IT'S A GIRL!!

Due June 21st. Half way there. . . . now I'm off to sew the quilt I've been waiting for weeks to buy fabric for!

Lice. . . again?

Recently I had a couple of neighbor girls knock at my door asking if they could do any service for me. You know like "vacuum, wash the dishes, clean my house." Weird, but OK. I let them in once. . . they took out my trash and helped me fold some clean towels. I gave them a Gossner's Vanilla milk for their help and sent them on their way. They have returned almost daily now for the last two weeks asking if they can do more service for me. After the first service go round I wondered why I had let them fold my laundry with their dirty little hands. I'm not saying all kids have dirty little hands. . . . no just the kids in my neighborhood. Come by and you'll understand. No harm done I guess. Until I found something similar to this:

sitting in my living room. A carnival prize cheetah? Now the cheetah shown above is clean and nice-ish looking. The actual cheetah sitting my my living room however, had a couple of holes in the head and neck leaking little beads of Styrofoam stuffing on the floor, smelled like cigarette smoke and dog urine and I'm certain was crawling with lice. Yes I said it lice! Upon asking Joseph why such a nasty thing would be sitting in my living room his reply was that our nice little service oriented neighbors girls had brought a gift for our baby. How lovely. The garbage can was very grateful for my offerings today and Daisy and I are now off for our 5 baths of the day.

So a few months ago I came home to find a package in the mailbox. I opened it and found these tiny shoes.

My little sister Emily knew that Jen and I wore these nerd shoes so she sent us a pair in the event that we ever succeeded in conceiving a child. Little did Emily know that Jen was probably 2 weeks pregnant at the time. She is now at 11 weeks and doing well. We heard a heartbeat on the little Fisher-Price microphone at the doctors and Jen keeps looking in the mirror asking if she looks fat. Yeah right like I'm gonna answer that one.

Happy Halloween

Here's our little Daisy "Bee"

Doing tricks for treats.

My pumpkin. . . . for those of you that don't know it's Franken Berry.

Happy late Halloween ya'll.

Who is Steve Young?

You all might think that my blog revolves around BYU football. . . .maybe it does. . . but this is just too good not to post.

On Saturday Joseph and I attended the BYU football game (bad game, so don't ask). As we sat in our regular seats I found myself listening to the couple sitting next to me. Obviously they were on a date due to the semi awkward conversation, I'm going to guess a first date based on the distance between the two of them. He patiently explained the rules of the game tapping me on the shoulder from time to time to ask. . . "now BYU is in the white correct?" and "who is that #10 out there?" Because he is a man I assume he knows the rules of football, however he was not up to date on the players, so must not watch too much football. His date on the other hand had probably never seen a football before in her life. His explanation of the rules went on and on throughout the game and then I noticed the conversation changing. He started telling his date who the famous BYU football players were. . . .Jim McMahon . . .Ty Detmer. . . John Beck. She sat there totally perplexed, apparently she had never heard these names before. And then he mentioned Steve Young, where upon she said "Oh he played football for BYU?"

I'm sorry, are you serious? How can you go to BYU and not know who Steve Young is? What have your parents been teaching you at home? In my home we were taught early about BYU football. My dad would sing us the Cougar fight song as a lullaby. Posters of BYU sports plastered our bedroom walls. Steve Young's picture is next to our family picture and the picture of the prophet. I was in shock at her lack of knowledge. . . I guess that's why she came to college though. . . to learn about BYU football.

BYU vs FSU

This last weekend we journeyed across the country to watch our Cougars take on the Florida State Seminoles. I figure pictures tell a thousand words (be aware that they are a bit out of order), enjoy!

Here we are on our red eye flight to Panama City. . . TJ and I are excited. . . Joseph looks likes he's been crying. . . . he claims it was allergies. . . . I think he was sad to be leaving our dog.

The beautiful beach in Panama city. . . there was no one on the beach and the water was warm and clear with little fishes that would gather around your feet and nibble on your toes. They boys liked the fishes. . . I was not a fan and jogged in place the whole time I was in the water. I might have even stepped on one in my nervousness.

On our way home we decided we had better stop at a Waffle House to see what it was all about. We learned a few important things while dining there. . . 1) Homemade grits are much better than Waffle House grits, 2) It's probably better if you can't see your chef while he's frying up your bacon and eggs, 3) Underwear is an option in the South.

Here is a picture of the band before the game. There are spelling FSU if you can't tell and the S has arrows coming off the end.

Up close while the team is warming up.


Can't get a picture of the team and not get a picture of Jake Heaps, I'm not sure what he's doing with his hand. . . I'm going to go ahead and assume it's his follow through from throwing the football. And the guy next to him. . . well it's probably hard to come by a tissue on the field.

Getting ready for the game to start. . . getting pretty excited.

Joseph standing in front of the football stadium.

And you can't come to FSU with out stopping by the statue of Bobby Bowden the FSU legend.

Goodbye FSU!

Our trip ended much to soon. On our way back to the airport in Panama City we got lost and passed through a beautiful city called Destin. . . . we might have to plan another trip to Florida with or without football.

Sad

It's sad when all of your neighbors know your dog's name and not yours. When I step outside I hear little voices yelling "Dumpster Daisy." Half of the people who ring the door bell ask if Dumpster Daisy can play. . . . well I can play. . . . do you want me?