The Cutest Bug On The Block

Today, my baby turns three! (Interesting mix of emotions there.)

Just when you think your bugster can't get any cuter, you uncover a long-forgotten gem:



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, QUINSTERELLA!!! I LOVE YOU!!! I speak for Daddy and Big Brutha Squid when I say that you have made my life and my world brighter than I ever thought possible.

Highway to the Danger Zone...and tax-free commissary!

Perhaps when I start referencing Kenny Loggins soundtrack songs as blog titles, it's time to rethink this blogging thing altogether. ;0)

A few weekends ago, we fired up the Silver Hornet (two points for IDing that movie reference!) and headed to Tucson to see one of my very best friends in the whole wide world, Stephanie, and her daughter, Hannah, and husband, James. You see, I'm a great friend (clearing my throat) and have been many (zero, zip, nada) times to see her new house (that she's lived in for over two years now. But in my defense, gas had been ridiculous, schedules conflicted, my shoe came untied, and the sun was in my eyes.)

Friday night, we slept in the COOLEST LOFT OF ALL TIME, custom-build by her handy hubby, James. Can't wait to go back there! It's like a top-secret fort for grown-ups with a real mattress, total isolation from light, and a step ladder prohibiting the post-midnignt, "Mom, can I sleep in your bed," shenanigans.

Saturday morning, I had a downright ethereal experience running through the streets of Tucson with a crisp, clean breeze, the scent of Citrus and Mesquite blossoms in the air...and a million other people running, too! (Evidently Tucsonians have the most fun...so much for that theory about blondes.)

We then rushed to a farmer's market to meet up with our friend, Allison, whose fiance grows and sells his own organic produce. It's amazing! (Who knew lettuce could taste like butter?! I was running faster and jumping higher less than one hour after my salad, and I think it even lowered my cholesterol AND my interest rate.)

(L->R: Stephanie, me & Allison.)

Little known fact: the last time I saw Allison was the weekend of me and my husband's first date. Awwww with me now.

After a Bella-induced mad dash for a public restroom -- BTW, if you ever require facilities in downtown Tucson, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE!!! -- we headed to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base to see a friend of mine from high school (and growing up, for that matter), Jerome. He's a firefighter at the base......so we chillaxed (that's right -- I'm owning it, in print and everything) with him, his wife, Lori, and his son, Brayden.

Jerome was gracious enough to lead us on the COOLEST firehouse tour in the history of firehouses...mostly because we saw nearly every room......got to sit in every vehicle... ...suited up... ...heckled a firefighter doing girly sit-ups (no need to thank me, ladies -- just doing my job), and shot water scores of feet from a crash truck with a 3,300 gallon capacity. Yeah. Tell me you're not jealous.

The inside of the gazillion-dollar crash truck door.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for hilarious no-no demos. That's it. I'll collect them. Spice up the subtle hilarity that is this blog.

If you live in my ward, you'll know why I got a modest kick out of finding this island of familiarity in a sea of firehouse patches.

Label on a crate that could have easily once housed Madagascar's Gloria. (Equal parts freakin' sweet and perplexing. Do I want to see this on something involving my very own, personal military?!?)

Eh. HTML shoulder shrug. At least it breaks up the monotony of the often-karaoke-ed, never duplicated "Top Gun" song blaring through my head. I can thank the Foo Fighters for that.

..."Now you won't find me; I'm goin' MIA..."

Look What I Made!

So, it's not a ball of clay on the end of a pencil like the immortalized Miller toddler masterpiece, but I'm equally proud, nevertheless!



What my family was subjected to for the "better" (see also torturous and disheveled) part of February...


...and, voila! The end result!



From about 20' away, it actually doesn't hurt to look at!

When my son asked when I'm making his blanket, I told him maybe for his graduation. From law school. :0)

Andersizzlin'

Nelly ain't got nuthin' on us...so hot in herrrre...

Man! I've been DYING to reveal our fabulous family photos, but it's agonizing -- even one at a time! (These suckers are each approximately the size of the hood of a '60s Cadillac.) So, family and friends, if you're interested in our photos (and not on Facebook...get with the program, Blogger!), let me know and we'll disc it up, Magic.

Anya feels me. (Wink)

In the meantime:

Handsome devil. Coined the phrase, "Golden Privacy Time," when the shoot took too long and he could no longer hold it.

Mandie can live off Bella-cheeks alone.

The trick to great kid smiles? Give them a toy to hide behind their back.

My very own, personal body-builder. No PhotoChop required. Bubba, you crack me up.

Some of these pics were taken at the city park, but the majority were on my dad's lot...picturesque, with little sprigs of green after the rain...endless white fence...(I should know -- we painted it.) Thanks for the spot, Dad.

Eight Years Ago Today...

...we woke before the sun, scrambled to make ourselves somewhat presentable, and drove (in my gorgeous, custom '79 Chevy pickup...I mean c'mon...was there ever any other option?!) with Jason's cousin, Lance, to the Mesa Temple to hop on this crazy train we've been ridin' out ever since.

We didn't care about fluff. I did my own hair and makeup, made my own veil, and wore lavender Old Navy flip-flops everywhere, ahem, "appropriate." (White slippers where the bar was set a little higher. ;0)

Jason even picked up McDonald's breakfast with his cousin -- both dressed in tuxes. They told the pimply-faced teenager making their Sausage McMuffins that they were there for their job interviews.

He hasn't ceased cracking me up since.

The ceremony was sweet, memorable, tearful and powerful. I'll never stop being grateful for the way it worked out for us.

We drove away from the Temple in my truck, windows down, with me in the driver's seat and my veil flowing out the back window. Everyone -- and I mean EVERYONE -- was honking and cheering on the way to the luncheon and home.

We danced the night away to three hours of music I hand-selected, and we've never looked back.

Since that day, we've:

• Lived in a smoke-filled, 413 sq. ft. apartment,
• Watched the towers fall,
• Bought a dirty little crabshack house in the ghetto,
• Surprised ourselves with the most edible little boy on the planet,
• Rescued the world's most dog-esque cat,
• Been robbed,
• Left jobs,
• Acquired new jobs,
• Started school,
• Finished school (well, Jason at least -- you lucky punk),
• Sold our ShootersWorld crabshack,
• Bought a beautiful, brand new house,
• Taken on callings we never thought ourselves capable,
• Become stay-at-home/working/student mom (okay, me specifically),
• Lost a baby,
• Received the world's most radiantly beautiful little girl,
• Made -- and kept -- friends who will last throughout the eternities,
• Bought and sold cars,
• Paid dearly for laser-vision,
• Gained and lost too many pounds to mention,
• Started our own business,
• Said goodbye to the WORLD'S GREATEST DOG,
• Rescued a dog who'll hold is own...and maybe even measure up someday!,
• And learned more lessons than eight years of blogging could possibly relay.

I can say without a moment's hesitation that my husband is the man my father would pick for me (which oughtta make Elder Collister proud ;0). We pass the test with flying colors because he puts me before himself and I put him before myself. I smile knowing that after we're gone, people will say that we left the greatest legacy...true, unabashed, wholehearted love.

Happy Anniversary, Bubba. Here's to many, many more to come.

Sneak Peek!

WOOHOO!!! Teaser family photos! Check us out:

http://yellowpearphoto.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-spots.html

Thanks, Erika L.!

Don't worry; a full spread to come when I get the official disc. ;0)

The (Stupid) Things We (Shouldn't) Do For Love

Y'all ready for this? (Here it is, Rach, as promised.)

Prepare to enjoy The Worlds GREATEST/Most Tragically Hallmark-ish Love Letter.

No, really. You should be sitting down. And under no circumstances drinking milk.


Since you probably can't make most of that out (and I really posted it for a visual), I'll transcribe below and, naturally, include some juicy commentary. (IMHO, the best part...;0)

Amanda (...umm, if you're calling me that, you're either about to put a cold stethoscope on my back, you're issuing me a speeding ticket, or you don't know the first thing about me!!!),

I feel that a letter to you is the appropriate thing to do, although I would like to speak with you again. As I think of what to say my mind reflects on the experiences we have shared, some past experiences of mine, and some things I have read from your journal. As I prepare my talk , I reflect on the word Love. Wow, what a powerful word, but what does it truly mean? I feel that it would not be out of place to express my feelings on love, but out of fear I will hold my tongue. I would like to help you to understand how I feel about you as a person and a friend. I don't care what other people think or say about you, this is what I think and you ought to think of yourself. I feel that you can be compared to this rose. The stem would represent the values and morals that you possess that are in perfect line. The thorns would represent the way you protect yourself from the bad things that happen to you. The leaves would represent the value you place on life and learning and growing to become a beautiful flower. The petals represent the softer side of you which is truly something to be desired. I feel that you are a very good person and much like this rose. I feel that this rose is beautiful, pure, sensitive, delicate, and humble. I feel that this rose is perfect.

With Much Love,
Random Bonehead McFlakeFest*
*Name has been changed to protect the humiliated.

Wow. Where do I begin?! No, seriously. Someone tell me where to start 'cuz I'm still speechless after a decade.

Ahhh, good (crazy) times!!!

Okay, bear in mind that I was 16, so I was equally panged with twinges of, "That's the sweetest, most poetic thing anyone's ever said about me," and, "In exactly which section of Hallmark did he find this CRAP?!?"

The best parts about this love-tastrophe? Put down the glass of milk. I repeat, step away from the milk. In the interest of your nostrils and computer monitor.

He was in his mid-20s.

Serving a mission.

In my ward.

Teaching my boyfriend the discussions.

And making out with an investigator girl at the same time (CLEARLY unbeknownst to me).

Now THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call QUALITY REALITY ENTERTAINMENT!!!!!!! Thank you, thank you. No applause. Just throw money. I'll be here all week. Tip your waitress.

Oh yeah, and I neglected to mention that his companion gave him that one single, solitary piece of stationery and told him to, and I quote, "Use it wisely." Nice.

You can't make this stuff up.

But I bet if I could, I'd turn a tidy profit at card shops everywhere. Hmmm...what to call my new love card line...