Paige's First Piano Recital

I don't think I used to be so gushy. But this a proud parent moment. A couple of years ago, Traci and I were worried that Paige would never stop being so incredibly shy. And now, here she is marching up to the front of the stage for a piano recital (after just three lessons) and bravely (if not a bit quietly) saying, "My name is Paige Sutherland and I will be playing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." (Traci's sister Makell joins her on the other two songs.)

We couldn't be more proud of her.

Dear Mr. Fish, I Will Eat You Now

The year was 1987. It was Super Bowl Sunday and I was getting ready to cheer on my beloved Denver Broncos as they faced the New York Giants. My mother made halibut for dinner, which was noteworthy because she never cooked fish. Having no prior experience to fish, I ate it.

It was disgusting.

I can still taste the strong fishy flavor--combined with the bitter taste of a 39-20 loss, mixed with the salt of my six-year-old tears--on my tongue.

In the years since, I have avoided fish almost entirely. Until last week.

Much like yoga, I've always thought I should give sushi a try. But I've never been motivated enough to say, "Hey Traci, let's go get some sushi tonight." (Or say, "Let's go to sushi." Why do people "go to" sushi? I'm going to start saying, "Hey, let's go to pasta" or "Let's go to hamburgers.") And Traci would never agree to sushi anyway.

But I have some other friends who can't get enough of the uncooked stuff. So I tagged along.

My first sushi experience started off well enough. I was having a great time at the restaurant, chatting it up, and drinking my orange Fanta. And the something happened.

"What's that fishy smell in here?" I thought. It was, of course, our meal.

I started off cautiously with the California roll. Then I moved on to the Spider roll...and then to the Prozac roll...and then the Xanax roll...and then to all of the other ultra-cool-pharmaceutically-named rolls. I dipped stuff in eel sauce and wasabi sauce and whatever else. And soon I realized I'd already downed like 10 of the things.

Did I like it? No, not really. But I figured if I was going to try it, I better try it.

It wasn't until I was driving home--and thinking it best to roll down the window and get some air--that I realized that was a bit too much to ask of a stomach so unaccustomed to things of the sea. (Especially after the large amounts of deer jerky I'd eaten at lunch, prepared by the guy who said, 'I hope you don't get sick, I've never made deer jerky before.')

But I hung on.

And now I have two memories of fish: the first of three Denver Broncos Super Bowl defeats (which was bad), followed by two Denver Bronco victories (which was good); and a meal that made me a little sick (which was bad), but was accompanied by some delicious orange Fanta and some dear homies (which were both good).

Only four months 'til my birthday lunch at the Chuck a Rama.

Curtis Getting Tough on the Pitch

We have reached the end of Curtis' first season of soccer. I'd say it was a success. He scored a few goals for his team (and a bunch more for the other teams), he got a lot of treats, and he got to finish every bit of running with a little bit of rolling around on the ground.

I got this footage of him during his last game. Watch as he (number 10) shows the little girl on the other team who's boss. (Poor girl. She was pretty much down for the count.)

Desperately Hanging onto Summer

In a last ditch effort to hang on to summer, we headed to St. George this weekend with our friends the Smiths. What more can you ask for than a sunny 85 degrees?

 

And now, back home. Bummer, dude.

Once Again. The Sutherlands, Model of Healthy Eating

Paige: Can I have some salt and vinegar chips with my pancakes?

Me: Of course, sweetie.

Pretty Scary Skeleton

Getting in Touch with My Pelvic Floor

I didn’t even know I had a pelvic floor.

I only made one New Year’s resolution this year: to take a yoga class. Why? I don’t know. Maybe  because we have a gym at my work with free yoga classes. Maybe because I think it’s good to feel like a complete idiot every once in a while.

I did it. I took my first yoga class.

From the first 30 seconds of the class, I realized the biggest challenge would be keeping a straight face. Which was tough, with the instructor saying things like, “Breathe down through your core all the way to your toes, giving added focus to your pelvis. Feel it move. Feel it moving your body.”

I thought yoga was going to be all about stretching and positive thinking. But I soon learned that “plank” position is just a euphemism for “pushup” position, and suddenly I was transported to seventh grade gym class. By the class’ halfway mark, I was already sweating profusely and feeling really bad for whoever was sitting behind me, as my shirt was falling over my head and shorts were going who knows where.

Toward the end, we were sitting cross-legged with a goal of resting our heads on the floor. For those whose bodies were not capable of achieving such a thing, an alternative was offered. Bend as far as you can, and rest your head on a little green foam block. My foam block quickly turned into a seat-filled sponge.

With 15 minutes left in the class, I started thinking I might actually be able to make It to the end (with 30 minutes left, I was really worried that I would have to give up and leave). I was glad I stuck it out, because the last 10 minutes was just lying on our backs with our eyes closed. Sweet.

After the class ended, several of my co-workers/co-yoga-ers asked what I thought of my first experience. With a dazed look on my face, I replied, “I’m not sure what just happened to me.”

Still confused, I walked into the locker room. One glance in the mirror and I noticed something odd. Green letters written backwards on my forehead.  Argh! The foam block.

The next day, I said to one of my friends, “Did you notice the writing on my forehead?”

“Yeah. But I figured you’d had a tough enough time in class that I didn’t need to say anything.”

Namaste.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf vs. Mike Tyson's Punchout

Watching General Conference this morning...


ME: His name is Dieter F. Uchtdorf. He's from Germany.

PAIGE: I know someone else who's from Germany.

ME: Yeah? Who?

PAIGE: Von Kaiser.