The Butlers

Jerry Hughes

2009-08-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

Death is very difficult…any way you slice it. While I continue to feel extremely lucky to have gotten to know my grandfather so well, especially in the most recent 15 years of my “adult” life (and I use this term very loosely), I still cannot help but miss him. Is this selfish and making it all about me? Everyone says “no,” but something inside me keeps saying “yes”. Selfish or not, the following is an incomplete list of things I do miss - and will continue to miss - about my wonderful Grandfather – affectionately known by many of us as Taid:

- I miss his thirst for knowledge
- I miss his humility
- I miss the way he could be gentle and yet firm at the same time
- I miss him asking questions and really listening to the answer
- I miss his goofy grin when we did something we were not supposed to
- I miss his passion for improvement
- I miss his desire for fairness
- I miss never knowing what would make him laugh
- I miss how much he loved kids
- I miss watching him invest in people
- I miss our games of ping-pong
- I miss his commitment to being a better husband
- I miss how he learned to celebrate differences
- I miss his sincere interest in family and friends
- I miss his love of fruit and ice cream
- I miss his kindness and generosity
- I miss the importance he placed on forgiveness
- I miss his desire to always be growing in his faith
- I miss the games he would make up for us to play
- I miss his love of competition
- I miss him being excited to show me his latest workout
- I miss his stubbornness
- I miss the way his face would light up when he saw someone he knew
- I miss the opportunity to continue to get to know him better
- And last but not least, I will miss the role model he was (and will continue to be) for my life

Nana,

Remembering all the wonderful things about Taid is also a testament to you because from my limited experience, it seems that with so many amazing individuals, you find an amazing spouse there beside them, enriching them, supporting them, and helping them over the years become who God intended them to be - often in many little ways that are not seen or appreciated. While possessing so many of the same qualities as Taid, you also have many of your own unique attributes that came together with, and complemented, Taid’s to create one “Hall of Fame” worthy marriage team. For as long as I can remember I have watched you be an extraordinary wife and friend – and for 62 years of that, you should be congratulated. But not just congratulated ... you need to be thanked by all of us who love and miss Taid, because who he was and became is to your credit perhaps as much as his.

The conclusion I have come to is this - remembering and missing all the things about Taid is a way of celebrating everything that he was and everything he meant to so many people. So, family and friends, what do you miss? Please post/comment any stories, memories, or comments about Taid that you'd like to share...

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

2009-04-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

If you do in fact buy into the expression "a picture is worth a thousand words" then the following, family and friends, is my 61,000 word essay on the past couple months.

1) Cameron had to go to CA for business so Colby came up the mountain to keep me company...and he brought a couple feet of snow with him. Me, "Oh, let's do a movie marathon!" Colby, "OR we could climb Vulture Peak". What I thought, "Heck No"...what I said, "You are a 14-year-old boy...so okay".

2) Cameron and I have been married 2 whole years now. As the activity brainstorming session began we both knew it was going to be hard to beat last year's sand castle and Lakers game combo. The conversation went a little something like this: Why don't we head into the mountains and stay at a romantic cabin? Oh wait, we live here. Okay, let's go to the "Big City" then...where the animals are stupid and think they are untouchable.

3) Ah, and then came Easter. A time to celebrate life and the amazing God we serve...and then hide 100 eggs, fight (everyone) and obsess (Cam and Liz) over finding all of them, stuff our faces with some amazing food...

...and then shoot the eggs and whatever cute little chick (or mouse/elephant) posters my sister has so kindly painted. Tradition is a wonderful thing. And my mom is unnaturally good with a sling shot.

4) Cameron's first Colorado winter had been a boring and over hyped one until the last couple months. We got a couple 2+ feet storms followed by blue skies and warm weather. A perfect set-up for shirtless snowball fights (him, not me) and beautiful "Roof Daggers" as we call them.

5) When people come to visit us it always becomes glaringly obvious how bizarre of a life we do lead. Katie's visit from CA was no different. I think the "without power" hours outnumbered the "with power" hours during the 4 blizzard days she was here. We cooked on the BBQ, hiked around in camouflage (accessorized and made "cute" by a couple of high belts), sat and watched the fire, played in the snow, and shoveled...a lot. Due to the lack of human contact and technology usage the question of the week quickly turned into - "what century are we in?". She probably kissed the ground (or more likely the power lines) once she landed in CA but we had a great time having her here and will have her back any time (Hey Katie, BYOS - Bring your own shovel).

6) You know the scene at the beginning of The Lion King? No, you are adults? Okay, so a little kid once told me about the scene at the beginning of the Lion King (snicker), where all the animals flock together and sing a nice song (read: a song that has hard to hit notes that will get stuck in your head so be careful...or at least that is what the kid said...). Well, judging by the view out our front window, Disney was not far off with their "life in the wild" depiction. After the last big storm it is like they all called each other up and hatched a plan to infiltrate us. Wild Turkey Toms are gobbling all around (both torture and exhilaration for the dogs), there are deer everywhere, and the fox kits are coming out of the den to learn the ropes.

And there you have it, my Doctoral Dissertation on February through April. It may be the first and last Doctoral Dissertation to use The Lion King as an example...and I am okay with that.

Up next - Back breaking Spring Chores and the pictures to prove it.

There are signs everywhere...

2009-03-31T18:00:00.000-07:00

Taking the Plunge

2009-03-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend the opportunity to attend a "Green Home Fair" presented itself. Cameron and my mom wanted to go so they could ask intelligent questions, charm the vendors, and - in general - better themselves by learning about green energy. I, on the other hand, heard "fair" and wanted to go for the free stuff.

If you have spent any time around me you probably know two things: 1) I like free stuff* 2) I do not like to draw attention to myself (Hopefully you know more than those two things, but this is neither the time nor the place to open that can of worms).

So, when I saw my chance to combine those two passions (I use this term loosely), I got excited. On our way into the exposition hall we spotted a woman carrying a plunger. My first thought was "Yay (my internal dialogue sometimes sounds like a 4 year-old girl), my third passion - awkward moments - is about to join in on this day-o-fun". After seeing two more people carrying plungers, it hit me...a malfunctioning restroom is not going to force me to "hold it", they are giving away plungers!

A short list of objects come to mind that are hard to carry while retaining any kind of cool factor (note: for future reference, it is also hard to retain any kind of cool factor when referring to is as a "cool factor"). Plunger is near the top of that list. Everybody has one, but nobody talks about it...and rarely does the opportunity arise when you have to carry one in public. No matter how you hold it - like a dapper cane, swing it around like a bat, or the classic Heisman tuck under the arm - people are going to realize that you have it because you NEED it, and not just because you like the way it looks. You might as well post a sign on your chest that reads, "Yep, my toilet is not functioning properly".

But, in this bizarre alternate universe we stumbled into, everyone was proudly carrying a plunger. My mom and Cameron very coolly hauled their plungers around through the whole exhibition (I did not get one because I figured it was a "one plunger per couple" set-up. Plus, I was off stealing DOTS at the time of the plunger lecture). From that point on, when we would pass total strangers my mom would exchange a breezy head nod with them...not needing words to communicate, "yep, got my trusty plunger too".

The high (or low - depending on who you ask) point of the day: The three of us were strolling down an aisle side-by-side and as we approached an oncoming older lady she stopped in her tracks not knowing how to get around the barricade. Instead of breaking our link and letting her by, what did my mom do? She, trying to make a joke of it, with a swinging plunger motion threatened to hit the poor old woman over the head with her plunger. Fortunately, after about 10 seconds the lady picked up it was a joke but the damage was already done. I saw the fear in her eyes and knew, from that moment on most of her nightmares would be centered around clogged toilets, plungers, and MY mom.

As soon as we got home, Cameron found a place for the plunger. No, not in the closet or under the sink like in most houses, but proudly displayed right next to the guest bathroom toilet as if to say "We have nothing to be ashamed of, everybody has one".

So the plunger/clogged toilet awkward situation has been taken away from me as it is no longer awkward (I guess). At least I got some free candy and kleptomaniac training out of it...

* I'll stop you right in your "everybody likes free stuff" tracks because I am to free stuff what a moth is to a flame. For example, in college, I used to take something from the training room every day. Oh, get off your "that is not 'free stuff', that is called stealing" high-horse because it was never anything big and I usually took it back later anyway. I think I just like the challenge of taking stuff without anyone catching me.

Cue that hard to understand New Year's song...you know the one...

2008-12-30T16:14:00.000-08:00

It is that time of year...the time for over-analyzing and intense introspection. Since I like neither one, I turn to Dave Barry because he can say it so much better than I can.

Warning, this is LONG, but worth it. The good news is that if your "New Year's Resolution" was to read more, you are getting a head start to becoming the "New You" (for all of you who only keep your resolution for about a month...my next post will be shorter).

Dave Barry's Year in Review: Bailing out of 2008

How weird a year was it? Here's how weird:

• O.J. actually got convicted of something.

• Gasoline hit $4 a gallon -- and those were the good times.

• On several occasions, Saturday Night Live was funny.

• There were a few days there in October when you could not completely rule out the possibility that the next Treasury Secretary would be Joe the Plumber.

• Finally, and most weirdly, for the first time in history, the voters elected a president who -- despite the skeptics who said such a thing would never happen in the United States -- was neither a Bush NOR a Clinton.

Of course not all the events of 2008 were weird. Some were depressing. The only U.S. industries that had a good year were campaign consultants and foreclosure lawyers. Everybody else got financially whacked. Millions of people started out the year with enough money in their 401(k)'s to think about retiring on, and ended up with maybe enough for a medium Slurpee.

So we can be grateful that 2008 is almost over. But before we leave it behind, let's take a few minutes to look back and see if we can find some small nuggets of amusement. Why not? We paid for it, starting with . . .

JANUARY

.. . which begins, as it does every four years, with presidential contenders swarming into Iowa and expressing sincerely feigned interest in corn. The Iowa caucuses produce two surprises:

• On the Republican side, the winner is Mike Huckabee, folksy former governor of Arkansas or possibly Oklahoma, who vows to remain in the race until he gets a commentator gig with Fox. His win deals a severe blow to Mitt Romney and his bid to become the first president of the android persuasion. Not competing in Iowa are Rudy Giuliani, whose strategy is to stay out of the race until he is mathematically eliminated, and John McCain, who entered the caucus date incorrectly into his 1996 Palm Pilot.

• On the Democratic side, the surprise winner is Barack Obama, who is running for president on a long and impressive record of running for president. A mesmerizing speaker, Obama electrifies voters with his exciting new ideas for change, although people have trouble remembering exactly what these ideas were because they were so darned mesmerized. Some people become so excited that they actually pass out. These are members of the press corps.

Obama's victory comes at the expense of former front-runner Hillary Clinton, who fails to ignite voter passion despite a rip-snorter of a stump speech in which she recites, without notes, all 17 points of her plan to streamline tuition-loan applications.

The instant the caucuses are over the contenders drop Iowa like a rancid frankfurter and jet to other states to express concern about whatever people there care about.

Meanwhile George W. Bush, who is still technically the president, visits the Middle East and finds things over there just as confusing as ever.

In sports, LSU wins the national college football championship, easily defeating the Miami Dolphins.

Finally, in what some economists see as a troubling sign, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $12.7 billion in Powerball tickets.

The worsening economy takes center stage in . . .

FEBRUARY

. . . when, amid much fanfare, Congress passes, and President Bush signs, an ''economic stimulus package'' under which the federal government will give taxpayers back several hundred dollars apiece of their own money, the idea being that they will use this money to revive the U.S. economy by buying TV sets that were made in China. This will seem much more comical in the fall.

The battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton heats up as the two engage in a series of increasingly hostile debates, including one in which Secret Service agents have to tackle a large, angry, red-faced man who bursts from the audience shouting incoherently. This turns out to be Bill Clinton, who is swiftly dispatched by his wife's campaign to work his magic on voters in the crucial Guam caucuses.

On the Republican side, John McCain emerges as the front-runner when Mitt Romney drops out of the race, citing ``motherboard issues.''

Abroad, Fidel Castro steps down after 49 years as president of Cuba, explaining that he wants to spend more time decomposing. In selecting his successor, the Cuban National Assembly, after conducting an exhaustive nationwide search, selects Fidel's brother, Raúl, who narrowly edges out Dennis Kucinich.

In sports, the undefeated New England Patriots lose the Super Bowl to the New York Giants in a stunning upset that confounds the experts, not to mention Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, which had $38 billion on the Pats to win.

Speaking of losers, in . . .

MARCH

. . . New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer becomes embroiled in an embarrassing scandal when a criminal investigation reveals that he looks like a large suit-wearing rodent. Also he has been seeing a high-class prostitute known as ''Kristen'' in a Washington, D.C., hotel. Spitzer resigns in disgrace; ''Kristen,'' hounded by the press and no longer able to pursue her profession, receives a $23 billion bailout from the federal government.

In politics, Barack Obama addresses the issue of why, in his 20 years of membership in Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, he failed to notice that the pastor, Jeremiah Wright, is a racist lunatic. In a major televised address widely hailed for its brilliance, Obama explains that . . . OK, nobody really remembers what the actual explanation was. But everybody agrees it was mesmerizing.

Obama's opponent, Hillary Clinton, gets into a controversy of her own when she claims that, as first lady, she landed in Bosnia ''under sniper fire.'' News outlets quickly locate archive video showing that she was in fact greeted with a welcoming ceremony featuring an 8-year-old girl reading a poem. Clinton's campaign releases a statement pointing out that it was ``a pretty long poem.''

On the Republican side, John McCain wraps up the nomination and embarks on a series of strategic naps.

On Wall Street, J.P. Morgan buys Bear Stearns; nobody really understands what this means, but it is clearly bad. Abroad, the dollar declines to the point where currency traders are using it solely for wiping up spills. Both Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac apply to be contestants on Deal Or No Deal.

In environmental news, Earth Hour is observed on March 29, when cities around the world display their commitment to conserving energy by turning out their lights for one hour. When the lights come back on, Detroit is missing.

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch becomes embroiled in a protest riot in Athens; witnesses claim the torch ''reeked of alcohol.'' In football, beloved Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre retires and embarks on a series of emotional farewell events, several of which are still going on when he signs to play for the Jets.

Speaking of emotional, in . . .

APRIL

. . . tensions run high in the Pennsylvania Democratic primary, which all the experts agree is extremely crucial. Barack Obama gets into trouble with rural voters for saying that rural Americans are ''bitter'' and ''cling to guns or religion.'' Responding to charges that this statement is elitist, Obama responds: ``You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy.''

Seeking to capitalize on Obama's gaffe, Hillary Clinton starts channeling Annie Oakley, tossing down shots of whiskey and talking about her love of guns and hunting. After one particularly long day on the trail, she grabs a Secret Service agent's pistol and attempts to shoot a deer; instead she wounds a reporter, thereby sealing her victory in the Pennsylvania primary, which turns out to not actually be all that crucial because the Democratic race keeps right on going with no sign of ending in the current decade.

On the Republican side, John McCain gets wind of something called the ''Internet'' and orders his staff to give him a summary of it on index cards.

In economic news, the price of gasoline tops $4 a gallon, meaning the cost of filling up an average car is now $50, or, for Hummer owners, $17,500. Congress, responding to the financial pain of the American people, goes into partisan gridlock faster than ever before, with Republicans demanding that the oil companies immediately start drilling everywhere, including cemeteries, and Democrats calling for a massive effort to develop alternative energy sources such as wind, the sun, tides, comets, Al Gore and dragon breath, using technology expected to be perfected sometime this millennium. It soon becomes clear that Congress will not actually do anything, so Americans start buying less gasoline.

The economic news is also gloomy for the U.S. automotive industry, where General Motors, in a legally questionable move aimed at boosting its sagging car sales, comes out with a new model called ``The Chevrolet Toyota.''

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch punches a photographer while entering a San Francisco hotel at 3 a.m. with Lindsay Lohan.

Speaking of trouble, in . . .

MAY

. . . the International Atomic Energy Agency releases a report stating that Iran is actively developing nuclear warheads. In response, Iran issues a statement asserting that (1) it absolutely is not developing nuclear warheads, and (2) these are peaceful warheads. The United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Russia and China convene an emergency meeting, during which they manage, in heated negotiations, to talk France out of surrendering.

Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $17 billion in an Herbalife franchise.

In presidential politics, the increasingly bitter fight for the Democratic nomination intensifies when Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton hold a televised debate, moderated by PBS anchor Jim Lehrer, that consists entirely of spitting.

On the Republican side, John McCain, preparing for the fall campaign, purchases a new necktie.

The big spring Hollywood hit is the film version of Sex and the City, which draws millions of movie-goers, including an estimated three men, two of whom thought they were in the theater for the fourth Indiana Jones movie, Indiana Jones Experiences Frequent Nighttime Urination. The riveting plot of Sex and the City, which runs for nearly two-and-a-half hours, involves the efforts of Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte to plan Carrie's wedding -- Finally! -- to ''Mr. Big,'' only to have things go awry when mutant vampire moles bore up through the church floor and suck the blood out of the wedding party through their feet.

In sports, both the Kentucky Derby and the Indianapolis 500 are won by Usain Bolt.

Speaking of victory, in . . .

JUNE

. . . Barack Obama finally claims the bitterly contested Democratic nomination when Hillary Clinton, behind on delegates and in debt to the tune of $25 million, including $9 million for hairspray alone, suspends her campaign and declares that she has ''no hard feelings'' and will do ''whatever it takes'' to help Obama get elected ''even though he is scum.'' Bill Clinton, at his wife's side, nods vigorously, but is unable to speak because of the restraining device. A gracious John McCain tells the press that he ''looks forward to a spirited debate with Sen. Mondale.'' Before he can take questions he is informed by his aides that he has an important meeting.

In other campaign-related news, Chicago developer Tony Rezko, a former Obama associate and fundraiser, is convicted on corruption charges, but the press realizes that this is not an issue after Obama explains that it is not an issue.

President George W. Bush takes one last official trip to Europe to meet with European leaders. Unfortunately they are not home.

In economic news, Chrysler announces a plan to lay off workers who have not been born yet. The lone economic bright spot is the iPhone, which is selling like crazy thanks to the release of a new model enhanced with the capability of sucking pieces of your brain out through your ear until all you want to do is play with your iPhone.

Speaking of vegetables, the big scare in June comes from the Food and Drug Administration, which announces that tomatoes are killing people. A wave of fear grips the nation as supermarket shoppers stampede from the produce section, causing several fatal shopping-cart mishaps. At the height of the panic, with the tomato industry reeling, the FDA declares that, oops, the killer might NOT be tomatoes, but some other vegetable, possibly jalapeño peppers, but nobody knows for sure. Eventually everyone calms down, but not before a bank in Cleveland is held up by a man wielding only a stalk of asparagus.

The scientific community is elated by NASA's announcement that the Phoenix lander has detected ice on Mars. The elation turns to concern when, several hours later, the lander detects a Zamboni machine.

Tiger Woods, in an epic performance, wins the U.S. Open playing on an injured and very painful knee, thereby proving, beyond all doubt, that golf is not a real sport.

Speaking of epic performances, in . . .

JULY

. . . Barack Obama, having secured North and South America, flies to Germany without using an airplane and gives a major speech -- speaking English and German simultaneously -- to 200,000 mesmerized Germans, who immediately elect him chancellor, prompting France to surrender.

Meanwhile John McCain, at a strategy session at a golf resort, tells his top aides to prepare a list of potential running mates, stressing that he wants somebody ''who is completely, brutally honest.'' Unfortunately, because of noise from a lawn mower, the aides think McCain said he wants somebody ''who has competed in a beauty contest.'' This will lead to trouble down the road.

Speaking of trouble, the economic news continues to worsen with the discovery that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac have sent $87 billion to a Nigerian businessman with a compelling e-mail story.
Also troubling is the news from Iran, which test-fires some long-range missiles, although Iranian President Wackjob Lunatic insists that Iran intends to use these missiles ``for stump removal.''

In sports, the government of China, in an effort to improve air quality for the Beijing Olympics, bans flatulence.

Speaking of Olympian, in . . .

AUGUST

. . . Barack Obama, continuing to shake up the establishment, selects as his running mate Joe Biden, a tireless fighter for change since he was first elected to the U.S. Senate in 1849. The Democratic Party gathers in Denver to formally nominate Obama, who descends from his Fortress of Solitude to mesmerize the adoring crowd with an acceptance speech objectively described by The New York Times as ``comparable to the Gettysburg Address, only way better.''

Meanwhile John McCain, still searching for the perfect running mate, tells his top aides in a conference call that he wants ''someone who is capable of filling my shoes.'' Unfortunately, he is speaking into the wrong end of his cellular phone, and his aides think he said ''someone who is capable of killing a moose.'' Shortly thereafter McCain stuns the world, and possibly himself, by selecting Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, a no-nonsense hockey mom with roughly 114 children named after random nouns such as ``Hamper.''

In yet another troubling economic indicator, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac rob a liquor store.

Internationally, the big story is the Olympic games, which begin under a cloud of controversy when journalists in Beijing, who were promised unfettered Internet access by the Chinese government, discover that no matter what address they enter into their browsers, they wind up on Chairman Mao's Facebook page (he has 1.3 billion friends). But even the critics are blown away by the spectacular opening ceremony, which features the entire population of Asia performing the Electric Slide.

The games themselves are dominated by swimmer Michael Phelps, who wins eight gold medals, thus putting himself on a sounder financial footing than the U.S. Treasury. China wins the gold-medal count, although critics charge that some of China's 11-year-old female gymnasts are under the minimum age of 16. Chinese officials refute this charge by noting, correctly, that they have tanks.

Elsewhere abroad, war breaks out between Russia and Georgia over South Ossetia and Abkhazia, serving as a stark reminder that, in an increasingly uncertain world, we, as Americans, have no idea where these places are.

Speaking of uncertainty, in . . .

SEPTEMBER

. . . the Republican convention gets off to a tentative start in St. Paul when President Bush and Vice President Cheney are unable to attend, partly because of Hurricane Gustav, and partly because the organizers told them that the convention was in Atlanta. The mood improves when Sarah Palin dazzles the delegates with her winning smile, detailed knowledge of what is on the teleprompter, and spot-on imitation of Tina Fey. The next night, John McCain, formally accepting the nomination, pledges to run ''a totally incoherent campaign.'' None of this is reported in the media because the entire press corps is in Wasilla, Alaska, investigating rumors that Palin once dated a yeti.

But the presidential campaign is soon overshadowed by the troubled economy. The federal government is finally forced to take over Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac after they are caught selling crack at a middle school. But that is not enough, as major financial institutions, having lost hundreds of billions of dollars thanks to years of engaging in practices ranging from questionable to moronic, begin failing, which gives the federal government an idea: Why not give these institutions MORE hundreds of billions of dollars, generously provided by taxpayers?

This plan is discussed and debated in urgent meetings in Washington attended by the president, the cabinet, congressional leaders, Sen. Obama, Sen. McCain and all other concerned parties except the actual taxpayers, who are not invited because they are, with all due respect, way too stupid to understand high finance. The taxpayers are repeatedly assured, however, that unless they fork over $700 billion, the economy will go right down the toilet. And so it comes to pass that in . . .

OCTOBER

. . . Congress passes, and Technically Still President Bush signs, the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008, and everyone heaves a sigh of relief as the economy stabilizes for approximately 2.7 seconds, after which it resumes going down the toilet. As world financial markets collapse like fraternity pledges at a keg party and banks fail around the world, the International Monetary Fund implements an emergency program under which anybody who opens a checking account anywhere on earth gets a free developing nation. But it is not enough; the financial system is in utter chaos. At one point a teenage girl in Worcester, Mass., attempts to withdraw $25 from an ATM and winds up acquiring Wells Fargo.

As the crisis worsens, an angry Congress, determined to get some answers, holds hearings and determines that whoever is responsible for this mess, it is definitely not Congress. Meanwhile all the cable-TV financial experts agree that since they totally failed to predict this disaster, they will stop pretending they have a clue what the markets are going to do and henceforth confine themselves to topics they can discuss knowledgeably, such as what time it is. Just kidding! They'd get that wrong, too.

The economy dominates the presidential campaign, with the focal point being ''Joe the Plumber,'' an Ohio resident who asks Barack Obama a mildly confrontational question about tax policy and within hours is more famous than the Dalai Lama. He draws intense scrutiny from the news media, which, using investigative reporters borrowed from the Palin-yeti beat, determine that ''Joe the Plumber'' is in fact (1) not named Joe, (2) not a plumber, (3) a citizen of Belgium, and (4) biologically, a woman.

In the presidential debates, John McCain, looking and sounding increasingly like the late Walter Brennan, cites Joe the Plumber a record 847 times while charging that Obama's tax policies amount to socialism. Obama, ahead of McCain by double digits in the polls and several hundred million dollars in money, skips the debates so he can work on his inaugural address. The New York Times declares his performance ``masterful.''

In non-economic news, a Las Vegas jury convicts O.J. Simpson on 12 counts of being an unbelievable idiot. He faces more than 60 years in jail, which could end his relentless quest to find the killer of the people he stabbed to death in 1994.

In sports, the entire nation rejoices as the World Series is won, yet again, by a team other than the New York Yankees.

Speaking of winning, in . . .

NOVEMBER

. . . Barack Obama, in a historic triumph, becomes the nation's first black president since the second season of 24, setting off an ecstatically joyful and boisterous all-night celebration that at times threatens to spill out of The New York Times newsroom. Obama, following through on his promise to bring change to Washington, quickly begins assembling an administration consisting of a diverse group of renegade outsiders, ranging all the way from lawyers who attended Ivy League schools and then worked in the Clinton administration to lawyers who attended entirely different Ivy league schools and then worked in the Clinton administration.

But the hopeful mood is dampened by grim economic news. The stock market plummets farther as investors realize that the only thing that had been keeping the economy afloat was the millions of dollars spent daily on TV commercials for presidential candidates explaining how they would fix the economy. As it becomes increasingly clear that the federal government's plan of giving hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies has not fixed the problem, the government comes up with a bold new plan: give more hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies. Soon the government is in a bailout frenzy, handing out money left and right, at one point accidentally giving $14 billion to a man delivering a Domino's pizza to the Treasury building.

More and more companies seek federal help, among them the troubled ''big three'' auto makers, whose chief executives fly to Washington in three separate corporate jets to ask Congress for $25 billion, explaining that if they don't get the money, they will be unable to continue making cars that Americans are not buying.

In space, NASA's woes continue when an astronaut attempting to repair the troubled multibillion-dollar international space station accidentally lets go of a special $100,000 space tool bag, which drifts away, taking with it the special $17,000 space washer needed to fix the station's special, but troubled, space toilet. NASA announces that it will now have to send up a special space plumber, who charges $38 million an hour.

In sports, New York Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress shoots himself in the thigh in a New York City nightclub, using a gun he carried to protect himself from bad things that might happen to him, such as getting shot.

Speaking of bad things, in . . .

DECEMBER

. . . the National Bureau of Declaring Things That Make You Go ''Duh'' declares that the nation has been in a recession since December of 2007. The bureau also points out that, according to its statistical analysis, ``for some time now, bears apparently have been going to the bathroom in the woods.''

The CEOs of the Increasingly Small Three auto makers return to Washington to resume pleading for a bailout, this time telling Congress that if they can reach an agreement that day, they will throw in the undercoating, the satellite-radio package AND a set of floor mats. ''We're actually LOSING MONEY on this deal!'' they assure Congress. Finally they reach a $13.4 billion agreement under which the car companies will continue to provide jobs, medical insurance and pension benefits, but will cease producing actual cars. The agreement will be overseen by the federal government, using its legendary ability to keep things on budget.

President-elect Obama, continuing to bring change in the form of fresh-faced Washington outsiders, announces that his secretary of state will be Hillary Clinton. The position of secretary of defense, currently held by Bush appointee Robert Gates, will be filled by Bush appointee Robert Gates. Responding to rumors that he also plans to retain Dick Cheney, Obama insists that he has tried to ask the vice president to leave, ``but nobody knows where he is.''

In other political news, federal authorities arrest Democratic Illinois Gov. Rod ''Rod'' Blagojevich after wiretaps reveal that he was . . . OK, that he was being the governor of Illinois. Everybody is very, very shocked. Meanwhile the recount in the extremely tight Minnesota Senate race between Norm Coleman and Al Franken is thrown into disarray with the discovery that more than 13,000 of the ballots were cast by residents of Palm Beach County, Fla.

But the economy remains the dominant issue, with retailers reporting weak holiday sales as many shoppers pass up pricier gifts such as jewelry and big-screen TVs in favor of toilet paper and jerky. As the year draws to a close, the president's Council of Economic Advisers warns that the current recession ''could spiral downward into a full-blown depression,'' leaving the U.S. with ``no viable economic option but to declare war on Japan.''

In another troubling note, U.S. intelligence sources report that Iran is developing ``a gigantic rocket-powered shoe.''

Adding to the year-end gloom is a congressionally appointed bipartisan commission on terrorism, which releases a troubling report asserting that there is an 80 percent chance that within the next two years, a major U.S. city will be struck, with devastating consequences, by ``an 18,000 mile-per-hour tool bag from space.''

The point is, if you have any money left, you should spend it soon.

And happy New Year!

Lucy, You've Got Some "Esplainin" To Do!

2008-12-02T20:00:00.000-08:00

Some time back a fellow blogger, Lesley (short pause for a shout-out to Lesley and her blog, "Millers Meet Sacramento"), posted the first page of a "1930’s Marital Rating Scale". Don't get me wrong, the first page was captivating, but all it did was leave me wanting more. Thus, I began a search for the "rest of the story". Finally found it (about 4 months ago but starting this story by revealing that fact would have made the whole thing outdated and caused everyone to stop reading and continue their World Wide Web stalking (you know you do it). Remember when we called it the "World Wide Web"? Miss that.)

Where was I? Ah, yes...marriage in the 1930's. Now, while reading what I am about to show you, keep in mind that I hand picked 12 or 13 of my favorites...there are a total of 50 each (demerits and merits) for each spouse. Plus, there is a scoring scale that I have neither the time nor desire to explain. If this abbreviated list leaves you wanting more, just email me or leave a comment with a "Full Test" request (you must phrase it that way) and it will be to you in a jiffy (using the word "jiffy" should be a wife merit but indeed it is not. Side tangents should be a demerit but they are not...phew.). This is word-for-word and straight from the 1930's Horse's Mouth...enjoy:

1930’s Marital Rating Scale

This test represents the composite opinions of 600 husbands/wives who were asked to list the chief merits and demerits of their wives/husbands. I have summarized the most frequently voiced flaws and virtues. – Dr. George W. Crane

Husband Merits
1) Gives wife ample allowance or turns paycheck over to her
2) Helps with dishes, caring for children, scrubbing
3) Polite and mannerly even when alone with his wife
4) Reads newspaper, books or magazines aloud to wife
5) Enjoys taking wife along with him wherever he goes
6) Interested in athletics
7) Plays with children or helps them with lessons
8) Willingly prepares own breakfast
9) Well liked by men, courageous – not a sissy
10) Eats whatever is served to him without grumbling or criticism
11) Tries to keep wife equipped with modern labor saving devices
12) Gives wife real movie kisses not dutiful “peck” on the cheek

Husband Demerits
1) Stares at or flirts with other women while out with his wife
2) Compares wife unfavorably with his mother or other wives
3) Leaves dresser drawers open
4) Fails to bathe or change clothes often enough
5) Angry if newspaper is disarranged
6) Tells embarrassing things about wife when out in public
7) Writes on tablecloth with pencil
8) Argues with or curses at other motorists
9) Boasts about his former girl friends or his conquests
10) Kisses wife just after her make-up has been applied
11) A chronic braggart or boaster
12) Objects to wife driving auto

Wife Merits
1) Can carry on an interesting conversation
2) Dresses for breakfast
3) Lets husband sleep late on Sunday and holidays
4) Laughs at husband’s jokes and his clowning
5) Encourages thrift – economical
6) Has pleasant voice – not strident
7) Has spunk – will defend her ideals and religion
8) An active member of some women’s organization
9) Keeps self dainty, perfumed, and feminine
10) Keeps hair neatly combed or shampooed and waved
11) Often comments on husband’s strength and masculinity
12) Praises marriage before young women contemplating it

Wife Demerits
1) Wears soiled or ragged dresses and aprons around the house
2) Seams in hose often crooked
3) Puts her cold feet on husband at night to warm them
4) Shoulder straps hang over arms or slip is uneven and shows
5) Is more than 15 pounds over-weight
6) Eats onions, radishes, or garlic before a date or going to bed
7) Slows up card game with chatter and gossip
8) Smokes, drinks, gambles, or uses dope
9) Squeezes toothpaste at the top
10) Fails to wash top of milk bottle before opening it
11) Wears pajamas instead of nightgown
12) Walks around the house in stocking feet

My intention was to leave it at that and allow the test to speak for itself but I simply cannot resist asking myself (and all of you since you are eavesdropping in on my internal dialogue) a couple things:

1) What is considered "ample allowance" and who determines it?

2) Men in the 1930's got a pat on the back for liking sports? Why didn't women get a merit for breathing then?

3) "Not a sissy"...1930's language, really? Never heard June Cleaver say that.

4) What 1930's movie are we referring to when we speak of "real movie kisses"? This may sound naive here, but I did not think people were allowed to kiss in the "talkies" this early on. Wasn't hand holding about as much PDA that was allowed? Wizard of Oz...no kissing. Grapes of Wrath...I don't remember any kissing. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs...oh, kissing. But does animation kissing count as a "real movie kiss"? I guess Prince Charming did lay one on her at the end. How could he not with that name?

5) What happens if a husband stares or flirts with other women when he is not out with his wife? Just "frowned upon"?

6) Who in their right mind would whip out a pencil during dinner and write on the tablecloth? Was this really prevalent enough to have to remind men that it is, in fact, a demerit? "Oh fiddle sticks, Ward made a to-do list on the good linens again."...

7) Women got a merit for carrying on a good conversation? Not to be cocky, but considering I can talk, at this point I am thinking I am the best 1930's wife around.

8) Does checking the "female" box on applications and questionnaires count as a "women's organization"? If so, I am acing this thing.

9) Dainty? Perfumed? Waved? Dang, not acing it any more.

10) Oh, and then I read the Wife's Demerits...and now I am failing this test miserably and feel the need to grovel at Cameron's feet. Well, I am missing most other than the using dope thing. Just a demerit? Really? I think that would classify more as a major red flag. Oh, and what the heck are "stocking feet" and how do I know if I am walking around the house in them?

Alright, it is nearing supper time so I best go change out of my soiled apron, put my hose on (with seams straight of course), apply my make-up and prepare for my real movie kiss. Hey, the 30's aren't so bad! And here is a visual to prove it:

And one updated bonus picture of the happy couple because you have been such good readers:

Let's go to the phone lines...

2008-10-20T22:22:00.000-07:00

Fact: I am bad at "staying in contact", I am not a good phone talker, I fear that email is a bit impersonal, and due to our location, "visiting people" is not very convienient. So, I will attempt to answer some of your questions by way of a short Q&A session. Here we go...

Q: You almost died last week?

A: No, and where did you hear that? Oh, I see where you are getting this. Let me set the scene: Flash to me driving in the middle of Utah at 3 AM. Cameron is sleeping soundly as I am trying to fight sleep by listening to, none other than, NKOTB (please stay with me here). There is a flash in the sky as a falling (not shooting - falling) star plummets down to earth right in front of the car. I'm not sure exactly how big this falling star was...or close it was for that matter, but if I had to guess I would say it was the size of Delaware and about 100 yards away. This is, of course, an absurd guess. But I am an absurd girl. And hey, if you know off the top of your head how big the average shooting star is, then go ahead and correct me (Side note: Don’t correct me). Anyway, from the looks of it, I was convinced that it was the end for Cameron, me, "Dusty The 4-Runner", and the two other cars I had seen in the last 30 minutes. As you might have guessed, time passed, nothing happened - so it must have been smaller than Delaware after all.

*no picture for obvious reasons

Q: What are some of the things that you and Cameron have been high fiving about lately?

A: That is kind of personal...but I will humor you anyway. Two words - Fantasy Football. After our Scurrilous Scalawags' abysmal 0-4 start, the Butler household was tense, at best. Hernias, sprained ankles, broken ribs, turf toes, and general lazy attitudes all contributed to our winless '08 season. But, right when we considered giving up, right after we took on the attitude of "we don't give a rip", we began a two week winning streak. High-Five to that!

Note to reader: in the time it took me to get around to posting this, our winning streak was violently snapped and we are back to yelling things like "Even I could score 2 points, you swine" at the TV. Thanks for bringing this subject up.

*Side note to anyone still reading (hi mom): No, I am not one of those girls who pretends to like football so a guy will like me. I have always watched football...even by myself through the 90's and the first four years of the 2000's. And besides, pulling that bait-n-switch on a guy is the lowest a girl can go and I refuse to be "that girl".

Q: Knowing what you know now, would you ever think about getting another puppy?

A: Well, I like knowing what I know now and can say with joy that we can check this one off the ol' "to do" list. Let's face it, Mowgli needed a playmate that was not a human with a pony tail that he loved to chew on. We adopted a "mastiff mix" about a month ago and as soon as we got the mutt home she started coming apart at the seams. The first three weeks were rough ones as she had a parasite, a scratched cornea, and a leg that, for all we knew, looked broken. After meds, "the cone", middle of the night eye drops, and massive amounts of vitamins, Libby is back on track and growing like a weed. There is a game we like to play called "guess the breed" and so far Mastiff, German Shepherd, Beagle, Bernese Mountain Dog, and St. Bernard have all made it into the hat. At the same time, Mowgli's make-up continues to be a mystery as well. They are both mutts but feel free to take a guess:

Now that we have that taken care of, the only challenge for Cameron and me is learning the dog brain and resisting the temptation to approach situations with a "I do not poo on your stuff" kind of attitude. The alternative is, well, out of the question.

Q: Speaking of CA, how was the weather?

A: That is a silly question so I think I will ignore it. But, we did have a great time hanging out with Cameron's family, going to his cousin's wedding, and bonfiring (Verb? Why not?) at the beach.

Q: What is the quickest way to forget about coming face to face with an angry 1,500 lb moose?

A: I am glad you asked. Try this on for size, hearing a bear roar...close...in the woods to your immediate left.

A few weeks back Cameron, Mowgli, and I got a late jump on our decision to finally finish the Emmaline Lake Hike...to the end. Call it what you will, but Cameron and I saw "8 hours round trip" in the hike book, looked at each other, exchanged a small wink, and decided we could make it in 5. Hopefully you call it blind optimism rather than pure cockiness.

We were heading up to the lake as everyone was heading home, never a good sign. None the less, we pushed on and were glad we did. The summit was, in a word, beautiful. Our time taking pictures and enjoying the reward was cut short by the sneaking suspicion that we might outlast the sun on this one so we headed down the mountain "with purpose". The miles were flying by until we came face to face with two very large moose (note: they injure more people than all of those other animals coming to your mind...combined). We launched into problem solving mode. Cameron insisted we make a plan of retreat in case our plan of advance did not work. The tall tree to my right was my escape plan...hindsight is 20/20 but I was not being realistic. We continued - in order to scare it off our path we tried throwing rocks, banging sticks, and yelling - all the while advancing...nothing made the beasts even flinch. Before we knew it we were tromping through brush, prehistoric weapons in hand, giving the stubborn moose (and whatever young'un they may have) a wide birth. Finally we were able to hook back up with the trail and use adrenaline to pick up our pace and make up some lost time. Right about when I started to tire, we heard a load roar in the trees to our left. New weapons were found and our breakneck speed was increased...something I thought not possible. In the end, we made it home and learned our lesson to not throw rocks at moose. Or was it leave for hikes earlier? I can't remember.

Q: If people say that "spring has sprung" can't it be said that "fall has fell"?

A: Yeah, I guess you can put it that way, although it IS a bit negative. But, negative or not, while we were on the beach in CA, snow was falling on the mountain top... a clear cut - smack you in the face, freeze you in the fingers - sign that summer is over. And the anticipated amount of firewood we will need to make it through these next fill in the blank cold months means that I should be firing up the chainsaw instead of answering all of your questions. Function over form...or something like that...

Kudos to Karolyi

2008-09-05T16:44:00.001-07:00

Like many of you, I am sure, I have been in a blue funk the past couple weeks. They left as quickly as they came...

The Olympics are to a Sports fan (like Cameron and me) what Halloween is to 8-year-olds. What sports are on TV? ALL sports are on TV? Who is playing? EVERYONE is playing? What a fantastic two weeks it was. Swimming...great. Although, after the relay, I almost found myself wanting Phelps to win Silver...just so he would appreciate his next Gold a little more. Volleyball...great. Soccer...great. Rhythmic Dancing...not so great (but that is one woman's humble opinion). Gymnastics, although chalked full with scandals and instances of USA getting robbed...great. Field Hockey...great. Yeah, Field Hockey. Am I alone in thinking my whole life that "Field Hockey" was a practical joke? Like the seniors in High School telling freshman that the pool was on the roof in hopes of you falling for it and looking like an idiot. I had always heard about it, but never seen it played. That is, until two weeks ago when I enjoyed my lunch over a match (game?) between Germany and the Netherlands. It was the semi-final and ended six rounds into penalty shots, after two overtime periods...with me on my feet cheering...and thus spilling my All-Natural Ginger Ale.

I knew the Olympics were affecting me, mostly by way of 1) lack of sleep 2) complete obsession and therefore 3) total animosity toward anything non-Olympics. One morning last week I realized my obsession had gone too far when the few hours of sleep I got (USA vs. Spain Basketball kept us up until 3AM) was hindered by the dream I had. Here is the summary…it went something like this: Me, in the IOC's main office, with Alicia Sacramone by my side (read: by my waist), reading the "head honchos" the riot act. Picture me as a less hairy, younger, female, easier to understand Bela Karolyi...easy to do, right? If you do not know who Bela Karolyi is than you were obviously not fist pumping along with us from afar during his interviews with that weasel Bob Costas. In spite of how much we enjoyed The Games, its our opinion that NBC did a putrid job in its coverage of the Olympics. Cameron is still in mourning over the fact that we didn't get to see Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Wrestling, or any of these other martial events.

And now a confession: Over the past few weeks I have developed a sizeable hatred for the Olympic host country. No, it is not racism, per se, because it has nothing to do with the fact that they are Chinese. It does, however, have everything to do with the fact that they are manipulative cheaters who are mean to little girls and need to win, no matter the cost. There I said it.

The Olympics ran me through the full gamut of emotions. One minute I was crying, the next minute I was laughing, one minute I was yelling at the TV…ordering an opposing country’s athlete to “fall on your face!”, and the next minute I would be cheering and celebrating victory with a marital high-five and some fist pumps. Yes, there was much fist pumping happening during “The Games”.

So maybe it is good thing, for my stress levels, not to mention tennis elbow, that the Olympics are over. Although, even as I am acknowledging it being a good thing that the torch is out, in the back of my mind I am still counting down to London. 1,422 days to go...

All I have to hold onto for the next four years is this: there are hundreds, if not thousands, of 12 year-olds out there (4 year-olds in China) who will be spending the next four years, day-in and day-out, training in a gym/pool/field, ruining their family's lives, for their one shot at entertaining me...I mean, winning gold. Oh the beauty of competition.

So now you know what we have been doing for the past three weeks...but what about the last three months, you ask? (Or maybe you did not even notice I was gone).

A load of things have happened. We live in a new place. We live in a newly built house. We have a new puppy. We have The Rocky Mountains out our backdoor. All of these great reasons for not staying on top of the blog.

In an attempt to catch everyone up on our "going-ons", I am going to post some pictures. Consider this my lazy, and slightly conceited, way of making myself feel more important than I really am. In fact, I might even form this blog as a list to further prove my award winning laziness.

1) First stop on the Tour de Butler Summer is a River Trip we took with TJ and Colby. It was a private five day white water rafting trip down the Green and Yampa Rivers. We put in at the Gates of Lodore and, many bruises, sunburns, and mosquito bites later, took out at Dinosaur National Park. Ah, the only place where, not only is it socially acceptable to wear the same clothes for five days straight, but it is expected.

2) Post river trip, because we were finished with our summer travel obligations, we wasted no time in getting a puppy. It took us more than an hour at the puppy adoption facility to decide to welcome the mutt into our lives. We got plenty of looks that read: most people will adopt a kid with less consideration than this. Hey those people: Our caution paid off! Although he was 1) covered “head to claw” with ticks and 2) missing half of his tail, we took him and love him. His name is Mowgli, he is a black lab mix…with what, we do not know, and he hit the ground running….or should I say hiking?

During the breaks between house projects, which have been few and far between, we have taken some pretty amazing hikes. And now, just to change up the pace, an outline format. Been out of school for over four years now and I’ve still got “it”:

I. Hikes

a) Saw Mill – located about an hour west of our humble abode there is an old Saw Milling road that led us back into a beautiful bowl where we went “off path” and took an eight hour hike “Bear Grylls Style”. We went above tree line, hiked in the snow (in July), and stumbled on a herd of Elk.

b) Vulture Peak – this peak has been taunting us since we bought the property. It is out our back door and offers great bird’s eye views of our stomping grounds. This was Mowgli’s first hike which turned out to be a few hours longer and a few hundred feet higher than we expected. Once on top, panoramic views opened up and we were glad we risked life and limb to make it to the top.

c) Cirque Meadows – although it has been eight years now since I lived in Colorado, I do remember August weather. Rain showers in the afternoon, blue skies in the morning, warm, etc. Not the weekend two of Cameron’s brothers came to visit. Constant rain tried its best to hold us down, but, in the end, failed. Horseshoe pits were built, log planters were constructed, and hikes were tackled. After solving the puzzle - that was the hike book’s directions – and making it to the trailhead, we enjoyed an easy but beautiful “jaunt” up to Cirque Meadows.

d) Poudre to Rist – While we haven't exactly submitted applications to take over the helm on Man Vs. Wild, we like to think of ourselves as somewhat competent in “fend for yourself” situations. So, for Colby’s 14th birthday we planned (read: scheduled) a survival day-hike. The only plan we had was to hike from our house to Elizabeth and TJ’s newly purchased property…and in 6 hours. Minimal planning/mapping was done beyond that. We took water, a compass, knives, flint, and an MRE. We made it to Rist canyon…¾ of a mile away from their road, one hour ahead of schedule, and lbs. of wild raspberries heavier. If getting lost…on purpose…were possible, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Back in California the only “seasons” that were of any importance were football and basketball. The phase of our life known as “ignoring the weather” (aka: you don’t know what you got till it’s gone) is now over. Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring are very noticeable now. Fall chores are underway, but with any luck Cameron and I will still have a few summer tricks up our sleeves. If not, and this cold front is the beginning of the end, we will still have some summer memories to hold onto:

The Food Chain

2008-05-22T22:04:00.000-07:00

First off, let me apologize for the impromptu hiatus. There, now that we have that out of the way, and my guilty conscience has been mended, we can move on.

The rumors are true, one out of the two parts of the Butler Team has moved. Darn near a month ago Cameron and I packed our SoCal Townhouse (with the much appreciated help of his family) into a 16 ft. "Penske Dream Boat" and headed to Colorado. Many tanks of gas, sweat beads (through AZ we both refused to waste any gas on A/C), and hours past our ETA later...we had arrived.

How is that for symbolism?

Once in Fort Collins, we turned our attention towards stashing all of our worldly belongings in any nook and cranny that was not already occupied. This chore was greatly hindered by our storage unit, that I had reserved a couple weeks previous to the move, being yes 5'X10'...but in a layout suited better for a giraffe stall than furniture and boxes.

Cameron flew back to California to focus on work and I stayed here at Camp McMahan (shout out to their generosity and patience) with a mission to push the house project along in any way possible. And push I did.

Which brings us to "The Top Ten Signs You Have Turned Into A Construction Worker":

1. The people at Home Depot have passed the "Know You By Name" phase and now just ask, "What do you need this time?".

2. In the likely event that you happen to drop something on the ground after 4:00 PM, you mutter under your breath “ah, hell”…shrug…and quickly convince yourself that it will still be there tomorrow and you will pick it up then.

3. When standing from a seated position, it takes a full ten steps to get into the full upright position.

4. Even after you have showered, when you bend down to get something (again, not recommended) you see saw dust fall off of you…then mutter “ah, hell…where did that come from?”.

5. You start using the word “hell” a lot.

6. “Mutter” is the perfect word to explain your mode of communication.

7. You would like to get the dirt out from under your thumb nail but the pain involved (due to the numerous misfires with a Paul Bunyan size hammer) is just not worth the attempt at good hygiene. Wait, wait…no…that might be blood under the nail.

8. There are tan lines on your neck and face that can only be created by wearing a chainsaw helmet…with built in hear muffs and mesh face shield (please refer to the visual aid).

9. You can correctly identify the shoe and the apron…and you know that I am not talking about clothing here.

10. It is Tuesday afternoon at 5:00 and you find yourself drinking a beer with three middle age men (unless of course you are a middle age man in which case this is normal behavior and in no way means you are a construction worker).

In the last month, many family members (most of the female variety) have supplied me with countless warnings about safety (not that the men do not care...because they do...they just have different ways of showing it). So many warnings that I started convincing myself that massive bleeding or death was around every corner. Now, I do not want to come across as careless (as I realize that chainsaws, table saws, grinders, sanders, and the like are all dangerous pieces of equipment) so I thought I would provide the masses (aka, the handful of people who actually read this thing) with some evidence that I am, in fact, the Poster Child of Construction Safety:

As luck would have it, the one time I forgot to strap on the Ol' Safety Glasses, I got mud in my eye. Fantastic.

While most of my time has been spent with my dusty nose to the grindstone, I have had a few opportunities to stop and enjoy some of the sights one might experience up at our new house. I present to you...the food chain at work (a few rungs of the chain might be missing or out of order as not all creatures have been photographed):

The Butler Team will be at full strength this weekend after Cameron drives, yet again, across country...this time for good. Barring any unexpecteed setbacks, we should get our "CO" (Certificate of Occupancy) in about a week and a half.

Home, Sweet Home...almost!

Simply Un-American

2008-04-18T17:32:00.000-07:00

Got a new American Express Card with a huge limit and an awesome rate. Yeah, I know, I am a pretty big deal. Not that I use credit cards a lot, I am just in a "who has the best credit score" competition with...well, everyone, I guess. Score update: I am winning. An added bonus is that the card has a really cool holographic blue square on it that, when catching the light the right way, brightens my day. (The picture does not do it justice)

That is where the story starts to go downhill. This afternoon I was pondering what my balance must be on the new C-Card. You know me, I let my fingers do the talking and attempt to log on to their website. In the process of tryin' to register my account, I am told that I have my place of birth wrong and they lock me out of the system. "Weird" I think to myself...actually I said it out loud. Funny, I thought I knew were I was born...and how does American Express know where I was born to tell me I am wrong?

But "The Man" cannot get me down so I call my friends at AEXP (look at me using stock exchange lingo). After spending ten minutes trying to hack into their automated system (oh yes, the secret to getting in is to give your...you guessed it...place of birth), I give up and start hitting "0" over and over again until my little cell phone screen cannot take it anymore. Ah, finally, a human. She started off chipper. She asked me for my name...got that right. She asked me for my account number...got that right. She asked me for my SS number...right again. 100% so far.

Then she asks me for my place of birth to which I respond, "the system must have it wrong because I was born in Fort Collins but it keeps rejecting that answer".

Her: "Oh, okay Ma'am, that is not what I am seeing here."
Me: (thinking, "isn't that what I just said?") but say, "Okay, where does it say I was born?"
Her: "Ma'am, I can't give you that information. Let's try to get in another way. We are going to access PUBLIC RECORDS so the following information is not held here at American Express. Can you tell me the name of a family member that us not listed on the credit card?"

This caught me off guard...can they do that? At the same time, I was trying to be cooperative and could not remember if Cameron is listed on it or not, so I think on my feet and say - "Elizabeth Hughes". Sister...that should work right? The woman puts me on hold for "a moment" and goes to look in my public records in a chore that I imgaine looking like this:

Wrong answer! The lady, getting all judgmental says, "I am sorry, your answers are incorrect and I am going to have to transfer you to our lost and stolen credit card department.". I say, "Uh, what? I got my sister's name AND my place of birth wrong?". Her - "Please hold".

I hold...then get a different chipper lady (although, I sensed that she was a bit guarded and had been forewarned that I was not pleased about flunking a pop-quiz about MYSELF).

She asks me for my place of birth. Are you kidding me? I give her a small piece of my mind. She switches gears...

Then she says that she can change my address now (half way through this whole thing I figured that the balance info was not enough to go through all of this for and wanted to get some other stuff done while I was at it). We change my mailing address and get my balance info. Then....

She asks for my place of birth! I tell her FORT COLLINS.

F_O_R_T - C_O_L_L_I_N_S - C_O_L_O_R_A_D_O

"Okay, Mrs. Butler, I have corrected the spelling and it should work now."

"WHAT? YOU JUST HAD THE SPELLING WRONG????"

"Yes ma'am, is there anything else we can do for you today?"

Believe me, SO many things came to mind that they can do for me today...some involved enrolling back in school, getting a lesson in common sense, and last of all...sticking things places. But, I took the high road (read passive-agressive) and said "pffish, no, that will be all".

Needless to say, I am a bit on edge...who does public records have as my sister?

...or so they say...

2008-04-10T08:32:00.000-07:00

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." - Abraham Lincoln

Top three scenes from the past two weeks that support Ol' Abe's theory:

Scene I: Katie is letting Cameron know that she does not need pampering and thus opts for the thinner blanket. And Action.

Katie: "Ah, how is that for being a Post-Madonna?" (trying to use a clever play on words to express my humility)
Cameron: "You know the expression is 'Prima Donna', right?"

No, no I did not.

Katie's expression: "Pre-Madonna"
Correct expression: "Prima Donna"

The term was used to designate the leading female singer in the opera company. Legendarily, these "prima donnas" (prime donne in Italian) were often regarded as egotistical, unreasonable, and irritable, with a rather high opinion of themselves not shared by others.

Makes sense...I guess.

Scene II: Katie is asking Cameron what he wants for dinner. And Action.

Katie: "Oh no, have I said too much...did I tip my hat?"
Cameron: "Wait, what? Do you mean 'Tip Your Hand'?"

Yes, yes I do.

Katie's expression: "Tip Your Hat"
Correct expression: "Tip Your Hand"

Based on the literal meaning of tip or show your cards to intentionally or unintentionally let others see the cards you hold in your hand in a card game.

Makes sense...I guess.

Scene III: Katie and Cameron are playing basketball. As Cameron drives for a lay-up, Katie slaps Cameron on the arm. And Action.

Katie: "Oops, sorry, your ball. I raped you."
Cameron: "Um, you know the expression is 'raked', right?"

No, no I did not.

Katie's expression: "Raped"
Correct expression: "Raked"

Rake - To scrape; scratch. Example: "...when he raked Nash's off-hand as Nash crossed over, forcing a turnover. Replays revealed a clear foul."

Makes sense...I guess. It is a darn good thing I was not much of a smack-talker back in my playing days.

Bonus Footage: Katie is traveling to CO to work on the house. Katie and Cameron keep talking about an item on the to-do list having to do with stone and masonry. And Action.

Katie: "I need to make sure I go by and see Cory about the mantel"
Cameron: "I think it will be important for you to know that you are going to THE QUARRY to look at rock, not to a business owned by a guy named CORY"

That WOULD be good to know.

Katie planned on going to see: Cory
Cameron wanted Katie to go by the: Quarry

Quarry - an excavation or pit, usually open to the air, from which building stone, slate, or the like, is obtained by cutting, blasting, etc.

Makes sense...I guess...but I still think this was an easy mistake. I just wondered why both Cameron and our builder would talk about this guy like he knows everything...

For the reasons outlined above, I have new found respect for this man: "There is an old saying that goes, 'Fool me once...shame on...you, fool me....can't get fooled again" - President Bush

Well, at least I still have these words to live by:

"It is a damn poor mind indeed which can't think of at least two ways to spell any word." - Andrew Jackson

Try using new expressions? No. Never.

Find new and creative ways to spell words? That is still okay...a sign of itelligence in fact.

Does anyone else's respect for Cameron grow with each story I relive?

The last month in 47 words or less...

2008-04-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

One Year Anniversary in Santa Barbara...

Paper? No, sand.

Easter at the Courthouse Gardens

Our thanks to "The Herd" for this gift:

Camping in Blythe. Bear Grylls and Les Stroud have nothing on us...

Poor kindling cannot hold us down...

Trip to CO to make final decisions:

For better or for...can it get much worse?

2008-03-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

Lessons learned in the past week:
1) That guy on those UPS commercials can draw real good
2) Pasteurized milk causes acne...but Rice Drink is dang tasty
3) The recommendation "try new things" does not apply to me

Let's back up. First of all, although I grew up in Colorado, I do not consider myself a gifted skier (one of my pet peeves: when first meeting a Coloradan, any non-Coloradan will ask them in a perky voice, "oh, do you ski?" in the first 4 minutes...guaranteed). Sure I could blame my lack of natural gliding/sliding talent on basketball coaches forbidding the activity, or the abnormally long length of my femurs, but I will spare you the excuses. Don't get me wrong though, I enjoy a trip to the slopes as much as the next girl...even despite my sub-par abilities. Well, Cameron and I are both here to tell you that if my skiing ability were to be compared to my snowboarding abilities, I would be considered to be at the Olympic Level.

Against my better judgment, for my first ski trip with Cameron, his dad, and his younger brother last weekend, I chose to go away from the safe skis and spring for the snowboard. Note to self: never again try new things....never...stick to what you know...always.

The silver lining of my poor decision is that I found a few things out about myself. For starters, I do not do well with not feeling competent. Secondly, I do not handle repeated falling well. Thirdly, I get a bit testy when people try to offer me advice on how to improve when the simple act of standing is difficult.

It took me about 2 hours on the slopes (I use this term loosely because it was the bunny hill) to snap out of my selfish pity party (greatly assisted by reducing the frequency of bone smashing falls). After that, I had some clarity and realized that when Cameron agreed to "for better or for worse" last year, I doubt he imagined me getting that bad. In retrospect, I think he will back up my decision to never again try anything new. Hopefully this joint choice will allow the "for better" Katie moments to outweigh the "for worse" Katie moments.

Once I was over my tantrum, Cameron and I had a great day. I will admit that it felt odd skiing someplace that 1) I could feel my lungs and 2) had no snow anywhere but on the slopes, but I was able to set aside my snobbery and enjoy the scenery.

Most of our "post bunny hill" day was spent on a gently rolling GREEN that bordered the "big boy" slopes...by way of the "big boy" lift. Note to new snowboarders: never go on the "big boy" lift. Spring Breeze (or whatever the run was called) was not very crowded and offered the right dose of challenge while still keeping me from throwing yet another oh-so-attractive tantrum.

Around about 3:00, after one hard fall in the list of many, I confided in Cameron that if I fell on my "fanny" one more time, I was sure bone would be splitting. So, being the problem solving specialists that we are, we decided to "pull" to the side of the run, have me "drop trou" and then stuff Cameron's coat down the back side of my pants for padding (a chore that took four hands, extreme balance, and an abnormal amount of strength). The comfort on falls from then on was worth the nasty looks we got during the application phase. After 3:00 - aside from the severe pain in my knees, wrists, and hands - falls were much more tolerable.

On to my next beef: the design of the home stretch of the Spring Breeze. Near the end of the run there was a straight away accompanied by a strange right to left slant and a slight uphill. Recipe for disaster. No matter what I did, I could not get "over the hump". Threw a different technique at it every time down the slope...ended up in the bushes and trees each time. My chosen problem solving technique? I would unstrap the board, throw it under my arm, and sprint to try to catch up to Cameron at the lift. This worked well the first couple of times, but for some strange reason, the running distance increased with each passing run. I might have been trying too hard...I don't know. By the end of the day I was running about 150 yards in an attempt to not make Cameron wait for me to try to figure out how to not stall out. For added entertainment, every sprint after 3:00 was slowed by the fact that the snowboard was under one arm and my other arm was grasping the wadded up jacket (forming a huge booty that prevented me from buttoning my pants)...trying to keep me from losing my drawers with every step. To top off the visual, I was wearing a huge gray helmet - to protect my fragile, oh-too-often hit head - that would jiggle down my forehead and start to obstruct my view (no hand available to correct it).

It was during my last 150 yard sprint when I looked up to see Cameron down by the lift watching me and I could only imagine what he had to have been asking himself, "For better or for worse? Till death do us part? Oh man, what did I get myself into?"

Good thing I married a guy who can enjoy life even when his "better half" is acting like a two-year-old.

Well, it has been about a week since our snowboarding trip and just today am I starting to have hope that I have not done irreparable damage to my pelvic bones. My hands have recently stopped shaking any time they have to bear weight. My elbows and knees, which have been a tasteful shade of purple/blue, are starting to look and feel normal. Hey, even my ego seems to be recovering.

Try new things? No. Lesson learned.

Herd Update

2008-03-06T11:29:00.001-08:00

At the beginning of the season, I set a rule for the team that they should let me know if they would be unable to make it to practice. You know...to encourage responsibilty. Be careful what you wish for. Yesterday at practice, one of my players passed me a note (weird in itself). It was from one of my two seventh graders and it read:

Just in case you cannot make it out:

Dear Coach Butler,

I am sorry to inform you, I will not be able to attend practice today. I am sorry I could not call, for I have lost your number. I have a Dentist Appointment at 2:00 p.m. Thank You.

Sincerely,
Jade Verdeflor :)

How is that for responsibility? How quickly these kittens are becoming cats.

Dear Player Jade,

The team and I were deeply saddened by yesterday's news, for we have grown accustomed to your presence at practice. Please practice your routines before we meet again. Until then, may you remain in good health.

Sincerely,
Coach Butler

Herding Kittens

2008-02-27T07:16:00.000-08:00

Coaching 6th and 7th grade girls basketball is proving to be both challenging and rewarding. In all honesty, most of the time I feel more like a wrangler than a coach. Does anyone remember that great Superbowl commercial from a few years ago that followed a bunch of cowboys moving a herd of kittens cross country? Now you can picture what I am going through...only my kittens have to be dribbling a basketball which makes it a harder feat. (Why do I keep bringin' up Superbowl commercials you ask? No idea...but I need to get over it.)

Now I do not want to come across as having an over-inflated sense of athletic ability, but I remember playing basketball in 6th grade and I am about 88% sure that I never looked like what I have been seeing lately in games. Relax, because although I am cocky enough to block out any double dribbles or baskets scored on the wrong hoop, in retrospect I do realize that I was not the dominant presence that I visualized myself being at the time.

Some of my favorite moments from the season thus far:

1) My tallest player has developed the odd habit of boxing out her girl LONG before her girl has shot the ball. This is a hard technique to refrain from laughing at. Fortunately, the parents do not hold back their laughter so I do not feel obligated to keep a straight face. All the while, somewhere in the back of my mind I always ask myself, "what do I have to complain about?". Hey, at least she is boxing out...a term the girls giggled at two months ago.

2) When my girls are sprinting down the court, stop on a dime with a panicked look on their faces, and look over to me for directions. I then point to the way they are supposed to go and they carry on their little enthusiastic way.

3) During a voluntary post-practice group prayer one of my players asked Jesus to help the team remember their "routines". "Plays" ladies...we call those things plays. Ah, who am I kidding? I couldn't care less what they call them as long as they remember them at least 25% of the time.

4) When given the chance to name their own plays, my girls came up with names like "Pancake", "Waffle", "Mouse Trap", and "Rat". Obviously I got clowned in this department because I am the only one that has to yell these "routine names" out repeatedly for an entire gym full of adults and unforgiving teenagers to hear.

5) During our first practice we were tackling the finer points of defense by doing the "stand in one place in a defensive position and 'pitter patter' your feet until you reach muscle failure" drill...or at least that is what the coach's books call it. Anyway, one of the girls started complaining about what I thought to be the hard drill. When I stopped to listen to her protests, I found that she was complaining that her butt was jiggling and she did not want the boys to see. The rest of the team unanimously agreed that this "butt jiggling" would be murder for their social lives. Long story short, we turned the drill around so it was my bouncing caboose facing the mostly male crowd watching our practice...and the girls were happy again. Oh, the joys of coaching teenage girls.

6) It took almost the whole season, but it happened, we scored on the wrong basket. Now, keep in mind that our field goal shooting percentage is around 6%. That should give you an idea of how big of an accomplishment a score on the wrong hoop really was for us. Not only did my girl have to forget which basket to shoot on, but at the same time she had to make the one shot out of MANY attempts on the first try. Well, it happened, the perfect storm. The cute thing was that she did not even know that she did something wrong. Apparently when everyone is yelling at the same time, the words "WRONG WAY" and "NO" are hard to make out!? All I could say was, "nice shot"...and it really was. Unfortunately we wasted a hard to come by "nice shot" on the "wrong basket". Maybe I should change my outlook. There are no "wrong" baskets, just "less right" ones. After all, it was the only shot she made all season.

Our win/loss ratio (2-7) is nothing for the record books but the girls have improved every game and are starting to look more like little players than lost kittens. That is about all a coach can ask for.

Today is our final regular season game. After that we turn our attention to single elimination playoffs...a.k.a. our last game. These girls have been a joy to coach and I will miss their unbridled enthusiasm when we have to part ways.

Good thing we have the details stage of this little project to turn our attention towards:

Roof, done. Log railings, done. Now we will focus on the "guts"...and the paint colors.

Back to our scheduled program...

2008-02-14T08:32:00.000-08:00

Alright, you faithful Butlered Blog readers have had enough personality for a couple weeks. Back to our original blog mission...

Our builder, who is in fact named "Bill"...not "Bob", gets home today after a two week vacation in Hawaii (sponsored by none other than The Butlers). Imagine our surprise when Camp McMahan sent pictures showing this amount of progress made during Bill The Builder's absense. He must have found the only subcontractors on Planet Earth that are self-motivated (or maybe they all have vacations that need funding?).

First of all, The Poudre in all its February glory:

Modern farmhouse to rustic cabin with the simple addition of a few hundred logs. (Can you tell that we are frequent watchers of HGTV?):

A cozy nook of natural log wonder:

As of Feb. 10, the roof was started. As I am typing, the roof is being completed. The railing will go all the way around...

Front porch with soon-to-be stairs leading to actual door:

See, door (plastic on glass, not an artistic detail):

That is all for now. Exciting things such as insulation and drywall are on deck...so stay tuned.

Winners and Losers

2008-02-06T07:26:00.000-08:00

Winner - The Underdog Story. Hey, does anyone remember that movie "Little Giants"? Me neither (wink, wink), but apparently it was an inspiring tale about a bunch of misfit football runts who, against all odds, defeat the superpower team from across town. In the climactic, victorious finale, everyone watching the movie tries their hardest to hide the tears. But, hello, maybe you see a few similarities? "LITTLE Giants"? "BIG, RICHLY PAID Giants"? Starting to ring a bell? I thought so. And, yes, I teared up. Again.

Loser - Anyone with this postgame internal monologue: "It's okay Tom. So many people are not Tom Brady. There are too many to list them all here, but open a phone book sometime and read every name except "Tom Brady." You'll see for yourself, it's pretty staggering how few people get to experience being you. So Giants, yes, congratulations. But also you, the media darling, congratulations."

Brady in the fetal position...a site for sore eyes!

Winner - Sherpas. Yes, I am talking about the ethnic group from the most mountainous region of Nepal, high in the Himalayas. One reason: "You have the thighs of a Sherpa"...one of the Top Ten pick-up lines of all time. Alright Bud Light, you win too.

Who wouldn't want those thighs?

Loser - All of the Super Bowl Commercials that make you think that you could have a successful career in advertising if you ever wanted to not work as hard as you currently do.

Winner - The NY / Boston Rivalry. Oh wait, nobody cares about this unless they have ever lived in NY or Boston...

Loser - Eli Manning. "How could the MVP of the World Champions be a loser" you ask? I read this the other day:

"New York Giants quarterback Eli Manning alienated a substantial portion of his fan base yesterday by leading his team to a Super Bowl victory over the New England Patriots. You don't become an Eli Manning fan because you want forth quarter drives, last second heroics, and spectacular improvised plays. You become an Eli Manning fan because you like mouth-breathing hayseeds. You become an Eli Manning fan because you were also too chicken to play in San Diego. You become an Eli Manning fan because you like watching interceptions being run back for touchdowns. You become an Eli Manning fan because you love hearing the words, "Third and nine." You become an Eli Manning fan because his jersey is normally at least 40% off. That is why all over New York City today, you'll see thousands of Manning jerseys in the garbage. Nice bait and switch, jerk."

Well Eli, I do not know what to tell you...but you are a Winner in our book!

The Biggest Loser - Bill "2 seconds left on the clock" Belichick and the Patriots. Nine out of their sixteen games next year are scheduled to be against teams that Vegas is giving 1/100 odds of winning the Super Bowl. That is, the Patriots will play half of their schedule against the projected worst teams in the NFL. Classy Organization? Dynasty? Good job fellas....give yourselves another pat on the heiney.

Sedona, AZ

2008-01-30T11:56:00.000-08:00

Ironically, while we are writing a blog, we're actually very private people. It’s not that we keep secrets, it’s just that we prefer to keep everyone else in the dark. We have spent years perfecting the art of shining an occasional ray of light on a situation rather than trying to dim an already full blown spotlight. That being said, there have recently been some requests for a little more personality in these blog entries. In my case, introversion (pretty sure I made that word up) and the desire to please people are a package deal. Hopefully what follows will be dripping with the right dose of personality.

In a few short months we will be packing up and moving "Dentro Le Montagne", or "Into the Mountains" of Colorado. In anticipation of the move, Cameron and I have developed a CA exit strategy (actually just a pre-exit plan, but "exit strategy" makes it sound more respectable). Our plan is to visit as many "places of interest" as possible that are weekend accessible from So Cal. "Places of Interest" is all relative, I know, but one location on our list (as a couple) has always been Sedona, AZ. Reason? Not only is it the Vortex capital of the world, and breathtakingly beautiful, but Cameron and his family lived there for a short stint when he was a kid. Back to the ol' stompin' grounds we go...

Our three day vacation was mostly spent hiking, unintentionally not always on the trail. We trekked to Devil's Bridge, climbed Cathedral Rock, and tromped up to Broken Arrow and Chicken Point. No, we did not look at the hike guide and choose the most evil sounding adventures. "Sunset Site" just didn't offer the excitement we were looking for (not that we do not love a good sunset). When it was all said and done, we figured our walkabouts totaled 13-15 miles, none of which went unnoticed to our legs or feet. The phrase "my dogs are barking" was used more than once during our weekend getaway.

During one of the hikes, I was told by someone who appeared to be a guide of sorts, that I had a "natural sense for feminine healing." Both a strange and random compliment Cameron and I thought. The strange man then went on to explain how I had managed to stop on a rock platform that was situated between a triangle of trees with twisted stumps...an obvious feminine healing center of energy. Cameron and I both shrugged, continued on our way, and chalked my "sense" up to my natural ability to stop walking when I get tired and that usually happens at the top of a hill where I can see stuff. But that is just us...

An added bonus to the weekend was the opportunity to test out the Internet-learned techniques (I use this term loosely) with my new camera. Bear in mind that the camera is a 35mm so these images are scanned in and have lost some quality in so doing -- but hopefully you can still get a sense of some of the images from our weekend trip:

Some Cactoid looking object: Cathedral Rock:

In Living Color:

Whirlpool-O-Rock:

Cameron Climbed Stuff:

Chicken Point:

Water that Fell on Oak Creek:

Good thing Cameron was there to hold stuff down:

I took pictures of stuff:

Vortex (aka View):

A perfect mixture of ice, water, and rocks:

Slide Rock (not much sliding done on account of the brisk H2O): And because old habits die hard:

We would show pictures of the inside, but at this point it would just look like a fine bunch of lumber to those with no interest in blueprints.

"Dried In"

2008-01-22T12:56:00.000-08:00

As of the 16th and January, the house is "dried in". The roofers found enough of a break in the weather to get the ice/water shield on the roof. We were told that siding is almost finished and plumbing and electrical are 80% complete. The front door is a custom fir craftsman style...thanks to Bill the Builder.

For me, the hodge-podge of colors is hard to look past. Cameron does a great job of squinting and thinking big picture. We are going to try to pick siding colors and wood stains that make the house look like it was meant to be there all along!

Doors and Windows

2007-12-27T16:50:00.000-08:00

Getting the chance to see and walk through our soon to be home was one of the best Christmas presents of the year. Here are some updated pictures. Note that the weather has made construction tough in the last couple weeks, hence the slowed progress. The garage is complete (including openers which are now in our posession). The windows and most doors are up. The siding is being put on (not the final coloring). The plumbing and electrical work will bring in the new year. On to the pictures:

Front of the House:

Back of the House on the ridge:

View from the Front Door:Fireplace:
Poudre River at the bottom of our driveway:

"Many go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."

-Henry David Thoreau

Clippin' Right Along

2007-12-04T15:44:00.000-08:00

This is more like it! The "covered porch" is now covered.

10" Logs all around...

The view from the front porch:

The weather looks to be holding up. So far so good!

Into the Mountains

2007-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

As promised, the following is an update on our building project. In an attempt to catch everyone up, we will start from the beginning. Our first time seeing the property in January 2007:

Soon after the purchase in April:

October:

Early November:

Middle of November:

End of November:

Keep in mind that the plan is to have a wrap around porch and a secondary roof. The finished project should look something like this:

Special thanks to this crew (plus Ninny)...standing by our front door... for their dedication:

Although it is hard to be watching this house go up from a distance, Cameron and I are really excited to be learning so much about the building process.

So, there you have it, now you are all caught up!

Tunnel Tag

2007-11-24T18:46:00.000-08:00

The reason for the creation of this blog is our inability to turn away from competition. Our friend Missy recently "tagged" us with "7 Things You May, Or May Not, Know About Us". Since we are the Butlers, we have upped the ante to 10. We have also changed the game to Tunnel Tag. Here it goes:

1. We both have a hunch that the first mousetrap wasn't designed to catch mice at all, but to protect little cheese "gems" from burglars.

2. We hope that someday we will be able to put away our fears and prejudices and just laugh at people.

3. We would both like to see a nature film where an eagle swoops down and pulls a fish out of a lake, and then maybe he's flying along, low to the ground, and the fish pulls a worm out of the ground. Now that's a documentary!

4. We have recently taken to using the expression "on account of" prodigiously. Also, we have taken to using the word, "prodigiously."

5. We both believe that if you go through a lot of hammers each month, you are not necessarily a hard worker. It may just mean that you have a lot to learn about proper hammer maintenance.

6. Sometime we wonder if trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.

7. We think that if you're in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, you should throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it'll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a real grenade at them.

8. We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can't scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys us.

9. We really believe that before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

10. We think it's funny that pirates were always going around searching for treasure, and they never realized that the real treasure was the fond memories they were creating.

Oh Katie Hardeman...you are it!

Anticipation...

2007-11-24T09:18:00.000-08:00

The anticipation is palpable...