tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14777493856295283872024-03-14T01:06:02.835-07:00Hangin With The HillsJared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-6568324385727942252010-05-29T20:23:00.000-07:002010-05-29T21:31:23.192-07:00End of School Extravaganza<div align="center">This week Mikkena threw the 1st annual end of school bash. She decided to go to Classic Skating and eat pizza. She brought 4 of her best 5th grade buddies so they can celebrate thier new freedom and plan how to dominate next year. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476899531248102994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgspGHvPtOvxtoPc4K7bfwxa9GlKPKgjnt8mn_IUtG56CKHJYTQ2QK1lvhCGksTNngc21PXuyW9JGRBHw-kmLFKIok-JvBE60cgcRDiDUSloWBgabiCWu79-ErShRDu6jOUreIL-1uKbjFQ/s320/102_0171.JPG" /><br />First they needed to dominate the rink. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476899505463802450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JG1JYKzzt1yoOKDjbLMy5tHqZU5seJZDHhSecHvNs84A6BOamRfovTA8rlpHGRO7oOk1b89mvbLmDm2jsRFk9vFWiulvbwZEHppK8J_YKhzHLknEOYOsKQIlQF3DeJUQqzW6_ztkadFk/s320/102_0144.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476899524333380642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIKFfZaCysrPFnrCQl2gftvFMFqmJLW2daWAht-jcoyA5gzxXFEae2v1iCM1KRn9yq3Ji_I8JJP4_dH3G3dpfB6jQUcEzX8tLRf1qzSDVSAd1C9CLTPn1bxNGF2-AyvU32Pcb6vF4_-dg/s320/102_0168.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900303233220034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jljLTIqPeSbGalOr5HV5fCzZnDca2eltCaQnl1Um3LpxsFdFqz9woa2q68kOsxmy7L6uuu6BQ8CN2KpCVZmryJETePh9i7KF0NmrFhKRQBIX0RhMDn3avX_VrGqADZRVd8cbrBramwGm/s320/102_0138_edited.JPG" /> The party was crazy, especially because 11 year-olds will be 11 year-olds.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476899515427783938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgeX-lr0BdDE7SpKwNJYl4X0l4kU9RwsNAEnxtZENvOGyz_5xtMa7SbBjVL-eOmlObXsxofnmgiN0p4PsDkMXitCyplvBhcKu2VUVR1OQ-qi1XqXCetQxdW4ArsdoJxpYCvcXbLMvNgbp/s320/102_0150_edited.JPG" /> I swear the party was booze free.<br /><br />I think that 11 is a little young to be self conscious, but that shows how much I know about being a girl.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900283876108226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KO38xoOsQnwQMGoNFv7RPSrp-Ax1u7iz77r6YkiicGLCu9HFjZeE3AoxQNNF0Q9eDcFMHtOId30DCAMil-af1kQjWn3h6XC61XMWTMpam0WcprPIJ_B66b76g7Z9FRJ_5gzVEe8zKNfs/s320/102_0151_edited.JPG" /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900277378768962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5csfzMCCdDqLaoswPAsJ77-p_M5wgMIRd44yfbA9f9-tuoIXMe1nZSit0jBK1tFoJYWc9xkafSize-l5VfVuN6DZeBgMvJscZrRfBO-NsyAnvW7lbukYCG3zA73VojFHudfVkljuGcQqv/s320/102_0160_edited.JPG" /><br /><br />Classic Skating had a safety sign where they recommended that individuals over 25 not skate (true story). At first I was offended, then I realized they were right when I busted the funky hitch hiker and it aggravated my osteoporosis.<br /><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476900314044028066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8mWNkVJE7WsUUxXuGCvSokoJmWqBhH3DNS1oHK9vXblDO6xHFXzRUSFp02u8eUdKvqO_sFjzzsd6dAlky8oVF0nhYlsfQZcTust6MscGZsbZWUk2WWoPHubQQs-lA-0NqF53tqiaUZwT6/s320/102_0183.JPG" /><br />I can't tell whether that girl behind me is scared or impressed. Who am I kidding? I knew the answer to that before I asked it. Definitely impressed.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476899496543150706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEOhYnCmL347tZnvJ7GuRckBUqrJOwPjtLLc-0xE4Xv_pKsYEFkeWx_2BBfLAU_a5W6g9_x_Vzwerjs2I-WEJG1tpgOFpzthAQhOxoQ2Sf18igjYVBobAPS-NC_fQAmk18rSpuQMciXj9d/s320/102_0139_edited.JPG" />If any of you haven't seen Amber skate, you are missing out. She is amazing. I fell in love a second time. I'm sure Mikkena can't wait to have Amber and me back for next year. Every 11 year old would love to have us crash their party. <div><div><div><div><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-26868408538884995282010-02-21T02:01:00.000-08:002010-02-21T02:58:28.485-08:00There's no family bond like crazy, frozen family bond<div align="center">This year Mikkena asked if she could join my polar plunge team to earn money for the Special Olympics of Utah. I knew she didn't really know what she was asking, so I hurried and got her to commit before she found out. I have always been a compassionate and responsible father. "It's not too bad is it dad?" "Nope, not too bad".<br /></div><div align="center"> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440635754960677730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9Lwy0PrPmI57DarMsAz4oujqX9M0APuC00an3HBbV2rPGNx3lZlsABMfiL13iDHSQjUvX3C38u4TEvXPOc0hStv6EN1xysldiktyIDVL0Xi4hgoAAHHaq-EpVKeRRTyMYN26QjgrEzmI/s320/100_2189.JPG" /><br />This year we decided to try the plunge at Deer Creek reservoir so that we could jump in a freezing lake that is not radioactive like Utah lake, although, we were unprepared for the difference in temperature. We left sunny Utah county to arrive in this garden paradise.<br /> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440635760539406210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrmhfRSt6diB26kXB4nTsh2Gw_YrDhcy9HJycFDw7Llh5Ojg0CC-gc7rBc2t0uizm0Yeryi1wFoQeGfUHphGZt2_Kw2Uc8Vho6vzbiB6TNSCK8DhzB_73RaEcAYHZLgR4vBDo8lWaTk7S/s320/100_2195.JPG" /><br />Just like any other decision I make in life, the trick is to run like a drunken caveman and jump before reality sets in.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440635770304383282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpSrPq5I66xiXL9utzot67wMHBQUi6o_ibD32swifoJ2poZ-v45ZHVS-sXj_DwPkrtGok9_s4INoMcHqoBNfjfxqIF_E6W15JqPvTm-QCjqZ8ME78WKcfADx-uvJvVuQwSDhtI043wjnpO/s320/100_2196.JPG" />Mikkena handled it like a pro! When I paused out of sheer terror, she yelled, "come on dad, we just need to do this! Don't think about it!" So we did it, and I didn't think about it, and then my brain froze and I couldn't think about it. That's why this picture shows me shoving Mikkena's face into the ladder. Mikkena's brain froze too, and that's why she is not using the ladder.<br /><div>Thanks, wet suit guys, for all the help. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440635783820852098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5g-ZTBcMzALs2IpHnI_btd0aQklOivDO5vTBn2unMC92D4sllNEPtmVTu91GKJN5k6IkMOhJj8KCWrmH183ZEcXuimTgDwY3ENMGm-qA7iQ6667OLCIXHzy-ZT6Fs2FcOGVGyJBJ1YCx/s320/100_2198.JPG" />I'm proud of my little girl! She followed through when five other members of my team chickened out. All in all, we raised close to $400 for the Special Olympics. Special thanks to our fearless camera chick, Amber "I have no interest in doing that" Hill. It's just like they say, the family that jumps into a frozen lake together stays together. <div></div></div><br /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-24123185648800353832010-01-02T13:40:00.000-08:002010-01-02T14:44:01.501-08:00New Friends<div align="center">It's a good thing we have a built in baby sitter, because we have some new friends that will be staying with us for a while. </div><div align="center"> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422261936671998914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpOWutoDM4in1I9zthiXXzGEeT5p6RtHppXRMxHjHCP6-zKz9WHIyZwFm0ye9XFoWj8LkgC3gsG7DfjalPSdX_AoBeC85vzzf70s4K0Exl0AaUPjX0LIdj5ZFIhzhI62V3CUNgNBr-jfU/s320/100_2027.JPG" />When she complains about changing diapers, I remind Mikkena of the disappearing ipod epidemic that occasionally puzzles this area of Eagle Mountain. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I would like to introduce you to our new friends. Here is Maricruz (Mari).<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422261958770563314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgb8qM1r9io8THBgj4vz9EVzZHHFMiU-Hs131QYK8iogr_C1ImbqL0SaJgFRgjz_GrgYGPFVio3HLK1fyEozCyLB8alnavi35gcP4jg-xt0FlJJzCCkNUxvD2fUiBf36N1heazbtKH4Cux/s320/100_2047.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422263109129800850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQf_V9ztPlY2mQ2fkomrTUskpZgHYlHb_iig4eATG0Y8_KrKI67QYeGy2rJpPp8SVIRrMyx_LK8X-ZKHGIgy-FTGQNtTNKN2cKkN9bR6vrrghod1SkkcTnZtpKy0D26q7Z9dV5mnvzZzdU/s320/100_2018.JPG" /> Mari is 5 years-old and turning 6 in February (as I am reminded several times a day). Mari is in kindergarten and likes to play with friends, particularly boys. Mari likes to ride her bike and is very kind. She also likes to eat a large variety of foods. We took her to Olive Garden and she didn't like her pasta so she asked if she could just eat the rest of the Calamari. Sure, all the 5 year-olds are doing it. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Next....it's Andrea!</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422263125546575442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyYlgr9JS_Z3eiCKDO2iQbDUV_mDg6x81aek0bka-J76JK31-3XbBVj3m9x4dC89e89lIuTGx54KTGNT6lOOgBzYNSu82T9Dl_ys46_g7UMZgyiC6wIuktAkg38jFxi_X9m-eYZxw-hge/s320/100_2062.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422261950013940866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOU3BogYKzbA90JIdii6tsqLOjGDeRdBpDyqNmRi8NbEyvx4L-4ehcCszVy97-WbW91HOSiByF0viTBL4pKGGcPrQAzbqG5fkRZZ2gvtv1-NFng-WPVGbSwpP5TRODocitgDNPw9h_2MuF/s320/100_2044.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422263103598942050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCnuNxc__sIHuqSclZ35CsR34YGNPPQci-nvigbTVJPKQtD9uw3UbJVE12bUMUP8AtYmRAT0nl6YcTFS7ipSQmpMx4_qlJmbFXJgAo70Qj0ZaNS-rOkBtrI1oasJIyxMVpjS-VlrF_wXE/s320/100_2035.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422263095580736754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimysLVkkZEsueIBCNFNbJJ_It9TcnyT-4bN_qe6xUORBFR2xeiMn-7ZIruoNRQL8TEkeZpCSODdF3jWvNj8zYYdcdyvDQy_4931QgIv5zll9fM8qirC14cCiPzLVYR4uYMySglhuSwaNAD/s320/100_2009.JPG" /><br />Andrea is 3-years-old and is a bundle of energy. She likes to dress up and she hates to take naps. Andrea is very adept at stalling or coming up with plans to get out of nap time. The other day Andrea came up the stairs and announced that although she really wanted to, she couldn't take a nap because "someone" had locked her out of her room. That's sneaky smart and it almost worked.</p><p align="center">Andrea has been working on her pronunciation and has recently learned how to say the "k" sound. Now she always asks for Cake. "I get it if I can say it" that logic works for me too.<br /></p><div align="center"> Annaly (Annie)<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422263115525838162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMQmwb2U3M45NAY9oKPo1590ac4roLJwoKUknO2JqfJ3I_E5NdqAvQiEDuP6iufA_rox7JiTuDmJOUCqZDNs1rhQ9lMQAgCDmhsR1G9aFsQPZAOyjJ9QjpppBHK23O5YYqNiyMCfxVn4C/s320/100_2057_edited.JPG" /><br />Annie is 19 months, and her favorite activity is eating. I haven't yet found a food item (or non-food item) that she doesn't like to eat. She also tries all means at her disposal to stop from falling asleep. Right when she starts to close her eyes she jolts awake and starts yelling. She also enjoys shoes and being clean.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422261943645122418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWa5Jy_NCHKGSw54uTk374bfZXXsW_xXfUlz5OVxsPnHS_yj9ixT5PAk7_QlcW2HrGJwDiik192NDHxmIj0rD2kgkpa-QW4X1kCw4Lgj9qDjSGH8tQhxqRlQTINCeG0pDt4WUIuj1nAHld/s320/100_2033.JPG" /><br /> This is the sign Annie makes whenever I want to take a picture of her. I think it means "feed me long and prosper".<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422261926833859042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnJhnU2klFCIH1otxBYG13diWwkYg450nt2VsgONaNvwfUYiruHPOAiVnof7mdLrC8VBU24xRhoSg120rGky9PKaVXv2HnBh0EXypAV5-hFeZmWdiPKalxd4-wF_OyNFzdc2JoDj2Xj5M/s320/100_2003.JPG" /><br />Because she is too interested in what everyone else is doing to sleep, she is tired alot. Other than rubbing her eyes she also picks her nose when she is tired. When we first got her she would cry for 45 min to 2 hours to avoid taking a nap. Now she yells, "mama" for 5 minutes and then she's out. Thank goodness for that. Amber is a nap training genius. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br />Even though everyone told us how different our life was going to be with three little kids, I didn't realize how different our life was going to be with three little kids. I have a new found respect for all the parents of large families. We are more tired, cranky, happy, fulfilled and spiritual than we've ever been.</div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-61312357128319166872010-01-02T12:56:00.000-08:002010-01-02T14:53:49.266-08:003 mini snow noobs<div align="center">While Amber and Mikkena were off having Mama-Daughter time. I decided to take the little girls on thier first wilderness adventure....sledding!<br /></div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422250426409329522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3ngwH7JtzS2ykATi8_sBj-neS0i4mstWLuKY6LpwUyCy-_Xsy_zsoPbjSll8Y2RPtR3n6HoODjoLWnuiLVt_RgA1Yy_VKctk_qgTYgyUBKtdcat71g6VBnGY-694aCFlszPN5zcqdtci/s320/100_2088.JPG" />We were very excited.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422250422723112210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsCVI9ra_iiD0SSdW66AiSCC73a72ggWg7ZX3FwWUPLskieh5VBu6aVWrjBAvtCFNrsFRcHpRU-QW51dkKtKs49A0i_4id37ifeqx9ExowO-k_nrz8cFihENTyp3L2ezVqAIwV4MHPtUw/s320/100_2091_edited.JPG" /><br />Even the Belgian Garden Gnome was excited, and she rarely gets excited for anything other than treats and clean diapers.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422251845230208018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEWipjqAhsg6QPBu4NEmVrUNV5-cRZaDONUoi-mXh8vLPGdliGepHCRw_1Kfjr8IAkU0iLYYSnPKBBhxyIpiJFhrqPRg-AcJdZlmWxGzpjy0Zs2kGsZeQfjcok2xXue3pnJiG9Nmhul65/s320/100_2107_edited.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422250433462227730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdYKGfmgxcKSnCJWhpdz-ufsp46KcO9lh3NKCxDgjpnrBnKHzcYf1mw3avEeu82uw7hONvQQ3nXdwgNRfX2YblaApyXmjQUaJoCzYD5LQzymm_IUmWMG4Vu1BSBGu0Zh0Vnr1TMZpccTJ/s320/100_2099_edited.JPG" /><br />As you can see from the snow pants and cowboy boots and the XXXLarge baby gloves we embarked without getting fashion approval from the boss lady.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422250449588472194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQy-IOdR9vQkg-wfiVg4lKQJa7vyrJG4Ph6P_pyvM2RKpUNR0-0n9f7kvmJYLe619W0jz7i_8_EJJwVbREbJeN4TAw19EkFEEa2f99EypejhQ0d1vNjctChqm8cINshz_Reglbu6LZfaSC/s320/100_2094.JPG" />We had a lot of fun, but what I didn't anticipate is that people that just learned to walk don't walk well on deep unstable frozen surfaces. Or maybe Annie learned how to walk from a marshmallow robot, at least that's what she looked like.<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422250442476769218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwbVvWNIdVd3A7awCBlqM60PFsjWd-BPzyRq9khaXFtnsEkgI2roUPu3jwMutzJojBT4IRPSP4bsoB8g4rqsXCHkL8Dyxupsusq6q_gRtcuEma3q3egZg9RvDVWpB3l2kTCr80wEbwsnJ/s320/100_2097_edited.JPG" />She did a lot of this. Step one: take picture. Step two: help baby.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422251856706879234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhSnjMhWmeua4WZSPiypiOMr7E92WBkhq57JTadWBfXQuIR_cenNE9cEj8uRqYWKoFkhYVuuSoAJdw25RRfnztB5mN6BfV08CsQG2lAv3NvrWgtIAgCFp6lHc1WvXQRi8GvMDmLMg7khF/s320/100_2109_edited.JPG" />Fun?<br /><div></div></div><br /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-48354734851099525452009-10-10T15:01:00.000-07:002009-10-10T19:32:13.008-07:00Horror in Your Brother-in-law's BasementMove over Nightmare on 13th. We don't even want to hear about the Haunted Forest. We're here to bring you.............<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;">The Basement of Despair!!!!!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;">Starring:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"><br /></div></span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391096449090551138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XaM8OLsE4NiDbAD2eLS6RjovH73kLu0SwRYQ07uXsJXynUm3ihn0S-azSo2CzK9lOGgzrZX81lEuj9kqS_hHC40I3NlLXbMG-sSH4iAQs_o2OVVPSfiMd8vrM2wMYYgQJay3lvrfXtkH/s320/100_1897_edited.JPG" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center">Mikkena as the Undead Disco Witch looking for her R-E-S-P-E-C-T</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></div></span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391096459629028146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyARzkQYF5-QOAmtFUUoSRi8vi32xB4T9Byuxta9NF9s7S8G-GO6aUOmU4dDaOhyphenhyphensyIvGCVjrPDnO3LTTPr7krDTeeZsGIgkJCGl3E2O02Kgteh-Hd-s-LEe-m95YBEEJYDFRq_gkQrhY/s320/100_1896.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center">Alexis as the Maid and Paisley as the Ghost Baby</div><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391096440797525634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjbAvhT1-vBsJElNQOehL594WQob-PkC0r1037lDaV-A91llgJUFbUd24b_5P15Li33hNAJGG6M6Rb18LIwC7Ox2euse1YhK-xvsNWdymuncI_q1NOt7iInPGlQlMhAP2lHVslC730Qqe/s320/100_1894.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Tagan as the Mini Protector<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB9ToTg2RpRIbGThYBCikzGrjbd8o2WSlghIOY-BabhNufX0O2N-lgkv3mV5iDRmiEpioj7ff1fO-tvTYzvVaA7rJ7RY-twlzu4AvjjX0GYbr7VmR2QyElVrkWOJWkYWx7pnqCq4WS1WN/s1600-h/100_1891.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391096431653991186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB9ToTg2RpRIbGThYBCikzGrjbd8o2WSlghIOY-BabhNufX0O2N-lgkv3mV5iDRmiEpioj7ff1fO-tvTYzvVaA7rJ7RY-twlzu4AvjjX0GYbr7VmR2QyElVrkWOJWkYWx7pnqCq4WS1WN/s320/100_1891.JPG" /></a> And Deacon as the Spooky Butler<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Come Visit.....If you dare!<br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzvrdKYi9KBywxl1XTrF44lxgXGQ6ekU2XjRRGXvooCv4KyGIkpQhCMCXYacljTbAeNlE56ViEwW4oVysDHSw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-34743980382511568862009-07-19T19:18:00.000-07:002009-07-19T22:28:20.967-07:00How to BOOM without the Buck<div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360371944742243810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaHX1ubkhdk8fjQJ8u6TAh0ukO4oCkC2saE9Yzx5VHUtGZkDwasfr3WCEDtLRcJQiutN8hODuM_-t9eye-M-kaG86JR1RqyLcYWtYEW7YyK0mW2_cbQHY-8hDHdegHkqnmODEPS46VLtC/s320/100_1718.JPG" /> One look at the $350 "bargain" priced firework package at Walmart and I knew I was in trouble. What's a poor college family with a hankerin for blowing stuff up going to do? Was Independence day over before it even began? Not if you're hanging with the Hills. We don't let being financially challenged stop us from making things go BOOM! Especially if we have some duct tape.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360371954617603634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_BQCcFYVH1zvE-AiCPR5DxHien0FaQMTk0DsuRkBvPZcR2Fdfbn09XZ-NmF0JXBZi8_VIGkGROuM03Ck_dvGPOVcX7CS83GsR-t_5N0zJrnHn6DTi5Xttc6mPJAGuDxspBQC749X5oxo/s320/100_1720.JPG" /> My Nephew Xander and I settled on a rock solid design for a rocket and tested it for launch.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">It worked pretty good. See for your self. WARNING: Only the first 20 seconds of the video is relevant to rocket launching. The last part of the film is my artsy film director's (Mikkena) riveting documentary on child seating order during rocket launches. As you will soon see, Paisley will let Cody sit by her next time. </div><br /><div align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyOrvQqsJT_2YMVVRmppDWNU49F0LILHpi8uv7LZiuiGsD_JUz7xm4Jr3Fvv5Fi9YlC3I4hya1WzpcdQY-7VA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360371969487230898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubXZ6te0Hh6Q_lgLnmqd5w2VRcf7D8jtmdqooi2q5Pg9juJ9Z1TS_1bROClO-SxHo2CjkmXiRCQigPhHyBvHSQ5NljzAP4jMDYLUYB55sexm94yMlj73HMUskVWT6WOArlCmJ4sFjrNaw/s320/100_1756.JPG" /> </div><br /><div align="center">Apparently our "rock solid" design wasn't as rock solid as we thought. That's why I'm in school for counseling and not engineering. Look at Tagen's face, I think he's judging me.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360387425503857122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2RcpXKZeFol904rJbrMg2VjPFQ1q0LJmfuGtgHI-Vejon5IeWdGzOqfctrx_cpC3mGbj3PTkFrqV4Cx1L_GtGzELnvmB6HB9CTL-dVitm_lPE1d1rMgsKaMUnx_Nqre_6fU6ognkEMKt/s320/100_1744.JPG" /></p><br /><p align="center"></p>After we got tired of shooting things in the air we decided to throw stuff at each other. The game started out boys versus girls, that is until my first water balloon smashed Elyse in the face. We then rearranged the teams so that it was everyone against me. I lost.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360387411266411186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqS6JYl2VJWLcwj4EYuO4c83Co8-7Fdnb1NdNc_aN5gNbvcGiMKAOf8oex0S-PUTAF6KdHX0fRbhcKcO6iXyiGaVqfK8z4ZjJJov0aqasw2c-O6NKZc47ziXi6okzKT0rv7jpE9jLUb7a/s320/100_1729.JPG" /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360400996062671554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxf8PP-sGnnDH5KQkDUwQeMsRov4JoiGIqNc4z3qb7HoYPAQekfbHaKw1RtxwBP9lQ5gL0aUpMBrm6O_mgqNHmi3cDrYr0baUx-HHUe91wIb049XVPGlGL4C16qkKttRUgGwQA_-gf5pnp/s320/100_1739.JPG" /><br />Elyse rushing me from behind posed a challenge, luckily I blocked it with my third hand conveniently protruding from my left hip.<br /><p align="center"><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360387419508810866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXTDsdSQlK9SAVJA-Bz-xo2ABD9eZ5F9gn6jP2U2jnGvxCG2obUJ6GFmwRNi3-1LciiY-fi3zBgmyygJR5kxl-UOV1RfHNIloFdQCj4wFBAwJ77Ni_juWD4caKVE1KFT6284XgoffQuri/s320/100_1732.JPG" /><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360393923998988802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-0X5tijR7t0DWQp1wVd82QiOpfe_mnszg2UrtuWQhwWDSbwAqWX4aWATdbjXTYZEY0NmtBP2LI5vE-FWoYU-TZmgHSWucTEq_91e-y6ajMQvZzOB8USYS04iIk16RQB0z47yY7aaim-I/s320/100_1746.JPG" /><br />Let's just say the coolest part of our day was not the fireworks.</div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-60174020143914922602009-07-03T22:05:00.000-07:002009-07-04T08:27:31.740-07:00She's BAAAAAAAACK!<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4L5kAXX9Koiy9Hia3FC13nGGHAStPNF3A19jQSG8IZT6phhFNEGDdy432uk2OG-ZyBN-buvqZ2uDYDPLc1Kai6NX35uBTKlQp-F0MOvqIxFijcMOkiCMM2QZ66yf-m-XdeQ16XJh1p6nO/s1600-h/100_1698.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4L5kAXX9Koiy9Hia3FC13nGGHAStPNF3A19jQSG8IZT6phhFNEGDdy432uk2OG-ZyBN-buvqZ2uDYDPLc1Kai6NX35uBTKlQp-F0MOvqIxFijcMOkiCMM2QZ66yf-m-XdeQ16XJh1p6nO/s320/100_1698.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br /><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center">Don't let her "Where's the beef?" look or her snaggle-tooth-canine grin fool you. This is not a dog, it's a baby. First, she's 5 pounds, she's carried every where she goes, she shakes when she's cold or scared and..... </div><br /><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354474596313491218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7qZ7XpKjqUst0G5oy6prbWmjA9M2-KR5m3b8tlQudOaDvTzFR0RsrxdlRhSBujfGx8YRLtRBEJcXmPU5F8Jhq_o3EE958fVSwhU6b5wygVW2hyphenhyphenkE-RYiQHYJji73k-89dEMJtqscYSkH/s320/100_1697_edited.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div align="center">She goes on walks being pushed in a stroller. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center">This is just getting sad. If Amber doesn't get pregnant soon we are going to have a zoo. </p><br />For those of you who don't remember Roxy's story check out my July 8th, 2008 post. Roxy was not in very good shape when we found her, and she is very fortunate that the Birchalls took such great care of her over the past year. Her breath has been officially downgraded from suffocating to poo-poo and she has gained 2 pounds (that's nearly half of her body weight). Well, she fits in our condo, and we love her. Mikkena really, really loves her.<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">PLUS!</span><br /></div><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354483135504808018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQ9RSgbTusVnRRB0fv8o77TKeKUfmSLB2pEbGnJCAAa-54MLYnBYz0n-zxuZcZ2Sk8NqdbtjLNKYSfDK2F9m_YXwi4If4MUNs6wLzkv38iYfaodCCYb53EKzGrbZhuhtg3E-TeH08GRwP/s320/IMG_0841.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p></p><br /><p align="center">I lifted this photo of my nephew Marcus off of my sister's (Adrienne) blog. I'm just surprised how much they are pushing the limits of infant fashion down in Kentucky. I thought cleavage showing peep-holes were reserved for the red carpet. I've tried a similar look, but mine was met with less enthusiasm. </p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354485637320483794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsoAvvqYoVKxRdIR3TeW8fpv6k9jZwB-oMwR0w0btG4ioIKRDnkT3wdLwacpXx5KB0FIxnPq7jwM9VLw_Gwo3SUAJADwEiROAqlwxxD5xQMgBduSiCBULPv1H5F15YbmvBt0OfrWLrLiM/s320/plumbers20crack1nj.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">Crack is wack!</p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-8580939126946802962009-07-03T21:52:00.000-07:002009-07-03T22:30:14.163-07:00The work begins..........<div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvDUect6q0aiCim0_c-eXOIoSLytOYw3fvDKLgWe0YJizj424qOf8F0OQsvqR5n1tNXEGfk2RBW-TrE2DYY_rhJKku8HkoosyEnPAz0AlHcj3r9x3sE4donbdGrFIt89bLODotpSFEJKc/s1600-h/100_1684.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvDUect6q0aiCim0_c-eXOIoSLytOYw3fvDKLgWe0YJizj424qOf8F0OQsvqR5n1tNXEGfk2RBW-TrE2DYY_rhJKku8HkoosyEnPAz0AlHcj3r9x3sE4donbdGrFIt89bLODotpSFEJKc/s320/100_1684.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"></div><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center">This week my youngest brother, Zach (you may remember him as the puking peep contest winner), left on a mission to Singapore. Before he left, he went on a 4 day lecture tour (he was <em>receiving</em> the lectures). His final stop was my house where I proceeded to deliver a two hour power point presentation on how to be a good missionary (only partly true). I figure I was fulfilling my two-part role as the oldest brother. I beat him up for the first 19 years of his life, now I get to spend the rest of the time telling him what to do. If he's smart, he'll forget half of the crap I told him and just work hard and have faith. I'm proud of you Zach! I can't wait to hear all about your time in Singapore. That is, if you can make it out of the MTC alive. </div><br /><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center">If any one wants to follow Zach's journey check out the link on my blog list thingy. </div><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"> </div><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"> </div><div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354472608910382450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBwE7O7oT28_Ctd-07796jB-1e5kTc-4qjFI7HFalIQoG-JVxnr_s_tKRjH-mBGFhtEQi8pB-E5mNZwtMXkJuJO4IZifvSkdEE3fbep3ST1U0nxIAmkjLX-jw-_z4hpZuvO9nSucV9SvH/s320/100_1676.jpg" border="0" /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-90306064632967512282009-05-17T12:09:00.000-07:002009-05-17T12:29:12.077-07:00Missing Jane<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKW9BLGqpTta8jApKRXB9Qy5qU1rCa0VG1kpHEB1tFhUnOWodZCuIh8nAcbRQjyzUO43bjSp-B2wmY6jabWWainSjIHx2wficvcV5_bGe-Yi7POUD8uF2OMsLP5r5F0n6D-seBHw5brdHb/s1600-h/edited+grandma.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336876121012465394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKW9BLGqpTta8jApKRXB9Qy5qU1rCa0VG1kpHEB1tFhUnOWodZCuIh8nAcbRQjyzUO43bjSp-B2wmY6jabWWainSjIHx2wficvcV5_bGe-Yi7POUD8uF2OMsLP5r5F0n6D-seBHw5brdHb/s320/edited+grandma.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggj5_2URjQLq1gT739rZsUZEsGcbX5rxiW2HuJnP0quqrxaQSBmyn7B5ZU6qOvU2zwDCMONSkG-qWCbkRKDgcViGsM0AW351J8MXOrETSDfRHQqR8sygAYl61rM9-A1GQthfsTLiazXLG/s1600-h/100_1626.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336874753174836290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggj5_2URjQLq1gT739rZsUZEsGcbX5rxiW2HuJnP0quqrxaQSBmyn7B5ZU6qOvU2zwDCMONSkG-qWCbkRKDgcViGsM0AW351J8MXOrETSDfRHQqR8sygAYl61rM9-A1GQthfsTLiazXLG/s320/100_1626.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>This week our beloved Grandmother Jane returned to her Heavenly Father. I cannot say enough kind words about her. She was a wonderful, caring, loving, and spunky lady. She truly enriched our lives and we will miss her.<br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336874747819451954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHyCZ6uDeIzaSQQBlv_WpRdvQqiL8A6XvWopzasT3pJLz56CSBy50Xf3K8WXKCEKGL_tT7413ppsNojXa3rfs8OocSN3QRQuqrlHfYzbcupnvZTC5SaxnP8xRQoAgXHiPARuEXzGjKomH/s320/100_0948.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336874744067214354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkkDm0UYd0xLodJ4cFV1Tnk9Lcu2WcwVOeKWIPjJyPQOTJN6MvskDLSnRUXT_nFCeYfYMxMnQmwBFP2c0Ub5x0Od3Hb2-KNbJvsvwxqHKWQJCBwGnpGDicf-kq8cd9F2UFTkYS1Dz8RhFm/s320/100_0258.jpg" border="0" /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336874756735028642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKj_ioFedCbzrnHZzUI1HeOMK91b4OGHmGQ-mJR4RmBpKX9yf5ZYhhdkpcam0VKq06tpEjCTtizLo4goCEFbKDvd5emMKjgip5j8gTEvwijAry_H6CPJmGlkQqj1qlvCU9CJzdWQGa7wRe/s320/100_1638.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336876125537924466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZHvxTgSJj-p5BD76un9k_l3zasMLO90-vYsy8q6L6A8ogeXKrghsKDQESk22XgTuY-UkLB46OOOX5u4SR9oC_qV-ainNNVwX2b8_oAdRNAdt6kwI8HcVumeNwbnA3Y_NWB2B8jBSFdeA/s320/100_0259.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336876132125685714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFP1uVTMbOD3F_FovSV-3iznB-jC1_FWcIOKFAWg4Up2VkrUaSYmBJqDvwrQ46b-frVuun3TNagP9S-s374DJMn8HjanaPK6zUdrrjchvFg16gCnDTvGzwkd3uOK9LoBBb9KpYvXWzMED5/s320/100_1139.jpg" border="0" />Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-55929482440226729952009-05-17T11:22:00.000-07:002009-05-17T12:07:50.031-07:00Annie's revenge<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajNc_7E4YW8-qRRivHN2P-SgFJ45mRWbG6dMh_4f0llJpctvF1ZTMPqAVnLK_Eyc98sfj_86zxy2t222LkkYThL2u0nZENCOcKguYvgboYtD1ylbHYv6BcRmiLBj1WBBw3RDdk5QixL6L/s1600-h/appendix.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336864725525296434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajNc_7E4YW8-qRRivHN2P-SgFJ45mRWbG6dMh_4f0llJpctvF1ZTMPqAVnLK_Eyc98sfj_86zxy2t222LkkYThL2u0nZENCOcKguYvgboYtD1ylbHYv6BcRmiLBj1WBBw3RDdk5QixL6L/s320/appendix.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Last Thursday Amber's appendix (Annie) decided to make her presence known. She was tired of always being under-appreciated and considered a useless vestigial organ. She had her 15 minutes of fame, and we all paid attention. But sadly, this move ultimately led to her demise. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336864726979874114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLwyRCWI96Qpzo3fwMFJnRZ5eB__J0HNVIZg2qL9RUf3mt-xUKjhURnnoiH5jalCkL_M4d57em6nXYVF3RVjOi8gNV0uPkwPaPjI03WhMgj2cg66Emo6xfdSB_k7FkAiQ5-HfLj2u9ybv/s320/100_1657.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div>Amber came home from spending time preparing her grandmother, who had recently passed away, for her funeral, when she began complaining of stomach pains. She told me that it was the worse pain she had ever felt and told me that she needed an ambulance. I then gave the expert advice of "maybe we should just wait it out". We compromised and Amber let me drive her to the emergency room. It's a good thing she had her eyes closed so she didn't see me driving 75 MPH in a 40 MPH zone, or the 3 stop lights I ran. Mikkena noticed. Sorry Mikkena. </div><div> </div><div>We arrived at the emergency room at 11:00 at night. After 4 hours of blood tests, CAT scans, puking, and prodding, Amber was admitted to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. Sorry Annie, maybe you should have just used your words. </div><div> </div><div>At least Amber got to eat hospital food, which in her case is a good thing. We want to thank every one for your help and your visits, especially Sherine, Todd and Brandi. Thanks for taking care of Mikkena while we were having fun. </div></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-90557303850754834392009-04-11T21:47:00.000-07:002009-04-11T23:35:29.988-07:00puking peeps for perfect chocolate<div align="center"><div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEPg6jk-TeZ1JBRdh2HOYkozcAXT013u2CxqpWIoMeLXE_2D1If8y84fdcSVj1Lm6uTERjmOPm1zBCHy9Ljxb4Avlbs83fn0cJeYbnLoxu82ALMglKnDBaWqncIDGVLu3bNFzGmeuX2ci/s1600-h/100_1468.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323663181133426898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEPg6jk-TeZ1JBRdh2HOYkozcAXT013u2CxqpWIoMeLXE_2D1If8y84fdcSVj1Lm6uTERjmOPm1zBCHy9Ljxb4Avlbs83fn0cJeYbnLoxu82ALMglKnDBaWqncIDGVLu3bNFzGmeuX2ci/s320/100_1468.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>The quest for the perfect chocolate budget bunny continues! I decided to sacrifice my body yet again for the noble goal of saving Mikkena's Easter from bad chocolate.<br /><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323664871718482914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbk7XG0X7eVwKgsp0L63sxb0V_K4lW-Tf67P6rIAluJX-p39L2tJaXRVcVPZdrR4nBpX_MkMUdM9bn_nO3wc2_scvTQATARplS9pIZFGBE6x_cez-0OS0wsvR8BmIwyN2H5m-BJqzhfJM/s320/100_1454.jpg" border="0" /><br />First on the list is Hershey's. Instead of the "Yummy" bunny we now have the "Speedy" bunny. The only place that bunny is speeding off to is the toilet. The chocolate tasted processed, and way too sweet. I couldn't eat more than a few bites. </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323685823210664562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClWVizU69bRXgoxVNwYbeheKR940X47LfdihYXavzXyww9g2uPjr5VYMeb-mYggwAchCKJZgQ7EZoFr2JyEazVVWdaSLLJ9iri5LBNysWfNXUqjtbGt_Supp8KzNt17sBkwkNmPYdThxe/s320/100_1460.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><br /></div><div>Next we have the Russel Stover milk chocolate bunny. The chocolate had a cheap consistency. It was hard, dry, and splintered when I bit into it. But this chocolate had more flavor than any other chocolate I have tasted. It had a very pleasant peanutty aftertaste. Definitely not too sweet. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323663179504934210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uniEQZSkoN_ZAE1uAyc7gvgzvXTlgEbAqLWfQH0crtUmze7zueSXxeX3qlntzkK9gxvA2gzH9HEvUpAiDaYqWLW2_94iwYiA99V-Ybk3gXXM68UtpWOcO9K8PvqAmhHZZjEdCYhL88Jw/s320/100_1464.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Last, we have the Lindt bunny. After eating this bunny I need to apologize about my disparaging comments towards hollow chocolate bunnies. I'm sorry mister Lindt bunny, I didn't know you were out there when I said those mean things. Can we still be friends? Needless to say Lindt makes good chocolate. It was soft, pliable and melted easily in my mouth. The chocolate was flavorful, and smooth. Just plain good. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>In order of worse to best the final list is:<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">5. Palmer's "Yummy" Bunny</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>4. Hershey's "Speedy" Bunny</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>3. Russel Stover's Milk Chocolate Bunny</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>2. Dove Milk Chocolate Solid Bunny</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>1. Lindt </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Final thought on chocolate bunnies: Families on extreme budgets should go for Russel Stover over Palmer and Hershey any day. That bunny is surprisingly tasty.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Now to the competition!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">I decided to break the competition into two categories. Adults and tweens. First to the Tweens. </div><br />For the Tween portion of the competition I thought it was best to use the new devil-colored peeps. It was a hard fought fight. The two big trash talkers (my nephews Cody and Tobin) came in tied for second place at 6 peeps a piece.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323671425907156770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97YMo3Nhe2DXMYTkZnB9Ui72jEYtfmQUAclpbqEu1SQMPumMpbCHmof8iaZczUykgDyAze9P_jZTG7LKArDB6yv1wCDXW7hzC5cAOEP1QS5_JSKY49azVZi2WdG2Twgs_OqfHgpVAAnlx/s320/100_1514.jpg" border="0" /> </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Tobin did win style points for his pre-smashed peeps strategy.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323672817859085042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AGB2sklDgj6apt5aghgkZ9pKTp9lzv_qgmm8xhiMHrOOC6I5RN17IOOz-_HnRdCsHAeskX9xQuMjDWetVtl7-lkUXWRiewOqkZBQxxoER1mSCllVfCwmXZugRXp6CZS0aeDjewoc71iG/s320/100_1478.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Cody also got some for the most disgusting stained-red teeth while drooling on his own hand picture.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323672820430940706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8EqVWaXrFYqCiMy7yr-6nIj8lWTgriIK9j2Pc6T2TOQzbFfqTODdIKmLuoh4kWrpY8EQVSOGB5YeKBAyjebSyLNWArt85HtcHAN_I_a90IyJ33wAGuejPXLl2zAMFfFqPgBsgDSDuQktZ/s320/100_1502.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br />But in the end they were beat out by Cooper and Mikkena who tied for first place with 7 peeps a piece.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323671427553509538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgthd0p3QUvpm8Bob9_8z2-AmfS8yh0fqUX-87CI3mvy-aPAS6HnJi0cPwQMG1Fgz84w05TeGCntRRBYgMTchv1d8y7BQPJoYXiUTOpmU7SzmzNUA3f9J6YQ5a72SSJh4HTgagLS1h20bwU/s320/100_1507.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center">I've never been more proud! And you thought it didn't look fun.<br /><br /></p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323673523909158658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsr4qnMfTTZCy-na5My7ueVNiOt-K99FdCujZgZVmS9xGHi_qbNcm9JoKYyVhn8FjLHWiPu0JqNVX5XjJaRmkKkAOU_ULi3u2mJ4SStGFa-hfPUJzx7LCJ9MTB0bOauV9bnTU1sM4ovEyS/s320/100_1523_edited.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><div align="center">Victory is sweet!<br /><br /></div><br /><p>Now to those who should know better.<br /><br /></p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323671434757490642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqovBKrtvZu6bpMKJ4f6k5FQ1-5pzZhAM0y2uEtZ4mZ4LrI8Ig6E6xxAmCxAlQ7CtuVBSLk2sB5E_KdUYWU-RYR5as25CJJk6YiE1QIkO3G6CJKmzkg_SzH99BYlOTIvRAU21ymEt28D_/s320/100_1491.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323678502382114626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_XbQ3kta0X37-ND41ERhoBio_47dXYaOvjjDgIubPJ2xboANI4YwWB3_KYLgrsJVHPAtoZCwlkdPrFwOohXhv4yVxzrIk87xiA8g2Zy6f1tM4gF8_leXMfXO4DJdEMW3VLQZPIK_lRcT/s320/100_1486.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">Look at that super couple. I got 10 peeps and Amber pulled off 5. </p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323678501496451618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 161px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxhPQ5NrGmWkevUhSm11UZtFhX85L8xkpGyk-7xzn5hf7e0iICveBtz1QK0w8lqOfE9_-JtAbaBz1rGTQrlPVdhuSHVv5nVSJ_4RDbI4p3O3FLtX7v-qQE93XewtiJiihXwpLDuKvfcV2/s320/th_marcoseastervisit006.jpg" border="0" />Adrienne, Nyssa, Zach and Sabin joined the contest from Las Vegas. Nyssa held down 3 and Adrienne held down 4. </p><br /><p align="center">It came down to a run off between the boys. Zach's previous record of 13 was shattered by the Army man pounding in one more. </p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323678506990558018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2s1Sc6MIdbItYjKGMF_Z_wFR4Lz_oK5h8HSWolyduXe-hfbAdBxBiB64LVbNx6Z0227POYGPCu205LAWfcDUGGgJmPI9N6ARFFKe7tjy27CBt7LxaYDzZWXE9d9l7TOM_AlpijSLflLGF/s320/th_marcoseastervisit029.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">Can the king of stupid-human contests pull of yet another victory from behind?</p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323678511537970530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNXOeUB83gU_iV-N4IHBQrgKZz2DNdakUn6SjxMPpATnFrNXbmwuMbdCPUb9E2xogUYMC7EszLioDfBXLzkRSOGMbPce1dj17AN1plEBx1v8dHn10DdFdHyu1RRezgQQoi8XqaUWdtPIdE/s320/th_peepscontest013.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">Yes he does! 15 peeps in the kisser. By the way Zach, this photo is going to bite you in the butt when you're trying to get the pretty ladies to write to you in Singapore. Just let them know that you are the proud winner of a Lindt chocolate bunny....to be mailed off shortly.</p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-40947595529483875842009-03-31T20:39:00.000-07:002009-03-31T21:51:18.041-07:00Saving Easter with my peeps<div><div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319563697820288338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZdlCmNdOYHdzUzo_gIb2MBaknoVxYbmiXt3dkSJkiheOv9cgbK3Z8OZTIlRMoBKt02ky-mvmO6TLD2jlR1TslPchq19D1VCW5AR1e7psof3F9OJ-g7asiXgnoOPnBna7GPrYvQ_M1RRM/s320/100_1446.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">Mikkena and I were walking through the Holiday section of Smiths when Mikkena told me that Easter was her favorite holiday. Since, I measure each holiday strictly by candy quality I was naturally appalled. The only holiday that has worse candy than Easter is Arbor day. As a kid I remember waking up early on Easter morning and biting off the head of a chalky, hollow, and pastel chocolate bunny. I have never been more disappointed. The only thing that saved Easter for me is low-budget black licorice jelly beans. MMMM (and I'm serious they're delicious). I hope you had your hanky near for that story. </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">That's why I never want to see another child suffer the same horrible fate as me. After Mikkena told me that she has always wanted a chocolate bunny for Easter I decided that I will need to find and test several chocolate bunnies to ensure that Easter remains Mikkena's favorite holiday. I won't let you down!</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">First off, this one. </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIFbyidnEjTSdTPql-HsoR5Nuo8XS1VSF7cHhGZK0OjEQSgi_gHi0pqbadpX38Zvcq0mAGZa1vxcp693UHws3WjPyab7-14p9MYVx361sksnwcg673YgYlH_3_XOBT-VhDK-t_s4T0Lbw/s1600-h/100_1443.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319563695670421186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIFbyidnEjTSdTPql-HsoR5Nuo8XS1VSF7cHhGZK0OjEQSgi_gHi0pqbadpX38Zvcq0mAGZa1vxcp693UHws3WjPyab7-14p9MYVx361sksnwcg673YgYlH_3_XOBT-VhDK-t_s4T0Lbw/s320/100_1443.jpg" border="0" /></a> Don't let it's packaging deceive you. Even though the bunny is labeled "yummy" and "totally delicious" I was suspicious. Methinks the bunny doth protest to much. Sure enough it was revolting. It tasted like way-too-sweet syrupy wax. Also, I can't get over how sad it is to bite into a hollow bunny. Good thing I was only out a buck. </div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319580832059886978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIIPXOWz54Wunzqq9pVh_vKEta4DJX062dTCGZ9jSZt8I0AFTBHlA7RTkNHQBcZzZa1mVcRh-iXi2lCkN0tV5UsWQLoFachcr7n3vwjqqMCvkWYjAfp6Y_CBqMBrVm2qqL8dBkYNgJWwU/s320/100_1418.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">The next one I tried was a Dove bunny. This one had some clear improvements over Mr. braggy bunny. First off it was solid chocolate. The chocolate was rich and not too sweet. In fact it was exactly like the smaller dove chocolates except larger and in the shape of a bunny. I don't know why I expected something different. It was more of an investment at $3.50, but it was superior in every way to the first test rabbit. Given how many choco bunnies I will probably go through, I have imposed a 5 dollar limit per bunny. The search must go on!</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">After testing bunnies we did the next logical thing, we tried to see how many Peeps we can stuff in our mouths at one time.<br /><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319563691269604130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj4s5x5DMTW1Qz5nxSVxhyphenhyphendEHjUHubL3V0Yq6TolQsUOS7LJv_oIiOqK71f5_pqysEWPOucZ4jFzeY5KkGPGBASrcwIGmlmOcRkV4wvGiJCWGoEJO0e4_HYCt9i3NBOc3PJHEyAbJ3lUu/s320/100_1431.jpg" border="0" />Our friend AJ successfully got 5 marshmallow fowls into his mouth. </div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319580021725400930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvR0ftnw91tBVE_VcAm4PbfJdN563kvwY34pCiFpt6dlPVZ-okuxXwtLCdzZR7dKd9NY9muqATJLIxdyhQuMyjmjlV-KVqDTn1yE4G6E2IVz9m_INy93GqIf8nxRDTSnl0OeJzFDYMENQ/s320/100_1421.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319580021695965026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghL3WYBZY_1OUtUAc5CqKd-4O3PwmrO1z9s_B0iazKm6NKiFEKAWUgGaW4y6E2kcshbM7yJ2JF-6S0SinhUG6szytaoo1Zc7-5KhZF2sLLBet_CKbVeL7ERxnb6XGVJWX7Ky8hqJEiK1Cp/s320/100_1430.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgof6w3XjtejpKA4o4doq384TneWE29HcpejV0GRlrqnBnE9tJi-a7VYAvDkLN8-imHyOfjMDOOTM0BMzQsKy347zRmBBfa9Debmhv84hUXBV7LjxQl_B-5uU_QQrUXgAWVjF_HwnGISDsE/s1600-h/100_1429.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319563684993655650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgof6w3XjtejpKA4o4doq384TneWE29HcpejV0GRlrqnBnE9tJi-a7VYAvDkLN8-imHyOfjMDOOTM0BMzQsKy347zRmBBfa9Debmhv84hUXBV7LjxQl_B-5uU_QQrUXgAWVjF_HwnGISDsE/s320/100_1429.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I got 10. I think I had room for one or two more but the little dudes kept pushing on my gaggy ball.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Tune in next time for more bunny tests, but in the mean time, we are having Hanging With the Hill's first contest. I will find the most delicious chocolate bunny and award it to the individual who can shove the most peeps in his or her mouth. Here are the rules</div><br /><br /><br /><div>1. You must have a witness.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>2. You must be able to completely close your mouth.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>3. I want a picture.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Just cram, snap a pic, and send it to me <a href="mailto:jaredrhill@yahoo.com">jaredrhill@yahoo.com</a> . The person with the most peeps gets a choco bunny.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-59764665267548095032009-03-19T10:39:00.001-07:002009-03-19T10:39:41.693-07:00Goodbye to winter (I hope)<img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bHQ9MTIzNzQ4NDMzMDU4NyZwdD*xMjM3NDg*Mzc1OTUyJnA9Mzg2MzYxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*=.gif" /><a href="http://s287.photobucket.com/albums/ll160/jaredrhill/?action=view¤t=DigitalCameraPhotos-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll160/jaredrhill/DigitalCameraPhotos-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-77153658432999660852009-03-15T14:27:00.000-07:002009-03-15T19:47:20.064-07:00Frozen families and sharing the addiction<div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrnQbPET8WWp7MNbQdl1bsYXEnuU3inixT1xbCwVai126IuivYsXggyy4Z7HTorWAWpmAUuA89A113dZDQwykA7AhkeYWUn8bV5YD5U0C-ZDsRxNo9TlG2LxykIFsOLFXyYR4RnrvJohJ/s1600-h/100_1405.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313530153605044306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrnQbPET8WWp7MNbQdl1bsYXEnuU3inixT1xbCwVai126IuivYsXggyy4Z7HTorWAWpmAUuA89A113dZDQwykA7AhkeYWUn8bV5YD5U0C-ZDsRxNo9TlG2LxykIFsOLFXyYR4RnrvJohJ/s320/100_1405.jpg" border="0" /></a> If you're looking for something really fun for your family to do, let me suggest something you should stay away from: ice fishing. I know what you're thinking, how can standing outside in freezing weather and dipping smelly fish bait into the water unsuccessfully for an hour not be a blast? Well, its not, despite the cheesy grin on my face.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQm4dgB8qSc3qZfWevw-F7kGQJQ4FQr2fjjIU2j9nbFY4aN7GwY4xgO-iRhaXlTINFRzBIiQ47U5UxSqhrTidlDN3cym7YG97YkFDbNtps1XTMzOSNlVx_n6ujq_iLBZSBG56i4MgEIH0/s1600-h/100_1407.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313530146916558770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQm4dgB8qSc3qZfWevw-F7kGQJQ4FQr2fjjIU2j9nbFY4aN7GwY4xgO-iRhaXlTINFRzBIiQ47U5UxSqhrTidlDN3cym7YG97YkFDbNtps1XTMzOSNlVx_n6ujq_iLBZSBG56i4MgEIH0/s320/100_1407.jpg" border="0" /></a> Mikkena was excited to go. She had a vision of fish jumping out of the ice and landing on a bed of ice cream. It's too bad no matter how much you believe, ice fishing is still cold and boring.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpzDM5oEI2tJQWDfRowGJnXPc5ZN-hb1NQOYQ4mZJX_zScBayvKIsQL_uSjYFX4Qi2lzpxmf0_-G7Ofi0QYejZWPtax4fUHj1tqeb_K9yHvDe3wTpIeMZgSN-kQOXEUtqSjfJobtn95j5/s1600-h/100_1406.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313530143011925554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpzDM5oEI2tJQWDfRowGJnXPc5ZN-hb1NQOYQ4mZJX_zScBayvKIsQL_uSjYFX4Qi2lzpxmf0_-G7Ofi0QYejZWPtax4fUHj1tqeb_K9yHvDe3wTpIeMZgSN-kQOXEUtqSjfJobtn95j5/s320/100_1406.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313530156648747298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9HazuccQwL-uE46HdnEsNI2i2QdabYyiI3uYJ_YCucrbov0rAXtAa62PF7j53qE7pp2fZkoMtGiIoPHFsAFAxIUS6LiMKGC266m7ClnYvvuVN4EKXrnZ9ys_7qTZvK1ufJ-HIN4zDsPw/s320/100_1402.jpg" border="0" />At least Amber didn't freeze. At least I think that's Amber.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUS!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Recently, we had our nephew/cousin Deacon over for the night. The evening started out normally with dinner at Olive Garden. But after we stuffed him full of candy things started to get a little weird.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313557333028577970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEt8PjiAlivRnkAq3yjfVOiwW0YMuFTiqWAUra0L8wx5gWWIDAua-Fx4FUKoPkN8uhosjCBJHqOGHHB2YgzBPZTrSPqNWqjAY2aIjYkzG2YNk47oO8-rNiTRBJRqAiOX7_8MrRzdO6Ma1f/s320/100_1311.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313557341724894386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCGtWfYKrRe8igj0hDKpc8zrlncSecOTRRu4zAqQHgLIoWIM-P3Ca-M0ztBJ3kIEzVTi3JkTAKzKJJUQHVu7fFbwVNLX7ok9IkccH93k2MhWp91sZ6kVDyEzv_-MU3sDvc_7FZJEKN_fLv/s320/100_1312.jpg" border="0" /></p><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center">After the sugar wore off, we settled down for a movie and popcorn.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313563250056895010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8nWQfURlAHT-BYektWroIVMgGgTfHmYj3XHjAGM4a7RmDs-Y0VDWDdg_DCWBqbrrSDxCxZU5iCjE_6smep24SfvV8pZ2ykJsUey4OdIfDfBur8voW_lT2prXUpua1dyXEoCillwhS6whT/s320/100_1319.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">If any one else needs a break from a little kid and doesn't mind them coming back with a sugar addiction give us a call, we still haven't satisfied the baby hunger.<br /></p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-75735245891468573092009-02-22T10:02:00.000-08:002009-02-22T11:09:45.530-08:00Always looking for an excuse to do something stupid (for charity)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305684454020159266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj40dbIk6Ggmf_sb6-GarY8vzSAzy4nhw0Bb-PImGlEDtZXsthfE72fjRklrUt7Jx-CzyrtLzreeAk2CK7sEzy74fDWiMIN_X_sRgyYpLF55KbHdu-P0WNYY8qZDiInPBJhcRenrRSpxj/s320/100_1325.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">I've done my share of stupid things. I once took Mikkena river rafting rafting on the Provo River during spring run-off. In high school I continued to drive my van for a month after the break lines were cut. But now that I've gotten a little older I confine all (most) (OK some) of my risk taking to charity. That's why I jumped at the opportunity to, um, jump into a frozen lake to support the special Olympics of Utah. I put together a plunge team of troubled youth (it seemed to fit), and raised $300 in sponsorships. </div><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305684461075579778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIt4keV3kIVMy3WIIFxQPBNkgkdhgKATnea7HWRCmqbQE7CgnJcpotAIKBvrLem5g6iEo0U_JE5JcXbcBLl_5WDejZs642vRzh6IRqWQQycqi6rirC_D0lNCsBj3NuxoUuFqzZTiBBYkA5/s320/100_1326.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">The location was the beautiful, pristine, and tropical Utah lake. I don't know many people that want to swim in Utah Lake when it's 90 degrees out, so I was surprised by the amount of people who wanted to jump into it when it was frozen. After they cut a hole in the ice I could see that it was as disgusting as ever. I don't know why I was surprised by the nastiness. I guess I expected the water to be less nasty because it was so cold. But no, there it was nasty <em>and</em> frozen. I was kind of hungry so my plan was to jump in with my mouth open and just see what happened.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZhIWT7sqMsm1otcD2xtxZ3bP7RL9GSbg1yI9UvbbL4mZddupW2iQk8iwNYaGppKZTKQU-hk-FVhnuvq6G4p1Dv9gX9puMVDlE9-v95eZlYnA1nbImqcbqVubfSBnp958EdFO4rub6zBT/s1600-h/100_1335.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305684467940638274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZhIWT7sqMsm1otcD2xtxZ3bP7RL9GSbg1yI9UvbbL4mZddupW2iQk8iwNYaGppKZTKQU-hk-FVhnuvq6G4p1Dv9gX9puMVDlE9-v95eZlYnA1nbImqcbqVubfSBnp958EdFO4rub6zBT/s320/100_1335.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is a shot of the "maybe this isn't such a good idea" thought I get sometimes. But I ignored it and it went away like it always does. </div><div align="center"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305686108322974130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PGaddnD_7lobQ8HZHdsK0LpsTuqDH2ZCiDAL6FXJKhBhlpaqWEN17vW3qrUB5NrJfjmZf1N6VUnFC2ANfMZ7izVulLDKwf0rKuPSD2Y7fW0EGEHD077DLBIMBUXySCYRCDyw_6oAy4-3/s320/100_1336.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305686110577210482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54iLdwjAzA8SeE9zfrNhkJoGuYAREPd9zZXsKvQSa-0wS6ICbb346J77AwzWHgE7nboC3pW3bW4h2g43dT8zzMcb2Q-xB4xpj07nqnJb2IAm7LR-VdXHWyv7yQ-Vun-zLvrDeWk_HbqwZ/s320/100_1337.jpg" border="0" /><br />I'm not breathing in this picture, that didn't start again for another minute or so.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305686114533148146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gs8ea9GZzBkNuARUi4vzzLCJ012CPILaRU4IFPWqoeM8cRD1v30N_IxcXW0-bhNMBlmAHOTk21bFWXyRS5gVp3fkJtt5oyHW-BR34SngXie6JUJlyyCMoHVRQAVQU-RjjXtCz1RKZAb0/s320/100_1338.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />2/3rds of my brain froze, so I think I'm missing some memories, but suddenly I had a doughnut in my hand. I wanted to meet the genius who thought it was a good idea to hand the plungers a doughnut while they were still dripping with pond scum. But after I ate the little bacteria-infested crud-soaked delicious morsel I understood. MMMMMM Good!</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Thanks for everyone who sponsored me, especially Stacie for the last-minute pull-through so we could meet our goal! Without you, my stupidity wouldn't have had a cause. I think we should have more of these. I'm thinking dodging traffic for the homeless, or cliff jumping for cancer or something like that.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-50507900102834795172009-01-02T11:55:00.000-08:002009-01-02T13:34:40.700-08:00Evil Christmas-Hating Tomatoes<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmDf7m8BTv-7ukkcBh4DxV3UmtIK4Yct40kfiYG0_UJGYpdKAqhczIDJfUfhpcl7aAMR6QYn3M8s-piOjvl6y9iAaQMzuz57C-L-c7xiGWlt6dP_Kl1FWGtnVXuhA8Ku4x6X9H5eZeNDF/s1600-h/100_1232.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286807853329162306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmDf7m8BTv-7ukkcBh4DxV3UmtIK4Yct40kfiYG0_UJGYpdKAqhczIDJfUfhpcl7aAMR6QYn3M8s-piOjvl6y9iAaQMzuz57C-L-c7xiGWlt6dP_Kl1FWGtnVXuhA8Ku4x6X9H5eZeNDF/s320/100_1232.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">After a wonderful Christmas Eve with family, we decided to settle in for the night. Mikkena asked if she could wake us up as soon as she woke up for presents the next morning. Knowing that this was going to be a bad idea, I reluctantly agreed. She smiled and went to bed. I kissed Amber goodnight, and waited expectantly for Christmas morning. It seemed like everyone was looking forward to a nice Christmas morning, everyone except the tomatoes......</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">12:30 AM Christmas morning the tomatoes attacked, and they brought with them their dear friend Eddie, the Christmas puke. </div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286807838058464082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfPu-m0R8foNiV6KrBQy8TXmtM-VyyF_OBneoSqJXPX0HBZ9yB8jo4905q_kn3ltYI-Kfx_HJnJA7tIzVrxX5_WLe9FvOxXhHZBA42VXioFVvmq6e8QagFb0fwYo30WaD8NNTdo9OPThl/s320/100_1102.jpg" border="0" />This picture location is merely coincidental.<br /><br /><br />From 12:30 Am until 10:00 AM Amber was back and forth from the bathroom throwing up. I tried my best to support her, I got her ice-chips, went to the gas station to buy Sprite and crackers, but mostly all I could do is say "Oh Honey", or "I'm so sorry you're sick" after every puke. The saddest part of the story happened at 6:30 Am when Mikkena woke me up beaming, "Can we open presents now, Daddy?" "Wait, what's that sound?"<br /><br /><br />HUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!<br /><br /><br />"Dad, what's going on in the bathroom?"<br /><br /><br />HUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!<br /><br /><br />"Its nothing sweety we'll come get you when mommy's done"<br /><br />The ironic part of this wonderful Christmas story is that Amber is an extremely picky eater. She won't eat or drink any food that is even nearing its expiration date. Amber decided recently to try to waste less food. Instead of throwing the evil, Christmas-hating tomatoes away, she scraped the mold off and ate them anyway.<br /><br />Christmas 2008 took another bad turn when I went to work at 3:00 for a swing shift followed by the grave-yard shift. Between my "Oh, honeys" and getting ice chips, I probably landed 2 hours of sleep (which was two hours longer than Amber). I tried to sleep, but guilt is powerful when your wife is puking her guts out.<br /><br />For those of you that have never gone 48 hours without sleep, I suggest you try it at least once. I got to a point during my grave shift (around 5:30 AM) when I stopped being able to perform routine tasks. It took me almost three minutes to open a door, and at another point I got up and walked out on a conversation I was having with another employee in mid-sentence.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286807839710265842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExcSFDlSnl3xBVZ1quRnpJslbsqmmWNem0eVWInVcQm1QpX8e7Ll0C7U6rQ3BAqMuHRkhYDLoK5PuMLQRsCgGFELkUa0NOIjE4owqdj2znbw1x0wwCvH_k_ZN2zR8fS9sQMsytnHm2Dx8/s320/100_1139.jpg" border="0" /><br />Well that's the poor-us wrap up! I hope your Christmas went better than ours. What was your worst holiday experience?<br /></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-42634928414639537332008-12-02T21:27:00.000-08:002008-12-02T22:40:32.686-08:00Why cats hate Thanksgiving, Plus... photo lessons, by Mikkena.<div align="center"><div><div><div><div><div>Ahh Thanksgiving....... good eats, and good time with the fam.... unless you're a cat, then Thanksgiving is pure hell. </div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275432314162029330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLySy2bcbt7EtOpj1Gziuhk2sDEQuZTVezHjSzefsLX4jKCJYs3op6R5RQXtpBkFNc5iumm81IbUKG-5_uI95u7QcyQiwQHj0aKzYZ4ias5RbC6BnMz0sPN4iSNZ5ygPj_SnhgUvOeIy9W/s320/100_1053.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div>First you get locked in a room for hours with no toilet eating dry crumbly kibbles while everyone else is pigging out on turkey, and the rest of the time you're getting beat up by small children. That's why Tally decided it was time to strike back, Ninja style. </div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275432312558822930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyXsbxMJr-qO8_FzeLbhPMV4YHa29XThFXu-oZX8Xs01mqlbBuGMYvRWiAjNCZZVivV0Otm04VuXhktiq4egav-7y6C38VSuNwzVh-3M5aVKYDy0_J8iDQIo3NwaDp6O3inNjnzGx2x-RM/s320/100_1052.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div><br /><br /><p align="center">I decided that my niece Erin needed some training.<br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275432295715831362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqI7TeojlLthnHVBfe4oWj3VPMmyCwbm1dIoK7vcu6-XJwJ6P5TbGrYRFzopsMU1wHCNKlzj7sbJPaF8ZYJHk7nXgxe1EwhSYfvQfFZiy26n2FM4EMY0Tgrw-zAk2ICtsB1KN-Er-1FyB/s320/100_1025.jpg" border="0" /> Lesson number one involved a grapefruit, but in the end, despite extensive training, the score was:</p><p align="center">Tally 1-Miniature people 0<br /></p><p align="center">Congratulations Tally! You've won a complementary de-clawing. What's that? You want to see what's behind the mystery door? Maybe it's some spam.</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275432304231558194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GXdt0FJlGD3FAGxVE67oJCXD0D5cBQg0n22dhzseEL-OH6XekmJ__nE487rmOcEm8prNJTfD-B6Cq6m_Yhyc9Jv8Eip9d7-gE3hSYI7DX9glyOBinY-bQWt_G1NxiR90O9b85fhH9E2C/s320/100_1033.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">This is our lone family Thanksgiving photo. I don't know what I was doing. It was time to be silly and all I could think of was to pick up a stupid roll. I'm going back to "how to look cool in a photo" school. At least Amber got in bunny ears and Mikkena got a cute head tilt. Roll.........lame.</p><br />I think that we could all use some lessons on how to look our best while being photographed. And since we all know I am not qualified to teach this lesson, I will let Mikkena do it.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275440567798712002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBT9D4gyfM8AgqCo1rh6vWgwTBIuwU1VhNg7oIo3ZQp4-P_6afsOxfPBXH-YXNbVf-mY6uR5gaYe6A1V0Nwix79hLeVutrblMtgwTCl9-pRg0jZz9ypP78-n1a1OrT0HCqqzAxqURC00-u/s320/100_0946.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center">Lesson #1. Don't participate when other people are trying to ruin a good photo. The expression on Mikkena's face clearly states: "I don't know this moron behind me", or "it's hard being a moose".</div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275440238186143730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLB0FZr-ht2Lk4DgH6uuEvGr7GszGNMataaCrOdoxkTYE9kst0Pdo6KQQAEn8D7UPA_VLThdssGCXOnKXvZn-ZudYYBM240P6g06U2DJ1ASrX-kQE6G1L4uu98eqiBAfJTIIYqI904m75q/s320/100_0927.jpg" border="0" /><br />Lesson #2. Commit! Go big or go home. Follow this rule or you'll end up picking up a roll.<br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275440216853690194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5IQhyXYEg1A_iKmpXDH2YEVClTOeLsER90GkBnPFM2ePcJTxBJdwQOAdTTmjtUWU1JmWxS6i-a9Ou9193tO8ce-wwlTk091q90P-Ll4_AsaEyDpaRHK1T0-YJ7GP3lPDuGlSor4y_jD35/s320/100_1079.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p>Lesson # 3. Stay hydrated. As a side lesson, it's very important to properly locate your straw with your tongue before you drink. Straw inflicted stab wounds do not make for good photos. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275440853883043442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSgloMfs8YuWtL84TER8pmdounXSbP-JV8wb6AIustrNaULPu5L8_4hNnyOl4Y18tAPQ8SdtgLosr1jU7d0b-ghzS_f2SrGrCEBBFIRg6wsRldK6Q1DdTE7mJ9972A3AM8eknRbUSwiES/s320/100_1088.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Lesson complete!</p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-24406812898783491142008-11-01T22:45:00.000-07:002008-11-02T00:14:40.481-07:00The "Hangin with the Hills" costume of the year award<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIZ-j9_-IUwZ_w3W-3sWOwoiCjY8co_DwoRW2pC0GN3E7A6wn_qbrCwt5oI5m0gUZpSGfW7Me9dfvzLo0gtzh7naBDrceNbj-AUSoNx2jZtMoiT2eXWGgZpqsmmkG54QLFhya1yJnUqw_/s1600-h/100_0959.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263933459109132402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIZ-j9_-IUwZ_w3W-3sWOwoiCjY8co_DwoRW2pC0GN3E7A6wn_qbrCwt5oI5m0gUZpSGfW7Me9dfvzLo0gtzh7naBDrceNbj-AUSoNx2jZtMoiT2eXWGgZpqsmmkG54QLFhya1yJnUqw_/s320/100_0959.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I showed up to my daughter's Halloween party to find out that either she was held back for a few years without my knowing, or I have inadvertently sent her to a school for Oompa Loompas (not that I have anything against Oompa Loompas). Apparently all of the mini people running up to hug her when I drop her off in the mornings are her classmates. I just thought she was really nice to kindergartners. Maybe we should scale back her morning dose of human growth hormone.<br /><br /><br />Now to highlight some interesting costumes!<br /><br /><br />First off, This guy!<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263933482578785266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2KRLIbWWOhNgmkaBq0Kcqp9_R5VQbbhiVuMog6BLND3h9xu3urYBN5XJz4ea4Tn5rYpywl5IHRloZrS3Rx8kbMmzzYwoTlrVwV5qVHIBOYR11pYlsH2s-eWXvLedyPPjDc45HcEM_Ykw/s320/100_1000.jpg" border="0" /><br />This costume was so spot on and so common in Eagle Mountain, that it took me a second to realize that it was an actual costume. I think the giant pumpkin baby tipped me off. I also realized it was a costume because he was wearing a shirt under his ripped up wife-beater. Who does that?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263933489068781762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvc84VrGcS00__I_vLIPlMggyWdFxaAYzHCnRwrkhIoT5Fv4jilqSjHfTFGWePVK5J2WLH3o7ThcJyYJS46jLvCqXgn51lpYK5R_IOFSQBvdalWOGkt3ZeZYd5T5rgJhU5FU4dfHFKdQO/s320/100_1011.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p>My nephew Tagan. The only way to make this kid more squeezable and lovable is to put him in a furry Elmo suit and crocks.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263934584620261138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTPjuqYsmH2QryGHbdjH-8BGaR9G1G3j1V3TBdFXl4RW9FIYdSfInP4-4UBu5qgHp-gp9rCMfXRZEPXNEBdlv_o03JhVs-vVJJGHvoBp6sIauheUwq2g-3NZYnXVHnq2Na4n2aS1byQ-W/s320/100_1003.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Sherine's 30$ D.I. "find" was certainly creative. It got even better when her husband joined her in his D.I. tux. I am personally glad that the 'ol puffy sleeved dress got one last night on the town. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263934592303200354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ssakm2uiFOCLf8RJ6f2BCNHQPc0l2Lfz5-juZTWH7QoF55hLcBXSgPC8k0MdowvxPXFiEYa4oDXlIknCyCIRs_TknfbkirmXmYJiKbfIPpIoVsFlkILq4L91BT0plOfI_FGLPskkXuRC/s320/100_1019.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>And the "I can't believe they had the guts to go out in public wearing that" award goes to this fine couple. I certainly thought "shotgun wedding" was going to get the Hanging with the Hills "costume of the year" award, but that was until I saw this little guy at Mikkena's school.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263933470578868962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1t_9GboW-vJO-XmjEra3vjxDvc8igmzhCjW6rWcDl92i-K7MLoUoGsVp9jilGM7QXNm0_iRGI79WrijEvm89c6YjOAATQPmUEm5jlnqQuLJjkXrLecjuz4Ftosisu0IQsBn63DNTVjTR/s320/100_0975.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>He's going for "eighties nerd". Kudos for the half-tucked-in shirt, high-water pants and mullet. This was genius in a sea of transformers and punk-cheerleaders. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263934603846833858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR7zn3_-6SHU1HUDWVl3R7e4D9HF5OEzlePyx_3-hrP4TNbdJ114We6PJmBlm2kfakfHYFfIGg8add8Gev6K2IwVwW1I1clsu41E9ciFvxxE9aPYI1MdCaREssMglqSclbDpaytrE0-RFP/s320/100_1021.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Candy-wise, Mikkena had her most successful Halloween ever. We went to a neighborhood trunk-or-treat, a ward trunk-or-treat, and Halloween night we went trick-or-treating with Amber's brother and his family. The sheer amount a candy that we hauled in certainly tested our no-sugar resolve. I wanted to thank all of you commenters who supported me through this. Here is a snippet "you will never be able to completely give up sugar. I just thought I'd let you know so you won't be disappointed when you lose your will power". Thanks Mom. </p><p>I decided that because it was Halloween, I would take a break from my otherwise successful no-sugar goal. Let's just say I found out first hand how people OD. Even though my new tolerance was 5 pieces of candy, I ate 50. I paid for it today, but I got back on track by chewing three packs of sugar-free gum, drinking a 44 oz diet coke with lime, and chewing all of my fingernails off. We gave the rest of Mikkena's candy to charity. </p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-26556075410020119642008-10-22T21:42:00.000-07:002008-10-22T22:57:23.050-07:00Butt-kickings, detox, and angelic beans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkoWaTnyBhNY3E6110i4zyVdEY4wJ2PZ37RQJnqAv58owHByjlrxcYwWDxjVSoXNYtvaymuJJnsK-Y4p9g1GE9-hWEar23BUSadj7QRko_Soclh8fG7Ed_GFXnhviQRwShcZ4_wjrdzfnR/s1600-h/buttkick+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260223509137166098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkoWaTnyBhNY3E6110i4zyVdEY4wJ2PZ37RQJnqAv58owHByjlrxcYwWDxjVSoXNYtvaymuJJnsK-Y4p9g1GE9-hWEar23BUSadj7QRko_Soclh8fG7Ed_GFXnhviQRwShcZ4_wjrdzfnR/s320/buttkick+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div>I just had my butt kicked today. It might have been the worst butt-kicking I have ever received. It even beats the time I received two swirlies for showing up to school wearing my Leprechaun costume (mostly true story). Except this time it happened where it hurts, in something I care about..................................................... Scrabble. </div><br /><br /><div>Final Score: Amber 347 Jared 153</div><div><br /> </div><div>She beat me by 200 points. For those of you who don't play Scrabble, that is a <strong>BLOW OUT</strong>! It's like when <em>(insert your favorite sports blow out story here</em>). </div><br /><br /><div>Anyway,<br /><br /></div><div>We are trying to eat more healthily. The boys at my work are doing an addiction exercise where they give up something difficult for two weeks. Knowing my propensities for sugary deliciousness, I was roped into giving up sugar. Judging by the last couple of posts, this was well timed. Amber and Mikkena decided to join me, and we extended it to a month. I won't lie, not eating sugar is the hardest thing I have done in a long time. For a few days I got depressed, but now I'm back. Strange things happen when your body detoxes from high sugar levels. Fruit starts to taste good. Who knew fruit actually tasted good. I always looked at fruit as bad impostor low-budget candy, but I ate an apple the other day that was better than all of the bad impostor low-budget candy I have ever eaten! Also, I have officially adopted caffeine-free Diet Coke with lime (the lime takes away the disturbing after-taste shivers). It's definitely a tentative adoption, we haven't signed the papers.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260223271285743218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 50px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jkLav2zTuimSJTJSBOEiLSOaxcrgT64LDlzgr2-oSSnkk9620oaXW7Jpn2IiNqj2Mz3HUbI5ming3TJ3ujazvlhtntg496Lb7jyxiB3iFlZwOjSqtFTepbKqPZSxMLieU8aPQXPQGazu/s320/diet+coke.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div>So, with the family on board we made some adjustments to Mikkena's birthday celebrations. Instead of birthday cake we went and had low fat (and I think sugar free, although I didn't check) frozen yogurt at Amber's new favorite trendy frozen yogurt place with a stupid name.</div><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260214934021834834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 50px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiouzaWKrQp7X_6zRLmzwEWpIz9-GtM9typbbjWZDva0m7H7dgkNNWo-fRbZZg85Pxq-KjW9sOBvIerzM1v7FyvIx04sGpc-PHtY9rZGNU287l9AvS5zjvEd2_wzkOQk05toTquxIEMSY0/s320/hello+yogurt.jpg" border="0" /><br />This was the real test of my commitment to not eat candy. There was a self-serve topping bar filled with candy and fruit. There they were...........................................not just jelly beans, but Jelly Bellys, and I was feeling snooty. Perfect, glowing, speckled little beauties like little angels from heaven. They were singing to me, "it's OK no one will ever know. We are delicious". </p><br /><p>One death glare from Amber snapped me back to reality. I got fruit, and it was still good, but not Jelly Belly good. </p></div></div>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-3170508591958868642008-10-11T21:53:00.000-07:002008-10-11T22:33:12.759-07:00Babies and Pumpkin Guts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowTd5xq7wg7T9e9y5vt7_nawCnHpmUItpfqOP_xdqUpCDagO9EegBpRpVgSsas8rS1MNZtiaJ-nE65Kkp0GsaEVFBe7S0IpPgizjCWgCQx5FidvZsh87AijJyNMnRWum3xsdjLoJBYoCp/s1600-h/100_0896.jpg"></a> I'm so excited about Halloween that I just put a dentist on retainer. But sadly, I am starting to realize that 28-year-old trick-or-treaters are kind of creepy. For the last couple of years I've been able piggyback on Mikkena, because 28-year-old guys taking their daughters trick-or-treating isn't creepy at all, it's adorable! Later I steal all of her candy. But today I realized that my window of opportunity is closing fast. This week Mikkena is turning 10. Pretty soon she will be too old to be my trick-or-treating excuse. I need another baby, and fast!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In addition to stockpiling black market insulin, we decided to prepare for Halloween with a good 'ol fashioned pumpkin carve.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256132146138870162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtX4D5eGYRZbjsKyODpEkzAS5yRNaCnLppV1T89cYdKSkT-ZqupnWeRKHisOU1A1-jEU0M35U8QWjGwMhv6fc1BDk9etvuSRm-ebWUIqC2vJZTrTmI9vlgtCcckGR3_OaXmKwgY911yJZ/s320/100_0896.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256132150652780914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QjK60SSWf43mzMG6m7wTZVFRf2NjnPf8OATtlpruUYkL1l9eP9qpS7hhIeMbJ-05lkbyPEsEDcn43YD7vOdbvjdTFQRMvpBVjNdn0NAE3ZXYrSHzfedDohNDjSNOGYtk53x50yOIiH5e/s320/100_0901.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256132151680444610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQcIhfpaMssUu6z4N6lIdC2zm3tY0pC8ez1mxOIV8nYwmAreELCBe_WRAAon7FVJWYQ3QuxJnYkoGDEVkdBUCXpPxdhzIDvmjZIP4a5JSo9bDrWF3-smqtAkfN2yu0CLC4S2jz7uGtXNZ/s320/100_0897.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Guess the movie. </p><p align="center">My favorite part of carving pumpkins is having a big bowl of pumpkin guts to run my hands through and throw at people. Good times.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256132155540707138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAh0vTtBdHEqzNxjBfZrBXCWxXqdnNfR88V8hIBqi5cjyPdBtgAJqo5QW0ZQ_mQ17OtOPXlHzCUQxKmji0Vezb507Kp10XGNUGNa2KXSeh7OdCCSrllyqIetrXRhK36ead1GgDjgCzHaJ6/s320/100_0904.jpg" border="0" /></p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-79584153561946509522008-10-07T21:48:00.000-07:002008-10-07T22:33:45.139-07:00severed limbs and electric chairs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm16soHY5y3AIsUYxlu4Aefk6mIGCgcAWL5gu1ntIo_EBp6KPAVWEwj3rYyG-vIJA6dAwArsozINUPg7IowKoeHYKFay8oo9hY86rXgN8uOJ-UhhRVmlMkc1w0p9LiIftUz1KvicFbcn0C/s1600-h/100_0874.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254640992735728290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm16soHY5y3AIsUYxlu4Aefk6mIGCgcAWL5gu1ntIo_EBp6KPAVWEwj3rYyG-vIJA6dAwArsozINUPg7IowKoeHYKFay8oo9hY86rXgN8uOJ-UhhRVmlMkc1w0p9LiIftUz1KvicFbcn0C/s320/100_0874.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I've got to thank Jack Skellington the next time I see him. Dressing up as John Travolta, going door to door begging for tasty morsels, screaming till you pass out.......man, I can't think of a better holiday. We started off this month's festivities by going to a haunted house. We went to the Scream Asylum in Provo. I give it 3 out of 5 dead clown heads (for those of you who don't know, that's the official haunted house rating system). It was cheaper than other houses, but it was shorter too.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJeoJfRGuZxFfI3AVHetUl8NhyenEebSQVTRpgnNqKPDAnucr4cybkevN_NvAIomrIxoG0ihTOV5NecO4Il7fc4464zUPOYufECGE0ts68ClBrc2zetkq9lDk1KkKSGwhoC01J6jbp83oR/s1600-h/100_0875.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254641004858803778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJeoJfRGuZxFfI3AVHetUl8NhyenEebSQVTRpgnNqKPDAnucr4cybkevN_NvAIomrIxoG0ihTOV5NecO4Il7fc4464zUPOYufECGE0ts68ClBrc2zetkq9lDk1KkKSGwhoC01J6jbp83oR/s320/100_0875.jpg" border="0" /></a> Going to haunted houses is always a blast, especially when one member of the family screams at the top of her lungs for 15 minutes and then runs into a wall (I'll give you a hint, it's not the 9-year-old). Three years ago, Amber used her 10-year-old nephew Cody as a human shield to fend off evil clowns. He's still not over it. Really, ask him. </p><p align="center">Each year the trip starts off with Mikkena teasing Amber about last year and bragging about how she "totally saw the guy with the chainsaw coming". That is until we actually get there.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254642542625616978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhiis1qSiQjE4PBFaFHX_M7fmeiHIDngrvxkH7uNPhqzAbA3iSzlQzSb8ux6bJcxDeTVqZYBia79hiqja5jA1aeefhAC3HB0hWsDv7TLprF6uOTq68BDrezr82rEcM7lPfgdficVDqXmcK/s320/100_0879_edited.jpg" border="0" /><br />"Daddy, I think this is a bad idea"</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center">After being attacked by a headless man carrying a rack of dismembered body parts, Amber was awarded the quote of the day.</p><p align="center">"Jared, hold me! Mikkena can fend for herself!"</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjPCOI3ZrGe7QHFEDMAUPYALfoHdoQWiKuK6HFmL5E2TMj1DCalpJQWDsW_hTTkTzY-GPRhU2VGuXucnmJa2L0R1JNbzr8wx5eSe7YaB46hfAjPAPgC7pqyt-4-u-J_5cLo6xTmd7Y1xB/s1600-h/100_0881.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254641011807456626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjPCOI3ZrGe7QHFEDMAUPYALfoHdoQWiKuK6HFmL5E2TMj1DCalpJQWDsW_hTTkTzY-GPRhU2VGuXucnmJa2L0R1JNbzr8wx5eSe7YaB46hfAjPAPgC7pqyt-4-u-J_5cLo6xTmd7Y1xB/s320/100_0881.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Well we made it, and we got to keep the cool 3-D glasses. If you look closely you can see my ruptured right eardrum. It was a scream!</p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-76043887423748895902008-10-06T21:58:00.000-07:002008-10-06T23:27:17.595-07:00Prognosis Delectable<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NwsZ5kPYM6wyEis2KmXHktfqcUIJiImwfRouffhJJzQdZbK36q-3h6FlYF2V7oUocltuE_LNXi_MkIME4FaTl-P99VI1uRqXUM-HA3Mf8BD98zKYJWGX1i8M06se1ZtFrb-yAYWEDhJ6/s1600-h/skittles..jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254292330903647970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NwsZ5kPYM6wyEis2KmXHktfqcUIJiImwfRouffhJJzQdZbK36q-3h6FlYF2V7oUocltuE_LNXi_MkIME4FaTl-P99VI1uRqXUM-HA3Mf8BD98zKYJWGX1i8M06se1ZtFrb-yAYWEDhJ6/s320/skittles..jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>I have a problem. I knew I had a problem before I was officially diagnosed with an acute sugar addiction 10 years ago (true story). Now, don't worry about me, I'm fine. I can quit any time I want, but if you suspect that you or a loved one suffers from this horrible yet delicious disease here are some warning signs. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>1. Day dreaming about candy while at work or in class.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>2. Buying two barrels of Red Vines because you know one won't last the day.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>3. Hiding at least three candy stashes "just in case".</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>4. Four root canals.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>5. Caring more about the white-rabbit-melamine scare than the fact that your bank just went bankrupt. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>6. Making a trash stop before coming home from work so your wife won't find the four Skittles and the two Three-Musketeers wrappers.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>7. You consider peanut M&Ms "healthy" because they contain protein. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>8. People ask "what's that fruity smell?" every time you open your mouth. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>9. You carry around black licorice not because it's your favorite, but because you know no one will ask you to share. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>10. You used to eat ice cream with friends, but now you just eat alone. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I know that there are health concerns for people that have high sugar diets, such as an increased risk for diabetes, obesity and tooth decay, but there are some hidden health benefits that most people are unaware of that I believe offset those risks. I have gathered a few of these gems during my 28 years researching the subject.</div><br /><br /><div>1. Cinnamon bears cure sore throats. That's right, move over Halls. Next time you have a sore throat reach for the Cinnamon bears, you'll be glad you did. I will warn you though, you'll need to eat a lot, but if you're anything like me that won't be a problem. </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254293178993289058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgnofv462wrwurlfV3rDfZCZe_jPni4TiWFMAg1gX9E9NegBj4u77ni4ziUX2NJ-NTlbdpF5NPM5r07aInNRrJ_JY21ukUsHlL75z-NMj_q-MpkxdIwloKxU-EyDPkB2pl6sFDiLjoR-9m/s320/cinnamon+bears.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>2. Jelly beans counter act almost all of the negative symptoms of vomiting. I discovered this on Easter morning 1989. I had the flu, but I didn't let that stop me from partying hard with my peeps! Trust me, it's almost as good coming up as going down. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>3. Candy stops violence. I've never been beat up after giving someone a snickers. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>4. Candy may be bad for your body, but it is good for your soul.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>By the way, my favorite is Dots. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254291788600111458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9FFIZb3HtKgIyCHRIMOT8871nUc-qOSd_5uZPkfaPXbwd8aamrBpcA1VXeRxMemrrYhEoal7UHAXjhaQMh5aCubtG2EO2Vsrp5EOEsleI5AHiLIW6o40XxicgT0zW7YOAq6Hvleqwo-k/s320/dots.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>or Jelly Belly's when I'm feeling snooty. </p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254294031591617010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5v6J326iiW_OCe8PZErPmnMjvlxOwYGu5kIYqhG-MxhHU0jrQ4JCFuBax8UD5wgk5v9SVshX6sEEqnrqcRSp7_yY2-UqzcwLAAeIjjWUaVJE8_jZ8aMkzRPGaE65MFg38VLytMTNXvTk/s320/jelly+belly.jpg" border="0" /></p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-73888965114911922492008-09-17T22:34:00.000-07:002008-09-17T23:59:18.466-07:00The blue-eyed 9-going-on-16-year-old-cutie<div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247231487717578962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpPQSynMpBSNMv2dMJqKImMLd1er9uXPrqTYLl-9SPkSCi1BKprC4X4Aw81xwRU1bXAiiK7VnxEV5_eOhLY0qdObHsf3lonOkHQWd9yxZtslsu-MEzONEG2hT4rmWDIKqikqNS7X-1bKs/s320/mikkena+2.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div>I call her pants. I think its short for Miss Mikkena pants, or sass-pants, I can't remember anymore. I used to call her pinky, but I have been informed that she is officially out of her pink period. That's right, its time for the top 10 quirky things I love about Mikkena!</div><br /><br /><div>10. She is a squirmer. She can't control her little body. She readjusts positions every 30 seconds or so. She claims that it's because she "gets too comfortable". She's also a phone walker. She can't talk on the phone without pacing around the house touching everything. It's a good thing she wasn't born 20 years ago and had to drag a phone cord across the whole house like I did in my phone walking days.</div><br /><br /><div>9. She is very fashion conscious. She already has an elaborate list of do's and dont's. She is also beginning to be embarrassed of her parents. I realize that there's plenty to be embarrassed about (I'm speaking about myself, Amber), but she's not quite old enough to figure out what those things are. I showed up to pick her up from school on my scooter. I reached into my pocket to give her her sun glasses. A horrified look spread across her face. "I can't wear those now, Dad!" she whispered to me. Look chick, I picked you up on my scooter wearing my Star Trek outfit, sunglasses are the least of your worries. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247231492529005186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKunZxXCstjEu9FSUBi97GxUC-HMFv3Lwexr5pTE_WD3Yhx9AXL7ZGqQiYjgwObybXsmROFm3KZfy3_2Ita9JR-jpv57YcwlqItMOdZccIfHAzqahuKxgEqLnCF1Ms0G-4Mqm6486ppUe/s320/mikkena+scoot.JPG" border="0" /><br />8. She is extremely claustrophobic. Occasionally we wrestle, but it always ends in, "I can't breath! I can't breath! I can't Breath! I can't Breath!"</div><br /><br /><div>7. She gives the best hugs. She gives the kind of hugs where I need a Tylenol and a masseuse afterwards. </div><br /><br /><div>6. She learns songs by singing them, even if she's never heard the song before. Occasionally I'll look in the rear-view mirror and see her singing along to a song with her mouth never quite matching the words. Yet, the next day she's got it down like a pro.<br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMESe2l1CnDmfCQYoFR6y-e_uxlVLnykbpDnCy3tkAlRj7y0wtTrGu-2KpuG5abam3wuCygIKnUU8in7zkNyynL7E3U5A-FKOuzdD5yZyBX7ZCZfJZHmYMWjAAtjYs1pRuXgjaXaNoZvB/s1600-h/100_0271_edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247231496033479698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMESe2l1CnDmfCQYoFR6y-e_uxlVLnykbpDnCy3tkAlRj7y0wtTrGu-2KpuG5abam3wuCygIKnUU8in7zkNyynL7E3U5A-FKOuzdD5yZyBX7ZCZfJZHmYMWjAAtjYs1pRuXgjaXaNoZvB/s320/100_0271_edited.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><br /><p>5. She loves holidays. She gets it from her Grandma Sandee (she gets a lot from her Grandma Sandee). Amber doesn't really like any holidays, yet every holiday Mikkena comes out of her room with an outfit perfect for the occasion.<br /></p><br /><br /><p>4. She has perfected the art of stalling. She can turn any 9:00 bed time into 9:30 without even breaking a sweat. Most of the time I don't even realize it's happening. </p><br /><br /><p>3. She's a blue fish in a red pond. Poor girl. Amber and I are both stubborn, passionate, and bossy. Mikkena just wants to be loved and accepted (with a twinge of bossiness). I don't know how she survives putting up with two parents with the exact opposite personality from her. </p><br /><br /><p>2. She is becoming very sure of herself. She states things as facts. Most of the time I just accept what she says, because she is very smart. One day we were looking at a house we had never seen before with a realtor. The house was right across from a school. "I can't remember if that school is 4th and 5th grades or 5th and 6th" stated the realtor. "That school is 4th and 5th grades" Mikkena explained. The realtor nodded, convinced by Mikkena's matter of fact tone. "Have you ever seen this school before?" I asked. "No", she responded, " it just looks like 4th grade to me". </p><br /><br /><p>1. She thinks that she is all grown up. She asked me the other day if I would teach her how to drive. Sure Mikkena............in seven years................in your mom's car. </p><br /><br /><p></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247247623824762802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcoPQSqjNDOeR6fCloPZp11nJxpUJ5bFc2mE_HS9cuYjxu6Mi43vMnMVeHNT237wuaG6Aeh260sttAh80YleY-ihz2mx3pyqNkxHCopgbQxytxBC2S6KAwMi76I9S69Lyv8pb_pjXnUmux/s320/brandi+wed+105.jpg" border="0" /></p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-71905999118019630132008-09-15T22:46:00.000-07:002008-09-16T00:24:42.217-07:00She never compromises, loves babies and surprisesThis is the first of a two part series. I realized that it's the small quirky things that make me love my ladies so much. This post is devoted to my top ten favorite little quirky things about Amber.<br /><br />Here we go..........<br /><br />10. She can flip me off with her feet. It takes a lot of concentration, and I can't always tell right away what she's doing, but when it finally happens it's amazing.<br /><br />9. She has a thing for nerdy guys. Right after we got married she told me that she was a sucker for both bad-boys and nerds.<br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Me: "I don't get it, I'm not really a bad-boy".</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Amber: "Exactly". </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">8. She sleeps with one eye open. She denied it for years. Then I managed to get this juicy gem. Enjoy, this photo may cost me my life.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdhwGqFmRFbWX_xXFcjOoWzACAeYeUbyXnzpN1IiUnkL45xuGjSu3nqVTHIL3B6sutKJOZGHhk_kgdATDBlBvjSCPdbkPuylLet2Phbw76CcRTP37bCuhtjZAoEsvkcxl5IE-gCRLtDen/s1600-h/sleepy+eye.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246493576919897426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdhwGqFmRFbWX_xXFcjOoWzACAeYeUbyXnzpN1IiUnkL45xuGjSu3nqVTHIL3B6sutKJOZGHhk_kgdATDBlBvjSCPdbkPuylLet2Phbw76CcRTP37bCuhtjZAoEsvkcxl5IE-gCRLtDen/s320/sleepy+eye.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">7. She pinches, slaps and kicks when she gets excited. I wear protection when I bring home gifts. A few years ago we were sitting on the couch watching American Idol. Amber yells, "Hey Jared, check this out!" I lazily turn just in time to watch her kick me square in the face. "What was that about!?" I yell at Amber, who was looking just as confused as I was. "I don't know, it worked out differently in my head."</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">6. Amber is Julianne Moore's younger clone.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246497006725053714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6PsBiO8oZyJ1n-ZwH5DDgxQLJidkevMxVlOG0HnrDMNWmMDp9fYxIs9GBEkmW8rRpyCNNxGS3tTJej8S1Y5Quk-0gmeLisMkBFnGfclVHiCw06zID1VWWwf_MeLclJ6zVAtLYnm1htk1/s320/jmoore2.jpg" border="0" />j.m.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246493581815996962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvx9XYT8VAw5rbbtnN4DDY6n5ccddDNdobTW7QneNiF0alfdBjigKQq9thLO6-dQKve5pCpyk6ohCb_ckIE0hquCtHPTAO8VepROw2ow2NsGp7lZ3D_s_SzNNug4GX0ayil6LTBcQHcUDK/s320/P5160036.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">a.l.s.h.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">5. Amber is a bit of a food snob. She refuses to buy bargain brands, and hates (and she means it) buffets of any kind. Yet she loves cafeteria and hospital food. We have been on several family trips to the BYU cafeteria. Here's the scene, 250 BYU freshmen wishing they were anywhere else, and Amber going for seconds. My head hurts when I think about this conundrum.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">4. Amber can't lie. I know the second I've gained some weight, cooked bad food, or have a boogey. There are no secrets in our house. Amber is an open book. I find it refreshing. Who doesn't want to know when they have boogers?</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">3. Number three is a secret.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">2. Amber has a psychic connection with her cats. They come when she calls, and they sleep the whole night curled up by her side. They don't come close to me...............anymore. Last week Amber was eating a tortilla and she decided to tear a piece off for Gretchen. "Don't waste your time," I said, "cats don't eat tortillas". Not two seconds after Amber put the tortilla down it was devoured by a hungry cat. "She wanted it" Amber said calmly, "She told me".<br /></div><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62G8FfLe4qFF5RcsFoTWZmxOfEEcIJAJkGY3_ntVAmqMSsS7FUAn5MwYr1hpXCVdR4y8k_2dPFTGd1V5n7ZZ9gzBzg0Z5el2upRWWg-c7stKPlrqZpClc4LODOcCSRBjoVegg0VDHYSfn/s1600-h/100_0569.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246493591468631858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62G8FfLe4qFF5RcsFoTWZmxOfEEcIJAJkGY3_ntVAmqMSsS7FUAn5MwYr1hpXCVdR4y8k_2dPFTGd1V5n7ZZ9gzBzg0Z5el2upRWWg-c7stKPlrqZpClc4LODOcCSRBjoVegg0VDHYSfn/s320/100_0569.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />1. Amber does what Amber does. She is the most passionate and head strong person I know, and I love every second I'm with her. There are quite a few songs that remind me of Amber. It seems like rock stars are always falling in love with quirky, free spirits like my Amber. Two of my favorites are <em>Meet Virginia </em>by Train and <em>Mercury </em>by Counting Crows. Tune in next time for the top ten funny little things I love about Mikkena.<br /><br /><br /></p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1477749385629528387.post-75344476668506653042008-09-08T20:48:00.000-07:002008-09-08T21:59:14.026-07:00There's real nature out there<div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Tmcz8uF2M2xUwiqB4tVpJ0eGKZ8szXar8GYo5zWHUWUb7xczd1IPhvhcHI8tXv04zKvGn35TdzFa2p3qjaD6y4UF0Qvw_VrJyjnRFJ-aZO4AqzOoOO0ga6BIA9u0tsVOddsAsx6BLCxq/s1600-h/100_0806.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243873147383061522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Tmcz8uF2M2xUwiqB4tVpJ0eGKZ8szXar8GYo5zWHUWUb7xczd1IPhvhcHI8tXv04zKvGn35TdzFa2p3qjaD6y4UF0Qvw_VrJyjnRFJ-aZO4AqzOoOO0ga6BIA9u0tsVOddsAsx6BLCxq/s320/100_0806.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center">The family decided to go camping. Even Amber. Because this was Amber's bi-lifetime camping extravaganza, I think it deserves to be fully documented. We ate tinfoil dinners and then we had smores.</div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243869048575139186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fvtJ4lf7iMDDkv9xL7lk1G88FLf4Q8iZ8dTkhjIld2dF7lUsCHPqUV2WkvMTwlyO47Ff43ky3_ol3YybzM_7vi5OBpR4LnoyivEGWdbmMGhqQHZ8tR_AoatgGrfTe-4GAkoQ5KrQNM3x/s320/100_0796_edited.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p align="center">After noticing Mikkena's sugar-rushed facial expressions, I decided to limit the smore intake to 15 (at least that's how many I had). Notice how Amber is eating her smore with her pinkie up. </p><br /><p align="center">Amber presented a delicious and unique style of smore-making. First she would melt the chocolate and smear it onto the gram cracker, then she would de-skin a roasted marshmallow to avoid contaminating the smore with excessive gooiness, but there is often a price to pay for rogue smore making.<br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243873480023766946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCN5uAWq3b9nfZrzLSszcWuczJd2XlnMhuD9jHHmXx3ERIrkVTmgsqJWyNIt6bxc3r_hYIESqIbAcRUmXCs3zP0fqdBZsNec8jwqPxTaygdsCbH5PyE-ZrI0VsTtysnN67nOEcNtJsX28/s320/100_0798.jpg" border="0" /></p></div></div></div><br /><p align="center">Kablooey</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243874210291698194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yuz-DvrY8ZL6C_I7guTqHrngNX4d51gh6HThF3Lq_MwY9HrgFqFBfkP0fc6a4zujY7UAUfAzcgoJTV_C2hcqMpAXX1hnRdgVFYjKF3k2uEhQd0A8du_J2I4uXqBB8vkpFzgIXCFibZ3z/s320/100_0793.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">On the way up to the campsite, Amber phoned a friend to let her know where we were going and how long we planned on being gone. Amber told her friend, "If we are not back by dark tomorrow send help, because I am without food and luxuries". I thought to my self, "this is going to be a long trip". I could not have been more wrong. My ladies were troopers. It was much colder than I had expected, and we forgot a ground pad. Yet everyone enjoyed themselves. Amber volunteered to sleep on the ground and let me have the only pad. Also, Mikkena had her first unassisted outdoor pee (I usually build her a rock toilet). Sometimes it's good to be a man.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243876420888187330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlX_19ToPULA6ocZUn6RzKjP2oC0opf7q2aJmYQI2V77imgDnQucOQSjNfXREh4_UwQQZ7usQeT5jajTniY7Xeam6g4PqgPnFP9v6IJQFxK3HGqTuqwqZrO_Y6dLsyzucSJndP1n-Ytyqr/s320/100_0812.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">And as you can see, the cats missed us terribly. </p>Jared Hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15993054794820326253noreply@blogger.com5