The Perfect Weekend

I don't write this column with out guilt. This week, we were supposed to go to Boise to spend it with Kersten's family, which would have been wonderful. It was just too much however. All of the tripping around had me road weary and dreading another pack and drive. So I folded, much to my own embarrassment. We decided to stay here and have Thanksgiving with my family (thanks to Mom and others who let us in at the last moment). It really was a good decision for the family. I got to spend a lot of time with the older kids, playing at the rec center (along with the Mumfords) where we took advantage of dirt cheap admission prices to spend all day frolicking in their many activities. We played roller hockey, darts, basketball, racquetball, shuffleboard, and swam, just to name a few.

Everyone appeared to like the roller hockey the best. It certainly was the most eventful. There is nothing quite so entertaining as watching people follow the old adage that one should know how to stop if one is going to start. Reminded me of when I got home from my mission and found Dad's roller blades sitting around one day. I had heard so many good things in letters about all the fun people were having on them so I strapped them on and headed out on Brandon Dr. to find out what it was all about. About the time I hit the Lamont intersection heading down hill, I realized two things: First, asphalt was not very fun to skate on because it was exceptionally rough, and second, and more important to my immediate condition, I didn't know how to stop. I am pretty sure some kind of miracle happened after that because somehow flailing my arms and legs actually got me to stop without falling down. Now, having skated 100s of times, it seems a near impossibility. The rec center has all the rollerblades and sticks available for the asking and a very nice oval shaped court for skating on. With Ryan, Jared and Tim rather new on skates but still feeling committed to competing, there was plenty of excitement. Alex, with a relative wealth of experience, would skate up and grab the puck with those three in hot pursuit. Whenever the puck stopped, inevitably they would all crash together, sticks would fly out, and everyone could be seen, once the dust settled, laying on their backs. Next, Tim would give up the game for the umptenth time and would require coaxing back to the fray. I am afraid that I lack the words to describe some of the wrecks that caused me to double up with laughter until I landed on my rear and felt how hard the plastic surface was. I think a great time was had by all. When we got home from the all day affair Wednesday, I fell asleep at 8 pm and so did the kids.

Thanksgiving was fabulous of course. Mom and Dad really know how to keep family traditions. There is really nothing like Grandma's pumpkin pie. I really get a kick out of Bryan's description of it "burning all the way down". Come on, Bry, that's why you put whip cream on it! We also tried something new this year: Sling box from Tamsin house to watch some football on the big screen (Thanks to Dave who brought his projector up). Beautiful projection, bad picture was the general consensus. We could watch the game but just barely. Probably would have been better to just go get the final score and not waste the time.

Well, there is nothing like victory in the Apple Cup to lift the spirits of the Cougar faithful. Even better is enjoying it together with all the local family. After enduring a player-love fest the likes I have never heard (all hail Jake Locker) from the announcers, it was great to yell and scream and dance around with a fabulous WSU comeback victory. I just wish we all could have been together for it. Cougars are just better when all you guys are here. And so I leave you with one parting reminder. Go Cougs!

The humor of it all

Wow, what a funny group of posts. I read them to Dad here in the hotel room and we laughed until our sides hurt and tears streamed down our faces. Nigel's "pants" story just killed us. All these years, I had imagined him and Stu off huddled in the corner trying to make them selves inconspicuous, or at worst, playing a little indoor soccer. Monkey bars were not on my radar. And that milk story was classic as well. I can just imagine the milk man cursing those ignorant yanks for depleting his spare milks while mom slept in blissful ignorance inside.

There is nothing much to tell about down here in New Orleans. The area of the city where are staying was not hit during the flooding and is about what it was when we were here before. The French Quarter is apparently undiminished as our traveling companions found last night (they were much worse for ware the morning after. The booth went up with out a hitch and nary a union goon came around to harass us for the privilege. Church was wonderful this morning. I love the southern meetings, especially on fast Sunday. One testimony had me so inspired, I narrowly missed leaping to my feet for a Praise the Lord. I'm not joking. She was really good. I think it would have done the ward good anyway. Another gentleman bore testimony on two things we should know, but he was missing some teeth and the two questions passed me by with out understanding. Very sincere and kind. Love the southern people.