Cowboys Wear Them Hollisters...

Paul and I arrived in Southern Utah on Thursday in the late afternoon. We didn't miss Thanksgiving because my Mom usually prepares the meal on Saturday to make sure that everyone has plenty of time to get there and we can enjoy each other's company before pigging out. Works for me.

And enjoy each other's company, we did! That night, we played a rousing game of Scattergories (twice) and pretty much laughed our butts off. Mom and her sister Irene were on a team for the first round and if that doesn't spell trouble, I don't know what does. My mom is notorious for mispronouncing and sometimes butchering the English language, so it can be pretty comedic.

One of my favorite examples was when we had to come up with a "Type of Clothing" that started with the letter "H". Most of us put down Hat or something along those lines. Jake was clever enough to think of Hollister (the clothing brand) and we all thought that was pretty good. Mom was the most impressed, saying "Oh yeah! Cowboys wear them Hollisters!" It took a moment to register with us before we all basically fell to the floor with laughter. Then I explained that cowboys don't really wear Hollisters so much as they wear HOLSTERS. Classic.

For the second round, Mom and Jake were on the same team and besides her constantly giggling in his ear, the best part of that round was when we had to come up with "Items in a Medicine Cabinet" that start with the letter "T". Mom's brilliant answer was "Toilet Plunger!" and Jake's retaliation was "I want a new partner!" Cue laughter.

So Thanksgiving was great, Zion Nat'l Park was great, bowling was great, the company was great, and overall it was just a great weekend. The only bummer is that our 7-month old car broke down, and no repair shops are open on Sunday. So we will be here for another day.

But being here isn't all that bad.

Have You Gone Pooh?

Today is my Aunt Jean's 60th birthday and I am wishing so bad I was in Utah celebrating with everyone! So in honor of the big event, I thought I would just share the little book I wrote for her. As you will see, it was inspired by all the amazing summers I spent in Sunnyvale with that side of the family. When I first started going there, I would get homesick so easily. But the older I got, the less I wanted to leave. Amy and I always had such a blast and the family has done so much for me over the years. There's no way to repay that. I can only hope I have been as good a cousin to Amy as she has been to me, and that I will be as good an Aunt as Jean has always been.

www.peepsonline.com/fotoalbum/pooh

Dangerous Curves Ahead

I have always been envious and resentful at the same time of people who go to the gym. I am envious that they have the time to go. I am envious that they have the money to afford a gym membership. And that they are doing something good for their bodies. That maybe the gym actually works for them. And I am resentful because...I guess because of all the things that I'm envious of. Make sense?

Even just the word gym gets under my skin. I've always enjoyed being active and playing outside, but being stuck in a little room with a bunch of sweaty people has never appealed to me. Its so much nicer to come home from work and watch all the shows on Tivo that you missed the night before.

Well regardless of my feelings on the gym, I forked over a small fortune and joined one a couple months ago. It is an inner battle every day to get myself there, but since its only a 30-minute workout, I somehow muster the strength.

When I get to the gym on my first day (a little place called Curves - you may have heard of it) the"personal trainer" - I use this term VERY lightly - takes my weight and measurements and asks me what my goals are. I basically want to tone and build strength, since my hubby and I are trying to get pregnant and I know it will be easier to carry a baby if I am in shape. I am not dying to lose pounds. Only because I have a SERIOUS wardrobe that I am not ready to give up just to be 10 pounds thinner. Besides every time I join a gym hoping to lose weight, I just get aggravated. (Case in point , I have gained 2 pounds since I've joined Curves. Haha.)

Anyway, after explaining all that to the trainer, she looks at my measurements and body fat and tells me that I am in the DANGER ZONE and need to lose about 30 pounds to be in a SAFE ZONE! Without knowing anything about my health or background, I'm automatically put in a DANGER ZONE because of how much I weigh? I'm sorry, but since when is a size 10/12 dangerous?

I've never been an UNHEALTHY person. I mean I know I don't always make the best choices when it comes to food, but my blood pressure is perfect and my doctor knows I'm healthy. I walk a lot and carry heavy wine boxes all day at work. I've never struggled to keep up when hiking or playing sports, and I'm fairly comfortable with my weight. My health has never been an issue.

So instead of getting mad and walking out, I took what the trainer said with a grain of salt (on some french fries) and just decided to try my best. Whether or not I lose any weight and get out of the Danger Zone.

But I will admit, it made me feel better when she brought McDonald's to the gym and ate it in her office. Because then I could tell myself she didn't know what she was talking about. Cow.

I know, that was mean.