Pie Heaven

Last night, instead of working out, I participated in a pie eating contest.

Here is my question for you, Universe:

I ate that pie faster than any living thing has ever been known to eat pie. So how come I didn't win?

I have something to say about Encyclopedia Brown

First of all, he's the smartest kid in town. I'm not arguing with that. But there is one case of his that I always think back on with a little bit of doubt.

There was a contest of smarts going on, and it was down to the final two contestants. Each would get a prize. One of the contestants was the son of a man who kept books for a living. Anyways, the last question was: "Name a word that has three sets of double letters in a row." One kid came up with a word and won first prize, but the aforementioned son of the accountant got it wrong and earned second prize.

After the prizes were awarded, they discovered that the first place prize was broken. It was up to Encyclopedia to discover who had broken it. But guess what. He already knew. You flip to the back of the book and Encyclopedia tells you: The second place guy did it, of course. He was the son of an accountant, so there was no way he didn't know an answer to the final question: BOOKKEEPER. So he obviously threw the competition in order to avoid winning the first place prize, which he had to have known was broken.

Here is my thought on that one, Encyclopedia: JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE THE SON OF AN ACCOUNTANT DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE REALIZED THAT A WORD DESCRIBING YOUR FATHER'S PROFESSION HAS THREE DOUBLE LETTERS IN A ROW.

I think that would be pretty easy to miss.

But still. Kudos to you, Encyclopedia, for realizing that if George Washington had REALLY stabbed a tree with his sword and left it there for hundreds of years, the sword would have grown with the tree and been out of reach. And for knowing that if a kid had really abandoned his telescope in the middle of examining the sun, three hours later the telescope would have to be aimed at a spot in the sky where the sun no longer was.

I still think of you as the best boy detective around.

The shopping question I hate most:

"Did you find everything you were looking for?"

I wish they wouldn't ask that. The answer is too often no, and where does the conversation go after that?

"Did you find everything you were looking for?"
"No, you didn't have queen-sized purple cotton bed sheets."
[or "No, you didn't have black stretch pants for a baby boy."]
[or "No, you didn't have deodorant that smells like cookies."]
[or "No, you didn't have a painting of downtown Boise done in the style of Ernst Ludwig Kirchner."]
[or "No, you didn't have reasonably priced gouda cheese."]
"Oh. Yeah. We don't have that."
"Yep."

Did either of us get anything out of that exchange? I certainly did not. So I usually answer the question like this:

"Yes."

But then I feel a little bit resentful because they put me in a position where I had to lie.

The shopping question I hate least:

"Would it be all right if we gave you all this stuff for free?"

A great day

1. I signed my name as "Dr. Gee" on the receipt at Dr. Gee's office.
2. I accidentally lost said receipt before I could hand it back to the billing lady.
3. I locked my keys, phone, and burp rags in the car and had to wait for the locksmith (after borrowing a smart phone from a stranger) with a barf-covered baby.

Pancakes

When the waiter came to check on us at dinner the other night, he found that I had eaten every single bite of my four gigantic blueberry pancakes as well as my two eggs and two bacons.

He said,

"Oh! You ate it all!"

I said,

He tried to recover by saying,

"That's awesome."

But did he really think it was awesome? I didn't really think it was awesome. I thought it was horrific.

Here's the thing: I love pancakes. If I'm going to eat pancakes, I'm REALLY going to eat pancakes. I think, in general, I eat like a man.

Here's the other thing: Parks and Recreation had a disappointingly not funny first season, but then after that, it started to get amazing. I figured this out when I was out of stuff to watch on Netflix. There's this one part when Andy and his band are playing for the senior citizens and no one is cheering or flashing them so he can't tell if they're doing okay. His bandmate says "Maybe you should try singing like Louis Armstrong." Andy says, "Maybe, yeah." Then he adds, "Here's the thing, though: Who is that?"

So.... now I have this one phrase that I find myself plopping into every single conversation I have. Plop.

Another shining moment on Talk of the Nation

Host: Jeannie, welcome.

Caller: Thank you.

[Awkward pause.]

Guest: Jeannie, welcome to the program.

Caller: Thank you very much.

[Awkward pause.]

Host (slightly annoyed): Jeannie, you're on the air. Go ahead.

People! Here are some Talk of the Nation rules of thumb that you need to memorize before you call in!

1. Don't ask the host how he is doing. He already answered that question 20 times.

2. Dive right into your comment! Don't wait for a prompt from the host.

3. When you hear the music, WRAP IT UP!

And there you have it. Now get on that phone, call up Neal Conan, and make me proud!

Letting myself go

This afternoon I got out of the shower and never ended up brushing my hair. The makeup also never happened and I accidentally had my shirt on inside out. Seth came home and took a look at everything and said, "Did you do something special with your hair today?"

Husband of the Year.

Three things about Jonah

1. He doesn't realize that he has to take his pacifier out of his mouth when he wants to suck on something else, so he just bangs the something else against his pacifier and looks confused.

2. He's very pleasant about it when I unceremoniously snatch the clean diaper he's been playing with from his hands so I can use it to cover his bum.

3. He likes to tell the water who's boss as he enthusiastically smacks it down in the bathtub.

One thing you need not bother packing for your next trip to Portland:

Sunglasses.

Also, pajamas, if you have a baby. You will not be getting any sleep because your baby will be waking up for a good cry at least 5 times per night. He will not relent, even after a stern talking to. Your friend Gaye may offer to quietly reason with him over the phone, but you will probably say no thank you because by this point you have lost your faith in his ability to be persuaded. Also because you are pretty sure she meant the offer as a joke.

But you will still enjoy your trip to Portland because they sell doughnuts in the shape of voodoo dolls and they have a polar bear at the zoo. Also you get to see your grandma even though when you called to tell her you were coming to see her she thought you said your name was Bonnie and so was expecting a friend from San Francisco who she hadn't seen in years. You don't understand why she would think her friend Bonnie would be calling her Mana, but you just take it all in stride because this is Mana we're talking about. Mana, the mother of Tatu.

A quote

Said (through her tears) by a girl in the church youth group I'm involved in as I finished up singing a song for her and her sisters on the way home from an activity:

"I'm not crying because I'm laughing so hard, I'm crying because it's so beautiful."

P.S. This was a lie.

BREAKING NEWS (For immediate release)

PRINCE WILLIAM AND HIS WIFE SHOOK SOME PEOPLE'S HANDS! IN CANADA!!!

If you are a national news outlet, you will want to make absolutely sure that all your readers/viewers know about this.


Other things the royals do that your audience will definitely want to know about:

• Go shopping.
• Use the bathroom.
• Admire gardens.
  
• Wear pants.

This is how my friend from New Zealand pronounces "prayers":

"Prizz."

She also says bum bag instead of fanny pack because fanny means something that is not butt.

Whoops

I accidentally made a disgusting lunch for my picnic meet-up with Seth today.

How come no one ever told me that dill pickles do not belong in egg salad? There was obviously a glaring gap in my culinary education.

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.

And it was:

A dead cat.

It wasn’t actually in the woodshed, but I will like you more[1] if you can tell me where that quote comes from.[2]

The dead cat was:

In the rose bushes in my front yard.

As I’m sure you would have done too, I screamed. The neighbor across the street came barreling over to see if he needed to grab his shot gun. When I told him why I was screaming, his face and voice both turned somber. It quickly went from a moment of pity for Dani to a moment of pity for the cat and its owner. (WHAT?)

He went and got the neighbor whose cat it was (had been), and I took a cue from the first neighbor and expressed sympathy for his loss.

Later I came back to my senses and remembered I’M the one who needs sympathy because I’M the one who stumbled upon a DEAD CAT in the rose bushes.

---

[1] The relative degree to which my liking for you increases depends fully on how much I like you now. If I already like you a lot, then this added knowledge can only be a drop in the sea of my appreciation of you. But if I only barely tolerate you, then you might move up to the level of respectful tolerance, which I’d say is a big jump.

[2] This line, in addition to being from a movie, is what always runs through my head after changing Jonah’s diapers.

Tatu, Tatu, Tatu!

My mom saw this picture of my cousin (whom I visited two days ago) on Facebook today:

She commented: "Jeremy, I'm jealous! You got to hold Jonah!"

In case anyone else was confused, I'd like to clarify: This is not my baby. He is not made of yarn.

How Traveling Is

I'm writing the profile of a lady who worked several jobs to save up for a trip to Israel. When she got there, she lived in a commune and worked in a bakery for a month, then started drifting. She went to Egypt, Jordan, Cyprus, Holland, France, etc., picking up other jobs along the way.

"You know how traveling is," she said. "One thing leads to another."

"No," I said. "Not really."

When I travel, I hope the hotel has a king-size bed and cable and good food. Because, see, I really like to LIVE my life. First-hand! Seizing the bull by the horns! Relishing diversity and all the world has to offer! Who's with me?

Just another episode in the Adventures of Supermom

Jonah had his 4-month check-up the other day, and as I was carrying my naked baby to the scale*, the nurse started laughing and pulled a Snickers wrapper off his back.

At least there wasn't chocolate smeared on his face.

I just remembered that this is the same nurse who pointed out my jacket still had a tag on it a couple months ago. She must be SO IMPRESSED with me as a person. I'll have to think of something to do next time to continue her good impression: Mismatched shoes? Walking into glass doors? Poop on Jonah's face? Poop on MY face?

*The results of the weighing and measuring: Very tall, kinda skinny, SMALL HEAD, skullet.

An interview with Dani Grigg

Q: What name did Seth call you last night?

A: Sheetmaster.

Q: Why did he call you that?

A: Because I can fold fitted sheets like a pro.

Q: How did you learn how to do that?

A: YouTube.

Q: What was the other reason he called you that?

A: He was trying to butter me up so he wouldn't have to fold the sheet himself.

Q: Did it work?

A: Yes.

The reason we do not use the toilet in the master bathroom very often:

It rocks.

Sniff, sniff

Here is a song that my sister, my cousin, and I wrote on the last day of one of our semi-annual week-long get-togethers:

Even though we're far apart

We're still together in our hearts.

Even when we're miles away

We think of cousins every day.

A cousin will be your friend forever!

Despite the fact we seldom get together!

And though we seldom ever sleep

We'll have memories to keep

Forever....

This was sung with very earnest, sad looks in our eyes in an effort to manipulate our parents into letting us stay some extra days.

I am thinking one of us must have had "seldom" as a vocabulary word in the near past.

My sister once insisted to me (hurting my pride and my feelings at the time) that she had been the creative genius behind most if not all of that song. From the distance at which I sit now, I am fully ready to hand over all credit to her, even if she doesn't want it anymore.

This memory also includes the sight of our parents crying a little as they watched us sing. But there's no way that's an accurate memory. I'm a parent now, so I know that if my kid pulled a stunt like this, I would snort him out of the family.

A First Kiss Story

I went to a Relief Society dinner this week, and we did that game where you have to answer questions based on the color of M&Ms you have in your pile. A girl across the table from me was responding to the prompt "Tell us about your first kiss."

She prefaced her response by saying, "Well, this isn't about a first kiss, but I want to tell it anyway."

Then she started talking about how she used to work with an 80-year-old man at a drug store.

I decided to be really hilarious, so I said, "Wait, this is about a FIRST KISS??" I know. My hilarity knows no bounds. Kissing an 80-year-old man? Obviously not where the story was going, but SUCH a creative joke, right?

The girl laughed and said no and continued with her story and ten seconds later was interrupted by another girl who hadn't heard my hilarious joke. She said, "Wait, this is about a FIRST KISS??"

Whoops.

So the story teller said no again and then continued with her story, which ended like this:

"On my last day of work, he asked if he could have a goodbye kiss. I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but at the last second he turned his head and KISSED ME ON THE LIPS!!!"

Woah there and ew! Didn't see that one coming.

This is what a plate of chocolate chip cookies looks like after I have had my way with it:

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A word I need to incorporate into my vocabulary:

Heroically!

As in, "The proposal was HEROICALLY unpopular."

Right?

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Ew.

I went looking for this toy* and found it in Jonah's room.

Then I walked into the kitchen, toy in hand, and looked down in Jonah's bouncer. To my horror, there was the toy again.

I cannot explain this.

It reminds me of the time I went to church and looked up to see a lady I know, and sitting right next to her was... herself. There were two of her.** I got the chills and almost threw up.

*I use the word "toy" loosely--this particular "toy" does not provide any "fun times." Borrring.

**Twins! Which is always creepy, but more creepy when they are 50 years old and still have the same haircut and glasses and you didn't know the other one existed.

A few items of business

1. I have gotten so used to talking to someone (hint: a baby) who doesn't talk back that the other day I found myself explaining to a spider in a very nice voice why he had to die.

2. Seth, would you like to name our next child Hosni?

3. Yesterday as I walked past our neighbors' side yard, their mean dog screamed at me and body slammed the fence as usual, only this time he managed to accomplish his goal, which was to knock over the fence. Okay, not the whole fence. Just a board. He was stunned for a second, then he resumed screaming and body slamming and trying to squeeze through the gap so he could kill me. Get a life, man.

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A Translation

Winner take all = Let's play until I finally win a round and then call it good for the night.

A Regret

I was in the first grade, and we were working on math. The teacher said those who had finished their worksheets early could go and help the kids who hadn't finished yet. So I stood up and walked over to a kid who had his hand raised for help. Kristopher. With a K.

The help went like this:

Problem: 6+7=?

Me: "Six plus four is?"

Kristopher: "Ten."

Me: "Plus three is?"

Kristopher: "Thirteen!"

Problem: 8+6=?

Me: "Eight plus two is?"

Kristopher: "Ten."

Me: "Plus four is?"

Kristopher: "Fourteen!"

Etc.

Good stuff, right?

Days later, same situation. I again approached Kristopher with a K, whose hand was raised for help.

The difference? I was in a bad mood! Everything was annoying me! There was the self-righteous thought floating around in my brain that I shouldn't be doing all the work for him.

So the help went like this:

Problem: 6+7=?

Me: "Six plus seven is?"

Kristopher: (Pause.)

Kristopher: "I want you to do it that way you did before, when you broke it up."

Me: "NO!!"

Me: "Six plus seven is?"

Kristopher: (Pause.) (Fingers consulted.) (Dejectedly:) "Thirteen."

Etc.

It didn't take many minutes after we were done for me to realize that this kind of help was no help at all. Sadly, that was the last time our teacher had the faster students help the slower students with math.

I am sure Kristopher is out there somewhere, trying to calculate his portion of a restaurant bill or estimate the number of friends he has or whatever, numbers swirling all around him, fingers being consulted, confusion reigning. I've always wished I could go back and explain how the math worked in my head so he could maybe make it work that way in his head.

But alas. I missed my chance to change his life through the joy of mathematics.