Pics from Utah-lina (see Megan's stories below)

Megan and her nieces Mary and Emma, and her sister Kristin

Carolina Beach

First time for Megan fishing at Strawberry Reservoir, UT

Wakeboarding at Utah Lake

Megan in the "Green Mistress"

Triple Boarding : Steve on wakestate, Tyler and Tom on wakeboards

Megan training to be a sniper with her scoped .22: 25 round Banana clip included.

Me shooting the .45, or "Cowboy gun" as Megan calls it

Trying to brush up on our Texas heritage

It's more green in UT than TX right now, we miss the mountains

Megan in the Rhino

Wildflowers at Strawberry Reservoir

Goin' to Utah-lina in My Mind

We recently returned from our 3 week escapade across the United States, but really just North Carolina and Utah. We enjoyed a week long vacation at Carolina Beach where there was warm water, unlike those of you loyal to your California beaches. Vacation does not constitute freezing my butt off. If it requires a wet suit, forget it. Steve attempted to teach me to boogie board and his first attempt was quite unsuccessful. It ended with me not having ridden a single wave and believing that I was going to drown. At one point I may have believed that he was doing it on purpose. The trick seemed to be me wearing some ridiculous looking goggles to cover my eyes and nose. Keep in mind the water went barely above my belly button. I will not be posting a picture as I look ridiculous. I'd rather not have that circulating on the internet forever. Unlike Steve, I still have a little bit of shame left.

We also discovered that hard wood floors are not a good idea as we listened to Alyssa fall down an entire flight of stairs while terrified children awaited their death on the landing below. We also learned that if a kid sits on the beach for too long, their swimsuit will fill up with sand and look like they pooped. I guess Steve learned his lesson. I also let my family bury me in the sand and shape me into a mermaid. For some reason, my niece thought it was a go

od idea to put sand down the back of my swimsuit. Seeing as how I was stuck there was nothing I could do to get her back. However, when Alyssa did the same thing to her she did not laugh. Thankfully, they finished shaping me before the tide came in and my legs lost all feeling.

On our trip to Utah, Steve's dad took us fishing for the first time in my life. He said that I would know if I caught a fish because I would feel a very distinct jerk on the fishing pole. Well I did. So I reeled it in and what did I catch? About a foot and a half of moss. What a rip off. We also went on a four wheeler ride while we laughed at some boy scouts pedaling their guts out up a hill. I hope they heard us. Suckas! I screamed twice during the excursion when Steve almost took the life of a chipmunk and a baby dear. Thankfully their lives were spared and I'll take credit for it. Here's a picture of some of the wildflowers in Utah around strawberry reservoir.

We also attended my friend Elizabeth's wedding. And while waiting for the sealing to start, Steve leaned over and said, "I really miss Charlie." I am unsure as to why he decided to tell me that then. Maybe he just needed to be validated by our kitty's love.

Oh the pain...the pain!

THE FOLLOWING STORY IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. The past couple of weeks I have been working in a pediatric clinic. A common problem in pediatrics is that as infants genitals develop, the skin sometimes adheres and starts to fuse a little bit. If you don't want to hear a story about genital adhesions, stop reading now. This happens in both boys and girls, though I think it's more common in girls. This last Wednesday there was a lady that came in with her son that was maybe 3 years old. The doctor told the patient's mom he would need to separate the adhesion. "It's okay, it doesn't hurt them near as much as it would me or him (as he points to me, the only other male in the room)" the doctor reassured her. Well, as the doctor started to pull the adhesion apart, the 3 year old began to scream and kick. The doctor motioned for help holding down the kid and before I could help, the other 2 medical students (both female) grabbed the kids legs. So if you can imagine the scene: the is a mom holding a thrashing and screaming three year old, the doctor inflicting the pain, two female medical students holding the kids legs, and me sitting back watching in shear terror. The ordeal lasted about a minute before the doctor was done, looked up, and burst into laughter as he saw me backed up, almost in the corner of the room, with my lower body turned away towards the wall, perhaps in a subconscious protective reflex. Later, the doctor dictated his note in a pseudo-serious scientific tone, "The procedure caused quite a bit of pain and discomfort to both the patient and our male medical student."

Since I would not want to add any pictures to this story (it is graphic enough as it is), here is a picture of us in downtown Houston a couple weeks ago at the Ballet to see Taming of the Shrew. Yes, I am soooo cultured. And to further establish just how cultured I am, here is a video of me using a laser to try and teach the cat to turn the lights off for us. There are different kinds of cultured.

The Star Wars Kid

I am not "the" Stars Wars kid, he is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPPj6viIBmU. However, I was A Star Wars kid. I could have been the Stars Wars kid if I had been provided with access to a camcorder. You might think I'm joking, but I probably would have made one and enlisted my friend Cari. And probably some stuffed animals to serve as Ewoks and Wookies. Anyway, I always thought that I would marry someone who knew at least as many Star Wars quotes as I did. One day I mentioned midi-chlorians and Steve had no idea what I was talking about. I felt like one of the geeks from The Big Bang Theory that has no idea how nerdy they are...until now. What a crushing day.

Well, this post was prompted by nursery a week ago. We have boy who likes to tell us his new name every week. Yesterday was he was No Name and he has been the White Hulk, Monster and Mikey (none of these are even remotely close to his real name). Two Sundays ago he decided that he was Yoda, which I was fine with until he was being moody and having a temper tantrum. That was when I called him Yoda from the Dark Side and he shouted, "No! I'm not Yoda from the Dark Side." One, yes he was and two, how did he even know what the Dark Side was? After that I decided that he was Darth Vader because he was shaming Yoda's good name and he really did behave like Anakin in his early, whiny years. Actually, I take that back: he is more like the Emperor.

So why should I care about Yoda? Because I am a Star Wars geek. Few of you may know (or even remember) that for about a year when I was in elementary school I would watch all three original movies in ONE night almost every Friday. I always did it at sleepovers with Cari and, as you probably all guessed, I was the only one that stayed awake for all three. Go ahead and lose respect for me, but I don't care. Heck, I watched all three the week before I moved here. I even believed in the force until I was at least 8. I used to try to switch off the bedroom light at night, so that I wouldn't have to get out of bed. Sadly, I never mastered it, but now I have Steve and he can do that for me (BAHAHAHAHAHA!).

Now, I will admit that I occasionally talk like Yoda. In fact, I did it the other night after Steve had turned off the lights to see if I could make him laugh (I was successful). Cari, Lys and Steve may be the only ones to have ever heard it. Probably because it is both embarrassing and only bears a decent resemblance to Yoda's voice. Truthfully, I think the only person I have ever heard imitate a Star Wars character well is my sister Emily. Honestly, you would think it was the real Chewbacca in the room.

I also regularly insert Star Wars quotes into conversations with Steve. Now if I said the same thing at my parents' house with my siblings they would at least know what I was talking about even if my joke wasn't funny. I often use "Now I am the master", "There's no escape" and "NO! That's impossible!" (complete with Luke's ugly facial expression). SERIOUSLY, without fail Steve asks, "Wait! Where is that from?" E-V-E-R-Y-T-I-M-E!

So, now you all know that Steve's wife has out-geeked him. Enjoy this great Yoda clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtfejKs_mI4

Get Your Stakes and Silver Bullets

I often have conversations with Steve before we go to bed and depending on how tired we are, it will influence the topic to be more or less strange. One tired night I was thinking about how I am the WORST person to watch thrillers or other such scary movies with. One particular incident was a few years ago in my parents' basement. Lys (my youngest sister) had borrowed the movie "Skeleton Key" from her friend. She had already seen the movie in the theater and said it wasn't scary. Within the first ten minutes of her watching it with me I had scared us both so bad that she said if I didn't stop she would leave down there by myself. I promised to be good, but not just because the movie was freaky. It was mostly because when I was little I believed that Darth Vader would come out of the shadows if I didn't get out of the basement in time. I would turn off the lights super quick and then bolt up the stairs, occasionally trampling innocent bystanders. This stems from the scene when Luke is training with Yoda and he goes into the cave, but Yoda tells him that there will only be what he takes with him. And then Darth Vader comes out (that part still freaks me out even though I know it's coming) and Luke chops off his head only to find that he chopped off his own head. Well, if Darth Vader wanted to hide in my parents' basement he could and I would not see him until it was too late. Who wouldn't be freaked out?!

Anyway, this story made Steve remember that he used to think the Skeksis (from Jim Henson's "The Dark Crystal") lived in his basement. If you have not seen that movie, don't. It is a waste of 93 min that you will never get back. Plus, a lot of those muppets look like somebody was designing them on LSD. This then led to me asking what he thought the boogeyman looked like. A couple months back I was looking up what the boogeyman supposedly looked like in other cultures. So here's the thing: nobody knows. I think that's why he's so scary and works as a great motivator for children to be good. I personally thought that he was made out of pond scum, twigs and other decaying crap from a swamp. I figured he wouldn't be furry because Wolfman is and that would be copyright infringement. So of course once I got older I realized that he didn't exist (based on my previous concept of the boogeyman)....UNTIL Steve decided to tell me that he thought the boogeyman was some guy wearing a black trench coat and hat. So, ANYONE!!! For the first time since my childhood I was scared of the boogeyman because he could be REAL!!! I practically pushed Steve off the bed that night in an attempt to get closer to him and further from the edge. I didn't want the boogeyman to grab me from under the bed. At least if he reached over on Steve's side he would get Steve first and then I could make a quick break.

Well, this past week I was tossing and turning one night and for whatever reason Steve sat up in the bed to where his head was hovering over mine. Some sort of gargled scream came out of me and scared both of us to death (but more especially Steve). I really did feel bad, but I couldn't stop laughing at how I thought he was the boogeyman and I ended up scaring him more than he scared me.

Steve Got a Nose Job

Actually, he didn't get a nose job. I did, but not the cosmetic kind. It all started about 7 or 8 months ago when my family doctor recommended that I get nasal surgery after some pretty nasty pseudo-sinus infections. I said I'd think about it. I lied. But mostly because I did not want people to think I had gotten a nose job. And I didn't want to pay a BAZILLION dollars for surgery, what with me being the SOLE breadwinner and all (just rubbing it in, Steve). Well, fast forward to spring break when my face blew up and I scared people with my Hunchback-of-Notre-Dame-face in the ER. After seeing the allergist he decided I needed a CT scan of my head to make sure nothing was wrong. They didn't find the cause of the allergic reaction (the sucky antibiotic I was on-you were right Ammon), but they did find that my nasal cavities were VERY bony. Hence the reason I could not breathe well (as it turns out, it's not normal to pant and have a runny nose when you go up the ten stairs to your door).

So, Steve was very convincing in "encouraging" the surgery. During our consultation the doctor informed me that there was a possibility that I could leak cerebral spinal fluid, but that was rare so I

shouldn't be concerned (I was). Next, he explained what he was going to do (snip, snip here, chop, chop there), which Steve thought was SO interesting but scared the life outta me. It did not help that they made me sign something the day of the surgery saying I had no medical power of attorney or a will in case I died (he said this was going to be a minor surgery). Good thing we have modern medicine and I don't remember a thing about the surgery.

I can finally breathe, even though I'm not allowed to blow my nose for a couple more days (2 weeks total). Don't worry, he vacuumed my boogers out during my check-up appointment. I did get a bloody nose with a clot about a half a tablespoon in size that was dislodged after a sneeze somehow misfired. While bleeding everywhere (I really mean it-it even got on the walls of the bathroom), I was banging on the bathroom door with my foot and shouting but Steve couldn't hear me over the Harry Potter movie (which was a lame movie

because Doby died and he was the only one I liked). I made Steve call the doctor and it turns out that was normal (I felt really foolish because we did bother him at 10 pm, whoops).

Not that I ever considered plastic surgery before, but I never would after that. I do not enjoy being nauseated and in bed all day for days afterward. And I don't like not being able to blow my nose (neither does Steve). I do not have any pictures of me following the surgery, mostly because I don't allow Steve to take pictures of me when I look gross. Nobody wants that documented or out on the internet forever. So instead, here are two pictures Steve and colored after church a couple Sundays ago.

The State of Texas vs. Idiots Who Waste My Time

About three weeks ago I was summoned for jury duty. While waiting for jury selection to begin I overheard a woman in her fifties say that after thirty years in College Station this was the first time she'd had jury duty. What the heck?! I live here for 9 months and I get summoned! It seems a little fishy to me.

Anyway, back to my story. Somehow I got stuck on the second jury for a SPEEDING TICKET! Really, you can't just appear before a judge?! BOO!!!!! Big, fat waste of my morning. The guy claimed that the officer had not clocked him at 20 miles over the speed limit, so he must be lying and wants to see proof on the radar gun. Oh, and he also mentioned that he NEVER speeds only to have the city's attorney bring up a ticket from a few years ago where he drove 15 miles over the speed limit in a school zone when school was dismissing. I didn't care if he was guilty or not (although it sure looked that way), so because he felt the need to waste our entire morning over a $200 ticket that he didn't want to pay I thought we should find him guilty (which we did). So, not only did he have to pay the ticket, but he also had to pay court fees as well as for the gas he used to drive from Houston.

Don't worry, I got paid for my services. Apparently, my three hour morning at the courthouse was worth a whooping SIX DOLLARS. That's two dollars an hour and well below minimum wage. And here's a picture of the check to prove it.