gorgeous. So far he's a great baby. A little more relaxed than Max. I hope he's that way when he's 2!

Max is totally smitten with him. He tells everyone about "my baby" and always wants to be snuggling him and giving him smooches. He won't leave him alone, even when we tell him to!

Thank you so much to my family and Shaun's family! You guys have helped so much and been so generous. We couldn't do it without you. We love you!

Post Traumatic?

2009-11-01T18:02:00.004-07:00

Recently Max was switched to a “big boy” bed. This choice was not a calculated, thought out plan. This was something that was forced upon us. Yes, I know what you are thinking, “how can a two year old force something upon you, and why are trix only for kids?” Well, first things first, and to answer the first question we must go back a little bit.

It was like any other day, and Max was well beyond needing a nap and we were more than happy to oblige. Unfortunately, me and Andrea only have one flaw each. Yes, you read that right, ONE flaw each. When Andrea is hungry the world is in danger, and when I am sleepy, well, let’s just say that I could probably hurt someone and wouldn’t blink an eye until I got more sleep. So, Max has inherited both traits and he had just eaten and was now ready for a deep slumber.

We placed him in his crib kicking and screaming, turned on his music on his mobile and left the room. Eves dropping through the baby monitor it only took a couple of minutes for Maxwell to fall asleep. Sigh.

It is a wonderful feeling to know that your out of control child is peaceful for a moment. But who really knows. Maybe he is dreaming of terrorizing everything and everybody and just itching to wake up and complete his dreams.

Usually Max will sleep about two hours. This is the compromise since he stopped sleeping two times a day. However, about 45 minutes into the nap we heard some stirring coming from his room. It is extremely rare if we hear Max at any time less than an hour and a half after he lays down. So this was an atypical occasion. Andrea and I listened attentively as the noises continued. Slowly they lessened and we figured Max had gone back to sleep, assuming it was Max.

Things had settled down and I sunk back into the couch and rested into the cushions. It’s terrible a couch so resting is for lack of a better word. Maybe, positioned myself so my backbone wasn’t jamming into the wood protruding from the monstrosity we call a couch. Does that work? Oh well.

So, as I lay there, trying not to focus on what a terrible couch we had, we once again heard some noises, but no talking or mumbling. When all at once we heard a loud bang. I can truly tell you that I was afraid, very afraid. Peeking over the couch we both studied the hall thoughtfully that leads to Max’s room. As we watched, we suddenly heard the rattle of a door knob as if someone was trying to get in but having quite the struggle. Now, in my mind I thought it was the door leading to the Mortuary and wondered who was trying to get into the apartment. Of course I then correlated the loud bang with the same person who was trying desperately to open a door…an everyday door with no locks engaged.

Feeling slightly brave at 5:00 in the evening I got up and started to walk towards the door, when all of a sudden a little figure ran out and scared the hell out of me. He came out of the darkness with his feet moving a million miles per hour. If you have ever seen Family Guy with the baby Stewie you will know what I am talking about. Not that I am encouraging anyone to watch Family Guy, but if you have you will understand the pitter patter of his feet.

Instead of waiting for the figure to make itself known I ran to a corner and grabbed a pillow for protection. If this were a horror movie I would be in the farthest corner of the attic with no possible exits close enough for escape. Instead, I was in the farthest corner of the apartment with no possible exists close enough for escape. Slowly, the figure started to make itself know and low and behold it was the Tasmanian devil we so lovingly call Maxwell. He sheepishly stepped from the catacombs of the hall and stood defiantly in the entry area of the living room starring at us like, “what do we do now?”

Of course Max had learned to crawl out of his crib and in the ensuing moments learned how to use a door knob all the while trying to kill his parents with fright. Needless to say, we were forced into putting him into a big boy bed so as to not hurt himself climbing out of his crib and jumping to the floor like he is Indiana Jones and of course a child safety device over the doorknob to keep our little terror in his room. Not only for his safety but also so as not to hear a stream of curses and flailing of arms and legs towards a pretended invader when he tries his little Houdini act again. Who is John Galt?

It has been several months since this transition has occurred and things have settled down. The doctor says I still need to rest my heart and I am on several medications and PTSD is certainly a possibility. Not to mention the night light that accompanies us.

So of course as logical and well reasoned human beings, you know what we decided to do…have another one. Max certainly needs an accomplice to his madness and as good parents we have happily obliged to his request. Further updates to follow. ~Fin~

Boy? Girl? or Abi-doo-doo?

2009-09-03T16:22:00.003-06:00

Well, the time has come to make an announcement. I am expecting another child! This baby is expected to arrive on February 22, 2010. It still seems a really long way away. I am only 15 weeks along. But Max thinks he already knows what we are going to have. We don't really find out until Sept. 30, but Max says it is a girl baby and we are going to name her Abidoodoo. For those of you who don't know what an abidoodoo is, I'll explain. An abidoodoo is the inflatable balloon guys that stores put out in front to attract attention with the waving arms. Max will show you what an abidoodoo does if you ask him. But that is what he wants to name the baby girl. I'm okay with it. Anyway, we'll continue to keep you posted. We are really excited but I don't think we realize what it will mean to have Max plus one. I think Max may be enough on his own for anyone!

Maxwell Smart!

2009-03-12T16:07:00.013-06:00

Or is he...?
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he climbed into the bottom basket of the stroller and got stuck. He sure is cute though! We thought we better give an update of Max "The Flash," as his aunt Julie named him. That's about all he does...run, run, run... and begs to vacuum! That's his most favortie thing in the world. I can't wait until he's big enough to push it himself and he can vacuum whenever he wants!
This is our little BYU Lion (we know he's not a cougar, but close enough.) Go Cougars!

And he likes to do the dishes too! Wouldn't it be great if that would last at least 20 more years!

Well, we think he's at least going to like baseball and football!

By the way...Shaun and I are doing good and I think we are just as cute as Max!

Welcome to IN-N-OUT...in Utah?

2009-02-13T10:47:00.004-07:00

Apparently the rumors are true. In-n-out burger is coming to Utah. I had heard this supposed heresy, but was unsure if it was really true or not. My aunt Peggy had told me, and she was thrilled. She was born and raised in L.A., so this was a dream come true. I as well come from the land-o-plenty of So.Cal, however, I hail from the better part which, of course, is San Diego.

I'll be honest I have some split feelings about this move. I just can't picture an In-n-out burger in the snow. There is just something inherently wrong about that. When I'm at an In-n-out it means that I am somewhere warm and sunny, for the moment I have escaped the terror of the snow.

However, I'm sure once I get the fabulous double-double, the hesitancy will all go away. Or if I'm really hungry, a four by four. I actually don't recommend this. I did that once in Barstow, because I knew I wouldn't have In-n-out for awhile. I was sick until Lehi.

I guess I'll just have to close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else. Or better yet, invest in a UV lamp and get a tan, or a sunburn, whatever.

P.S. Max blogs coming soon. We know that's all you care about, but we like to tease.

Who'll Stop the Rain? Creedence Will, That's Who?

2009-01-31T12:24:00.006-07:00

While in High School one of my favorite albums was Creedence Clearwater Revival's Chronicle album, a collection of their greatest hits. Unfortunately, while I was on the mission I very generously loaned my c.d. collection to my brother's. The collection was neatly organized into a album that at first was cataloged in alphabetical order, which by the way is a bad idea. Simply by the fact that you get one c.d. out of place or get a new c.d., and it takes quite a long time to get them back into such an order. Needless to say that habit was abandoned after a couple tries and I simply trudged through my collection in disorder.

One day on the mission after tracting in the wonderful weather of Western New York in the middle of January, I received a letter. An actual hand written letter. At this time I was only used to receiving email every p-day. The letter was from my brother's and it had the great indication of love. Oh, how wrong I was. The letter at first was inviting and warm, something that lifts a person's spirits. However, not to long into this cruel facade a bomb was dropped. My collection had been stolen, it was gone forever. Of course I was forgiving at the time, however, when I got home and had time to settle into the regular life routine I began to miss that collection. Many of the music I would not listen too, but there were others. Like the Beatles. I had at least six of their albums and my goal was to gain all of them. Wasn't meant to be. Of course one of the great albums was Creedence.

Just the other day I was thinking about Creedence and how much I enjoyed their Chronicle album. The world is a strange and wonderful place. A few days passed and I chanced a look at iTunes and what to my surprise, but the Chronicles album for only $5.00. That my friends is what I like to call serendipity. So I bought and I have enjoyed. Oh the enjoyment. Who'll stop the rain you ask. Well I believe I have already answered that question. So now if you'll excuse me, Susie Q is calling my name.

30 Rocks gots moves!

2009-01-20T11:00:00.007-07:00

The best shows on television: 30 Rock and The Big Bang Theory. If you have not seen these I would highly recommend watching them. That is all.

Rant!

2009-01-14T16:17:00.004-07:00

David James, the local sports guy on channel 2 news has provided this joke. It was on his blog.

A mom and son are walking through a cemetery and come upon a head stone. The boy stops to read the inscription, it states:

Here lies a good person and a Ute fan.

The boy turns to his mom with a confused look and asks, “mom, is there really two people buried there?”

Sums it up.

One thing that ute fans seem to cling to defend their anti-culture establishment is the fact that Utah has more master programs and a medical school and the fact that they have two BCS games; which in their eyes makes it better than BYU. Well, one thing in statistics that we learn is the difference between quantitative and qualitative. BYU = Qualitative. Utah = Quantitative.

Will anyone remember who won the Sugar Bowl in two years, let alone in twenty? No. But 1984 will always belong to the Cougars.

Now a quote from President Hinckley that explains why BYU is hands down a better school. Thank you for indulging me.

"This is a unique and wonderful university. It is unique because of its Church sponsorship. It is wonderful because of its quality. A number of universities in this nation were begun under the sponsorship of various churches. They so continued for a season, but most of them have drifted far from that mooring post. Some might have within their framework a school of theology, but its influence is scarcely felt in the secular day-by-day operation of the larger institution. Here, in contrast, the board of trustees is chaired by the President of the Church. It is chaired by him whom we sustain as a prophet of God. I know of no other university in all the world, certainly not in this nation, whose governing board is chaired by a prophet.

The Habits of Elttil Aerdna (E.A.)

2008-12-22T11:09:00.004-07:00

The elusive and sometimes erratic nature of the E.A. is unpredictable and wily at times. The E.A. spends its days wandering the confines of its dwellings and because of its unpredictable nature it has to be contained in an enclosed territory. This strategy has even gone as far as to place the E.A. in a “cage” of sorts where the E.A. sleeps so as not to encourage random wanderings of its habitat. If given the opportunity to escape, there is no telling where it would flee to. Even though small in stature, it is not afraid to take on objects much larger than he is, even if the object is going 45 mph down a congested pass. Even the smallest of areas is susceptible to the little one’s getaway. Many examples can be brought up, but in interest of time we will forego them now.

Safety is a strong line of attack when caring for the E.A. Strategically placed tools are positioned throughout the “home” to keep the E.A. from unintentionally hurting itself. It seems that compared to the older creatures of its kind, the intelligence is much lower. Observing the E.A. for just a brief time will key you into its thinking, or lack there of. The E.A. seems to highly enjoy running, however, looking while running eludes the quick one. Running into apparent obstacles is a constant. Rarely hurt and only down for a second, the E.A. is up again repeating the same routine, minute after minute, hour after hour, and day after day. Fascinating ritual.

One of the great concerns the parents have for the indefinable E.A. is its hearing. Although at times it fully comprehends its own name, it still seems to have a hard time responding when fixated on being deviant. We believe it could be the biological makeup of the child; possibly as a defense mechanism it blocks out the world around him so as not to disturb its nonstandard behavior. No one has been able to pin point the exact reason it can so easily ignore the authority figures in its life, but we know that it is unaware that anyone is trying to communicate with him by its reaction when the E.A. is punished for its behavior. Apparently it had no idea that he was not suppose to be doing what he was doing. Shocking really.

The language of this creature has taken some getting use to. At first the language seemed to be undecipherable. But through many, many hours spent observing and decoding the speech it seems some sense has been able to come of its communication. There are brief moments where contact seems to flow effortlessly and others, of course, that do not. When the E.A. is unable to communicate or receive what it desires, the being seems to go into a convulsive seizure being thrown to the floor and yelling mutterings. With this irregular display one can only assume that it has affected the brain biologically. There could be no other logical explanation, why would anyone intentionally throw themselves to the floor?

Here I reveal some of its language as far as we can tell. Unfortunately, no Rosetta Stone is attached to the E.A. so the closest interpreter that we have is the mother of the child. For some unexplainable reason the female look-after has an innate ability to understand and translate the E.A. The father, on the other hand, must look to the mother for most of its communication. Cracker is translated into DaDo, Reedit is Raisin, Beeda from all we can tell is blanket and Milt is the white substance that comes from what the E.A. a Cow or a Moo as the child calls it. Animals are called by the noises, as the example previous has shown. For example a Horse is called Nay and a Frog is known by rib it. The one exception to this is the Elephant, which is called an Abeedoodoo. We are unsure of how this language was derived but we have some evidence that mother has a lot to do with it.

Although the creature is male and only slightly resembles the mother physically, the legends tell us that the seizures, erratic behavior, and the ability to mimic in the greatest sense comes from the mother. Although, if anyone were to ask the mother it would be denied with great passion, only solidifying the observation.

Finally, for now, is the eating habits of the E.A. Once again running wildly keeps the E.A. from sitting like the older ones in a polite manner and even affecting the E.A.’s cleanliness, which is apprehensible. Two devices seem to be created to control these annoyances. One device is a chair that is strapped to the bigger chair and in turn binds the life form to all. This prevents, once again, unintentional harm the child seems to bring about himself. The other apparatus is wrapped around the child’s neck to prevent the subsistence of the day to become a fixture on the E.A.’s clothing creating more work, it seems, for the parents.

One of the oddest observances this creature displays happens when it is hungry and not eating a prepared meal. An in-between meal if you will, while not strapped into its chair. It seems the E.A. is unwilling to accept DaDos or Reedits from the hands of its parents. If the E.A. is offered such refreshments from the parents the child once again seems to go into convulsions. Maybe the little one has an allergic reaction to the hands of the bigger creatures. We may never know. The only way the subject will take the food or drink is when the parents place them on a small chest and vacate the immediate area. Luckily, this phenomenon was able to be captured on film, as evidenced above.

No logic can explain the behavior of the E.A., in which many have been explained here and many others left out. We do not believe that science can fully explain the inner workings of the younglings of this child or the others that roam this earth. One thing is true, despite the clumsiness, lack of formal training, seizures, and even the inability to control ones bowels, the parents of this child still seem to care for him deeply and unconditionally. Another occurrence not fully understood. Observations will still be held and records kept to hopefully understand the E.A. and its workings, but don’t bet your life that any light will be shed on this one. I’m afraid this one may be locked up with the perplexity of the Lockness monster, Bigfoot, Yeti, and even the nebulous ute fan.

Doh Doudars!, or Go Cougars, for the lay person.

In a related note, Maxwell had his doctor checkup and he finally reached 20lbs. Actually, 20lbs 4oz. to be exact. He is still in the zero percentile in weight for his age, however, his height jumped exponentially. He went from the 25^th to the 50^th percentile in height. So as you can plainly see we are starving him but the nightly stretching seems to be working out fine.

2008-12-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

New blogs coming soon! We promise.

The Baby in the MIrror

2008-09-13T10:34:00.003-06:00

If you have ever visited our apartment in the mortuary you may have noticed the seven foot length mirrors that line the wall facing the living room. We’ve thought about putting wall paper or maybe curtains over the vanity, however, we just can’t get over looking at ourselves. Have you noticed that I have freckles? Thank goodness for seven foot mirrors.

One person that certainly has noticed is Max. Andrea will always ask Max who the baby in the mirror is? He responds in kind by pointing and repeating ‘mirror’ in his lisped, broken baby language. Max also loves to look through the front door glass, especially at night. The lights of the passing cars are too much to pass up.

Watching him one night I thought about what a person would think if they happened to pass by and catch this scene.

An innocent stroll down State Street walking back home from the store with a half gallon of milk and the latest edition of Utah County magazine, (they have great recipes by the way) watching the topography of the concrete sidewalk as they pass letting their thoughts take them somewhere else, like how much a glass of milk and an easy read would really top this night off. Suddenly a quiet voice catches their attention. The concrete stops suddenly underneath them as they stop to listen. They hear it again. No cars are passing so the sound is clear. They look to one side, nothing. They peer to other side and the scene is materialized. Shock fills their system as they see a silhouette of a baby looking through a fogged window. The night is chill and the mortuary is dark. The baby in the window is chanting mirror. What do you do? Andrea says they would most likely think someone lives there. Well Andrea, not everyone has grown up as morbidly as you have. Not everyone assumes a mortuary is a normal place where people live, have Christmas parties, and wedding receptions.

The quiet pedestrian looses the grip on the cold milk and doesn’t feel the magazine fall from their numbed hands. They stare as the child continues its routine. The shock turns to fear, the fear turns to anger and the natural reaction of survival kicks in. They run. They run home with more quickness than they thought they could muster. Home couldn’t come any faster. Their lungs burning from the cold of the darkness. They reach the comfort of their front porch. They fumble for the keys. The door was unlocked after all. The struggle was in vain. They reach the embrace of loved ones. Collapsing on the floor and feeling the effects of the exercise that they have neglected for so long. They grope for the words that just won’t come.

At long last they able to relay their message through bated breath while everyone listens in disbelief. After many hours the night settles down and the unfortunate souls heart regains it’s natural rhythm. That night the sound of a child’s voice won’t leave the consciousness of their mind and sleep is unfeasible. And all of this because Max likes the speeding lights and the sound of his own voice. Well at least we have a copy of Utah County magazine. Dinner’s going to be great tonight.

4th of July Fun!!

2008-07-15T17:17:00.006-06:00

Here are some fun pictures from the 4th. According to Shaun, this is the greatest day of the year. What could be better than a barbeque and fireworks! We went up to Park City with my family to watch the fireworks. It was really fun. Happy Birthday America. I want everyone to listen to Neil Diamond's song "America" in honor of this wonderful holiday. What a great song!

P.S. I had to post this video. I was playing with a little toy saxaphone and he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. At least somebody thinks I'm funny!

Lost Blogs!

2008-07-09T13:19:00.002-06:00

Help! When Shaun and I were trying to make our blog look so cool, I lost all of our links to other people's blogs. I would really like to get them all back on. It's the best way to keep track of all of you. Please send me your blog links again. If they are private or you would not like me to post them on our blog, just say so and I will keep them private. Leave a comment or you can email me at rev_kabula@yahoo.com. Thanks and We love you all!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAUN!!!

2008-06-30T11:00:00.002-06:00

I'm sorry that this is a little late, but Shaun's b-day was last Friday, June 27! Happy birthday my love. We actually had a really nice night. We splurged big time. My sister babysat for Max and we went out to dinner and a movie. A real movie in the big theaters. We saw WALL-E. It was so good. We would recommend it very highly. It was a really good night and it was nice not to take Max with us, even though we missed him so much while we were gone. Well my love, you are the wind beneath my wings. (That's his favorite song!) Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Andrea!

2008-06-19T12:39:00.004-06:00

Today is Andrea’s 27^th birthday. It seems like just yesterday I approached you and asked the question, “what are the chances of a boy like you and a girl like me getting together?” I held my breath and crossed my fingers, and lets just say that the chances were good. And here we are almost four years later. So happy birthday Andrea, we all love you. And like Opus, continue with the story but depart from the text.

Happy Birthday Max!

2008-06-04T11:46:00.006-06:00

On May 29, 2008, Maxwell officially turned one year old! I know this post is a little overdue, but better late than never. I can't believe our little baby boy is a year old. Sometimes I still can't believe we have a baby. We had a barbecue at my mom's house and I don't think Max cared much about all the attention and he definitely didn't care about his very own cupcake. He must be Shaun's kid. He did like opening presents though.

Don't worry! He's okay! He's getting so big! Well, he's really a little squirt that in the zero % for weight, but he thinks he's getting so big. He's climbing and walking and getting into everything. He tries to mimic everything you say. It's really cute. Every once in a while he will even get two syllables in there. I think he's the smartest boy in the world!

P.S. I will post a video of him walking later. I can't get it to work right now.

American Idol Prediction!

2008-05-16T18:20:00.000-06:00

David of Course!

FIRST STEPS!

2008-04-29T10:02:00.003-06:00

Big News! Yesterday, April 28, 2008 at approximately 7:30 p.m., Max took his first steps! Now, he is by no means walking, lets not get too excited! (Yeah right.) But he did take 2 and a half steps all by himself. It was very exciting. We were out on the grass and he didn't like how the grass felt on his hands and knees. It was really cute. I think I was a little too excited about the whole thing, but I think I have a right to be.

Also, those two top teeth have finally come through. They popped out a few days ago, and he is in a much better mood. In the picture where his nose is crinkled up I was trying to get him to show me his teeth. He wouldn't!

On another happy note, Shaun is finished with this semester! He finished his last final last week and he just found out he got 102 with the extra credit! Yeah for Shaun! He will be really mad at me for posting this, so lets give him lots of attention! (This is why he loves me so much!) So all around we are doing good! Love you all!

Here's Max!

2008-04-21T10:38:00.004-06:00

I feel like Shaun and Maynard are taking over our blog so I thought I better post some cute pictures of Max. I think he might be the cutest baby of all time! His two top teeth are trying to come through and it makes him mad, but he is still as good natured as can be. How did we get so lucky?

Happy Birthday Maynard!

2008-04-17T18:36:00.003-06:00

Today Maynard James Keenan, the lead singer and brilliant song writer for TOOL turns 44 years old.
In related news, today a young men on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only dream, and we're the imagination of ourselves.

I-215 and Albert Einstein

2008-04-03T21:55:00.000-06:00

I realize that my last post was quite long. The story was not written for the purpose of posting as a blog, but I decided that it would become so. If any of you read this next one, realize that it is fraught with over dramatics and frustrations. Shaun.

Speed. Speed is something that I don’t get to achieve very often in my daily, rigorous, soul-sucking commute from Orem to Salt Lake and vice versa. Speed, however, is my daily goal. It is something that I wish for, I long for. It’s more important than air or water sometimes. I feel like I will shrivel up and wither away in a desolate waste if I do not achieve a certain velocity that I know is possible.
Stuck in traffic has become a ritual of my life that I cannot escape. I believe Einstein said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Well, Mr. Einstein, if that is true, than my friends, I am as loony as Ute fans. A misguided soul that believes in something that will never come true. For me it is an open road and thoughts free of envy from the guy who is two cars in front of me. For Ute’s it is the belief that if their team wins, that they will be redeemed and justified as the insecure, delusional spectator of an anti-establishment. Neither hope will come to fruition. However, we still hope. Such is the human spirit. Even the most desolate of persons have even a filament of hope in their lives. My hope happens to be petty and unattainable.
The day ends at work and I make the long walk to my car. I tend to park toward the back of the parking lot. This isolated parking slot allows me to play loud music during my breaks so as not to disturb the banality of corporate life. This has the propensity of melting away the frustrations like a child’s ice cream in the middle of a summer day. When I finally reach the inviolability of the escort, I realize that I have already formed beads of sweat in the nape of my neck. Not from the long lonely walk in the cold winter air, but from the thought of the four letter word, traffic. I’ve learned to prepare myself for the battle that lies ahead the best I can.
On the freeway as I approach the impending doom of cars piled upon one another as if rats scampering out of a poisonous hole, I release an audible sigh as once again the hope I preached about earlier is gone. In one simple moment it has gone like the open road that could have been. But I march forward and realize that tomorrow is another day, full of hopes and thoughts of freedom. I am the Ute fan that excites themselves for the fall but come the first game realize that it was all for naught and I am left with the thoughts of tomorrow bringing more optimism. Insanity indeed.

April Fools

2008-04-02T10:44:00.002-06:00

Well, working at the mortuary has been great so far. Yesterday morning, Teri asked me to answer the phones while she was at a service. Then she warned me that it was April Fools day. I couldn't see why that would matter, but she assured me that there would be many extra phone calls and it would get really annoying. I was a little bit excited to see what people would come up with. But people must have lost their creativity.

All day long I only got two strange calls. The first one came from Brent Brown Toyota. It must have been a slow day. The man on the phone asked to speak with Myra. I replied (very professionally thanks to all my wicked phone skills) that there was no one here by that name. Did you mean to call the mortuary? At this point I'm not sure if he chickened out or if he realized that I knew what he was doing, but he started to stutter and say, "Yes, or no. I'm sorry. Thanks, bye," and quickly hung up the phone. It was great.

The second call came around noon. The caller ID on this one said Utah State Government. They obviously have too much time. The man said he had a note on his desk to call Myra Mains. Get it! Very clever. I started to laugh and said that I'm sorry, there is no one here by that name, the number must have been written down incorrectly. He didn't even flinch and just said thank you and have a nice day.

It was pretty disappointing for what I was expecting. Oh well, I got a really good laugh from Courtney. If anyone missed it, click on the link to TJ and Courtney's page and see what they did for April Fools. It was great! Love you all!

Shake-n-Bake Incident

2008-03-30T21:56:00.001-06:00

This story is about when Andrea totaled our car just six months after we were married. I wrote the story through Andrea's eyes because I thought that would be more fun. I hope you enjoy. Shaun

Saturdays start out usual enough for me. I wake up a little later than usual, watch some television, and maybe a little cereal. Not the name brand of course. Off brand is what I crave. Nothing but the best for me. Sitting in my cut off scrubs and my old Buffalo city shirt I slowly ate my breakfast. Most of the dishes were dirty so I was using a spoon too big for the occasion. It was quite a chore trying to open my small mouth and fit the enormous utensil in. Quite frankly I’m surprised I didn’t cut the corners of mouth trying to eat the marshmallow matties.
After completing the less than enjoyable cereal, I tried to motivate myself to start the day. Dragging myself to the bathroom is usually a chore. For this reason alone I decided a shorter hair cut was the way to go. It is a dark brown, not quite black but definitely not blond. It goes well with my dark brown eyes. I haven’t always liked my brown eyes but I heard that men think that brown eyes look smart, so I’ve learned to like them.
“I’m getting in the shower.” I yelled to my wonderful husband. He responded with a less than enthusiastic “ok.” I don’t know what I was expecting, but I always expect people to be excited no matter what. Enthusiastic my husband is not! I think that’s what first attracted me to him. I’ve never met someone who wasn’t impressed by anything. It encouraged me to try and be the one who broke the shell he had around him. And of course I did. I always impress everyone. Everyone loves, you should know that right away.
After cleansing myself with some soap and water, I dressed for the day. Of course, this Saturday I had to work, so none of the casual jeans and t-shirt I longed for. My work attire consists of blue slacks that weren’t very flattering, a blue collared button up shirt and a very stylish vest. In the front of the vest were four gold colored buttons, but through time they have faded into a bronze color. Less shine and passion. In a lot of ways in represents my like in the job. Through time things get dull and you’re not as willing to go beyond what you’re asked. After a year it’s bound to happen. I’ve become bronzed.
Working in a major Hotel chain isn’t as glamorous as it might seem. I had the impression of Home Alone. Food service constantly, all the movies you could stand, and hanging out in front of the big fireplace in the lobby. Apparently as an employee they won’t allow you to do any of that stuff. I know what you’re thinking, shock right, well me too.
One glance in the mirror told me that I was completely plain in my attire, not that personally I can be too plain. I seem to light up a room with my smile if I do say so myself. At least that’s what my husband tells me. I try to stay humble but sometimes I like to have the comments wash over me and take affect.
I left the mirror and images of blandness behind to give my goodbye to my husband. I walked into the living room and stood perfectly still waiting for an acknowledgment from Shaun. That’s my husband. With a glance of utter boredom he finally realized what was going on, “Hey my pretty girl,” he said in faked excitement. I’ve trained him well.
“I’m off to work. I love you.”
Shaun responded in kind, “Have a good day and call me when you get a chance. With a quick hug and kiss I was off.
Stepping out into the hot July day wasn’t very inviting. It was only 9 a.m. and was already in the 80’s. The best part of all was our 1982 Plymouth that didn’t have air conditioning. It had four doors and probably the size of two modern cars put together. In a word; a beast. We most lovingly nicknamed the ogre “shake-n-bake.” The transmission wasn’t working correctly so once you got up to sixty-five miles per hour the car would shake violently like it was being exorcised, you thought your teeth would rattle out. The same shaking motion would happen when you tried to roll down the driver side window. Like I said before, nothing but the best for me. I have my suspicion that Shaun had taken advantage of the V-6 and raced the aging machine a little more than it could handle. He’s commented on many occasions that it was like driving a really fast couch. The front seat was a long maroon bench that was quite comfortable. Too bad it didn’t look as comfortable as it was. It screamed 80s, and not in the cool sense. I felt like I should be wearing glasses way to big for my head and corduroy pants that would made me heard a block away. I sometimes would listen to Wham just to honor the car. I think old shaky likes it.
We live on a busy street so getting out is sometimes a little difficult. I finally made it to the freeway. My speed slowly increased, and I was making very sure I didn’t exceed that all important shaking zone. I just couldn’t take the convulsions the possessed car liked to dish out this early on a hot day. I wish we could afford a new car. Just yesterday me and Shaun decided to just accept the fiend we have. After almost six months we finally decided to get it washed. Unfortunately they don’t make soap strong enough to wash away ugly. So the maroon stayed and our disappointment increased.
I finally reached my exit without any shaking to get me in a bad mood. I always hated this exit. It was the kind that curved sharply as you were getting off, and taking a sharp corner at sixty wasn’t exactly fun. This morning I happened to exit the same time as a semi truck. Even with my limited speed the semi was going slower than I desired. I quickly changed lanes right before the curve. That placed me in the far right lane against the concrete barricades. Beyond the barricades to my right there is a twenty foot drop.
I reached the curve in the exit speeding up trying to pass the semi. I was barely past the back wheels of the trailer when all of a sudden the semi started to come into my lane. Panic found my chest and I tried to honk, but I couldn’t see his mirrors which told me that he couldn’t see me. I slammed on my brakes fish tailing a little bit, but it was too late. The trailer smacked into the side of the Plymouth setting off the airbags. The smoke blinding my vision. Adrenaline pumping so fast I don’t think I felt the force of the bags slamming into my face scrapping me up. The force pushed me into the barricades. My front and back right tires lifted up on the concrete feeling like I might flip over. My head flying everywhere, broken glass all over the place. My momentum helped the car come off the barricades and slam back into the trailer, sending me again into the barricades. I was pin balling back and forth not knowing when the deathly ride would stop. I felt like I was going to die, I saw no end to this journey. I thought the trailer might run me over. I kept slamming and I felt things break on the car. I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t me breaking, but I had to believe the car had been protecting me. After what seemed like forever, the car started to loose it’s energy and was slowing dramatically.
Out of all the chaos and catastrophic damage done to the vehicle and myself, I was still able to pull off to the side away from traffic in the fairly safe emergency zone. Once the car was completely stopped I just sat there in disbelief of what just occurred. Abba played loudly in the background. How embarrassing, getting in a car crash listening to Mamma Mia. After a few moments the actual fear started to seep in. I got out of the car looking around trying to figure out where I was.
“Are you ok?” A man said who I wasn’t completely paying attention to.
“I think so.” I responded in barely a whisper.
“Do you want me to call anyone.” The man said.
I couldn’t think right now. My brains felt like mashed potatoes that were left out to long. Finally I answered. “Yeah, could you call my husband.”
The man reached for his phone while I leaned against the car trying not to pass out from the exhaustion setting in. I spit out the number and the man dialed.
“No one is answering, is there someone else I can call?”
Unbelievable, here I am almost loosing my life and my stupid husband doesn’t want to answer his phone because he doesn’t recognize the number.
“No, I’ll try to call him from my phone.” Luckily my purse was reachable through the broken glass and deflated air bags.
I was still in shock and I started to feel the pain that accompanies a ride like that. My arm started to throb and a group of people that witnessed the incident were starting to gather around me. Including the semi driver. Luckily I was on the phone and didn’t have to answer anyone’s questions. In the back ground I could hear sirens and people shuffling and walking to a safer zone. The traffic from the freeway still passing by us at high speed.
“Hello” Shaun answered his phone. For some reason the voice set panic into me again.
“Shaun, I got in an accident, a semi hit me, I think I broke my arm, I’m off of the 6th south exit…Oh, the cops are here I have to go!”
I’m sure that was enough information to fill him in.
A cop in the usual attire showed up with paramedics closely behind.
“Ma’am, are you ok?”
“I think so, my arm hurts really bad though.”
The paramedics routinely checked me over, they pointed to my right middle finger. It had a deep cut that was bleeding badly. I looked at it and noticed that I also had blood across my uniform.
“Do you want us to take you to the hospital? Everything looks fine but if you would like we can take you.” The paramedics asked.
Must be a slow day if they’re willing to take me in an ambulance for just a cut finger.
“No.” I responded still in a barely audible voice.
I hate pain. I don’t deal well with pain. When I was in fifth grade I lost a friend because I stubbed my toe and she wanted to help. I just yelled at her wanting to blame her for the searing pain shooting up my entire body. She ran from me crying, but I didn’t care I had bigger things to take care of. Luckily as I’ve grown more mature I’ve learned to hold in such urges. But inside all I wanted to do was kick and scream and call anyone who was near a butt face. Harsh, I know.
The paramedics took me to their waiting ambulance and tried to clean the wound and bandage it up as best they could. While I was being attended to, the police officer was questioning the semi driver. He looked to be in his mid 30s. I could tell he was shaken up, I’m sure seeing a 82 Plymouth was enough shock let alone it bouncing off his trailer.
As the paramedics were finishing up the cop came over. He asked me some simple questions as I sat in the back of the ambulance. As we spoke, the ambulance got a call for a more urgent event so I was kicked out rather abruptly. The officer led me to his car and sat me in the back while he sat in the drivers seat. I’ve never been in the back of a police car before. He said it was to keep us safe from the traffic.
After the questioning he had some paper work for me to fill out. Apparently he didn’t care about my finger. As I was painfully filling out tedious events on the piece of paper I noticed my husband walking towards us. It seems that he had gotten a ride from his brother. I would like to think that he ran to my side with tears in his eyes thankful that I was ok. None of that happened, he walked right past me apparently more interested in checking the car out as it was being hoisted up on the tow truck.
Trying to get out of a cop car from the back is an impossible task. Evidently they make it so only people on the outside can open the door. Go figure.
“Hey” I yelled from the back seat trying to get Shaun’s attention. He didn’t hear. The cop then ran his siren, I saw Shaun jump. Serves you right. Come save your wife from the cop car. He came over and opened my door.
“Are you ok?” Now he cares. If it wasn’t Shaun I would be really annoyed with that question today. “Yes, I think so. I cut my finger though.” He checked it out and cringed at the deep cut. And he wants to be a doctor. We’ll see.
The cop got out and handed me some paper work and told me I was free to go. We slowly walked back to his brothers car, Shaun on my left side holding my hand. I was glad to get off the freeway exit. I was almost deaf from listening to the speeding cars for the last half hour. We drove away, Mark taking it slow. I was grateful for the slow pace. I’ve never seen him go slower than warp speed on any street and don’t get me started when he drives on the freeway.
We drove unhurriedly through the city, heading towards the hospital to get me checked out. I tried to distract myself from the pain in my finger and other odds and ends of pain coursing through my racked body. I leaned on Shaun’s shoulder and he wrapped his arm lovingly around me and kissed the top of my head. I felt safe in his arms. I was almost as tall as him, but he was strong. He had a hard upbringing which explained the unwillingness to expose his emotions to anyone but me. Ever since I’ve known him he has put on this façade of being a tough guy, but I’ve never met anyone more sensitive. He claims I’m the only one who can see through his superman disguise, but I don’t think that’s true. What I do know is that I love him and I know he loves me. For right now that’s all I needed. It even somehow took away the pain I was feeling at the moment.
As we drove I wondered where our life would take us. Just barely married we had a lot of road a head of us and no car to get us there. I’m glad I survived my horrific events today. I don’t think Shaun could live without me. I looked up at him and gave him a big smile and an awkward hug. He just smiled, a shy smile and kissed me. I was safe now and I knew that. Everything was going to be ok. Always.

2008-03-14T09:54:00.003-06:00

Here we go! This is just a trial post to get things started. Everybody keeps telling me that we've got to have a blog. It's the best way to keep up with people. I'm excited because it will be a good place to show off Max. I will get some good pictures of me and Shaun too. Shaun will love that.

Our little family is doing so good. I love living in Orem. Shaun doesn't mind but he hates commuting. We will see how long that lasts. I like it because I get to see my family a lot more and they like it because they get to see Max. We love our new home at the mortuary.

Well, here we go!