Feast for Two

Last night for dinner Shannon and I had a feast for two. It was a lot of food. Salad, garlic bread, pasta, pizza, root beer and cookies that we passed back and forth underneath the table. In the end, we couldn't quite finish all the food, so we had to get a box to take it home. (And yes, all three of us signed it.)

For those of you who haven't already figured it out, St. George now has a Brick Oven! Maybe for the start of next semester we can get some other people to join us here.

Zion

Let's just clear this up right now folks: it's Zion National Park. It is NOT Zions National Park. Nor is it Zion's National Park. There is but a single Zion. One Zion canyon, and it doesn't possess anything. Now, if you'll all kindly quit calling it "Zions", I'll be very grateful.

Fake Numbers

In the last few days, I've noticed a few instances of fake numbers. Take any statistic, any measurement, any anything, and you're almost guaranteed to get a non-round number. So, when you see a number that is particularly round, you should get curious. The number on my mind today is 10,000. Evidently that is how many hours it takes to become an expert at something, according to Malcolm Gladwell. (Disclaimer: I've never read anything he's written, other than a lame piece on ESPN.com that was NOT worth my time.) Now, I have no idea how he arrived at that number, but it doesn't make sense. Why would there be something magical about 10,000 hours?

Now, you might be thinking that his point isn't the exact number of hours it takes to master something, he's just driving at the idea that it takes a long time. Well, if that were his point, he should have said, "it takes a long time". Or "it takes years and years". But the one thing I'm almost certain of is that it doesn't take 10,000 hours to become an expert. And when you think about it, you know that number can't really be calculated the way it should be, unless Gladwell managed to somehow measure how much time Bill Gates spent working on computers decades ago, or how many hours John Lennon spent fiddling with his guitar and writing bad songs. In the end, what I think Gladwell did is determine that it takes a really long time to become an expert at something (surprise, surprise) and then picked a nice, round number that matched up with that.

Re-Making it Worse

I was discussing movies with a co-worker recently. He's seen pretty much every terrible movie you can think of. One of our favorites that he's seen is Vampiyaz: Brothaz in blood. Anyway, we discovered that there is a whole class of movies that he hasn't seen. Stuff like The Parent Trap, Freaky Friday, and Mr. Mom. Now, I'm not saying these are the greatest movies ever made, but I think everyone ought to have seen them, as part of their general life education. But, as I was urging him to see the movies, I found myself saying "You have to see 'The Parent Trap'. The original, not the remake with Lindsay Lohan, you can skip that one." And "you must see Freaky Friday, but the original one with Jodie Foster, not the remake with Lindsay Lohan."

And then I realized that we had developed a whole new tag line for Ms Lohan: "Re-Making it Worse". The Parent Trap. Freaky Friday. Herbie. Along with all the rest of her problems in life, she has a knack for remaking movies that never needed to be remade, and not doing a good job of it.

Talking Julia

Words Julia says*:

Jesus

Hat

Shoes

Blockburger

Button

Buckle

Oh man

Milk

Hot Dog

Please

Up

Down

Book

Dog

Kitty

Duck

Mama

Daddy

Rock

Walk

Open

Eye

Nose

Mouth

Mouse

House

Car

Elbow

Elmo

Maggie

More

Isaac

Baby

Yes

No

Hi

Bye

Tickle

Uh-oh

Oh no

Apple[sauce]

Hot

Frog

Ball

Cheese

There could be a few more, but that's all the ones that the doting parents could think of right now.

* Requirements for counting it as a word are that she says it on her own (she'll mimick just about any word we ask her to, with varying degrees of sucess) and we can understand what she says. This does not mean that any random stranger could understand what she is saying.

Basketball

Hooray for basketball! My ward is attempting to set up weekly basketball games. We had 5 at our first attempt, which isn't terrible. And only 3 of them were recruited from outside of our ward. But, here are my observations from the first time I've played in ages.

1: Apparently I'm 100 years old, because things still hurt.

2: I blocked 2 shots in one evening. TWO! That's about 10 times more than I normally do. One was on a pull-up jumper. For the other, I was beat off the dribble and the other guy had a step on me as he headed toward the hoop and I blocked the shot from behind almost. I don't think I've ever blocked a shot that way before. This was probably a statistical anomaly.

3: I made a right-handed hook shot. I've had a left-handed hook that I've used for years. It's very accurate and extremely difficult to block. (Even Brett would agree with that, I think.) But, to increase my repetoir, I've been practicing a right-handed version for years. Years! It's certainly not as good as the lefty (lower accuracy and range) but I can consistantly make it when practicing. Unforutnately, I never trust it enough to use it in a game. Even when the right side is more open, I trust my left-handed shot more than the right-handed. But, without planning, I spontaneously took a right-handed shot the other day. (It went in.) NBA, here I come!

If my blog readership included anyone who liked basketball in the St. George area, you'd be invited.

Visitors

Kim and Patrick came through town this week on their way further south. They stopped to say hi to Julia and Shannon and brought food with them for lunch, too. I guess they didn't end up eating all of it (they came and went while I was at work) and left some behind. Shannon showed me the zucchini they left us:

"That's great!" I said. "I'll put it next to the one from our garden."

Sports Famine

The NBA playoffs are over. I didn't watch any of them. But at least I had something to read about on espn.com. Now, I have nothing. Sports are dead to me. Until the fall. Baseball doesn't get remotely interesting until August, and then college football comes back.

Somewhere, Shannon is celebrating.

Hot Ham Water?

We have some friends that need to watch Arrested Development. We've been meaning to watch some with them for some time, but it just hasn't happened yet. (Just like we've been meaning to do so many other things.) Anyway, Shannon and I were discussing what we could do to have an Arrested Development (hereafter "AD") themed party to enrich the watching atmosphere, but haven't come up with much. It won't be a big party, and we aren't rich, but surely there must be something we can do to bring out the AD spirit. We could make frozen bananas . . . and . . . hot ham water? Get a crane game? A sing-along to the Final Countdown? Anyone out there got any more ideas?

P

Memorial Day weekend.  There we are, enjoying sacrament meeting.  It was a double missionary homecoming.  The M's were there.  The A's were there.  And suddenly, there was something warm and wet in my lap, and running down my legs.  Thanks Julia!

Saturday (a few days ago).  Shannon had a choir performance (last of the year) that Julia and I went to.  She really enjoyed the clapping part.  She was getting kinda squirmy near the end.  The final piece by the choir was really good.  Made me feel all warm inside.  And all warm in my lap.  That Julia, so willing to share!

Today.  Shannon was working on dinner, I was reading Julia a book.  Then, I was all wet.  Yay for urine!

Shannon had even changed Julia about 90 minutes before so she wouldn't pee on me.  But somehow she still manages.  As if she didn't generate enough laundry as it is.