Last night's score....

Austin: 70
Shanna: 63

I'm blaming that on my hour and a half of yoga Monday night. My shoulders were already worn out before I even started.

It's on again tonight.


I'm going for 71.

Family Traditions

Austin and I decided we need some traditions. We've only come up with two so far.

Tuesday night is pancake night.
(A tradition that was a result of the giant Costco box of Bisquick my mom bought while the family was here in May and then didn't use)

Now we've also added the nightly push-up contest. The results for the last three nights have been as follows:

Friday
Shanna: 52
Austin: 55

Saturday
Shanna: 59
Austin: 63

Sunday
Shanna: 60
Austin: 61

To make sure it's fair and that one of us isn't doing just enough to beat the other one's number, we count our own and write it down on a slip of paper, then compare. Then there's no cheating. Unless one of us lies when we write it down...

We're still working out the kinks.


What are your family traditions?

I Heart Nie

I love NieNie. She is my favorite celeb. I am always secretly hoping I'll run into her at Sunflower because Ashton saw her there once.

So last Saturday my bestie Jess brought this to my attention: Nie's Birthday!

Eat a cupcake, help a darling family? Can do!

So we headed down to Sweet Tooth Fairy and enjoyed a vaNIElla squared cupcake to show our support.


















Sometimes charity just requires sacrifice, ya know?

At long last

I have never been able to do cartwheels.

I always desperately wanted to. In the 5th grade I did one perfect one, once. I was too scared to ever try again.

But last night, at age 23, I learned how to do a cartwheel.

And who was my gymnastics teacher?

My 26 year old husband.

Yes, Austin does perfect cartwheels. Almost as well as he ice skates.
{a skill he attributes to years of roller-blading, you know, the cool version of ice skating}

The moral of this story is it's never too late to fulfill a childhood dream.



Cartwheels are just as wonderful as I always imagined they would be.

Judge not...

Yeah. I saw it. It was free, it was with my two best friends, it was for the 13 year old girl inside me.
I'm not suggesting any academy awards or anything, but you can't really argue with something that has gained the fame that Twilight has in just a few years.
{Although the face Robert Pattinson makes every time he kisses Kristen Stewart makes me laugh my head off}

Alternate

I was pretty proud of my clever Shakespearean reference in my previous blog post title, so after I wrote it I said to Austin:

Me: "I wrote a blog about that chicken in the trunk of my car, guess what I called it?"

Austin: "Junk in the trunk?"



The creative writing skills and literary knowledge in our home are abundant.

Something Rotten in the State of Utah

We went grocery shopping last week.

My trunk was still pretty full of boxes containing various Relief Society items passed down from president to president. When I say pretty full, I mean we could barely cram the bags of groceries in around everything. We got home, unloaded the food, and didn't think twice.

Two days later...

I got into my car to go to work and a rancid, pungent smell greeted me from the depths of my little Corolla. Being too busy to figure it out right then, I rolled the windows down and forgot about it during my day's work.

That evening I went to get back into my car and the 90 degree weather had exponentially multiplied the odor. I had to get to the bottom of it.

Shifting through the boxes in the back, in the very farthest reaches of my trunk, there it was. One lone grocery bag. My favorite navy blue shopping bag with the red and white birds. Birds symbolizing all the wildlife I save by using said reusable shopping bag.

Inside.......

Chicken.

Half-cooked, greenish tinted, rotten chicken.

I guess the color of it and the fact that I knew full well how long it had been in there wasn't enough proof that it was bad. What did I do?

I took a big whiff of it.

You know, just to make sure that's where the smell was coming from. Just in case something else in my car could be radiating such a hellish stench. Just in case it had somehow miraculously survived the two day ordeal in blazing heat and we could still eat it. That's normal, right?

Needless to say that chicken sacrificed its life in vain. My guilt at such a pointless death may drive me to vegetarianism.

In the meantime, it did at least drive me to clean out my trunk.