Keira and Adam's wedding

So, it's been almost two weeks, but I still wanted to take a moment to report on Keira and Adam's wedding. As far as weddings go, I think it was a good one. There is a tendency in our culture to put so much time and effort into making days like this special that we lose track of what made the day special to begin with. However, Keira and Joyce and co. did a good job making the day a pleasant experience.

About twelve hours before the actual sealing, things didn't look so positive. Josh had been fighting a bad cold all week. Despite nearly overdosing on Airborne, both Joyce and Keira came down with the same cold Friday night.

The temple held a few special experiences of its own. Neesha and I had to park on the street due to the crowded parking lot. Evidently, the weekend of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, or Human Rights Day, or whatever we choose to call it now, is a big wedding weekend. I proved to be the gallant gentleman and carried Neesha over the sixteen foot snowbank between the street and the sidewalk. A few hours later I performed the same feat with The Boy. Not as impressive, perhaps, but The Boy found it amusing ("Ditty (silly) Daddy!").

Once inside the temple, it turned out there was a question about whether or not either the bride or the groom had their respective wedding rings. However, this proved to be a small issue when we realized the groom had also misplaced his father. We did find him, or at least a man who was willing to act the part, as well as a couple of rings sufficient to the deed, and it looked like all would go well.

Then the ceremony started. The sealer was a gentleman that Randy and Ryan home teach from the Born's ward. As is customary, he offered some worthwhile advice to the young couple prior to performing the ordinance, which they were too busy being in love to hear or remember (also customary). Unfortunately, during this time I came down with a coughing fit due a slight, dry tickle in the back of my throat. Neesha thinks it was due to oxygen deprivation from scaling the sixteen foot snowbank. Have you ever tried to not breathe or cough for thirty minutes? I'm not sure what the protocol is for interrupting the sealer during the middle of his lecture to get a drink, but I imagine it can be encapsulated in the word, "don't;" especially when you are sitting on the opposite side of the room from the door. Gratefully, Grandma and Grandpa Godfrey passed over a peppermint candy and a tissue and I survived.

Oh, and Keira and Adam were married. That was nice, too.

The luncheon was held at the Eaglewood Reception Center. I believe The Boy was the only person there under the age of 16, and he was less impressed with the chicken dinner than he was with the buttermints at each place setting. He went from seat to seat, and then table to table, looking for them. It was also here that I discovered that The Boy had learned a new skill from Neesha's cousin, Christina: "Pound It." The Boy first demonstrated his new ability on a public level by going down the head table, raising his fist in the air (barely clearing the edge of the table) and saying, "poud it," to each person seated there. Randy and Joyce were, of course, more than happy to oblige, as were Keira and Adam. I found it most amusing, though, when The Boy, my shy little boy, went up to Adam's mother and the man filling in for his father from the temple, fist in the air. They, too, were gracious enough to return the favor.

I didn't get to see much of the reception. I was assigned to the nursery, where I decided I never want to be a single father of four, six-year-old boys, three girls (aged seven, five, and three), and two toddlers. Actually, the three girls and two toddlers were just fine. Mom and Dad stopped in for a moment to say, "Hi," though unfortunately The Boy's diaper blew up at the same moment and I didn't get to talk with them long.

The best part of the night came at the end of the reception. Adam wanted a dance, so after the line ended Ryan put on some appropriate music and Adam was able to dance with his new wife. Neesha and I joined them on the floor and I got to dance with my old wife for the first time. I'm sure I looked awkward (being 6'8" doesn't lend itself to grace), but Neesha looked amazing in her red bridesmaid dress with her hair done up. Thank you, Adam and Keira.

All in all, the day was a success. By the time we turned off the lights, all the people who were supposed to get married were married, and to the right people. They looked young, naive, and blissfully happy. It reminds me of another couple I knew about six-and-a-half years ago. Thank you, Neesha.

m&n

What Do Holy Cows Say?

Neesha picked Caleb up from dinner the other night and found that his diaper had leaked and soaked completely through the bottom of his pants down to his knees (yes, he was dry when we put him in).

Neesha: Holy cow!
Caleb: Hoe-wee tow!

*pause*

Caleb:Tow "moo!"

m & n

Naming things

Since Kath has censored me from her blog regarding baby names, I've decided to speak from my own forum. Neesha and I read through The Dougall Daily tonight, and started talking about various names. Here are a few we came up with:

• For a cat: Atticus, after Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird (Neesha liked that one) and Bucky Katt from the Get Fuzzy comic strip (Neesha did not like that one, but I think she is starting to warm to the idea);
• For a dog: Amadeus, if it is a big dog, and Bruce Willis if it is not (don't read anymore into that than what I wrote);
• For a son: Owen (staking our claim on that one now, Kath and Brandy, though given our different taste in names, I don't suppose that was really a risk);
• For a daughter: Ainsley and Amelia. Neesha said we would call Amelia, Amy. Before I could ask, she clarified that did not mean I could call Ainsley, Any (again, consider this a claim on the names. Again, again, don't read any more into the fact that we are discussing names for kids than that we are discussing names for kids);
• For those safety plugs that go into electrical outlets: Pretty Snazzies (this from The Boy, who pronounces it, "pitty nazzies").

m&n

On organic matter

What, exactly, is organic matter? Every so often, I'll fixate on a question and, no matter where I am or what I am doing, it fires across the synapses of my brain, constantly mocking my intellect with its absurdity. For the past 44 hours, I have been pondering the meaning of this term: as I bathe in the shower, as I zone during conference calls at work, as I try to fall asleep in my bed, as I remove pound after pound of a dark gray material from the kitchen sink; a substance, they tell me, known as organic matter.

Tuesday night while cleaning up dinner I noticed that, as I poured water down one drain in our sink, the other would fill up. At first I thought this a neat trick and considered taking my sink to audition for David Letterman's "Stupid Human Tricks" (I've never been sure which term the adjective stupid was meant to modify), but then realized that this was the equivalent of a teenage boy laughing milk through his nose.

I have never found someone laughing milk through his nose amusing. Now, even less so. Tuesday night turned into Wednesday morning before I finally conceded the first match and went to bed. Wednesday night held more promise. I donned my lucky ACE sweatshirt and, with the Lovely Wife and Boy cheerleading (picture The Boy crawling under your arm, looking up in your face and saying, "Hi, Daddy. Fig it."), attacked the clogged drain like a man repossessed. Match two ended about an hour and a half later, but only because I ran out of auger (sink 2, me 0). I took out my frustration on the basketball court and called a plumber.

I think my sweatshirt is defective.

So, one half-gallon bottle of Drano Max Gel, one box of baking soda, one gallon of white vinegar, two p-traps, 14 gallons of boiling water, 25 feet of auger, 109 dollars, and one male ego later, the issue was resolved. Neesha tells me the sink is flowing smoothly now, and the plumber is telling me that it happens to everyone. And I'm left to ponder the deeper meaning of the term, organic matter. While certainly not on par with world peace, or even sunless tanning, I believe the successful resolution of this issue will be the defining moment of the 21st Century.

mw

If You Read One Sports Article This Year...

Yeah, it's a feel-good story, but what is wrong with feeling good?

http://www.madison.com/tct/sports/uw/basketball/men/265039

mw

An Inconvenient Convenience

Neesha and I bought tickets to five University of Utah basketball games through one of the University's mini-plans, with the first game being tonight against the perennial powerhouse of Dixie State. We placed the order on December 31, and as of this morning still had not received the ticket package in the mail.

This afternoon I received a voice mail from the Utah Ticket Office. There had been a glitch in the system, and for some reason our order didn't print. With the first game being tonight, they placed the package in the will-call office. I understand things like this happen and I appreciate that they made sure we could still go to the game, but I found the end of the voice mail amusing:

Mike with the Ticket Office: "...we'll be putting them in will-call under your name, and that is where they will be until you pick them up. We're very sorry for any convenience, and we will try to figure out why they didn't print. But, again, the tickets are in will-call so you can still attend tonight's game, and we hope there was no convenience."

mw

Our Only Hope is That Quebec Surrenders

Joe: Why are we losing so much in Ottawa?
Me: The exchange rate. The Canadian dollar is living around 1:1 right now, and they stopped hedging this project last February.
Jason: Do you think it will swing back the other way?
Me: I don't think until October or November at the earliest.

*frustrated silence*

Joe: What can we do to improve the exchange rate?
Jason: We could invade Canada. Does anybody own a rifle?
Me: I have a .22. I'm not sure about bullets, though.
Jason: Bullets sound a bit like overkill. I wouldn't mind having at least four people, though.
Me: I just IM'd my sister-in-law; she said she's in, though I know you don't like temp labor.
Joe: I guess we can make it work. You guys don't mind working this weekend, do you?

mw

New Year's Day

Every New Year's Day we go to dinner with Simon and Angie. This year, prior to dinner, we took the boys sledding at a park in Bountiful. Neesha and I purchased a new tube to mark the occasion. Unfortunately, it only lasted one run (shown below) before losing all its air. After that, it was demoted to a glorified garbage bag. For those of you who have used a garbage bag as a sled, our glorified version amounted to the same thing, just with handles. For those of you who have never known the pleasure, well, you've never truly experienced sledding the way it was intended.

mw