The Smelly Feet Protein Smorgasbord

Trying a new approach to nutrition. If your food is extremely unappetizing, you may spread out your meals throughout the day. This is the recipe I invented this morning and still have not been able to finish:

- splash of sesame oil

- 5 eggs

- 2 cups of liquid egg whites

- 1 container of tofu

- splash of soy sauce

- splash of worchestershire sauce (can't spell it or say it)

- 1 giant handful of spinach

- 1/4 cup of blue cheese

Hold your breath as you scramble everything together. Cram it into a tupperware container and quickly snap on the lid.

Even if your food is chock-full of protein, vitamins, and good fat, it makes it easy to eat sparingly when your meal is brown with green spots and a potent odor of feet.

The Root (of the) Problem

Laying down roots...

People talk about that. It's a novel concept, something that Jenny and I have been striving for during our entire relationship. Every time I hear about it I imagine something like the picture above. Something sturdy, wooden, locked into place.

Lately I'm realizing that, as a family, we are much more like a wad of gum than a majestic oak.

It seems like we pick ourselves up in hopes of setting down roots like those, when instead, by the act of moving, we leave trailing strands behind.



For both of us, the majority of our strands stay planted in Davis County Utah. That is the truth - like it or not. We've left behind varying-sized strands in Florida, Indiana, Wyoming, and now, Texas.

Like gum, these strands may weaken over time. They may become brittle and even break. Unlike gum, however, setting down these points of contact has not diminished our "wad" as a whole. (Probably the UGLIEST word I've ever used in comparison to my adorable family.)

Like the majestic oak, even gum can become a hardened and permanent fixture given enough time.

And I so look forward to becoming a stagnant piece of gum.

10 Embarrassing Public Confessions

I saw this picture today while I was working on our department newsletter and it made me smile. I used to be an avid collector of Calvin and Hobbes books. This picture brings back a lot of good memories, but it also made me think, "Even when we're grown, most guys still do this in the mirror and consider themselves low-grade superheroes."

In my mind, the pronoun "we're" seemed fitting because I've convinced myself that I am not alone in this. The truth is, I'm pushing 30 and better men would have left behind such childish delusions by my age.

Like steps along a stone walkway, that led me to draw the connection to some other personal confessions:

1. Along the lines of the picture above, I still find myself bragging to Jenny about how much weight I lifted even though I know it makes me an incredible tool. Like a kid running to the pencil line on the kitchen entryway 3 times a day to see if he is any taller, I confirm my physical insecurities by getting home from work and saying things like, "I totally dumbbell shoulder-pressed 140 pounds today!" Jenny will smile placatingly and nod.

2. If it is too cold to roll my window down, I will wipe boogers on the floor mat of my car. Your assumptions surrounding that statement are probably true. And, yes, given the opportunity to flick, I DO try to hit other cars. Disgusting, I know.

3. Sometimes having daughters terrifies me so much that I want to sit them down and beg them to not say mean things to me when they get older. I am almost tempted to start a pony fund for each of them so that I have a sizable bribe to prevent them from making me cry. It seems like teenage girls have had the capacity to hurt my feelings since I was about 13.

4. I hate tucking in my shirt so much that I will usually wear a jacket at my desk. That is fine because I prefer being too warm over too tucked. Like a pantless news anchor, this policy works as long as I stay sitting down. I took my jacket off today and, after my workout, was too lazy to put it on or tuck my shirt in. So, I made my protein shake with the cold leftover coffee on my desk.

5. I really liked the movie Never Back Down. It is a predictable tweener movie with cardboard characters and eye-candy for girls, but I can't help but like it. It's like what Fight Club would have been if Stephenie Meyer had written it.

6. Sometimes I feel a sting of rejection if my wife doesn't "Like" my facebook status.

7. Speaking of facebook, John Armstrong posted a link to an Annoying Couple music video and, well, it made we worry that Jenny and I fit too many of those qualities. I also just watched the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother where Marshal and Lilly are shocked by how disgusted everyone is when they learn that the couple shares a toothbrush. Jenny and I totally share a toothbrush. I mean, we own two, but we just reach for whichever one is closest.

8. A few weeks ago Jenny threw away my old holey sneakers. I dug them out of the trash and hid them in the trunk of my car. They were the shoes I found in Moab... sitting on top of a dumpster. I now own shoes that have been retrieved from the trash on two separate occasions. Given the chance, I know I'll do it a third time.

9. I try to consider myself something of a writer, but I am so ignorant when it comes to grammar and the structure of our language that I had to google my use of "pronoun" in the second paragraph of this post. Still not sure if I used it right. In fact, when spellcheck doesn't recognize my word, it makes me feel like a badass, like I somehow invented a word.

10. Sometimes I crave an adrenaline rush so much that I will keep myself from peeing until the end of my shift. I will hold it for up to an hour just so I can pee in the parking garage, even though the bathroom is only 20 feet from my desk. I know it's stupid and petty and illegal and could get me fired, but--much like the urge to urinate--the urge to rebel seems to build over time. If I don't have to pee I will longboard through the parking garage instead.

Ah. That was surprising liberating - writing the post, not peeing. Though, I am tempted to remove the word "Public" from the title of this post since only 4 people read this blog.

P.S. - 11. When I first wrote the title, I misspelled it to read "10 Embarrassing Pubic Confessions" which would probably have suited #10 pretty well, especially if I'm caught in the act.

All-Princess Weekend

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Like, Texas far...

Two beautiful princesses named Emma and Abbi were stuck inside their castle (rambler) because of the cold, rainy weather.

Their Father, the King and big spender, took his two princesses to a magical store of enchanted discs. $4.28 later they left the kingdom of Blockbuster in their Honda Odyssey chariot, each princess with their selection in hand.

Their Mother, the Queen, invented delicious and healthy homemade popcicles with plain yogurt, blueberries, bananas, and dark chocolate.

The walls of the castle were filled with princess songs from their chosen DVDs. So much so, that even after returning to his bread-winning duties on Monday, the King cannot forget that "there's something there that wasn't there before" between Belle and The Beast.

"What's there, Mama?"

Ah, Chip, you silly little bastard tea cup.

(I only call him a bastard because his father is nowhere to be found and it looks like he got knocked around a little.)

The number of Thing-A-Ma-Bobs belonging to Ariel still rings clearly, nay relentlessly, in his mind.

The disturbing realization of how many Disney villains fall to their deaths is still fresh.

In fact, the King and Queen laughed at each other after proving how immersed in the All-Princess Weekend they were by spending their Saturday night watching Atlantis.

To all of the other Kings and Queens with little princesses at home, I invite you to visit the Disney Princess website. We stumbled on it by accident and found that our little princesses really enjoyed picking dresses and accessories for their favorite princess. Enjoyed it for HOURS.

Sweet Reunion

Back in 'oh eight I wrote one of my favorite essays entitled Sleeping Jenny. I put the link to it in case you would like to go back and check it out. I reference it now because something miraculous happened last night.

Working the afternoon shift does have some advantages (like shift differential pay and not setting an alarm clock) but it does put me home later than I'd like. Last night my manager invited a few of us to a place called Buffalo Wild Wings which is a bar and wing grill. Utah readers may have gone to Wingers or Pizza Hut to get wings, but it really doesn't compare to what they offer in Texas. In Texas you'd be hard-pressed to find a stripmall without a wing bar and donut shop. Forget the easy decision between honey bbq and regular, Buffalo Wild Wings has a range of spicyness including 14 flavors. Last night I tried the third from the hottest - Mango Habanero.

I could tell you how delicious the wings were, but that really isn't the point of my story. I could also tell you how one of my coworkers sent me home with their Asian Zing leftovers and what a good combination that was to the second showing of The Colbert Report, but that is also beside the point. What I want to tell you is what happened AFTER retreating to the bedroom.

I didn't turn on the light for fear of disturbing Sleeping Jenny. As the girls have grown she has become more tolerable and less violent, but I still don't want to poke the bear if you know what I mean.

I slid into bed about 1 AM. To my extreme surprise and delight, Sleeping Jenny performed a sudden and impressive horizontal 270 until she was smack-dab in the middle of the bed and pulling my arm around her. It's only a Queen so that left me with one arm over her and the other dangling toward the floor. Eventually my leg followed. But, the half of my body that was still on the bed loved it so much that I stayed there and cuddled her until 3, enjoying the scent of her hair like a junkie off the wagon. Eventually the need to return circulation to 115 pounds of me became too great to ignore. But while it lasted, it was awesome!

"Why do you have a hole in your face?"

"Why do you have a hole in your face?" Emma would sometimes ask me. She would sit on my lap and poke at my cheek, a quizzical expression on her face.

"I don't know. It's just always been there I think." I would say.

"It looks really funny," she'd reply.

A while ago I was talking to my dad and he stopped the conversation to say, "Whoa, you're a pit viper just like me!" pointing to a hole in his face in the exact same spot. I guess the medical term is "Dilated Pore" but what it really looks like is a gaping hole. I think he meant to say something more like, "You've got a viper pit just like I do!"

Hole. Viper pit. Dilated pore. Genetic blemish. Sunscreen storage for later applications.

Call it what you will. It was annoying.

Today, I ventured beyond my blue-collar range into a land of Range Rovers and raspberry-infused water. I cast aside the shackles of lower-middle class to join the ranks of the rich and micro-dermibrased. I went to... the dermatologist.

I didn't really get microdermibrasion. I don't actually know how that works. I picture tiny surgeons driving Micro-Machines around your face with very small cheese graters attached to their bumpers like snow plows.

My dad said a dermatologist could do a punch biopsy to cut out the area around the hole and just throw in a few stitches to close it all up. Sounded pretty easy.

So, today I did. I sat in the waiting room (where they offered the standard magazines but also a surprising amount of C.S. Lewis) and read BusinessWeek in hopes of fitting in more.

The whole process was quick and fairly painless. It is strange to get a numbing shot so close to your eye but I would do it a thousand times before getting numbed for a vasectomy again!

While I was in the shop, I decided to get a mole on my back removed. Piece of cake. They were done before I realized they had started.

While the doctor was stitching my face she said, "We have to make sure we leave the smallest scar possible and avoid bruising. People may not be pretty when they come in here but they're pretty when they leave!"

That comment worried me a little as I began wondering if I was pretty enough for them to let me out, or if they caged the ugly people in back until nightfall.

"Mmmmmmm, cheese!"

Jenny and I have done a much better job of limiting the amount of TV the girls watch. They usually get a show in the morning and one at night. Emma gets to watch a few shows and read books during her "quiet time" while Abbi is napping.

The winter months are difficult, however. Additionally, in our current living situation, it is very hard to keep the girls quiet while Daxton is napping if they're not engrossed in Dora or Mickey Mouse.

With my work schedule Jenny and I have not been getting enough sleep. The mornings we can both wake up with the girls and have breakfast before 8 AM are wonderful because they give us more time to enjoy each other's company before I have to be out the door for another 12-hour shift. Working 10 to 10 only feels good when I'm looking at my paycheck. Aside from that minute or two of excitement, it blows.

I would love to spend every free moment creating lasting memories with my daughters. If I could we would always be learning valuable lessons together, bounding through meadows and expanding our minds. But, the reality of life is that sometimes you just want to be able to all pile into bed together and cuddle and doze while Nick Jr. does the entertaining.

As much as I love getting drawn into the storylines myself, I have been trying to use that time to read. Lately Abbi has discovered that my back makes a suitable lounger when I am lying on my stomach. She stretches out and plants her little head between my shoulder blades. I stare at my book and pretend I'm not listening to Handy Manny's building tips.

Today Jenny brought the camera into the bedroom and started snapping photos of Abbi on my back. Abbi kept saying, "CHEESE!! CHEESE!! CHEESE!!" the way she normally does when someone is taking pictures.

I guess she was hungry because after a second she said, "Mmmmmmmm, cheese. I want some cheese!"

It was adorable.

Oh, yeah, and before I left for work... I brought her some cheese.