The first Christmas after Teri and I were married was a whirlwind. We married on December 16 in Mesa, drove to Thatcher that night for a reception, flew up to Utah the next day to go to my brother's wedding on December 18, had an open house for my brother and me the night of the 18th, and then we were back in Arizona for Christmas in Thatcher. I figured the next Christmas would be a little more routine, but as it approached Teri got the feeling it was yet another whirlwind.
Teri jokes about it now, but she insists that she has never come across a family with so many Christmas traditions. Her secret favorite tradition is kicking the pole - something my family has done for years now. No, it's not some feat of strength.
Kicking the pole actually dates back to when my family was a lot younger. On Christmas Eve my Mom wanted some time to get everything set up for the evening and asked my Dad to get all of us kids out of the house so she could work without all of our pent up excitement bubbling over her preparations.
My Dad started out taking the conventional approach. We drove across the town and looked at lights for a little while, but when we still hadn't killed enough time we drove to Ken Price ballpark, where we sang Christmas carols to the ball field. I know it sounds kind of odd, and it felt odd the first time we did it, but it quickly became the treasured family tradition we repeated every year. Flash forward a couple years after that first caroling experience. My brother Scott was playing in a baseball game at Ken Price field and my other brother Russ was running just outside the confines of Ken when he ran smack-dab into a steel parking lot gate knocking himself flat.
When we made it back to Ken Price 6 months later during the winter someone started kicking the pole in an effort to pay it back for the vicious body blow it dealt to our brother. The next year that had turned into a tradition as well. Teri has even gotten in on the action. The year after we were married we were in Utah for Christmas and we had Teri kick the pole. While trying to feign intensity Teri sternly scolded the pole saying, "You hurt Russ." Teri then dealt the pole a swift kick to its midsection. The funny part was that Teri had never met Russ at that point, he had left of mission just as we were getting engaged, so we were surprised at Teri's enthusiastic response to our family tradition. But Teri's never been one to shy away from jumping in to things with both feet; it's one of the reasons I adore her.
I thought it might be fun to share some of those traditions here. If you're like Teri you may feel they're a bit much at first, but feel free to adopt any that you think would be fun. Although if you decide to kick the pole please let me know so I can give you some tips. You wouldn't want to end up trying to kick the pole only to have your feet slip out from beneath you just as you prepare to deliver your gigantic wallop.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Police Blotter: 2 Dead Escorts Found at Davis Residence
Yes, that would have to be the headline of this week, narrowly beating out "Grumpy: 71 years later. How a 3' Man Doubled in Size and Got a Job at the Junkyard."
It is with great regret that we announce the passing of our second Escort. I like thinking back to the good old times when the Escort had a working motor and not everything under the hood was broken. Times like this:
I don't actually remember anything like that happening, but apparently even the ever plentiful internet doesn't care about the Ford Escort enough to post an interesting video or two. Oh well.
Our first Escort passed on in January. While we had hoped to hold bake sales all year to pay to get it fixed, we unfortunately had to divert money to cover paying for Gibson to be born. You would think we'd get a little more utility out of something that cost so much.
With our cash strapped and our two little boys unable to win any high profile best looking baby competitions, Teri and I decided to put off fixing our white Escort and made the best of using only one car. Our silver Escort became our workhorse hauling us to and fro, here and there, nither and thither. Until that fateful day several weeks ago when it decided it no longer had a will to live and ended its life outside of Kohl's.
A few days and a diagnostic check later, the Escort was pronounced dead on the scene. We took her to the junkyard and despite the best efforts of a gnomish junkyard employee to not use their business, we were able to strike a good deal. We swapped 1 dead Escort for a total prize package (worth $52) to include 20 Totino's pizzas, 3 "as-is" air fresheners from any car in the junkyard, and season tickets to the WNBA. Cucumber melon never smelled so good.
Like most things in life, there is a good and a bad side to this story. The bad side is that we had to replace the car somehow, and while we considered going the "green route," ultimately we decided the kids were too small to peddle. So we bought a Honda. What's bad about that? Well, they didn't give it to us for free. I was hoping for some last minute "Hey you're our first customer in weeks because the economy is melting" giveaway, but curiously enough they did ask us to pay.
The good side of all of this is that Honda driving videos are a lot easier to find online than Escort videos. For example, this little number is amazing and it begs two important questions. Do people in the rest of the world really drive like this? And, do people in the rest of the world really just wander out into the road and stand there as they watch a car that is clearly nanoseconds away from totally losing control and just wait for it to come slamming into them? Oh how the other half lives.
In summary, the bad side of having to pay for the car is pretty much a wash with the upside of watching crazy people nearly kill themselves in a car manufactured by the same people that made mine. Now if I could just figure out some way to teach K and Gibby to wash windows.
It is with great regret that we announce the passing of our second Escort. I like thinking back to the good old times when the Escort had a working motor and not everything under the hood was broken. Times like this:
I don't actually remember anything like that happening, but apparently even the ever plentiful internet doesn't care about the Ford Escort enough to post an interesting video or two. Oh well.
Our first Escort passed on in January. While we had hoped to hold bake sales all year to pay to get it fixed, we unfortunately had to divert money to cover paying for Gibson to be born. You would think we'd get a little more utility out of something that cost so much.
With our cash strapped and our two little boys unable to win any high profile best looking baby competitions, Teri and I decided to put off fixing our white Escort and made the best of using only one car. Our silver Escort became our workhorse hauling us to and fro, here and there, nither and thither. Until that fateful day several weeks ago when it decided it no longer had a will to live and ended its life outside of Kohl's.
A few days and a diagnostic check later, the Escort was pronounced dead on the scene. We took her to the junkyard and despite the best efforts of a gnomish junkyard employee to not use their business, we were able to strike a good deal. We swapped 1 dead Escort for a total prize package (worth $52) to include 20 Totino's pizzas, 3 "as-is" air fresheners from any car in the junkyard, and season tickets to the WNBA. Cucumber melon never smelled so good.
Like most things in life, there is a good and a bad side to this story. The bad side is that we had to replace the car somehow, and while we considered going the "green route," ultimately we decided the kids were too small to peddle. So we bought a Honda. What's bad about that? Well, they didn't give it to us for free. I was hoping for some last minute "Hey you're our first customer in weeks because the economy is melting" giveaway, but curiously enough they did ask us to pay.
The good side of all of this is that Honda driving videos are a lot easier to find online than Escort videos. For example, this little number is amazing and it begs two important questions. Do people in the rest of the world really drive like this? And, do people in the rest of the world really just wander out into the road and stand there as they watch a car that is clearly nanoseconds away from totally losing control and just wait for it to come slamming into them? Oh how the other half lives.
In summary, the bad side of having to pay for the car is pretty much a wash with the upside of watching crazy people nearly kill themselves in a car manufactured by the same people that made mine. Now if I could just figure out some way to teach K and Gibby to wash windows.
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