Santa Claus found us!

Christmas went off without a hitch this year. No one got sick, no one cried about what they didn’t get, and the Utes won their bowl game. Again.

On Christmas Eve we trooped over to Kate’s mother’s house, and my sister Kat tagged along. It was an eye-opening experience for her. Though Kat has been exposed to Kate’s family before, she hadn’t met the Browns. Drew’s family was over, and they add a certain element of strangeness that Kate’s family lacks. Not that Kate’s family is not strange. They are just strange in other ways.

When we got to the Browns for the festivities, those of us who wished to view the end of the Broncos/Bengals game were relegated to the bedroom upstairs. Toward the end of the game the Bengals scored, threatening to tie the game with a PAT. After the touchdown the Bengal gave the mile-hi salute, which upset my brother-in-law, Jim. I had to briefly cover Samantha’s ears, and I am thankful Patrick wasn’t in the room: he remembers everything. Just before the snap on the PAT Beth said, “They never miss these.” The snap was bad, and the Bengals did not tie up the game. It was a great finish.

Kate’s family came over for breakfast on Christmas morning, and we decided on 9:00. That way the kids would have time to open their presents before breakfast. Everyone arrived at or shortly after 9, and my kids were still asleep. We made breakfast and ate, and yet the Shirley kids were still sacked. At that time I figured that they were the only children in America who were still asleep. Mike pointed out that kids in Hawaii were probably still asleep, but I beg to differ. Normal kids are up before dawn, chomping at the bit to see if Santa Claus came. Finally at 10:00 Samantha woke up and roused the other children.

Whitney’s big present was a bike, though she took a few minutes to notice it. However, my mother is in hot water over the presents she gave Whit. She gave her a jewelry kit, complete with a million tiny beads. My mother should also note that it is a bad idea to give a child who has OCD an origami kit! It is torture for the kid and twice the torture for the parent. Patrick, of course, got trucks, cars, helicopters and other ‘boy’ stuff, including a set of Spongebob underpants. Pat asked if they were extra absorbent. Samantha was most excited about a box full of dress-up shoes. ‘Mantha also got a toy shopping cart, which was Bean’s favorite toy. She is finally learning how to walk, and likes to push the cart around. Lauren also really enjoyed the wrapping paper more than the gifts inside. Santa brought the kids a huge tin of varying colors of Play Doh and Grandpa Stretch gave the kids a Play Doh table for activities. These were a huge hit. It’s pretty amazing that with all of the technology and advances in toys, something as old as Play Doh still holds its own. I spent a good part of the day trying to clean up Play Doh crumbs and finally gave up. When it comes to Play Doh, it is best to just let it dry, because you can’t sweep or vacuum it until it dries.

Grandma Poopy (which is what my kids call my Mother, don’t ask) made dinner and brought it over on Christmas Day. I was really happy that we didn’t have to go anywhere on Christmas Day. I didn’t even change out of the pajamas that Kate made for me. When I was a kid my Father’s family lived in Idaho, so we didn’t see them on Christmas. My Mother only had her parents, so they came to stay with us. So on Christmas Day we stayed home, and we all got to spend the day relaxing and playing with our toys. I have always wanted that for my kids, instead of racing around all day, and finally we have it. I think we’ll do it again next year.

Kate and I generally don’t get each other anything big for Christmas. It started when we were dirt poor and couldn’t afford presents for each other. Now we still act like we’re dirt poor and don’t get anything for each other, except for stocking stuffers. Each year she buys me the ‘Dad’ Christmas ornament, and each year she gives me a rough time for not buying her the ‘Mom’ ornament. So this year I went and bought the ‘Mom’ ornament from Hallmark. We were both amused on Christmas morning when the ornaments we got for each other were the same, ‘mom’ on hers, ‘dad’ on mine. Each year I fill her stocking with candy, and each year she doesn’t eat it. This year I replaced the candy with fresh fruit. She ate it and was grateful. She’s too healthy. It kills me.

We had a great time at Christmas this year. This morning as I came back to work to see the hallways empty and some of the clinics closed, I thought I should have taken the day, or even the week off. Maybe I will so that I can stay home and get schooled in Connect 4 by Whitney…

A Pretty Wild Week

I have been a mess all week. We finished finals last week, and I have been anxiously waiting for grades to post. It's funny how things change. When my grades were mediocre I did not care about the Dean's list. But last Spring I made the Dean's list, and repeated over the summer. Suddenly making the Dean's list was a big deal. This was to be the last semester where I would be able to accomplish this, because you need to enroll in 12 or more credit hours, and next Spring I will only carry 8. I was worried that my Communication class was going to sink me, but when grades were posted I found that on 14 credit hours this Fall I posted a 3.85. Not too shabby. Imagine what would happen if I actually studied! Of course Kate is not impressed. She wouldn't be. She was a 4.0 student when she was in school. But for me it's a big deal. 114 credit hours down, 8 to go. There are 133 days until graduation ceremonies. But who's counting?

I am also in the process of training my replacement as I transition out of the admitting job and into my new position. While there are (many) things that I will not miss, there are still quite a few that I will. I was in a leadership development meeting this week with all of the supervisors and managers from the department, and looking around the room I realized that most of them at one time or another worked for me. I either hired them or stole them from other units in the department.

During my five years as a supervisor in this department I hired 11 people who were promoted within the department, and several who were promoted in other areas of the hospital. Of the 12 supervisors currently in our department, seven worked for me, plus one of the managers (don't ask why she was promoted over me, it still stings a little). The newest of my hires to get promoted, Jenni, is my replacement, and will do a fine job.

I realize that the promotions of these individuals has nothing to do with me. All of them are high performers, and reached their stations of their own making. But as I look at the impact I've made, I think that I've done a pretty good job at selecting the right people when hiring. There are still some staff-level employees that I've hired that I would like to see get promoted, and I am sure that it is just a matter of time. Many of those who have worked for me and are now my peers, (Ryan and Coby) I feel are friends above just work relations.

As I take a break from leadership, I reflect on something that I read in Jim Collins' book Good to Great. He talked a lot about good leaders and poor leaders. A good leader will leave a corporation with the hope that the policies and procedures he or she put in place will endure, and that the company will continue to prosper. A poor leader will hope for the failure of the company, so that he or she can point back and ask, "See how much they needed me? See how important I am?" I agree with this. Hopefully I have been a decent leader, and hopefully I have left the Admitting department a little better than I found it. Time will tell, I guess...



I found this on another blog and decided to try it. At first I thought that it was cool that so many things fit so well. But then I thought: Of course they would. The subject of this is a movie about me. It’s fitting that the kinds of songs I choose to listen to would match. But it was still fun. Give it a try and let me know how it goes.
If your life was a movie, what would the soundtrack be?

Here's how it works:
1. open your library (iTunes)
2. put it on shuffle
3. press play
4. for every question, type the song that's playing
5. when you go to a new question, press the next button
6. don't lie
Opening Credits: Pardon Me-Incubus
Waking Up: It’s the end of the World as we know it (and I feel fine)-REM
First Day of High School : Comin’ Down-Meat Puppets
Falling in Love: I Will Buy You a New Life- Everclear
Fight Song: Name is Jonas- Weezer
Breaking Up: 3 Libras- A Perfect Circle
Prom: Nutshell-Alice in Chains
Life: Policy of Truth-Depeche Mode
Mental Breakdown: Fall to Pieces-Velvet Revolver
Driving: Whiskey in the Jar- Metallica
Flashback: Weird Science-Oingo Boingo
Getting Back Together: Runaway Train-Soul Asylum
Wedding: Make a Little Birdhouse in Your Soul- They Might be Giants
Birth of a Child: All the Small Things- Blink 182
Final Battle: Harvester of Sorrow- Metallica
Death Scene: Ghostrider-Rollins Band
Funeral: I Stay Away-Alice in Chains
End Credits: Hell’s Bells-AC/DC

The Staples of the Christmas Season

Christmas just is not complete unless certain things are seen and experienced: Chestnuts roasting, snow, kids screaming on Santa’s lap, and of course Christmas decorations. I was feeling bad because I didn’t get the Christmas lights up outside this year. With all of the changes at work (I’ve assumed two full-time roles over the last month) and a heavy school load, I didn’t get to untangle and sort through my icicle lights. But

I promised Whitney that I would get some outside lights up, so this past Saturday I managed to put lights on two small trees in our yard. I shouldn’t have bothered. It looks worse than if I hadn’t done anything. The two trees I managed to wrap were small Charlie Brown-type trees, and look pathetic.

I was going to put up more lights outside, but I couldn’t get them to work. Christmas lights remind me how stupid I am. I can’t get the same strand to work from year to year. For as cheap as lights are the day after Christmas it is worth it for me to buy new strands each year and junk the others.

I need to take a tutorial from my father when it comes to outside decorating. Anyone who drives past Lyndy drive, just South of Hillcrest High School will see my Dad’s trees. It’s quite a spectacle. Grandpa Stretch (as my kids call him) is legendary for his lights. The man has a pair of 50-foot-tall Scotch pines in his front yard. Every year shortly after Thanksgiving he scales the trunks of those trees in order to decorate them with lights.

In one of the trees he places the icicle lights and spirals them down from the top. Near the top he can push them out at arm’s length to start the spiral. As he gets lower, he has to use a special stick that he has fashioned with a hook so that he can reach out to the ends of the branches. In years past he has decorated one of the trees with motion lights, and somehow always managed to get the motion lights to go the same direction.

He has two smaller blue spruce trees in the yard that are “only” about twenty feet tall. One of these he decorates with red and the other blue, appeasing both his Ute fan son (me) and his wayward BYU fan (Chas).

He also decorates his plum tree with all white, but didn’t this year because the plum tree died and has to be pulled. In years past he has also decorated his umbrella tree in all green, and his rose bush in yellow. It is quite a sight, and if I can get a good picture I will post it. The man is impressive.

I also mentioned pictures of kids screaming on Santa’s lap. I don’t know what mall Santas get paid, but it is not enough. Kate and I have pictures of all of our girls crying on Claus’ lap except for Bean (see below). We thought that would change this year because Lauren is old enough that she only likes Mom and Dad (and sometimes G-Pa Mike). But no, once again this year Samantha was the one who melted down. The whole time we were in line I tried to pep talk her and ask her what she was going to ask for. She was fine until I actually placed her. If she gets a lump of coal for Christmas we’ll know it was because she peed on Santa’s lap in a tantrum…

Carmelo Anthony: Pathetic.

Little over a week ago the Denver Nuggets were defeated by the Atlanta Hawks when Marcus Camby in bounded the ball to Andre Miller instead of Carmelo Anthony on the last play of the game. The Nuggets had a chance the win the game on Miller’s drive, but Andre missed, and Camby, after in bounding the ball ran underneath to tip the ball twice, but missed and Denver lost. While all of this was going on Carmelo stood atop the key with his thumb wedged in a dark, warm place. After the game Anthony ripped off his jersey and threw it in the stands in a fit of rage. He was upset that the ball didn’t come to him for the last shot. Apparently Camby hadn’t seen Carmelo’s commercial where the ball hog says, “Why wouldn’t I want to take the last shot? I’ve already made it.” Otherwise Marcus would have passed to the hero. Of course the Hawks were expecting the ball to go to Anthony and had him covered. But it wouldn’t matter to Carmelo. He would shoot into a quintuple team if he had the chance.
I have not liked Carmelo Anthony from day one, and this temper tantrum further irritated me. I think he is a whiner and a jerk. I read an article last summer about how much he’s matured and how he’s ready to take on a leadership role. I had to stand on my chair to finish the article because the horse poop was getting so deep. When I think of maturity I don’t think of Anthony.
The axe I grind against Carmelo got a little bit sharper tonight when the Nuggets and Knickerbockers brawled in MSG. Rumor has it that Knicks coach Isaiah Thomas ordered a hard foul on Denver because he was upset that George Karl still had his starters in the game when Denver already had the game wrapped up. I don’t agree with Thomas’ tactic in sending a message to Denver, but I do think it’s pretty low to leave starters in to run the score up and pad their numbers at the expense of a struggling team. But then again, no one will ever accuse George Karl of having too much class. And don't mistake me for being sympathetic to Thomas' Knicks.
After a hard foul push came to shove and the ruckus escalated until some brawling players spilled into the crowd right in front of the owner of Madison Square Garden. The fracas was starting to wind down when Carmelo ran in and took a swing at Mardy Collins, who was looking the other way. It was a real cheap shot. After taking the swing (a haymaker, but a sissy one at that), Anthony backpedaled from under the basket all the way to mid-court because he knew that if he stayed in there that he’d get his clock cleaned. It was cheap and cowardly, and for me it defines who Carmelo is. Maturity? I scoff at the very notion.
I don’t like the Denver Nuggets in general. I detest them more than I hate the Lakers, which says a lot if you know me. Kenyon Martin, Nene, Carmelo, Camby, Eduardo Najera, George Karl: throw them all in the garbage can. Except for Andre Miller, who I watched play his college ball at Utah, I can’t think of one Nugget I do like. Oh, one other: that little kid that plays for them, Earl Boykins. You can’t help but have some respect for that guy. I revel in the fact that Carmelo will get a long early Christmas break.


I have heard the debates about Carmelo vs. LeBron vs. Dwayne Wade over and over. The draft that year produced some great talent, and I don’t argue against Anthony’s talent. The kid can score and score in the clutch. But for me the debate doesn’t involve Carmelo. I would take LeBron in a second, with D-Wade in a close second. I wouldn’t want Anthony. King James and Wade play selfless ball, and make other players better. At the end of the day that is more beneficial than a one-trick-pony who can just put the ball in the hole. There is no shortage of guys who can score a lot. There is an abundance of shooters. But when the game is on the line and the defense is focused on my superstar, I don’t want someone who is going to act like a crybaby when he doesn’t get to take the last shot.
There was one great thing about the whole melee. During the fight, the officials were trying to restore order, and right in the middle of it all was Dick Bavetta (I can feel Jazz fans squirming at the mention of his name), the one-hundred-twenty-year-old official who was being pushed around like a rag doll. It was great to see the Dick get shoved around. It should happen more often….

Scattered

This week’s blog may seem a bit scattered, but it is a good reflection of how I feel right now. Scattered. Lately I haven’t been as committed to updating my blog regularly because I thought that my posts were more of a self reflection, and that very few people, if any read them. But after my post about Disneyland I received so many comments and e-mails that I realized a lot of people actually read them. So I will try to do a better job of keeping current.

I have finals this upcoming week, so I have a lot of studying to do. And here I sit blogging. I went to the 7-11 and got my Mountain Dew and a bag of fried pork skins (mmmm…heart attack in a bag!) to keep me company while studying. And somewhere between the convenience store and home I lost all motivation. It just goes that way sometimes.

Last week our little Geo Prizm gave up the ghost. Well, kind of. The alternator gave out. An alternator is not too expensive to replace, but the tags on the car are expiring soon, and before we can register, we have to fix a seat belt, a headlight, and a handful of other things. The car is 12 years old and has served us well, but it is time to move on. So we gave the Geo away to a young man who is willing to put the work into it, and we bought a new car. It is a 2007 Toyota Yaris. I had never heard of a Yaris, but the ratings on them are high, and it gets about 40 miles to the gallon. And since I will be the primary driver, the gas mileage is a big deal. I’ve never had a new car in my life. I’ve had newer cars, but never owned a brand-spankin’ new car.
It is sad to give up on the old Geo, though. We’ve had fond memories with that car. It’s the little things that add sentimental value to a car. Like when I had to wash it inside and out on our wedding night because my sister-in-law gave the keys to my cousin, who trashed it. Like the time I was driving Kate to the hospital to deliver Whitney, when Kate barfed in the passenger side door handle. Like when my former mother-in-law backed into it and claimed that it was our fault because of where we parked it, only to discover that she let her own kids park in the same spot behind her without ever having any problems. There’s not doubt about it: Cars gain a personality through us.

All thumbs and two left feet

Sometimes I think it’s a good thing that our kids don’t get most of the jokes we make at their expense. Bean has a pair of black baby doll -shoes, and recently the right shoe went missing after a trip to the store. Kate bought her a new pair of shoes, and I suggested that we keep the spare left shoe since the new pair matched the old. That way we’d have a backup. So we’ve guarded against losing the right shoe. Tonight we had our ward Christmas party, and since Kate was working and I had to get all four kids ready (Kate’s good at it, I am not) I asked Whitney to get Lauren’s shoes on. Whit chose the baby-dolls, and without noticing put both left shoes on the baby. I noticed the error and told Whit that Bean doesn’t have two left feet. She didn’t get the joke.
Last week while in the car Patrick hailed Kate from the back seat and asked what would happen if he didn’t have fingers and only had thumbs. She replied that he would be ‘all-thumbs’. Kate and I were amused. He didn’t get it. But as clumsy as he can be at times, he very well may be all thumbs.

Having four kids I have become lax about illnesses. When the kids get the sniffles, I hardly notice. When they get the flu I don’t lose too much sleep over it. Kids pick up everything. They go to school and come home with whatever their friends have. It’s just part of growing up. But when my fifteen month-old had a seizure, it scared me. Bad. I don’t want to say too much more about it until we know something. More to come…

Down with the Browns in Old Disney Town

Over the Thanksgiving break we decided to take the kids to Disneyland. None of my kids had ever been, and I myself had not been since I was 18 years old, over twelve years. The trip was Kate’s mother’s (Pat’s) idea. She and her husband Drew invited us, Drew’s sister Nancy, Drew’s son and family, and Kate’s brothers Mac and Jim and their families. The day we were to leave, we received a call from Nancy, asking what size T-shirts we all wore. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with everyone wearing the same T-shirts. Each year on the 4th of July we all wear our Old Navy T-shirts for a picture, and I’m okay with that. Shirts that are bought at a store and not customized are fine. Custom T-shirts are not. Mac put it best when he said “I refuse to wear a T-shirt that says ‘Down with the Browns in old Disney Town’.” Their last name is Brown. I agree. I saw people in the park with red shirts and white lettering that said “I’m with Bob”. Then one time I saw a man with a matching shirt that said “I’m Bob”. I also saw a family with matching shirts that said “2006: The year of John”. One young man (presumably John) had a shirt that said “2006: The year of me”. Fortunately for us nothing ever came of the matching T-shirt idea.
This isn’t to say that we didn’t all look like dorks in matching apparel in the park. On the first day in the park (Thanksgiving) Pat had the idea that we would all get a pair of mouse ears to wear in the park. I agreed to this because mouse ears are acceptable, if not mandatory. The majority of the ears the adults picked had flashing lights in the ears. These lights came in handy at night when we wanted to find each other.
There is one downside to the mouse ears. The merchants refuse to embroider a nickname on a hat. I can understand the policy, but my kids don’t know who Lauren is. To them she’s Bean. On the other hand, I can see why Bean is not an acceptable thing to embroider on the ears. We found out that ‘Bean’ is a derogatory term used for Mexican migrant workers, and in Southern California there are many. But the policy of nick names is not consistent. My brother-in-law’s wife Carolina goes by Pilu. The merchant agreed to embroider Pilu on the hat, no questions asked. But hey, what are you going to do?

Lost in California


I experienced one of the worst feelings I’d ever known while in the California Adventure part of the park. I took Whitney and Patrick on the Ferris wheel while Kate attended to the younger children. After we exited the ride, I followed Whitney toward the Maliboomer. We were in a thick crowd of people, and I was holding P’s hand, when suddenly I lost grip. I had brushed past a guy, and Patrick pulled out of my palm. I turned to find P only to discover that I couldn’t see him. I walked in the direction where I thought he’d been, but as the crowd thinned, I knew he was gone. Whit and I searched around the immediate area for about five minutes until I conceded that we needed help. I approached a ride operator and explained what had happened. He called three more park employees over to fan out and expand the search.
The feeling of knowing that your four year old son is lost seven hundred miles from home is hard to describe. It starts with a ten pound weight that drops to the bottom of your stomach, followed by a wave of nausea. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. I could barely dial Kate’s cell phone number to tell her what had happened. And trust me that is a hard call to make. Kate was on the other side of the park and sent Mac to come help with the search.
Security showed up and asked what he looks like. I showed them a picture from my cell phone, and described his clothes. I was told to stay put, so that I could be found by security. That was when I felt the most helpless. The security guard soon returned to inform me that he had been found by a Good Samaritan who had taken him to a security desk. The whole ordeal lasted about 20 minutes that felt like an eternity.
While waiting for him to be found, I kept thinking about how quickly he had disappeared, and wondered if someone hadn’t picked him up and hauled him off. This was foolish of course. Anyone who kidnapped P would be begging me to take him back in five minutes…
We lost Patrick again later that night. We had gone into a store to find some souvenirs when he disappeared. Again it was just as quick. The second time my first move was to place Drew at the door to make sure he didn’t get outside. P was quickly found, and I then took a ball point pen and wrote Kate’s cell phone number up his arm with the instruction to show it to a Disney worker if he should get lost. But of course he didn’t stray at all after that.
Patrick wasn’t the only child to get lost. Whit became separated from Kate in Toon Town, but only momentarily. Whitney is old enough to know that if she gets lost the best thing to do is stop moving. The first time we lost P he just kept walking. Samantha tried to wander away once, but we were able to spot her before she got too far. Pat also lost Mac’s oldest son Logan, but only for a few minutes. But don’t lecture me about placing a leash on my kids. I’ll never do that.

A Real Show-Stopper

Among the rides that Patrick really disliked was Space Mountain. I was disappointed to hear of his displeasure after riding, because it is by far my favorite. Whitney, on the other hand really liked it. So on our last night in the Park, she and I rode together. We were able to get seats on the front of the car. After settling into the seats, we placed our loose items in the little bag at the front of the car. As Whit was folding her glasses, the car jerked forward, and she dropped her specs out of the car and under the track. Since we were already loaded we rode the ride, and then told the ride operator of what had happened. The girl didn’t want to do too much about it until I explained that the glasses were prescription and Whit can’t see without them.
The girl had a gripper on the end of a stick that she used to try and fish out the glasses between passenger loading. There was an hour wait for the ride, and they didn’t want to stop the ride. She couldn’t reach, so finally another employee with longer arms too a stab at it. He finally got the glasses, but as he lifted them out to hand them to the girl he dropped them further into the track. At this point, there was no way around it: They had to shut down the ride. Eventually the glasses were retrieved undamaged.
Whitney was a little embarrassed about the episode on Space Mountain, and I can understand. While the ride employees were gracious about the inconvenience, Whit could tell that she had caused a problem, even though I kept telling her it was just an accident. Later we attended Phantasmic. We got there pretty close to show time, so we didn’t have a great spot. I could see because of my longshanks, but no one else could. Whitney soon lost interest because she couldn’t see, so she sat down and entertained herself. A crowd control usher noticed her and invited her to a better seat. Nancy went with her so she wouldn’t be alone, and the usher took them right up front. I pulled the usher aside and thanked her, explaining what had happened earlier at Space Mountain. I could tell that the good seats for the show really made Whitney’s day.
Whitney is a good kid. She is well intentioned and a sweetheart. But she is the most unlucky child I’ve ever known. In addition to the Space Mountain incident, she also got the belt loop of her Levis caught on a part of a fence outside the Haunted Mansion. It took a little bit of doing to get her free, and I contemplated cutting her loose. But seriously, who else do you know who has had that happen?

Wonder woman

My wife Kate wears me out. At times I can only stand back in wonder and amusement as I watch her go. My intentions for Disneyland were somewhat selfish. I didn’t want to be relegated solely to kiddie rides. I wanted to ride some fun rides too. Kate’s whole focus for the Disney trip was to make sure that the kids did everything that they wanted. As a result she spent a good deal of time standing in lines for the kids’ rides, and making sure Whitney met all of the Disney princesses.
Kate bought Whitney an autograph book on the first day, and from there Whit became obsessed with getting as many autographs as possible. Kate hiked her butt all over the park chasing down John Hancocks. The one autograph that was missing that Whit really wanted was Minnie Mouse. Kate figured out when and where she would be, and got there on our last day in the park. When the bell rang Goofy came out, and Kate nearly burst into tears. Fortunately Minnie was close by, and Whitney completed her book. Had we not been able to track Minnie down, I was ready to steal the book and forge the signature. She would have never known the difference. But thanks to Kate’s determination I didn’t have to resort to any trickery.
Each night when the little kids would get tired Kate would take them back to the hotel and bed them down, allowing me to stay in the park with the older kids and keep riding rides. That was a lot of work for her and I appreciate it dearly. Friday night she even endured watching a Jazz/Lakers game just so that she could tell me what happened. The Jazz won, for which I am grateful. I detest Kobe Bryant. On the last day of the park Kate got the kids ready by herself and got them to the park because I went with Mac, since we had early admission tickets. She said it was no big deal, since she gets them ready every day while I am at work, but it is a big deal, because we were on vacation. She insists that she doesn’t mind.
Kate said that she wanted to take care of the little kids because she gets motion sick on the rides. While there is some truth to that, I know better. She is completely selfless. Speaking of motion sickness, Kate did break down and ride the tea cups because the kids insisted. Now, I love the tea cups. I took Patrick and Samantha twice, and both times knocked them both over because I got the cup spinning so fast. Kate went first thing in the day and got really sick. But she made the sacrifice for the kids.
Like I said, Kate is Wonder woman. We left early Sunday morning to drive home. Pat said we would get moving about 5AM, which translated to 9AM by Pat Brown time, but Kate insisted that we’d be gone by 7AM come hell or high water. At 6:55AM we rolled out of the parking lot, because Kate got our lazy arses out of bed and moving.

A Big Splash

Kate came up with the idea of getting pictures of all the girls in one picture from the final drop of Splash Mountain, and one of the boys (I prefer ‘men’). The ladies went first, and we got a great picture. When it was the gents’ turn to go, Mac and I, discussing how wet we got when we rode before the park opened, decided that Patrick needed to get really wet. I don’t know what Mac weighs, but he is easily the heaviest of all of us. So we placed Patrick on the front of the log ride with Mac in the second seat and me third. We knew that we were in for a big splash when the log initially failed to hook onto the ramp leading to the last big drop off. There was a grinding noise for a few seconds before we began to ascend. After dropping off the peak, we smiled for the camera, and then Mac and I leaned forward. When the log splashed down the nose dropped under, and a tidal wave roared above us. Our mission was accomplished: P was soaked. Mac and I were also drenched. The best part of it was that P never even knew that we were purposely trying to soak him.
Thursday night I attempted to take Whit, P and Samanth on Splash Mountain. I say ‘attempted’ because even though I knew Samantha was too short to ride it slipped my mind. We had fast passes, so we walked right in, only to be stopped in the loading area by the ride operator. He made Samantha stand under the measuring stick and summarily dismissed us from the line unapologetically. She was two inches short. Because I wasn’t able to take Samantha, P and Whitney couldn’t go alone, since they both weren’t over 9 years old. What bothers me isn’t that we weren’t able to ride. Rules are rules, and I should have paid attention. What makes me mad is how much of a jerk the guy was about it. He could have been nice to my kids, who started to cry after being rejected. I guess he just forgot that he was working in the happiest place on earth. But what really made me mad was after I took Samanth back to Kate and returned with Whit and P I saw not once, but twice where the same guy allowed children who weren’t tall enough ride. Why was I singled out? If you’re going to enforce a rule, enforce the rule. Don’t be inconsistent.
My fondest memory of Splash Mountain came from a previous trip. When I was 18 I went to Disneyland with my friend Rob and his family. Rob, his brother and I decided that it would be funny to get a picture of all three of us giving the ‘finger’ to the camera. We were young and full of beans and all thought we were oh-so original. We followed through, only to find out that not only will they not display the picture, not only will they not sell you the picture, but they will gently invite you to leave the park if you try it again. We still thought it was funny…

Bugged

The California Adventure Park has a Bug’s Life show that is 3D and interactive. I really liked the film and wanted to check it out. We all went. But before we went we should have remembered that Samantha is deathly afraid of all shapes and sizes. She survived the show, but didn’t appreciate it. I still thought it was a cool show and highly recommend it.
Speaking of rides that the kids didn’t like, Patrick and Whitney detested the Hollywood Tower Hotel. I am a big fan of the original Rod Serling Twilight Zone TV shows, and thought the ride was well done. Once was enough for my kids.

Main Street Mayhem

You can’t go to Disneyland without experiencing the Main Street Parade. Our first day there was Thanksgiving, and starting on that day the parade was a Christmas theme, as was most of the park. I saw the parade twice while there, and some of our party saw it three times. The time I missed it was when Whit and I were losing glassed on Space Mountain. But during that parade Cinderella’s evil step-sisters singled Patrick out and fought over him, each claiming that he was her Prince. What can I say? He’s a little ladies’ man.
The second time we saw the parade ended on a down note. It was Saturday afternoon, and the Utes of Utah were playing a football game against their arch rivals, Brigham Young. It is the game of the year. During the day we were getting text messages from Mike in Salt Lake, and we heard that the Utes were up by 4 with 1:26 left in the game. Utah was a major underdog in this game, so we were stoked that we might win. But no, BYU pulled out a last play win to take the wind out of our sails. But that’s okay. We have to let BYU beat us every now and again, just to keep the rivalry fun.

Baby Bean

I was worried about how Lauren would handle the trip. She was too little to ride many of the rides and spent a lot of time in the stroller, as she can’t walk yet. But she didn’t seem to mind. There were plenty of new and exciting things for her to watch, and she thought that cotton candy was manna from heaven…

The BRT

In Barry Sonnenfeld’s 2006 film ‘RV’, Robin Williams’ children name their motor home “The Big Rolling Turd”. After watching that film (in Pat’s motor home) we have likewise named her RV the Big Rolling Turd, or BRT for short. Nevertheless, we rode from Salt Lake to L.A. in the BRT, all 12 of us. We didn’t leave until 11PM on Tuesday night because someone (me) had a night class, and that was the earliest we could get gone. The intention was that we would drive all night, and everyone would sleep except for the driver and a co-pilot to keep the driver alert. It was a nice plan, but it didn’t work. All of the older kids slept the night, but the babies and the adults were up the whole time. I couldn’t sleep because I was paranoid that Pat (who drove from Salt Lake to Vegas) would fall asleep.
We stopped in Vegas to have breakfast with Jordan and Nikki, Drew’s son and daughter-in-law who were to join us in L.A. later that night. In Vegas I was moved to the driver’s seat. I haven’t driven anything that big in many years, and certainly I hadn’t driven anything that big through the streets of L.A. In Salt Lake people give a wide berth to a vehicle that unwieldy. In Southern California it is a different story. By the time I got us there I offered a prayer of gratitude that I hadn’t injured anyone. We had a tow car, which prevented us from going any faster than 65 MPH. It made for a long drive, but probably a safer one.
The trip home was a bit more white-knuckle. We were all so tired by the time we left, that everyone fell right asleep except for Drew, who was driving, and me, his co-pilot. I could tell that Drew was getting drowsy as we approached Las Vegas. His driving was getting sloppy, and he nearly hit several orange barrels and jersey barricades in the construction zone. He didn’t fight when I offered to take the wheel.
After leaving Vegas everyone fell asleep again, including Drew, who was supposed to be my co-pilot. I started mainlining the caffeine and praying that I wouldn’t doze off.
After 13 hours in the BRT, we finally made it home. The Big Rolling Turd did its job.

Thanksgiving

We had Thanksgiving dinner in the park at a pizza joint. It was the most unusual Thanksgiving dinner I’d ever had. No turkey, no sweet spuds. Pepperoni and sausage. I did take a moment to give thanks for everything that I have, and not just because I was on vacation. I am married to an amazing woman who has given me four wonderful children. I have a good job with great prospects. I have a home. I am on the verge of graduating from college. I have a lot of things that I too often take for granted.
I wasn’t excited about this trip at all. When I first heard about it I was upset because I knew there was no way to get out of it. Not that I don’t like Disneyland, and certainly not because I didn’t want to spend some time with my family. Thanksgiving has always been a Shirley holiday to me. This holiday is the one time of the year that all of my extended family gets together and sees each other. I didn’t want to miss that, and I still feel that that I missed the annual Christmas tree hunt in Island Park Idaho. But I am thankful that I was able to go on this trip. Between work and school I have precious little time to spend with my wife and kids, and more often than not I am not there to see them to bed at night. I needed some uninterrupted time together with them. I also needed a time to be away from school and work and to let my hair down (metaphorically of course, as I have none). It was a good trip. A good time was had by all.