How Steve Became Cool

This will be a fairly short, uninvolved post, but I've got a couple of great stories that I've been dying to stick on here somewhere. So. My brother-in-law, Steve, married my sister Annie...

...and he’s been entertaining us with stories about his schoolboy days ever since. Apparently, Steve was born Brett Steven, but he took it upon himself in second grade to change things up a bit. When the teacher finished taking role on the first day of class, she asked if anyone preferred to be called something different than what she had on her list. Steve’s little mind ignites (“You can DO that???”) and next thing he knew, he’d told his teacher that actually, he goes by Steve, not Brett. His parents didn’t even know about the change for a couple of months, until they were trying to have a conversation about little Brett with his teacher.

Anyway, Steve spent a couple of years in a German school (…in Germany…) when his family moved temporarily overseas, and he related to us the two events that made him a legend at his elementary school.

IT STARTED WITH… a bully. When he started picking on Steve in the hallway one day, Steve sort of blacked out in his rage and the next thing he knew, he was standing over the bully, who was laid out flat on his back. I like to imagine the kids that witnessed it reacting kind of like in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy kills the witch.

AND IT ENDED WITH… when Steve climbed onto the roof of the school to throw hundreds of frisbees and balls of every sport into the cheering crowd of children. Really, it’s impossible for me to think of Steve, the hero of the playground, tossing goodies off of the roof (while teachers scold him from below), without laughing out loud. Impossible. I'd draw a little sketch, but I'm sure I couldn't even do it justice.

HOWEVER – if I WERE to draw a sketch, it would be a shot from behind Steve, with him arms raised victoriously in the air. That way you'd be able to see the looks of open-mouthed adoration on every child's face, staring up at him.

The Most. Ridiculous. Cake. Ever!

My dad turned 45 when we were living in Gardnerville, Nevada. My mom would always take special orders for cakes and meals for birthdays, so my dad requested a chocolate cake with EXTRA frosting. He and my sister are nuts about frosting. Annie refused to leave for college before learning how to make homemade icing, and now she routinely makes up an entire batch JUST to sit and eat it plain, with a spoon, over the course of a couple of days. And my dad is almost as crazy. So my mom makes up the two cakes and loads a thick layer of icing in between before coating the outsides with it, too. Then she leaves it to set for a while and when she came back, she discovered that the entire top cake had slid about two inches to the side, thanks to the copious amounts of icing. And by that time, the frosting had set, so there was nothing she could do about it.

Well, my sister Annie and I thought it would be cool, since it was his 45th, to make a “45” on the cake out of 45 candles. So we counted them out and placed them meticulously into this lopsided cake, and we thought we were so clever and such good artists, and we were so proud of ourselves.

So here’s this cake sitting on the table just waiting for my dad to come home from work. Everything is in place for his special-order dinner and we’re watching TV when my mom starts screaming. By the time my sisters and I made it to the kitchen, there was our (literally) retarded cat, Boo, in the process of cleaning her whiskers after being chased away from a delicious meal of chocolate cake.

So by now this poor cake was completely ridiculous, but it was way too late to make a new one, so my mom scraped off the section that had been eaten and smeared more frosting over the hole (ew).

This time we’re smarter, so we cover the whole thing with a large overturned glass bowl until The General returns from work. When it’s finally the moment to bring out the glorious cake, I head into the kitchen to reveal our work of art. Well, in the process of removing the glass bowl from the ridiculous cake, I lost my grip and dropped the thing hard, so the edge of the bowl made a HUGE half-circle dent across the surface of the cake (the part unaffected by the retarded cat, mind you).

I can't quite remember my dad's reaction when he finally saw the stupid thing, but I'm sure he wasn't as amused as us...not mad or anything.. he was probably a little disappointed. I would have been. This cake was pathetic. Regardless, my mom and sisters and I are all totally cracking up as we relate to my dad the stories of why his poor cake ended up being so ugly when my mom starts lighting the candles. 45 candles, to be exact. All in close proximity to each other. Each of the individual flames melded into one BIG flame, and the candles started melting so rapidly that he barely had the chance to even make a wish before we brought out the fire hose. Okay, not really, that was definitely an exaggeration. But it was a pretty good bonfire we had going on.

And THAT is the story of the most ridiculous birthday cake in the world. I dare you to come up with a story about a more accident-prone dessert.

Ew, Zombies

43%
Pretty funny test. Too bad the graphic is all messed up...

Grocery Extravaganza

We spent over a hundred dollars at the grocery store last night, and we didn't even buy anything. Seriously, stupid stuff like milk and bread and eggs and saline solution. Nothing you could construct a meal around, like meat. We're so lame. The longer I'm married (3 years now!) the more I appreciate my mom. I swear, she was a professional meal planner and chef. She she a rotating schedule so that we all got our favorites every once in a while, but she'd throw new stuff into the mix, too. She'd plan out every single meal for the entire week in advance, then do inventory to see what she needed to buy. Her grocery lists were in order - not alphabetical, but based off of the layout of the aisles. And dinner was always on the table between 5:30 and 6:30..depending on when my dad was getting home from work. I feel like a failure in comparison. I can't even plan a single meal when I'm standing in the grocery store. Case in point - last night we bought a roasted chicken for dinner. The ones that you can't help but wonder if they we roasted in the morning, and they've been sweating inside of their plastic containers under the hot lamps ever since. Ew. I mean, it was delicious, but I swear the thing was green.

And this is a very random sidenote, but this is about the funniest thing I've seen in a very long time.



And click on the newest link on the right panel - you upload a picture of yourself and it tells you what celebrity you look the most like. At first I thought it would be a joke, right, like it would only say "Danny DeVito" or something like that, but it actually tries to match you based off of your facial features. It entertained me for an hour or so the other night, I plugged in about every picture on my hard drive.

I'm off to figure out what's for lunch...

Shews

I bought new shoes today. I'm in serious need of some comfy work shoes, and when I was searching for them in Dillards, I came across these instead.



Not quite what I was looking for, but pinstriped (!) and only 50 bucks. I've sworn off of shoe shopping in Aldo, by the way. A mixture between how insanely crowded the stores are, and THIS girl that works at the Aldo in our mall.



Really, she's ridiculous. I drew this little sketch the other day when I was trying to describe her to my sister. Sometimes words just don't do it justice, you know? Yes, those are suspenders she's wearing. And she has been wearing those suspenders EACH AND EVERY time of the three times I've encountered her. Wow.

Friday-Dot-Com!

Well, it’s Friday. This week was really uneventful, but Jon has been home since before Christmas, so it’s been great to spend a couple of uninterrupted weeks with him. I can’t believe that it’s January again! I’ve officially been at my job now for a year and two days. Even more unbelievable is not only that it’s January, but it’s January, and still warm outside. I’ve got to admit that it’s nice to go to places like Edmonton and Salt Lake City for Christmas, then come home to 50 and 60 degree temperatures. Although it does cool down quite a bit at night, and we’ve had frost a couple of mornings. The road signs around here are classic…most cities have signs like “Road May Be Icy” or whatever, but in Tucson, the bridges (they don’t go over rivers mind you, just washes) display signs like “Ice Forms First on Bridges”. Not a warning or anything…just a lesson about ice, in general. We do get snow in the mountains, though, and last year it actually snowed in TUCSON, which was a huge event.

People here can’t even drive in the rain, let alone snow. It took me two hours to get to work that day, people were going off the road left and right and I swear, the road wasn’t even icy, just a little wet. Everyone was so excited about it (none of the 4 year olds we teach at church had ever seen snow before) but I’ve got to admit I was pretty mad. Half of the reason why we decided to move to Tucson was to get out of the snow for a while. And I consider myself lucky that I’m not acclimatized to the weather down here. Most people are wearing sweaters as soon as it dips below 75 degrees. And complaining of freezing to death if it ever hits 50 during the day.

SPEAKING OF FREEZING TO DEATH. So my sister has these great cats. Oh, they’re creepy, but totally rad. Before I met them for myself, I was a little scared, since my brother-in-law posted pictures like THIS on their phanfare account…

Anyway once you meet them you get over how weird they look. Anyway, since they live in Manhattan, whenever they leave for a trip, they sublet their apartment and charge people a daily fee to stay there while they’re gone. Such was the case when Corinne and Kyle came to Salt Lake for Christmas. On the third day there, Corinne related the following harrowing story. The night before, at 2 am, the sub letters called in a panic. They had OPENED the screen-less window for some fresh air, and by the time they remembered to close it, one of the cats had gone missing. They’re on the 8th floor of an old apartment building, mind you. They could hear it mewing for a little while, but when it stopped, they really freaked out. They checked the ground floor to see if it had fallen, and when it wasn’t there it became a race against time to find the cat before it froze to death. It’s got barely any fur. After calling to it with no response, they told my sister that the husband sub letter was preparing to SCALE THE LEDGE to find this poor little kitten. Anyway, my sister tells them DON’T YOU DARE go out on that ledge, let’s keep things in perspective here. But they didn’t listen to her and this guy clambers out the window and scales the ledge. And you know what, he found the poor thing curled up in a ball inside of a window enclave, scooped it up, and made his way back to the window. All’s well that ends well, I guess. Ew, I hate that saying, almost as much as I hate the saying “it is what it is”. Totally empty words, it doesn’t even mean anything.

I'm off to watch a movie with my husband now that he's done watching UFC. Tomorrow we're going to go see "Juno" again. You should do the same.

2008 is on it's Way...

It's about a half an hour until midnight and I'm ringing in the New Year with my husband and our dog. I have a vision in my mind of just my husband and me, snuggling up to keep warm in our apartment (we haven't yet turned on the heat..) but I imagine that Penny will squeeze in between and lick Jon's face to death. Easy to imagine, because that's usually what happens. Once I'm done with this post I'll eat some homemade candy (thanks, Kelsey) and get the Martinelli's ready for the big moment.

We got back last night from Christmas in Salt Lake, which was crazy fun. My sisters and parents all conglomerated there for about 10 days. It was a total blast. Among the funny stupid things that happened, my sister Corinne sang the wrong words to Little Drummer Boy ("Come they told me, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum...do you hear what I hear?") and my own mother called me Jerry. ("Are you going to eat those raspberries, Jerry?"). Jon got me an ipod nano that I cannot wait to get started with. My whole family met Penny for the first time. It went pretty well, as you can see from the following video...



My mom's only rule is that if/when they get any grandbabies, The General is banned from using his Dog Voice with the kids. We all get a kick out of it, though. Corinne and my dad have both claimed Penny in the event that we die. My other sister Annie hasn't been convinced yet, though. She thinks all dogs are gross, even though her husband Steve had a perfect dog named Remy as a kid. Remy didn't even poo or pee or anything, and he never ever threw up or had bad breath. And he gave himself regular baths. Penny's pretty close, but she can't quite compare to a dog that paid his own room and board.

Anyway, Christmas was fun, and now we're just twenty minutes away from ... Happy New Year!!!!

Je vais aller à Paris!

So it’s official – Jon is going to Paris in April for work and I’m coming with him! Hooray! I know it’s cliché but I’ve honestly waited my entire life to go. When I was in my fourth year of French in school, my parents began planning a trip there and I almost disowned them when they told me I was not invited. Kind of like when they went to Disneyworld (not land, mind you…WORLD) the beginning of my junior and left me behind. I’m pretty sure that’s not even allowed, leaving your kid out of your Disney plans. Anyway, Paris has been my number one place to travel for as long as I can remember, with Morocco being a very close second. Somehow I don’t see any work-related trips to Morocco in Jon’s near future, though. Anyway, so we’re going to Paris in the beginning of April.

Speaking of traveling, though, I’ve been packing this entire week for our trip to Utah. I’m so unbelievably excited to see everyone and eat at Café Rio. When I go on trips I usually just bring everything I own and choose outfits when I get to my destination, but this time we’ve got limited space (the Jeep is out of commission so we’re renting a sedan, plus we’ve got Penny with us this time – our first trip with our new dog! No one in my family has met her yet!)…so I’ve been forced to choose my outfits ahead of time, which is turning out to be pretty tricky. But today is my last day to pack because we’re leaving tomorrow after work! Jon’s hoping to drive the entire way, but we won’t get there until about 6 in the morning and that doesn’t sound fun to me. Jon’s a good driver and everything, but it still makes me nervous. I’m hoping to stop somewhere for the night, though I’m sure that if/when I fall asleep, he’ll try to make it to SLC before I wake up. And then he’ll be wasted the entire next day and we might as well have just stopped and slept for the night since he’ll sleep til three the day we get there, anyway.

But oh well, it’s his call. He’s the one driving, I get to sleep either way.

...And She Was Never the Same Again.

I was recently reminded of a hilarious true event. For the protection of the person involved, the name has been censored. My friend and I were on our way to Provo for EFY the summer before our sophomore year of high school. My grandparents, Sweetie and Poppie, live in Salt Lake City, so *******, my mom (who drove us from Gardnerville, NV to Provo), and I stopped at their house for a night before we had to be in Provo for registration. Sometime in the late afternoon, my friend excused herself to use the restroom. Well she was gone for a long time. A really long time. It got to the point where we all were kind of wondering aloud if everything was okay. I’m talking an absence of, like, 20 minutes. So I decide that maybe I should go check on her and see if everything is okay. I kind of creep around the corner (afraid that she might be sick in there…I have an extreme fear of vomit/people vomiting/animals vomiting/vomiting in movies/any sort of gagging noise whatsoever). So I’m creeping along listening for any strange sounds that might indicate it’s time for me to run away with my hands over my ears…but to my surprise the bathroom door swung wide open. And standing there, with the most stricken look on her face, was my friend, *******. SOMETHING had happened to her in there, but she couldn’t tell me what it was until we were out of earshot from my mother and Sweetie. She practically dragged me downstairs by my arm so she could relate the entire story to me. She had undertaken the challenge to flush a neutrally buoyant turd, but the thing wouldn’t budge. Every time she flushed, it bobbed around in the current, but always held on. We decided that something that doesn’t float OR sink, (but hangs around somewhere between the surface and the bottom) “flinks”. The stubborn little turd involved in this incident has been known as “The Flinker” ever since. After about 5 or 6 flushes, my friend claims that she got so desperate, she even looked to the window…but thankfully with that last flush, it finally gave up the ghost and disappeared down the hole, leaving my friend and I with this story that makes me laugh out loud every time I think about it.

The List Queen

I make lists. Lots of lists. Something to do with not wanting too many thoughts in my head, and liking my own handwriting. If I'm thinking of something, I write it down, and then admire it for a couple of seconds. Whatever, everyone has weird things about them. Anyway, half the time my ideas actually don't even make it to a designated list - they just end up on scraps of paper that lie around the computer desk and coffee table. I don't know, again, it's just one of those weird things. Well, in high school I had a list entitled "Things That Make Me Happy" that I contributed to on a regular basis. I had totally forgotten about it until tonight...I was searching for another one ("The Man of My Dreams") to read off to my mom (so she could see how freaky it is that I ended up marrying Jon; he matches 99% of the items, and I wrote THAT one when I was like 15) when I came across the Happy List. So for everyone's viewing pleasure, a.k.a. Corinne, Jon, maybe Annie, maybe my mom........ Here are some excerpts from "Things That Make Me Happy".

Laughing so hard it hurts
Caramel Popcorn
Surprises
Freshly Painted Toenails
Brand new markers
Conchos on chaps
Watermelon Jolly Ranchers
Waking up fully rested
Tan lines
Chips and Salsa
Pink sunsets
Vanilla milkshakes
The green Extra gum
Whole milk
Music Videos
Popping bubble wrap
Carousels
Pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Greek Isles
The first snowfall
Songs that remind me of me
The smell of gasoline
The "G" chord on the guitar; and last but definitely not least...
Breakfast for dinner

And on that note, I'm off to pour me some cereal. I don't think I've really eaten anything today, now that I think about it..

The American Academy of Cosmetic Gynecologists Presents....

...Vaginal Rejuvenation: You won't believe your eyes!

Ew. Jon is in Vegas this weekend which means I'm home by myself again, until Sunday. This is very off-topic, but I was cleaning out my Outlook inbox yesterday when I came across this little gem. This is an excerpt out of an email I sent to my sister, Corinne a couple of months ago.

"Jon and I were in the shower last night and I was washing my face, so my eyes were closed and I was scrubbing away. So then I cup my hands under the water for a split second to get a little more water on my face to make more of a lather. So now I'm lathering away, and I step into the water to rinse, and when I open my eyes and look at Jon, his mouth is hanging open a little and I can tell he's wrestling over whether or not he wants to tell me something. So I'm like..what? And he goes....."I was in the process of spitting right when you put your hands out...you caught it in your hands, and before I could say anything you were scrubbing your face again." I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my entire life. I wish I had it on video!!!"

I still snicker to myself every time I think about that. I love those stories, the ones that are something stupid and little, but seriously make your day each time you're reminded of them. Take for example my brother-in-law, Kyle. Like 5 years ago, he handed me a couple of CDs he had burned for me. One of them was the soundtrack to the Prince of Egypt that I had requested. So I'm flipping through the CDs and someone (maybe Corinne?) points out that instead of writing "Prince of Egypt", Kyle has instead written "Prince of Message". Apparently he was distracted when he was writing out the title. Anyway he grabbed a Sharpie, crossed out the 'Message' part and replaced it with 'Egypt'. Just mention "Prince of Message" to me or either of my sisters if you want to see us laugh. Really hard.




Here, you can clearly see where the word "Message" has been replaced. The lingering tail of the "g" is what gives it away. And would you believe it, this is the first time I've noticed that he spelled my name wrong. "Jesse" is a boy's name.

Anyway, enough rambling, now it's off to watch the finale of American's Next Top Model! Anyone but Jenah feel free to win...

More About us...Through Pictures

We were married December 22nd, 2004.

















We were sealed in the Cardston, Alberta temple on December 22nd, 2005.








We lived in a horrible little town called Rexburg, Idaho until Jon graduated from BYU-I sometime in August of 2006, and then it was off to.....















Tucson, Arizona!









Jon got a job at a surgical equipment company. I'm sure this picture doesn't need much explaining, just make sure you don't miss what's on the LCD display.














Since he's off traveling so much, we got a dog to keep me company. Her name is Penny and she's great.

These are my sisters, Corinne (on the left) and Annie (on the right).














This is my family, everyone except my brother Jake who couldn't make it down from Alaska. We call my grandparents "Sweetie" and "Poppie", and we call my dad "The General". Really he's a colonel, but The General sounds better.









And this is the other side of the family, the one I married into. Sorry guys, this is the only picture I had. Plus, it's the best picture EVER.










These are some cupcakes I attempted to make from scratch. I used to blame it on the oven, but I think it's me. I'm probably the least domestic wife on the planet.









And THESE are some false teeth, lying in front of a Lazy Boy chair in middle of the mall in Idaho Falls. Luckily I had my camera on me to take a little snapshot!! Ew.


And that's us in a nutshell. I had about thirty other pictures I wanted to throw on here, but I thought I'd keep it relevant and concise for the time being.

The Sweet Girls

There are three girls in the Sweet family - Corinne being the oldest, Annie in the middle, and Jessie the youngest. We're all two years apart and as great as we get along now, things didn't always go so smoothly growing up. Three is a volatile number to begin with - one of us was always left out. I hardly have any memories of the three of us playing nicely together, but I do recollect lots of games that ended in screaming, crying, and whining. Annie swears that as a 5 year old she got tricked into playing a "game" with Corinne. The basic rules were as follows.

1) Corinne was to stand in the middle of the game area holding a large hula hoop perpendicular to the ground.

2) Annie was to drive her Bigwheel in circles around Corinne, and

3) Each time Annie passed through the hula hoop, she had to give Corinne one of her toys.

It took Annie a couple of rounds to realize it wasn't a very fun way to pass the time. You can imagine how vehemently Corinne denies ever inventing such a game. But knowing Corinne, I kind of believe Annie. Sorry!

Another one of Corinne's favorite activities was playing off my extreme fear of bees. Actually, Annie joined in on this one too. I have no idea why I had such a fear (I've never been stung, even to this day) but if I even so much as imagined I saw a bee flying across the yard, I'd sprint away shrieking and bobbing and weaving and flailing my over-long arms in every direction. There were many occasions that I'd walk outside to join my sisters, only to be greeted with "JUSSKUH! There's a HUGE BEE on you! Ewwww it just crawled into your hair! EWWW it's LAYING EGGS IN YOUR HAIR! Egg-head, egg-head!" ...and the aforementioned reaction would take hold. Please note that this was a regular occurrence. Always the same wording, too. A huge bee, a huge bee was laying eggs in my hair....and so on, and so forth.

One time we were at the barn with one of Annie's horrible friends, Christina Hulbert. My mom was off doing manual barn-labor somewhere and we were taking a little grey pony named Sugar out to pasture. We weren't allowed to ever ride without a helmet, but Corinne convinced me to get on this stupid pony bareback while Christina led her along. So someone gave me a leg-up, and away we went. Well, Corinne whispers something to Annie's horrible friend, and the next thing I know she's tugging at the stupid pony to get it to trot. Keep in mind that I had no saddle and this pony had THE choppiest trot on earth. After about two seconds I've slid underneath its belly and am now tangled up around its feet. My body was literally wrapped around its legs, I don't know how, but it was. Mention this story to my sister and TO THIS DAY she will pee her pants laughing. According to her, Sugar was so irritated by this little body caught between it's hooves, that it was stepping gingerly and trying to kick me loose. The only time I've ever seen Corinne laugh so hard was when we were playing on the zip line at a park in Alaska. We were taking turns pushing each other, but I wanted to go faster so I told Corinne to give me a good shove. Next thing I know she's hit me with the momentum built up as a result of a running start. I'm flying along at 40 miles an hour until the slider hits the end of the rail. My pace then slowed to 30 miles an hour as I flipped through the air. I don't remember landing, just waking up with Corinne doubled over in laughter over top of me. And I specifically remember not being able to breath for the first few seconds. The only time I've ever had the wind knocked out of me.

Anyway, Corinne was worried when I first mentioned wanting to add a post like this, so I've got to add a note here. Of course none of this was funny when it happened, but I've seriously got sore abs and tears rolling down my face thinking back on it. No one gets along with their siblings growing up, do they? It's too bad that by the time you can stand each other, you hardly ever see each other anymore. Actually...now that I think about it, I'm sure the distance IS the reason why we can finally get along now. And I get to see them for Christmas in only two weeks! Hooray!

Cute Cats, Creepy Cats

So this is one of my favorite examples off of the icanhascheezburger website. I've got a link to it on the right panel. There are some real gems on there. There's also an option to create your own.....so I did. It never got published but I don't know why because I think it's totally great. Maybe I just love it so much because it's my sister's creepy cat sitting on her husband's shoulder....

Accident Prone

We’ve been accident prone lately. Jon was in Boise the beginning of November and got smashed in an elevator, which sounds funnier than it actually was. He was holding the door for his sister in an old building downtown and the thing just closed on him. She jumped out of the way (thank goodness, since she’s pregnant) and he got pinned for a few moments until the door retracted. What the heck! He’s been experiencing some pains in his chest and back ever since, and he’s been in touch with a lawyer to make sure the building owner pays for all the medical bills. Plus at least 5 million in pain and suffering. No, just kidding. Kind of. Now he always takes the stairs, even if it’s 30 stories. Okay, nothing about that last sentence was true, but it makes me laugh to think about it. That, and Jon darting past the open doors of an elevator and then flattening himself against the farthest wall. It’s not funny. But it kind of is. And then about a week after his incident, I was in a car accident. Actually, the Defensive Driving instructor told us all to only use the word “collision”…I guess just to make a point of the seriousness. I had to go to this class to clear my ticket that I was given DESPITE the fact that I was hit by a car traveling in an illegal lane that was absolutely impossible to see. Apparently Arizona law says that if you are EVER turning left and are involved in a “collision”, no matter that the circumstances, you are at least partially at fault. That includes turning left on a green arrow. If a car runs the red light and hits you…you will be cited. What! Oh well, we’re still waiting to hear back from the insurance to see who’s responsible for what. Anyway, the driving course I went to was at least 60% 70 years or older. So many old people that had no business being in a car to begin with. This one guy kept raising his hand to make comments, and he was literally yelling his answers. It was so awkward. And to make matters even more painful, he was sitting right behind me. I swear my ears leaked blood. And this little old lady was telling a story about how important it is to wear seatbelts. Her story begins like this. “My husband is an invalid.” What! Who says that?! Why not “my husband needs assistance” or “my husband is paralyzed”? Anyway her story has to do with her putting him in the car but forgetting to buckle his seatbelt. So she looks over after turning the corner out of her house and he’s all slumped over in the seat. So she went to sit him back up and buckle him in (while still driving, mind you) and she went off the road. Hm. Another great moment of the day was when the instructor said that someone must have been “twisting” his “gourd”. I think he was going for “cord” but he said “gourd” and I almost laughed out loud. The only thing I could think of at that point was my sister Annie. Gourd is her favorite word. I once met a guy named Gourd (it was probably “Gord” short for “Gordon”)…and it was the best day of Annie’s life when I told her about it. Anyway, another long tangent, and now it’s time to go.