Pink Putty and Paint Stirrers

When Dr. HokieKev and I decided to move to Utah, we also decided to buy a house. We took a long weekend last March to fly out and look at over 30 houses...in three days. We bought the last one we looked at. Fanciness and upgrades enticed us. Things like this:
And these:
And all this (which, consequently was its own pain in the butt- but I think we finally have it working right):

And this lovely kitchen with its gorgeous travertine wall:

The reason for all of the fanciness was mostly the fact that the previous owner was the builder. In fact, that is his profession- he builds houses. He puts fancy upgrades in his. So, we bought his house and with it got the upgrades. We own these things now- they are still fancy.

However, in all of these upgrades and all of this fanciness, the former owner neglected to pay attention to details. Let me remind you- he is a builder, he builds houses. That is how he makes money. Anyway, he left out the details. I don't know why I have picked now to start worrying about these things, but in the last few weeks they have really bothered me. You see, there were several spots throught out the house where paint was touched up- with the wrong color. There is a fairly large section of an accent wall in our living room- the only wall in the whole house that is a different color from the rest- that was painted the wrong color. There were nail holes. And gouges in the wall. And almost every light switch plate looked like someone had taken a chopstick size screwdriver and punched a hole in the wall right next to it. The ones without actual holes, well...you could tell that there were holes which were painted over- poorly.

I mean, I guess I could give the guy the benefit of the doubt. When you are moving out, you are bound to ding some walls or leave some nail holes unfilled. But once again, he is a builder. He does this stuff for a living. That is how he makes money. I could also see if the fixing of these things took time. And before today- maybe I thought they did. But once again- DUDE BUILDS HOUSES. FOR A LIVING.

Once again, I don't know what this has just started to bother me, but it has. Noone will be able to tell that the accent wall is two colors. But I know. Most people won't realize the poorly painted over imperfections. But I will. So today, I went around my upstairs with a can of pink putty and filled in the holes and gouges. It took less than ten minutes. I didn't even have the proper putty knife. I used a paint stirrer. Did I mention the putty was pink?


After about an hour, the pink putty turned white. Once again, I took less than ten minutes to go around and sand away the excess. One day this week, I will take another ten minutes or so to paint over the holes and dings and dents. I don't build houses for a living. I also no longer have chopstick size holes next to all my upstairs light switches (I am saving the downstairs for another day).

Now there is the small matter of that pesky 1500 lb. gun safe in our office...

Some Things Never Change

Picture for a moment my 15 year old self tumbling her way across the floor at gymnastics practice. Roundoff, backhandspring, backhandspring, back tuck. Lather, rinse, repeat. Now imagine my 15 year old self landing one of those back tucks where her right ankle decides it doesn't want to play anymore and, instead of standing strong for the landing, rolls flat while the leg stays straight. Apparently, it popped. Apparently, it was loud enough for everyone in the gym to stop what they were doing and ask if I was okay. After hopping around for a moment, my 15 year old self decided the ankle was fine and kept on tumbling. Yeah, probably not the best decision but 15 year old selves don't think of that. Twelve years later, the right ankle is still a problem. Thankfully, it doesn't tend to get humid and rainy in Utah and needless to say, the ankle did not like Florida humidity.

Fast forward to last Sunday. My 27 year old self decides to leave the safety of the baby mountain while snowboarding and show off my newly acquired snowboarding skills on the real mountain. After a couple successful practice runs down the baby mountain, I head up to the top with Dr. HokieKev and some friends who, compared to me, are ready for the Olympics. I do okay especially since I have left the safety of the green circles for the slightly harder blue squares. I have to stop a few times- the altitude is an ass kicker- but otherwise felt pretty good about the big mountain. I fall once, pretty epically sliding down the mountain (note to self, back flip will not stop the siding. It will continue, but now hurt more since your face is in the snow), but manage to stop myself before hitting a tree. I am sure my expert skier friends were laughing. But remember, they are ready for the Olympics, they can laugh and ski at the same time- so maybe I deserve it. Anyway, I make it down the mountain to a nice, flat, "easy" part. I lose my momentum and fall straight on my head. I guess I put my hands behind me to stop my head from ricocheting on the ice- it didn't work. My head went crack. Dr. HokieKev asked if my head was all right and told me to get up. I put my hands down to push myself up and...nothing...my wrist was having none of it.

I somehow manage to pull myself together and get back to the lift. As I am holding my wrist trying to convince Dr. HokieKev that I can still feel my fingers so it must be okay, Ski Patrol Man comes over to offer me a splint and a bag of snow. A BAG OF SNOW?!? Um...no thanks dude, I am fine...yeah, fine. I can still move my fingers, nothing is swollen, I may be on the verge of tears but I am not bleeding, time to go back up the mountain. Thanks though! And back up the mountain we all went- my Olympic-ready skier friends and I!

All was fine. It was cold so my wrist was frozen. I went down a black diamond and only fell once- a little fall. Weird that I can't do the "easy," flat stuff but I managed to get down the black diamond alive and unharmed. I also managed to get off the lift without falling more times than not and my tailbone escaped without being bruised. So anyway, we got home and thawed out and- HOLY WHOA THAT HURTS!- I guess my wrist wasn't that okay. In theory, one would go to the emergency room. In practice, I felt that unnecessary. I have a pretty high tolerance for injury pain but an incredibly low one for ANYTHING involving medical personnel. Besides, emergency rooms take forever and cost alot of money. All they would do is give me a brace and some x-rays and tell me to go to a doctor on Monday. I can do that myself- well, not the x-ray part but the rest. Three stores and 11 bucks later, I had a wrist brace. My 15 year old self would be proud.

Some things never change.

P.S.- Two days later, it still hurts. Yesterday, I could barely brush my hair. Dr. HokieKev had to hook my bra- something I am sure he never thought he would have to do. I spent most of the day using my left hand for anything that involved a turning motion. It is really hard to do things with the left hand. Today was a bit better. I did have to suck it up and take off the brace to write. I can't write with my left hand. Hopefully, this trend of getting better continues.

Introducing Señor Chairlift

With Ice Butt sufficiently conquered, this past weekend I met a new foe- Señor Chairlift! Let's recap:

Take 1: Make it sufficiently off the lift and out of the way before falling
Take 2: Coast off the lift- no one is around to see
Take 3: Coast off the lift and around the corner before falling on my face
Take 4: Coast off the lift- no one is around to see
Take 5: Wait too long to put snowboard onto the snow, fall on butt immediately, whip head back and crack it on the ice. Chairlift Dude comes out to make sure I am not dead and still know my name. Dr. HokieKev laughs.
Take 6: Overcompensate by putting snowboard down too early, hold onto Señor Chairlift as not to fall to a certain death (okay...fall a foot, but still), almost recover before falling, fail to duck, get hit in the head with the chair. Chairlift Dude comes out to make sure I am okay. This time he tells me what I did wrong. Dr. HokieKev laughs.
Take 7- Snowboard down at the right time. SPLAT! Duck! Dr. HokieKev laughs.

On the plus side, I made it down the mountain 7 times in 3 hours. HUGE improvement!

Revenge of Ice Butt

Thursday night, the ski mountain that is closest to us had a special night for USU Employees to raise money for some scholarships. Dr. HokieKev was out of town so I headed up to the mountain with my friend Jennifer and her husband, Tristan. Lessons were only $5 so I saw this as a good time to work on my less than mad snowboarding skills without having to pay Snowboard Dude another almost 100 bucks to watch me fall on my butt.

This time I thought I prepared a little better. I found some pants that were nice and baggy and came up higher on my waist. I wore gloves that were easier to pull off and put back on. I even left the face mask and all the extra gear I ended up taking off the last time at home. So we get there and we start our lesson. Luckily, not too many people wanted to learn to snowboard at 6:30 so it was just the three of us and the instructor (again, try to make sure instructor is not high- this may not always be possible). We worked on a couple of things I had learned last time and I managed to only fall once- improvement. After a little practice, we made it over to the lift which promptly decided to stop working. Luckily, there is a tiny little hill by the lift that we could walk up and practice our newly acquired skills until the lift started to work again.

Once the lift began to work, Tristan, Snowboard Dude 2, and I went up to the top to test our newly acquired mad snowboard skills. Jenn decided that maybe she is a sit by the pool kind of girl as well and stayed at the bottom to await our safe return. So we get up to the top and Snowboard Dude 2 was nice enough to get off the lift with me and hold on to me so I wouldn't face plant. And let me tell you, I had a death grip. So I made it off the lift in one piece, pants fully intact. Once we got to the top of the trail, we strapped on our boards and Snowboard Dude 2 was nice enough to help me up so we could get going. This time I did alot better. I fell a few times but Snowboard Dude 2 would come up and help me up, so that was less frustrating that last time. I would follow Tristan's snowtrail which somehow made it easier to concentrate and not fall. By then the lesson was over and well worth the $5 that was spent.

We decided we should make a couple more trips up the lift as to get the full benefit from the $12 lift tickets and our first task would be convincing Jenn she wouldn't die. After about 20 minutes, we were able to convince her that Tristan loved her and wouldn't let her die on the mountain. I also tried to bribe her with hot cocoa. She finally gave in after Tristan strapped her foot in the boot and pulled her onto the lift! Nothing like a little coercion to get you to the top of the mountain.

In the end, I ended up coming down the mountain four times and only falling about 10 times. Now, 10 times may seem like alot but you have to compare it to the first snowboaring experience when I fell every two feet. You also have to take into consideration that a couple times I fell on purpose because my legs just needed a rest and once I fell because some girl stuck her ski pole under my snowboard causeing both of us to flail down the mountain.

Overall, I considered this trip a success. That is, until I sat down to take my boots off and realized that Ice Butt had returned.

Life Lesson # 987- How (NOT) to Snowboard

I want to be good at winter sports- I really do. The problem, however, is that I grew up on the water doing nice summery things and never did anything wintery until I was a grownup. Learning to ski when you are 6 is apparently easier than learning when you are 20. The other problem is that, to be good at something, you have to do it more than once a year. The 4 times I have been skiing in 7 years probably does not lead to getting good. And then we moved to Utah...supposedly, Utah has the greatest snow on earth- the license plate says so. Dr. HokieKev and I also have several friends who see going skiing every day as a fun activity. Yesterday, we decided to join them at the ungodly hour of 8 in the am and at the ungodly temperature of -30 degrees F (you read it right, NEGATIVE 30). So we met and made our way up the mountain to the ski area. I hesitate to call it a resort because a resort would have had a spa and I would have ended up there instead of on my butt all day.

I always feel bad when we go skiing. See, Dr. HokieKev knows what he is doing and, while he probably won't be joining the line to try out for the Olympics anytime soon, he is way beyond the green circle slopes which are pretty much at the top of my winter sports range. He wants to zoom down the slopes while I am perfectly content to coast along very slowly and stop (fall) several times along the way. He is pretty patient with me but I know its no fun. I also tend to fall alot on skis- face forward into cold, hard snow. These, along with other, reasons are what tempted me to try snowboarding. I figured I would either be a natural at it or, at the very least, would end up on my butt which has infinitely more padding than my face. And so began the day of discovering how (not) to snowboard. Let me share with you what I have learned.

1. It is well worth the $95 dollars for the two hour lesson. Snowboard Dude will teach you many useful things, like how to strap in your boots and how to get up after you fall on your butt. Try to make sure Snowboard Dude isn't stoned although this may not always be possible.

2. When you fall off the lift, duck. The last thing you need after sprawling yourself on the snow is to be hit in the head with a lift chair. You paid Snowboard Dude good money to pull you to safety.

3. Refrain from wearing those cute, lowrider snowpants. You will spend all day pulling them up as not to flash your cute blue panties to the entire mountain. If you are wearing long underwear, they will come up higher on the waist than said cute snowpants and will end up wet. Since it is -30, the wet will freeze and you will end up with ice butt. Ice butt is not fun. Suck it up and wear the non-cute overall snowpants like your mom used to make you wear to sled down the neighbor's driveway.

4. Nevermind the five year olds zooming past you after you have fallen on your butt for the hundredth time. If you mind them, it will just make you sad that they are all zoomy and you are indeed, on your butt.

5. When you make it down the mountain, sit down before you unstrap your boot. If you don't, you will end up sliding sideways down the bunny slope. You will have to fall to prevent this. Your butt already hurts.

6. Learn to turn the easy way before you start trying to turn the hard way. This is easier said than done.

7. When the lesson is over and you decide it is time for lunch, remember how many times you have fallen and that a frozen butt doesn't feel the pain. When you begin to defrost in the lodge, not only will ice butt melt but you will be reminded that your butt is now one big bruise.

8. Don't try to fancily get off the lift to keep up with your husband. Just go slow. Falling off the lift- again- is not fun. Especially since only one foot is strapped in. The free foot will go flying. If you are lucky, your knee will not twist and your cute, lowrider snowpants will not split down the front. I was not lucky. The only thing worse then ice butt is...well, you get the picture.

9. If necessary, sit in the snow while husband and friend go down the mountain. Maybe by the time they make it up the lift again, you will be ready to head down.

10. When you start to get going, just go with it. No need to scream and fall down- on your butt, once again. All that does is give you another chance to see all those five year olds go zoomy zoomy right by your crashed self.

11. Thank friend for telling you how to fall. Somehow, Snowboard Dude skipped that part. I am probably lucky my wrists are still in tact. (Thanks Chris!)

12. When you get home, first thing- pay attention, this is important- take a painkiller. Trust me, this is important. REALLY important. When you fully thaw, you will hurt. ALOT.

As we went to bed that night I looked over and apologized to Dr. HokieKev for not being good at winter sports. He replied, exact words, "It's okay. I am sure there is something I am not good at- I just haven't found it yet."

In conclusion, I have decided that- while I may brave the mountain again- I am definitely a summer sports kind of girl...or maybe a sit by the pool and sip fruity beverages kind of girl!

PS- It is Tuesday and I still hurt. Surprisingly, not in my legs but everywhere else. I cannot stress enough- Aleve is your friend.

Life Lesson #962- Fathers do not babysit thier children

Today's rant is courtesy of the checkout girl at the grocery store and the parents of the one week old who decided that it was a good time to make "Baby's First Sam's Club" trip in the snowstorm.

So last week I decided to make the trek to the grocery store- in the cold. Not preferable but when you realize the only food in your house is a bunch of basil, a half full jar of mayo, and some taco seasoning something has to be done. After filling my cart with enough supplies to ensure that I will not have to venture back until 2009, I make my way to the checkout. In front of me is a father and a couple of kids- mom is nowhere in site (I say this because it is rare in Utah). So anyway, the checkout girl comments that it is so nice of father to babysit his kids that night. This alone did not strike me as odd but then I realized that I hear this alot. Maybe it is still 1954 out here, but I was under the impression that fathers did not babysit, they parented.

Babysitting implies a temporary situation, usually ending with the exchange of money. Seriously, babysitting is what I did when I was 12. I would go over to someone else's house, watch someone else's kid, order pizza with someone else's money, put someone else's kids to bed, and watch someone else's TV until someone else came home and paid me. For a brief period of time, I suppose I was in charge of keeping their kids safe but this was only temporary and then I could go back to my 90210 watching 7th grade self. Fathers are not babysitters. Yes, it was nice of the father to take the kids out and spend time with them but this is something fathers should be doing. It is kind of part of the job description.

Along a similar note, why on earth would you take your newborn out in a snowstorm? I mean, I get that you need diapers and unimaginable quantities of sugar and chocolate for your holiday treats but did the baby really have to make the journey to Sam's Club? I only say this because the baby in question was accompanied by TWO parents- most definately a situation where one could have stayed home. I get that mom probably wanted to get out of the house- ok, that's cool- let dad stay home. And before you go saying- oh, they were probably young and didn't know better- let me tell you that they were well over the average age to pop out a kid in Utah and either way, should have known better. I guess I should not have been totally shocked at this as I see it all the time. I understand families like to spend time together and that is cool- but wouldn't it be faster and easier for one parent to stay home and hang out with the kiddos while the other one runs the errands. Not only will the errands get accomplished quicker but the stores will not be full of screaming kids who are sick of running errands (The mother who smacked her kid across the face for calling his father a "meany head" is another story entirely.). This will, in turn, led to much more plesant family time. It will also clear up the aisles in Wal-Mart (**shudder**).

Halloween 2008

Our first Halloween in Logan was fairly eventful. We did the whole hand out candy thing- Dr. HokieKev even manned the door- and then went to a party- Dr. HokieKev even dressed up. The kids in Utah are vastly different from the kids in Florida. In Florida, the kids saw my candy bowl as their own personal glutton pail and would take handfuls. I honestly don't blame them because I always buy good candy. I don't want to be the loser house that gives out lollipops and fruit flavored tootsie rolls. On the other hand, the kids in Utah are SUPER polite! They take one piece, say thank you, and are on their merry way. I had to go as far as telling them they could have as much as they wanted- I mean, fun size candy bars are more like bitesize- go ahead kis, take a few more. We still had a huge bowl leftover- maybe I was a little overzealous this year.

After trick or treating we headed over to Chris's for a Halloween party. It was a great place to get rid of the excess cupcakes I made for work. Anyway- here are some pictures. As always, click the picture to see the rest!

I will leave you with a story from last Halloween- keep in mind that people in Florida are a different breed of special.

Location: My front door, Halloween night 2007
::Doorbell rings:
Trick or Treaters: TRICK OR TREAT
Me in my head: Shouldn't these kids be in bed right now, I mean they are like 3 and 6 and it is almost 9:30 pm. They must be transplants. (You see we live in a tidy little upper middle class neighborhood where it is more than safe to walk around after dark, yet these people were in a car.)
Me out loud: Happy Halloween are you guys having fun?
Some older lady running out of her car: OH Thank you SO much for staying up for us, you look like you are almost out, you should give us all of it! :Shoves kids out of the way and bag into my face:
ANOTHER older lady in a bathrobe: I'm pregnant, no need for a costume!
Me in my head: OHM WTF!!!
::Gives candy to kids and weirdo grownups::
Pregnant lady: Oh, this bag is for my daughter. She couldn't make it tonight, she isn't due until January!
::Dumps rest of nasty chewy SweeTarts into the bag for the fetus, blows out pumpkins and turns off the light::

Upon my return inside, I literally fell onto the couch laughing. I have never been pregnant or had a child, but I am pretty confident in saying that newborns cannot eat candy. Its one thing when parents take their cute little infants around trick or treating because they are cute in those little costumes. But to trick or treat for a fetus??? They must be a product of the Florida public school system!

One movie I guess I won't be seeing

Leave it to Utah to decide for me that I do not want to be morally corrupted. One of the larger movie theater chains in the state has apparently banned the movie "Zack and Miri Make A Porno" from its screens. You can read the story here if you so desire. Following lead, many other movie theaters are also not showing the movie and some TV stations won't advertise it. I find this pretty ridiculous how the movie is not a porno, doesn't show a porno, and is apparently void of any pornographic material. The rationale was the movie was very close to receiving an NC-17 rating. It did not, it is, in fact, rated R- a perfectly respectable film rating. I have been watching R rated movies since I was 10- I haven't turned into a pyschopath, a sex fiend, or a drug adict.

I guess during the showing of High School Musical 3- a neatly packaged, G rated, Disney movie- some movie theater worker guy reeled up the wrong movie and subjected the audience of children to the movie "Sex Drive" for a few minutes. Since then everyone has been in a moral tizzy. Well:

Dear Utah,
The laziness/stupidty/mistake of one theater working high school student is not my fault. Are you meaning to tell me that none of the adults in the room thought something was wrong when the previews were for other R rated movies instead of sugar pop, Disney ones? Maybe the parents of said HSM3 viewing children should have been more aware to the fact that, right before the movie began, a rating flashed on the screen saying the following movie is rated R please remove your impressionable, young children from the theater.

It is really my choice as to what movies I want to watch- whether it be a cute little Disney flick or a movie about two roommates making a porno- yeah, up to me to decide- I am a grownup, thanks! Here is a thought, if you don't want the young and impressionable to wonder into an R rated movie- look at their IDs when they buy the tickets. Not too difficult, I used to do it all the time. Or even better, show the morally lacking films later in the evening when said young and impressionable should be snuggled nicely into their little, sheltered beds.

Isn't it enough that the Salt Lake City NBC station will not carry Saturday Night Live? I guess TV-14 is too scandalous for late night television. I mean, you carry all those daytime soaps. But then again, I guess daytime soaps fall under the realm of fiction. Once again, I am a grownup and I am fully capable of choosing my own television programs. You really must think people in this state are dumb if you think one little late night show is going to indoctrinate them with crazy ideas.

And while we are at it, was it really necessary to ban Mike's Hard Lemonade? Does it really look that much like Sprite? Is the under 21 crowd in Utah that stupid? Can parents not tell the difference? Do they mistakenly give their kids Malt Liquor instead of juice? Again- not my fault. Please do not punish my tailgate party due to the stupidity of others. I mean, I guess I could border jump to Idaho for all my tailgate needs. But then again, I am rarely in the mood for getting arrested for rum running- which I hear you do often.

On the other hand- maybe I should thank you, morally decent Utah, for saving my mind from corruption. Good luck repairing it from the last 27 years.

Sincerely Yours,
The Apparently Morally Deficient

Get Up Outta My Grill

Maybe all places are a little strange and I am just starting to notice it more or maybe Utah is just a weird place. And this is aside from the fact that they have outlawed malted girlie beverages for looking too much like Sprite. Seriously, if your kid is going to get drunk, they are going to get drunk and it doesn't matter whether or not the product looks like Sprite. But anyway...

I have notice int he last few months that they people here like to be very close. I guess it makes since with all the procreating they do out here that they like to be close because, after all, in order to procreate you must get pretty close and that is fine...get close with your spouse. Get close with your friends. Get close with people you are acquainted with. But please, for the love of Pete, stop trying to get close with me. I don't know you- get out of my grill.

You all know the type of people I am talking about- the ones that stand so close to you when they talk that you can see the remnants of their last meal. It is very annoying. Personal space please! When it comes to the close talker, you can at least take a step back in most normal circumstances. But the close line stander is a whole different story. Lately, I have noticed that people out here like to get thisclose when standing in line. I mean, it is one thing if you are in a crowded amusement park or trying to watch the 4th of July fireworks in Boston but it is an entirely different thing to get all up in my business when standing in line at Kohls. When you are standing in line, there is nowhere to go. You can't step forward or you will be too close to the person in front of you. You can't step backwards or you will be even closer to the space encroacher. You can't step sideways or you will be out of line. It is a lose lose situation and you are stuck standing there with Mr. Space Encroacher moving in.

Maybe it is just me but I really don't like the feeling of some stranger breathing down my neck when I am trying to purchase fine home furnishings at a discounted price. So please, Mr. Space Encroacher, take a couple steps back.

Bacon?

This morning when I came downstairs I could have sworn it smelled like bacon. Funny thing is, I didn't make bacon this morning, last night, or at any other time in this house. Unless Kevin went to the grocery store and cooked and ate a whole pack of bacon this morning before work there has been absolutely no bacon cooked or eaten in this house since we have moved in. But alas, the downstairs smelled like bacon. Not that bacon is a bad smell but I find it a little strange for a scent to be ruminating in the basement when the think producing that scent is nowhere in the house.

The furniture fixer guy also came today. He wiped the smell of bacon right out of the house. The entire house now smells like some sort of high powered epoxy. He did mange to fix the desk that the incompetent movers broke while taking apart in Gainesville. Seriously, had they asked me how to take the bolts off, I gladly would have helped them out. Instead, they just gouged and pulled until the thing was apart seriously damaging the oh so special particle board along the way. Once we get our new entertainment center, the desk will be the last piece of particle board furniture in use in this house. I hate particle board and my hatred causes me to firmly ask the sellers of any furniture we purchase if any part of the wood is particle board. It's just gross. We will save the old end tables though, as they may come in handy in the future. I guess particle board is good if kids are going to destroy the furniture. Although, if I get my way, they are gone too. Anyway, the desk looks great. You can't even tell that just 12 hours ago it had a huge gouge on the side, bent screws, and broken screw holes.

The furniture fixer also fixed our broken couch. (I think the couch is framed with something worse than particle board.) In any case, two of the supports had some how come unnailed and slipped from their position. I actually think this was Dr. HokieKev and I's fault as I noticed it WAY before we moved, but we won't tell the moving company that. The guy was able to literally take apart the fabric of the couch, put some screws in to secure the beam, and staple the fabric back into place so you can't even tell it was broken. He seems like a good guy to know. I probably should have asked him to look at my now broken wine rack.

Speaking of wine racks...the second one fell to the ground today. Seriously, something does not want me to have wine paraphernalia in this state. Luckily, I had been too lazy to put glasses in said wine rack so I wasn't welcomed upstairs by shattered pieces of glass everywhere. Also luckily, the fall didn't cause any damage to the rack or the floor.

So that was the day, the night was slightly more eventful. Dr. HokieKev and I had dinner at the President's house tonight. It was cocktail party like- without the cocktails. Instead, we had a "have the caterer make you some flavored lemonade" bar. I think all the colors were made to resemble tropical beverages. Cocktail parties are, however, more fun when they include actual cocktails. We probably won't get much of that around here. Anyway, it was a good time. Dr. HokieKev was shocked when the President's wife said they entertained most every night from now until Christmas. I was quick to remind him that she did not have to clean, cook, cleanup, or even plan the events. They have people for that. If I had people for that, we would entertain every night too. I am not even sure they live in the house the party was at. It is the biggest house on the street and definitely set up for parties including a huge patio and a side cul-de-sac for parking. The President also mentioned that they have a house about 20 minutes away. Maybe they are just a two house family- one for the week, one for the weekend. It just seems weird that a University owned house wasn't physically on campus. Maybe that is just what I am used to. Nonetheless, it was a great house and a great backyard. We left the party with bread from some bakery in town and supposedly homemade raspberry jam. Dr. HokieKev doubts that Mrs. President actually made it. Whatever.

Now we are home, catching up on a million hours of Olympic coverage, still doubting the Chinese gymnasts are actually 16. The house still smells like epoxy- and surprisingly like bread.

Life Lesson #382: Never leave a bottle of wine in a hot car

Utah was more or less a "dry" state until the 2002 Olympics came around. Apparently, to secure the Olympic bid, the state had to agree to relax some of its stringent laws regarding the sale and consumption of alcohol. When the world did not end, the laws stayed in their more relaxed state. Compared to other states, however, the laws here are still a bit...discouraging.

Naturally, chain restaurants and other nice eating establishments have full bars. Could you honestly imagine Chilli's without its Presidente Margaritas? Or Olive Garden without wine in giant jugs? There are also bars...well, private clubs. Most of these clubs you have to pay a whopping fee of $3 a month to "join." This allows you unlimited guest privileges and the right to drink "real" alcohol during certain times, on certain days. These bars aren't allowed to open on Sundays, certain holidays, or state election days after 8pm. I get the first two, but the last one? Wouldn't you want people sober during the day while they are making their voting decision? What does it matter if someone is drinking during the live results show?

The bars here also all look shady and strip club like. Most of them have darkened or shaded windows and tall fences around their patios. I guess this allows people to hide their alcoholism better. The liquor store is the same way. The liquor stores here, much like in VA, are state run. However, VA ABC stores welcome you in with neon signs and see through glass. The stores here are very hidden. Like, go down the back alley way, take a left, enter the second turn, flash your lights three times and someone will be up to further direct you kind of hidden. These stores are also the only place you can buy liquor, wine, and beer with more than 3.2% alc/vol. They sell this 3.2% beer in grocery stores- normal beer is 4% alc/vol- I really don't know what is so wrong with that last .8% but whatever, beer is gross. So back to the liquor store.

I managed to find one the other day and buy a couple bottles of wine. One to drink, one to cook with. I was actually pretty amazed at their selection of wines and snobby beers. (I had to buy the Marsala by the gallon and it will take me a year to use it all but whatever.) So I buy my wine and proceed to run a few errands and go to a party. Fast forward to the next morning when I remember I forgot to grab the wine out of the car. So I go out the the car, grab the bag- which promptly breaks- and proceed to curse the wine gods. You see, my lovely bottle of Mount St. Michelle Reisling had decided to start the party without me and pop its own cork. Luckily, only a small amount of the sweet, grapey goodness had leaked out onto my car seat. Also luckily, the bottle was not broken, as was my first thought. The only thing I could figure was that some kind of chemical reaction took place inside the non-carbonated bottle of wine as it heated up which cause the cork to pop right out. I learned my lesson- never leave wine in a hot car.

This incident comes on the heels of another harrowing occurrence, making me think that the wine gods are totally against me for even attempting to consume the libation in Utah. You see, several years ago, Dr. HokieKev bought me the most beautimous Pottery Barn wine racks for my birthday. These wine racks must be bolted into the wall with these scary, medieval looking anchors. Because we had never owned a house, I never put them up because I knew once they were up they would be hard to get down. When we moved into this house, I decided they must find a place on the wall. The wall, however, is covered in travertine and we really didn't want to have to drill through it. Enter quick drying epoxy. Slap some of that stuff on the wall, mount the brackets, and set the shelves. This worked well, really well actually, for two weeks until Friday night. I am sitting in the basement, minding my own business, pondering the ages of the Chinese gymnasts and Dr. HokieKev was in a pretty deep sleep, when all of the sudden and out of nowhere comes an enormous crash from upstairs. I jumped up thinking that one of the pans I had just washed had somehow fallen off the counter onto the wood floors. I was dreading seeing the dent. So I rush up the stairs and look around. Nope, not the pan...the wine rack...and five bottles of liquidly substances. Luckily, only one bottle broke. Nevertheless, red wine was now soaking the floors and there were bits of glass everywhere (The floor survived pretty well- three tiny dents from tops of bottles but you really can't tell). By this point, Dr. HokieKev had rushed upstairs to see why I had vacated the room so quickly- apparently in his dreamstate, he had not heard the crash (but somehow my gasp at the top of the stairs had awoken him). I guess drilling through the travertine will just have to be done as, one way or another, that wine rack (newly repaired with some Gorilla Wood Glue) is going on that wall.

Overall, I think the universe is trying to tell me that drinking in Utah is not acceptable. I think I will win this one though, as the wine rack has been repaired, grout anchors have been purchased (to try one last time to spare the tiles), and that bottle of Reisling made a perfect addition to my pizza and cheesy bread dinner.

I moved...

So I moved! The other blog just wasn't..Me. This one, I can change the color and the layout and anything else I want. Besides, our journey on the Oregon Trail is over so caulking the wagon is no longer appropriate and Kevin never writes in it anyway. So I moved to make my blog more...Me! If you are curious about our trip and haven't read about it before you can certainly go here and catch up.

We have been in Logan for two weeks now. I already like it better than I ever liked Gainesville. Ask me again when there is ten feet of snow on the ground and I may feel different but as of now it is way better. I still haven't gotten used to buying in bulk, although I have allowed myself to buy a few giant boxes of food for our new pantry. It is still a bit overwhelming to navigate through 10 pounds of cornmeal to find the box of Jiffy mix but I am getting used to it. I had to go to two stores to find fresh baked hamburger rolls in bags of 8 and not 20. Seriously, 20 hamburger rolls- but I guess if you have a family of 10 it is only two meals. The 8 rolls will go bad before Kevin and I finish them. You can read more about Adventures in Food Shopping here if you so desire.

We have already completed a couple of projects. Some went well, some ended with me covered in plumbing putty. I will have pictures of all eventually. Right now I am trying to decide what colors to put where and how I will justify spending way too much money on Pottery Barn Furniture- right now all I have is that it is so pretty. Kevin wants it too so its all good but it is hard going from buying particle board to buying real furniture that will hopefully last through more than 3 years of life.

Another change I made here is that you don't have to have a gmail account to leave a comment- anyone can. I also got a new cell phone number. The one from MA was a bit played out. If you want the new one you have to ask because I am not putting it on the internets for all the world to telemarket me from.

Other than that, I got nothing. The bathrooms are slowly coming together but the other rooms still need some help. Once my shower curtain gets here, both bathrooms will be completely done which just leaves me with the rest of the house. At least people will be able to use the facilities in pretty rooms!!!