With the Olympics fast approaching, I have often thought about what it would feel like to be an olympian. The dedication and discipline that accomplishing that goal takes is astounding. As a proud BYU Alumni, I would like to congratulate the BYU students/alums that either had a chance to compete and who will be competing in Beijing. My hat goes off to you! Check out this link to read about all the happy valley athletes headed to Beijing (and those that were very close).
Family Picture
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Proud Sister
It has officially been a year since my little brother Kevin left for his mission in Columbus, Ohio. In that time his testimony has grown and he has really matured. I am so proud of what a hardworking and diligent missionary he is and all the success he has had. I miss my little brother and can't wait until this time next year! Keep up the good work, Kevin!
What a goof! Love you little brother!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Movie Weekend!
What better way to beat the Houston heat than to sit in a dark cold theatre watching movies? In all, Kevin and I went to 3 movies and a play this weekend! We started the weekend early and caught Get Smart on Thursday night… we decided to take long distant dating to a whole new level and while we were not physically together to watch the movie, we were in the same movie at the same time…just separated by a couple thousand miles! I thought Get Smart was a funny feel good movie that could be enjoyed by both husband and wife. If you haven’t seen it yet, grab your sweetheart and head to the movies! It was definitely worth the admission price.
On Friday I made my last trip to Texas for the summer and after a long day of work, flying, etc, Kevin and I enjoyed hot buttery rolls at Logan’s Roadhouse…mmmm….yum! The restaurant’s food is quite average really, but the rolls are to DIE for! If you can’t find a Logan’s Roadhouse, find a Texas Roadhouse and you’ll get much of the same – peanuts you can shell onto the floor and somewhat mediocre food overshadowed by their delicious buttery yeast rolls.
Saturday morning Kevin and I woke early to catch a 10AM showing of The Dark Knight and we were simply blown away. If you are planning on seeing it, be prepared for a very intense, very dark, very adult quasi remake of the slightly cartoony version released almost 20 years ago. Don’t get me wrong – I loved the movie…it was the best movie I’ve seen in some time and probably one of the few movies that has successfully combined action with good acting, but I left the movie feeling very disturbed and have still not shaken it from my mind. This, I think, is one of the goals of the movie: to get the audience to really look at evil in a new way – to really examine why some people commit horrific crimes. It is apparent that Heath Ledger was an amazing actor and his unrivaled performance steals the show away from hunky Christian Bale, an excellent actor in his own right.
After a great lunch and nap, Kevin and I went downtown for a firm event – dinner and an Agatha Christie play called The Unexpected Guest. We had a really nice time getting to know some of the people Kevin is working with in Houston – the food was excellent and the play was actually quite good. I usually stick to musicals when it comes to theatre, but this “who-done-it” murder mystery play was rather intriguing and absorbing. Of course by intermission time Kevin had already figured out the twist (as he always does) and got to gloat at the end when it all came to pass as he suspected…he is just so smart!
As you might have already read, we also went to see Mamma Mia and frankly, I couldn’t love Kevin more! I have to admit, he was more willing than I thought he would be to see it, but as the film got girlier and girlier, I realized that he really is the greatest husband in the world! Thanks, babe! I love you! Just 3 more weeks...
On Friday I made my last trip to Texas for the summer and after a long day of work, flying, etc, Kevin and I enjoyed hot buttery rolls at Logan’s Roadhouse…mmmm….yum! The restaurant’s food is quite average really, but the rolls are to DIE for! If you can’t find a Logan’s Roadhouse, find a Texas Roadhouse and you’ll get much of the same – peanuts you can shell onto the floor and somewhat mediocre food overshadowed by their delicious buttery yeast rolls.
Saturday morning Kevin and I woke early to catch a 10AM showing of The Dark Knight and we were simply blown away. If you are planning on seeing it, be prepared for a very intense, very dark, very adult quasi remake of the slightly cartoony version released almost 20 years ago. Don’t get me wrong – I loved the movie…it was the best movie I’ve seen in some time and probably one of the few movies that has successfully combined action with good acting, but I left the movie feeling very disturbed and have still not shaken it from my mind. This, I think, is one of the goals of the movie: to get the audience to really look at evil in a new way – to really examine why some people commit horrific crimes. It is apparent that Heath Ledger was an amazing actor and his unrivaled performance steals the show away from hunky Christian Bale, an excellent actor in his own right.
After a great lunch and nap, Kevin and I went downtown for a firm event – dinner and an Agatha Christie play called The Unexpected Guest. We had a really nice time getting to know some of the people Kevin is working with in Houston – the food was excellent and the play was actually quite good. I usually stick to musicals when it comes to theatre, but this “who-done-it” murder mystery play was rather intriguing and absorbing. Of course by intermission time Kevin had already figured out the twist (as he always does) and got to gloat at the end when it all came to pass as he suspected…he is just so smart!
As you might have already read, we also went to see Mamma Mia and frankly, I couldn’t love Kevin more! I have to admit, he was more willing than I thought he would be to see it, but as the film got girlier and girlier, I realized that he really is the greatest husband in the world! Thanks, babe! I love you! Just 3 more weeks...
All Alone in a Crowded Room
Countless males of all ages have undoubtedly fantasized about and/or discussed what life might be like if you were the last man alive. Standard thoughts and high school locker room conversations on this subject usually focus on the undeniably favorable, yet grossly disproportionate male/female ratio. These musings generally assume the existence of a universal female libido that would make Madonna and Jenna Jameson look like nuns in a convent. However, dear friends, I write today to tell you that being the last man alive is a horribly depressing, bleak, and hopeless future that is not in any way reminiscent of a Hugh Heffner-esque Playboy Mansion lifestyle. How have I achieved such wisdom at so young an age? Today, for two hours, I was the only man in a dark world that we will call “Mama Mia.”
This last weekend Leslie made her final trip to visit me in Houston. We had a wonderful time, but one morning we decided to go see “Mama Mia.” I have grown up hearing the hit songs of ABBA and was more than willing to oblige my sweetheart in viewing a shameless chick flick (after all, being the world’s greatest husband requires constant work). As we entered the theater, I became acutely aware that there was not a single other male in the room. We sat in our seats for about ten minutes and watched as eager patrons continued to stream in, but when the lights went off, there were still no other men in the theater (bear in mind, I estimated that there were approximately 70 individuals watching this movie). There is nothing wrong being around many women, but when I appeared to be the only male in the city of Houston who was conned into seeing this movie by his significant other, I began to question some long held assumptions: Am I a man? Do I act like a man? After today, do I still deserve to be a man? Fortunately, as the previews were rolling, what appeared to be a male-shaped figure walked in and sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I watched him give three or four hugs to all the women he passed in finding his seat, I wondered if his particular brand of testosterone was a potent as I had hoped.
At any rate, the movie began and the enchanting Greek isles filled our hearts as brilliantly as they filled the silver screen. Overall, the movie wasn’t horrible; after all, ABBA can rock some pretty sweet tunes. However, there are few things that make me want to retreat into a dark winter of sexual hibernation like an aroused Meryl Streep creating innuendo with a power drill. Other than that, if you go to this movie be prepared for a lot of scenes involving girls clutching arms while jumping around in a circle screaming in excitement about an impending wedding.
In short, this movie experience awakened me to necessity for balance in all things. It is not good for man to be alone, nor is it good for a man to be alone with 68 women and one guy who’s masculinity is questionable (although, he probably had the same questions about me).
This last weekend Leslie made her final trip to visit me in Houston. We had a wonderful time, but one morning we decided to go see “Mama Mia.” I have grown up hearing the hit songs of ABBA and was more than willing to oblige my sweetheart in viewing a shameless chick flick (after all, being the world’s greatest husband requires constant work). As we entered the theater, I became acutely aware that there was not a single other male in the room. We sat in our seats for about ten minutes and watched as eager patrons continued to stream in, but when the lights went off, there were still no other men in the theater (bear in mind, I estimated that there were approximately 70 individuals watching this movie). There is nothing wrong being around many women, but when I appeared to be the only male in the city of Houston who was conned into seeing this movie by his significant other, I began to question some long held assumptions: Am I a man? Do I act like a man? After today, do I still deserve to be a man? Fortunately, as the previews were rolling, what appeared to be a male-shaped figure walked in and sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I watched him give three or four hugs to all the women he passed in finding his seat, I wondered if his particular brand of testosterone was a potent as I had hoped.
At any rate, the movie began and the enchanting Greek isles filled our hearts as brilliantly as they filled the silver screen. Overall, the movie wasn’t horrible; after all, ABBA can rock some pretty sweet tunes. However, there are few things that make me want to retreat into a dark winter of sexual hibernation like an aroused Meryl Streep creating innuendo with a power drill. Other than that, if you go to this movie be prepared for a lot of scenes involving girls clutching arms while jumping around in a circle screaming in excitement about an impending wedding.
In short, this movie experience awakened me to necessity for balance in all things. It is not good for man to be alone, nor is it good for a man to be alone with 68 women and one guy who’s masculinity is questionable (although, he probably had the same questions about me).
Thursday, July 17, 2008
At the Office...
For the second half of this summer, Kevin has been interning at the Houston office of Mayer Brown, a Chicago based law firm. Here are a few pictures of my first visit to Houston's downtown and Kevin's office.
On the 36th floor!
They even gave him a nameplate :)
In his office
The amazing view out his window!
I am so proud of Kevin and how well he has done this summer. I love you babe...just 3.5 more weeks and you can come home! Of course, that means you'll have to go back to school, but if it means getting to live with me again, it's worth it isn't it? Wait, don't answer that!
The Bank of America Building
On the 36th floor!
They even gave him a nameplate :)
In his office
The amazing view out his window!
I am so proud of Kevin and how well he has done this summer. I love you babe...just 3.5 more weeks and you can come home! Of course, that means you'll have to go back to school, but if it means getting to live with me again, it's worth it isn't it? Wait, don't answer that!Houston...We Have a Problem!
On Saturday, Kevin and I went to the Houston Space Center, and as you can see, we had a lot of fun!
Beside a mock up of the Space Station
The pool where the astronauts train...super cool!
Send me to Space Camp!
Walking on the moon...
Seriously, send me to Space Camp!
A better shot of walking on the moon!
A tiny re-entry capsule from a Mercury mission
A mock up of the re-entry capsule from a future mission (notice the size difference!) 
Meeting an astronaut
Docking into the Space Station
We had way too much fun!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Fourth of July 2008
Yippee...I got to spend the 4th of July with Kevin! I love the 4th of July and it seems that every year Kevin and I spend it apart, but not this year! No…I was NOT going to watch the fireworks alone again this year! I flew all the way to Houston to make sure of it!
Kevin and I started the day by making muddy buddies (Chex cereal covered in melted chocolate/peanut butter and coated in powdered sugar…also known as puppy chow...family tradition), finally seeing Indiana Jones, and then heading to the Woodlands in north Houston to watch the fireworks. The venue was perfect…shops, restaurants, and a river walk…very romantic. Despite the several mishaps we had including a ridiculously long walk to and from the parking lot, a fight (who doesn't fight on holidays!), a restaurant that could NOT get my order right after several tries, and fireworks that were hidden behind a building, Kevin and I had a wonderful 4th of July. I am so glad that we could be together this year!
Finally eating after a long day!
The beautiful river walk
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Sunday Brunch
Because the contingency of patrons frequenting our blog is remarkably astute, I am certain many have noticed a common Texas theme permeating recent posts. Until this moment, all submissions have been cleverly crafted by my beautiful wife, Leslie; today, however, she has temporarily passed the torch to me.
Last weekend, Leslie made her third and final trip to Dallas to visit her lonely intern husband. At the time, we failed to fully recognize the biblical significance of the number three juxtaposed against Leslie’s third trip, but combining such an implication with the fact that she literally descended from the skies upon the land of promise (i.e. Dallas, Texas), we should have foreseen what type of events the weekend held in store.
On a leisurely Sunday morning, Leslie and I made our way down to the “House of Blues” for a relaxing brunch, courtesy of Uncle Gibson. We gleefully filled our bellies with a variety of brunch-related delicacies, then gathered in front of the stage for a little Southern entertainment. After my lover and I had become tired and sluggish from dining on roasted mutton shanks (SNL reference, if you don’t get it, don’t worry about it), we of course felt a little guilty for playing hooky from church in order to attend the firm outing. But, behold, we were nonetheless able to hear hymns of praise, albeit packaged in a manner to which we were not accustomed.
On this day, the gospel choir did not sing about topics more familiar to us such as repentance, baptism, tithing, or even home teaching. Today’s lesson through song was on (and I’m dead serious about this) “Gettin’ Jiggy for Jesus.” As a white male in his mid-twenties, I am, of course, familiar with the phrase “gettin’ jiggy” and several related variations. I attribute most of my contact with the aforementioned phrase to Will Smith’s popular song and exposure to cultures hipper than my own. However, despite having attained a relatively firm grasp on the English language, I have always been a little hazy on what exactly it means to “get jiggy.” Some of you may be scoffing at my ignorance, but I defy you to provide a concise definition that you didn’t rip off from “urban dictionary.” Does it mean to dance? Does it mean to be cool, hip, edgy, or suave? Perhaps it’s a combination of all of the above (Oh the depth and wealth the English language possesses; if only Shakespeare had been so in tune). There may be some who have attempted to pervert the meaning of “gettin’ jiggy” and have inappropriately enlisted the phrase to refer to coitus. However, as an originalist, I must ask myself what Will Smith meant when he said it. Because Will Smith raps about it, we know the meaning must be moral and pure, but finding an appropriate synonym remains a challenge.
Fortunately, on this day, I was able to witness actual people “gettin’ jiggy for Jesus.” Apparently, based on observation, the phrase means to sing extremely loudly, to clap wildly, and to shake one’s body at will, sometimes violently, with no obvious regard to rhythm. Eventually, when an audience member has become sufficiently “jiggy” they transcend the spectator sphere and join the performers on stage in order to demonstrate to the rest of the crowd that they obediently heeded the choir’s admonition and have now become “jiggy.”
Several songs later, as the canons of religion were further revealed, the choir taught Leslie and me something that far too few truly understand: “There ain’t no party like a holy ghost party ‘cause a holy ghost party don’t stop!” Indeed! If the power of reading this truism knocked the wind out of you, imagine how Leslie and I felt as the choir chanted this inspiring rhetoric literally dozens of times! Unfortunately, the Sunday brunch was evidently not a “holy ghost party,” because the brunch and the party eventually came to a stop.
Needless to say, Leslie and I had a wonderful weekend. Although we joke around about some of it, the music was good, the food was great, and as for the weekend with Leslie—we all have our own understanding of the word, but some might say we got jiggy!
Last weekend, Leslie made her third and final trip to Dallas to visit her lonely intern husband. At the time, we failed to fully recognize the biblical significance of the number three juxtaposed against Leslie’s third trip, but combining such an implication with the fact that she literally descended from the skies upon the land of promise (i.e. Dallas, Texas), we should have foreseen what type of events the weekend held in store.
On a leisurely Sunday morning, Leslie and I made our way down to the “House of Blues” for a relaxing brunch, courtesy of Uncle Gibson. We gleefully filled our bellies with a variety of brunch-related delicacies, then gathered in front of the stage for a little Southern entertainment. After my lover and I had become tired and sluggish from dining on roasted mutton shanks (SNL reference, if you don’t get it, don’t worry about it), we of course felt a little guilty for playing hooky from church in order to attend the firm outing. But, behold, we were nonetheless able to hear hymns of praise, albeit packaged in a manner to which we were not accustomed.
On this day, the gospel choir did not sing about topics more familiar to us such as repentance, baptism, tithing, or even home teaching. Today’s lesson through song was on (and I’m dead serious about this) “Gettin’ Jiggy for Jesus.” As a white male in his mid-twenties, I am, of course, familiar with the phrase “gettin’ jiggy” and several related variations. I attribute most of my contact with the aforementioned phrase to Will Smith’s popular song and exposure to cultures hipper than my own. However, despite having attained a relatively firm grasp on the English language, I have always been a little hazy on what exactly it means to “get jiggy.” Some of you may be scoffing at my ignorance, but I defy you to provide a concise definition that you didn’t rip off from “urban dictionary.” Does it mean to dance? Does it mean to be cool, hip, edgy, or suave? Perhaps it’s a combination of all of the above (Oh the depth and wealth the English language possesses; if only Shakespeare had been so in tune). There may be some who have attempted to pervert the meaning of “gettin’ jiggy” and have inappropriately enlisted the phrase to refer to coitus. However, as an originalist, I must ask myself what Will Smith meant when he said it. Because Will Smith raps about it, we know the meaning must be moral and pure, but finding an appropriate synonym remains a challenge.
Fortunately, on this day, I was able to witness actual people “gettin’ jiggy for Jesus.” Apparently, based on observation, the phrase means to sing extremely loudly, to clap wildly, and to shake one’s body at will, sometimes violently, with no obvious regard to rhythm. Eventually, when an audience member has become sufficiently “jiggy” they transcend the spectator sphere and join the performers on stage in order to demonstrate to the rest of the crowd that they obediently heeded the choir’s admonition and have now become “jiggy.”
Several songs later, as the canons of religion were further revealed, the choir taught Leslie and me something that far too few truly understand: “There ain’t no party like a holy ghost party ‘cause a holy ghost party don’t stop!” Indeed! If the power of reading this truism knocked the wind out of you, imagine how Leslie and I felt as the choir chanted this inspiring rhetoric literally dozens of times! Unfortunately, the Sunday brunch was evidently not a “holy ghost party,” because the brunch and the party eventually came to a stop.
Needless to say, Leslie and I had a wonderful weekend. Although we joke around about some of it, the music was good, the food was great, and as for the weekend with Leslie—we all have our own understanding of the word, but some might say we got jiggy!
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