Lessons learned from Thanksgiving break

Lesson #1:  The McRib really is back. We decided it didn't QUITE live up to all the hype, but it was delicious enough not to make it all the way home.





Lesson #2: Although we fail at making a decent curry, you really can make your own sushi.  We are so very proud of ourselves.



Tempura Master

 

Bamboo placemat Rolling Mistress



Lesson #3: If you're assigned to make roles for two dozen people for Thanksgiving dinner, you really should think out your baking schedule so you don't have to fit 52 rolls into your fridge at one time.

Lesson #4: You really can graduate from the kid's table.  Ladies and gentlemen, I have arrived.


The kids table.  Sans ME.



The very adult table.  Somehow not as glamorous as I'd always imagined.
Zach: Notice I am not at the adult table... I imagine it is glamorous...



 Lesson #5: It doesn't matter if the Turkeybowl consists of my cousins and uncles playing in our 50 foot front yard, Zach will STILL talk animatedly about the depth of talent in his 3 man team for at least half an hour. 



Zach, QB Extraordinaire

 Lesson #6: Sleeping in every day lets your body know that it's time for hibernation.  In addition to still demanding extra sleep, my astute body has even wisely started packing on at least five pounds to keep me warm and comfortable this winter.

Zach: Zombie lesson #7: Machetes don't need reloading.  Happy Holidays!

My Dad is the Bravest Man I Know

A few weeks ago I was sitting calmly in class discussing codes of egress when I got a phone call from my mom.  I ignored it because, hey, I was in class.  Then I got a text:

"Dad was in a bad bike wreck.  Going to the hospital.  Meet us there ASAP."

Naturally, I freaked out.  I ran home, grabbed Zach and the car and we rushed to the ER.  I was expecting something like this:

What we found wasn't much better.  If you get squeamish, I would skip the next few pictures.



It may look horrible, but I knew Dad was ok when the first thing he said was, "Oh, Zach is here?  Let's get him to x-ray his ankle while they do my face!"  And then he proceeded to repeatedly ask about his bike, which looked like this:

That's the front fork, completely sheared off.

 

We're not entirely sure what happened, as my mom was in front and my dad doesn't remember, but somehow Dad went through the back windshield of a car.  Other than a broken occipital bone, a nasty contusion on his arm, and a sweet jagged cut on his face he was miraculously ok.  In fact, he even managed to use the bathroom by himself when he first arrived.



After Hans and Zach gave him a blessing we left Dad in the very capable hands of the plastic surgeon.  The next day he looked much, much better but he could still give you the blood red EYE like none other.  Remind you of anyone? (It was only on one side of his face.)

That day we got a very panicked call from my little brother on his mission via his mission president.  Apparently Hans had sent him a picture, but no one had sent any REAL explanation or update of status.  In his words it was like "getting a picture of your father's broken body and then letting you sit and wonder what happened."  His letter of retribution was swift.

One week later Dad looked even better.  He'll have a wicked awesome scar.

Now, three weeks later the scar just adds to his ruggedly handsome good looks.

My Dad is the bravest man I know.  Two days after the accident he was looking at a new bike.  A month after the accident he's planning another 100 miler in California.  The man is unstoppable.

No Picassos We

Have you ever seen one of those modern, abstract art looking things and thought to yourself, "I'm pretty sure I could do that.  In fact, I think my 2 year-old niece could do that."

Yeah, that's what we thought.  Until we actually tried to do it on a double date with my old roommate and Zach's cousin (yes, I openly admit that I'm trying to get Kristin into the family even if it means shamelessly setting her up on blind dates with unsuspecting but willing relatives) and produce our own abstractness artistically.

As you can see from our Bizarre Tree of Life  and Fingerpainting Toddler, it's a little harder than it looks.  Based off the results we decided we needed to express our creativity using other outlets.

Zach: Guess whose is whose.  Hint: I can't do straight lines. or curved lines.

Zach's creativity was a little more forced because I had to manage a "construction project" for class. This meant that while I could draw the plans and supervise, I could not actually touch the model.  This also meant that I needed slave labor, or at least someone who would work for back rubs.  Enter Zach.

My professor gave him (I mean me) full points for the model, but told me to tell Zach that he probably shouldn't be switching majors any time soon.

As for me, my creativity was expressed via strategically stabbing a squash.

Happy Halloween!