Does This Drag Boat Make Me Look Fat???

• Screaming across glassy water at downright irresponsible speeds, risking (at the least) imminent bodily harm.
• Anchoring myself to the steering wheel like a hostage wired to a bomb clutches the motion-sensitive detonator.
• Snickering at the epileptic tach needle as it mirrors my uncontrollable bouncing over even the slightest trail of "lake lice" (you may refer to them as jet skis).
• Wondering how effective "racing shoes" really are at being life-saving flotation devices. (Yeah, still not buying that one.)

All for a rush that makes my cheeks burn with excitement, my abs sore from uproarious laughter, and my dreams ring with the sound of a surprisingly throaty little 350 that packs a punch.

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What's not to love?!?

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Plus I giggled like a school girl in pigtails...wait a minute, I was wearing pigtails...when I stood up out of the carbon fiber sliver, unstrapped my helmet from my harness, pulled off the helmet, peeled off the "sock" (more sweat-net than anything), shook my hair out -- and a boat full of boys, their dad, and their grandpa, stared until the youngest boy shrieked:

"WHOOOOOAH!! That's a GIRL drivin' that thing?!?!"

Believe it, cutie. Mission accomplished. :0)

Mad props (Haha!!! Get it?! Props? 'Cuz boats, and, um, yeahhhh.....) to my brother, Paul, who's teaching me (select bits of) everything he knows, and for my brother, Buzzz, who slaved with Paul over the Money Monster for more months than they care to count.

Seriously. Nothing says love like letting your little sister race your prized possession.

Plus I think the family had fun chillin' on shore.

Now THAT's my idea of a Friday.

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)