Saints and Poets

This morning I was reminded of that haunting scene in Thorton Wilder's Our Town: Emily Gibbs has just died, and she decides to revisit her twelfth birthday. Though she relives the beginnings of the day with fresh wonder and excitement, she ultimately can't bear it. "I can't look at everything hard enough," she laments. Frustrated that that the participants of the day seemed incapable of appreciating what lay before them, she asks to go back. On her way she asks the stage manager "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? -- every, every minute?" "No," is the cold answer. "The saints and poets, maybe--they do some."

I thought on that scene this morning as I made my children oatmeal, and particularly as I looked over a gift my father gave me for Christmas. This year he gave us a compilation of his journal entries covering the early part of the lives of his children. The first entry in the compilation is from 1977, when he and my mother learned she was pregnant -- with me. Those entries offer a glimpse of past events akin to Emily Gibbs'-- though perhaps simply in taking the effort to record them, Dad came a little closer to "realiz[ing] life while [we] lived it."

It didn't take long before I thought on my own children, and I considered what it was I wanted to be able to remember about them -- and what I wanted them to be able know about themselves [at this age] when they are my age. So I tried paying closer attention at breakfast:

There was Jared's prayer this morning. Instead of blessing the food, he prayed "Please bless Emily that she'll stop touching the Christmas tree."

Then, in the middle of breakfast, Jared asked for more brown sugar on his oatmeal. I denied the request, explaining that I had already put a little extra brown sugar into his oatmeal since it's Christmas Eve. At the words "Christmas Eve", Emily spontaneously shouted a cheery "Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Finally, as breakfast was ending, Jared noted: "I hope it's a long time for us to die, Dad. Do people come off the ground when they die?"

The noteworthy moments multiplied -- exponentially -- as I looked for them, and I very quickly found I could not look on them hard enough. I could not hold my children tight enough to keep them as they are. In fact, I could not even hold onto today's priceless breakfast scenes. It is not in my power.

Instead, my only hope seems to be in recording -- in my journal entries or this blog -- what few experiences from the day are deemed important enough to preserve. If my responsibilities take me too long into the evening on any given day, they risk cursory treatment, or, far more often, simply getting skipped entirely. If I happen to miss the mark one day and dwell too much on the unimportant, time still passes unforgivingly. At best, I find that mildly distressing.

Neal A. Maxwell once noted that we humans never seem to feel quite "at home" in time. We too often either find ourselves wanting to hold onto certain moments longer, while making other events pass more quickly. He mused that the discomfort is evidence that we are eternal beings. I suppose that doctrine has never seemed as clear to me as over a bowl of oatmeal this morning with my kids.

At any rate, Mr. Wilder, it seems that "saints and poets" may not be alone in realizing, in some measure, "life as they live it." Instead, for what it's worth, my money's actually on those who diligently keep a journal.

On the Tenth Day of Christmas...

My true love threatened mutiny if forced to listen to any more Manheim Steamroller.*

With only a few days to Christmas I am already lamenting the passing of the Season. That it must end at all means it must end too soon. I am starting to tire, though, of my Christmas music collection.

Tonight Michelle and I will finish reading A Christmas Carol -- a Christmas tradition we started years ago (to keep up with President Monson, who apparently does the same). At under 100 pages, we read a few pages a night during the month of December. For those who've read the story, hopefully you'll agree that, as fond as we are of some of the movie versions of the story, they can't match Dicken's narration in the book itself.

By the way, I am still waiting on some sugar cookies, though I have it on good authority that Michelle and Jared will be making some for Santa tomorrow. They are, after all, Santa's favorite. Hopefully he'll appreciate my contribution as well -- cookie decorater -- since it'll be my job to make sure that his cookies have just the right amount of frosting, and that the frosting is just crusted over by the time he reaches for them. I suspect that my attention to detail in this regard will be handsomely rewarded.

Lastly, thanks be to President Bush, whose December 6 Executive Order has allowed me to spend Christmas Eve at home. I intend to make good use of the day by investing a few extra hours in Super Mario Galaxy on the Wii.

* And were we relegated to the music that has come after their first two CDs, I'd have to agree.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas...

Ah the Christmas season. Since last Friday's office holiday party (and the accompanying office dessert contest), I've daily given up more and more ground to the sugary treats set before me. By tomorrow I'll have lost control completely, and by Friday, I'll perhaps be in an insulin induced coma. Hopefully I'll wake up in time, though, for some sugar cookies on Saturday.

On the First Day of Christmas...

Twelve days left until Christmas, and the Clarks are in full Christmas mode. Christmas music, presents under the tree, We've even had some nippy weather the past few nights to justify it (in the 40's). Knowing that Santa is among my avid readers, I thought it prudent again to post my letter to him this year, which I wrote in conjunction with our home evening activity on the subject.* I'm sure you'll sense the more concise (and modest) approach this year. I'll let you know on December 25th how Santa took to the letter:

Dear Santa,

I have been the best in the family, so I deserve the most.

I trust you Santa. You've never let me down (except that one time).

Love,
Aaron

* By the way, Santa, Jared's more focused letter has already been posted on Michelle's blog.

But I Did Stay at a Holiday Inn Express Last Night

I got to argue an appeal before the Ninth Circuit today. That was cool.

While some of my colleagues stayed at the Ritz-Carlton, I opted for the more functional Holiday Inn Express (in a much sketchier part of Pasadena, CA). Anyone familiar with this blog might guess why I went out of my way to stay at such an admittedly inferior hotel: The Holiday Inn Express offers complementary warm cinammon rolls for breakfast -- as many as you can eat.*

I started staying at the hotel a few years ago when the firm I was working for sent me on a series of business trips the took roughly six weeks. I ended up in the nether parts of the country and stayed of lots of different hotels of varying quality. Quickly enough, though, I started searching out the Holiday Inn Express because I knew that, if all else failed, those cinnamon rolls would be waiting to greet me the next morning.

Granted, the Holiday Inn Express cinnamon rolls hardly register on my list of top pastries, but as part of a free breakfast -- with a glass or two of skim milk -- they've found a warm place in my heart, and with that small gesture have perhaps attracted a lifetime customer.

*After speaking with my colleagues it would seem the Ritz doesn't even offer a complementary breakfast, much less warm pastries and milk. They also charge $9 for daily internet access, whereas the Holiday Inn Express offers complementary wireless access. How do ya like them apples? By the way, for anyone interested in knowing how many I actually ate this morning -- only two. I thought it prudent given that a pastry induced coma might've detracted from my arguments this morning.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I don't know about you, but Thanksgiving Day started for us at 5 a.m. this year. That's when Emily awoke needing some attention -- the rest of the house decided to get up with her. We decided to spend those early morning hours playing Mario Party 8. Michelle won the early round.

At 6:30 a.m. I took the kids -- still in their pajamas -- to Yum Yum Donuts to get donuts and a Thanksgiving Day paper.* [On our way to the car we passed a few festive neighbors, already outside drinking.] This is the first year I've had the foresight to not try and finish off the entire dozen donuts in the morning.

Michelle labored late into the night yesterday prepping today's dinner. Sometime after 9 p.m. last night I made my way to Albertson's for some pie crusts. I felt sorry for those parents filling their carts to start preparations, with bleary eyed children in tow.



All that preparation was well rewarded. From the acorn squash, walnut, and pomegranate salad to the perfectly dressed turkey, the light, buttery rolls, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie: all merited high praise.

We delighted in having some company to share it with.

Having now settled in for the evening, we've played some Christmas music, made our Black Friday plans, and are now watching "A Muppet Christmas Carol." Though we were far from famly, I can't remember a Thanksgiving going more smoothly. Tonight I feel almost completely at my leisure. The fact that I don't have to work tomorrow only adds to that sentiment.

Happy Thanksgiving!

* Michelle once or twice made coffee cake on Thanksgiving morning...back in the days we didn't have kids. She told me definitively this year that's a tradition we won't be continuing. By the way, the donut/newspaper tradition started back in Boston during my 2L year in law school. The newspaper, of course, is for the Black Friday ads.

The Deal of a Lifetime

Michelle is sick, so I spent most of the day home. I like being home.

This afternoon I took the kids to Blockbuster to rent Ratatouille, then to Albertson's for some chicken soup and orange juice (for Michelle). We got to Albertson's at just they right time: they were putting out the discounted Halloween candy bins.*

Now, I'd sworn I wouldn't buy any post-holiday Halloween candy this year, but I couldn't resist the open invitation, or the $1 price tag. What surprised me, though was to see to of the larger 45 ounce bags of M&Ms in the bin (that weren't even overtly "Halloween" candy). I picked up the bags and mused openly to a nearby employee, "These can't possibly be $1." They were the big bags -- the kind that normally retail for $11 at Albertson's.

"Oh yes they are," she shot back proudly and defiantly. So I put the two bags in the cart, believing not for joy, and expecting the cashier to probably correct the apparent error.

She did not, and I ended up walking out of Alberton's with 90 ounces of M&Ms for $2. At 4.5 cents and ounce, that's far and away the least I've ever paid for M&Ms.

Now lets see if I can make them last for more than a day or two.

Stick With the Double Double (Part II)

Where was I before those pesky fires? Ah yes. Hamburgers.

A few took issue with my laudatory comments on In N Out's Double Double -- both offering their own supposedly superior options (feel free to scroll down). As for Five Guys Hamburgers, I'm in the unfortunate (or perhaps convenient?) position of being unable to verify claims of superiority.

Not true of the Carl's Jr. claims. The day after the comments -- the first day of the fires -- I made a special trip to a nearby Carl's Jr. I went with an open mind, hoping for the superior form of "hamburger nirvana" Matt pines away for back East. It didn't happen.

Looking to match a similar burger, I went with the classic Double Star w/cheese.

The first thing I noticed was that the Double Star costs 30 cents more than the Double Double. Not a good sign, unless it really happens to be superior. The burger itself was quite functional. The patties had more of a grilled flavor to them -- the same I've tasted in Burger King's fare. Throughout the experience, though, there was one persistent thought: There isn't anything in the taste or assembly of this burger that I couldn't get cooking on the grill at home. (Of course, this violates Rule #37 of my maxims for living: Never pay to eat out something you could make at home.)

So as for me and my house, we'll stick with the Double Double.

Day 3

I'm actually starting to get stir crazy. No work again today (and no work tomorrow either.)The air this morning was visibly caked with smoke. I could hardly spend a few moments outside without my eyes, nose and throat starting to burn. Maybe this is why they want everyone inside and limiting their physical exertion.

The major networks spent the day covering the fires again, though several starting inserting commercials. Tonight, they were just about all back on their regularly scheduled programming, though they're all still running a ticker on the bottom of the screen updating evacuation notices. Our car is still packed and ready to go at a moments notice, but it's looking less and less likely that will be necessary.

This afternoon we readied for the ward Halloween carnival, which went on despite the air warnings (The air out here was actually much improved this evening -- though reports are that it's still terrible downtown.) As part of the festivities, Michelle entered some of her chili in a ward chili cooking contest. She didn't ended up taking home any prizes for the chili -- though apparently her chili was the first (and one of the few) to be eaten completely. All the way home she openly mused on how the telling sign of an award winning chili wasn't a ribbon, but to be the first eaten. Of course, it would've been nice if she'd won a ribbon too.

Other highlights included the cake walk. Between my and my brother's family we took home about 12 cupcakes. Since I finished off the Costco chocolate cake this morning, the timing was perfect.

Day Two

No work today. Lots of TV, switching channels frequently to find any station showing live footage of the fires. Michelle spent the day readying our car and our things in the event of another evacuation. We've been advised to stay indoors (the smoke tinged air outside tends to give one a headache), and to stay off the freeways.

That didn't stope me from heading to Costco (not to worry, I took all local roads). I convinced Michelle I had legitimate business to transact there, but I really only had one thing in mind: The family needed a morale boost and I needed chocolate cake.

The Costco chocolate cake. Not the 8 lb. All-American Chocolate cake that's mostly frosting (and hence, not terribly appealing.) No, the smaller 4 lb. bundt cake with a chocolate ganash type frosting and a drizzled white line of frosting on top of that. I brought Jared along with me for moral support, and to help figure out our best defenses when Michelle found out we'd bought it.*

As it happened, there were cheers when I brought the cake home. Michelle only mildly protested (which in this case actually represented a hearty consent). I did my parental duty by waiting until at least after noon to break into it.

* Jared's best idea was this: "I'll just tell her, Dad: 'Mom, we're keeping the chocolate cake.'"

Update as the Fires Rage

Only in hindsight is my foolishness so apparent.

I began the morning later than usual and caught only enough of the Internet to read on CNN's website that there were a few "small fires" in remote parts of Northern San Diego County. I ate a heaping bowl of cereal, held late morning prayers with my family, before literally running to catch the trolley. I read 1 Nephi 17 and then slept for the remainder of the ride, gearing up for the work day ahead.

I got off the trolley and immediately noticed the smell of smoke and burnt wood. I mused on that as I walked, and then passed a coffee shop where two paralegals informed me the office was closed. I rejoiced and took the next trolley home.

Once home, I turned on the television and stayed glued to the news. With morbid fascination I looked at the map delineating the locations of 7 different fires burning in varying parts of San Diego County. None were near La Mesa. We stayed fascinated with the fire, and I openly wondered/hoped the fires might keep me home from work tomorrow too.

I went ahead with the rest of the day, feeling insulated enough that we only reluctantly decided not to head down to the beach today. I also tried to switch internet service plans, rejoiced when a customer service rep from Men's Wearhouse called to let me know they'd be replacing two of my shirts, and went to Carl's Jr. to test out a Super Star burger (w/cheese) before formulating a reply for a recent blog.

About an hour ago we continued in the state (readying ourselves to head to the pool) when we heard sirens and a loud speaker shouting something. Given our proximity to Fletcher it had to be directed elsewhere.

Still, Nichole can running into the apartment frantic. Police cars had driven up forcing evacuation of our apartment complex. As soon as Michelle heard, her voice turned frantic and in a seeming panic she started screaming for us to get things, find things, put things together, and get out of the house.

I still felt calm. Even amid an apparent evacuation, it couldn't have had anything to do with us. I put together my laptop bag, found my backpack (which has Ipod) and meandered out to our car. It was during that walk that the seriousness of the situation. Police cars were racing up to our building on the other side. I walked down a little farther and saw a billow of smoke. Then, in that instant I saw a tree on our side of the street, but on the other side of the wall catch on fire.

I ran back to the house, and with a heightened sense of urgency started getting things ready. I unhooked our main computer, and got our children. People were running around our building now. Neighbors who had raced home wanted to know when this had happened. Police were shouting as us to leave, pounding on our neighbors doors. I realized for the first time that I could lose just about everything I owned. We filled our trunk. I noticed Michelle had loaded a bunch of pictures and a few journals. I'd taken care of the computers. We loaded into the car when Michelle, still talking frantically, told me she'd forgotten her wallet. She told me to run in and get it, and I reluctantly complied. As soon as I got out of the car a policeman was shouting at me "You're going the wrong way sir! Get out of here!" I still ran back to our apartment, hoping to find that wallet. The policeman followed me though, shouting at me all the time "Get out of here! Get out of here now!" He only gave me a few moments to look for the wallet, standing in the doorway shouting at me the whole time. I ended up leaving without it, and the caravan of my family and my brother's family left the apartment complex.

There was an empty feeling, leaving the apartment and seeing the fire, not knowing when we'd be able to return and what we'd be returning to. Michelle shouted thanks a policeman as we drove off. We were headed to a church evacuation center, and Michelle was lamenting she'd been so concerned about preparing for Christmas and we didn't even have a 72 hour kit. For most of the drive we alternated between feelings of gratitude that we were all together safe and feeling foolish that we weren't better prepared. Jared displayed a little nervousness by asking lots of questions about the fires and the fire getting our apartment.

We got to the stake center and saw familiar faces. Each of those faces was there to help -- not there as evacuees. We checked in, were given a room and offered cookies. Most importantly, there was a room with a TV showing the local news. We met people from Poway, and I shared a few nervous moments with a man who wondered what area we'd come from. When I told him "La Mesa" he expressed surprise the fire had gotten that far South, and then said "It's a strange sensation not knowing what you're going to be coming back to." I saw Jared & Emily a few moments afterward -- Jared was telling me about toys -- and felt profound gratitude that my little family was unscatched. For a few moments, I felt like that was all that mattered.

The fire affecting our area was apparently under control and put out almost as quickly as it started (no details yet on what started it). I'm not sure if we were even at the stake center an hour when a friend offered to let us stay with them. [Not before this same friend joked with me that there were reports my home had been looted -- the only thing they'd taken was the Wii.]

On our way to their house, we checked on our own and saw only charred hillside and a few burned pine trees. We were able to return home and offer thanks, and essentially continue a normal evening. [though Michelle has filled the car with those things we just couldn't bear to lose -- should we be evacuated again.]

At last report, the 8 fires in San Diego county are 0% contained. Tonight there are thousands [250,000 in an early count this afternoon] who have been evacuated from their homes. We were one of them only for an hour or so. My office is closed tomorrow. I won't be sleeping in Qualcomm stadium, a high school, or a church tonight. I feel guilty about that, especially as I watch others' homes burn on the news. At least tonight I'm a little less inclined to take my creature comforts for granted, and a little more prepared if something threatens to take those same comforts away again.

Stick With The Double Double

Most already know of my regard for In-N-Out burgers. In fact, I'm surprised other hamburger joints are able to survive in Southern California, since their burgers are either markedly inferior or double or triple the price (and that's just to offer something comparable.)

This weekend we play host to my brother's family and my mother. They're visiting from Utah. Any time we have company from out of town we usually make sure they have opportunity to make the obliged pilgrimage to In-N-Out. Today was no different: After a few hours poking around the San Diego Zoo, we made our way to the In-N-Out closest to our home.

I felt especially hungry tonight, and so decided to try a 3 x 3 (3 hamburger patties and 3 slices of cheese), instead of the normal Double Double.

What a mistake! Perhaps I couldn't have known before hand, but the entire balance of the burger changes when an additional patty and cheese slice are added to the same single slice of tomato and lettuce, the same amount of sauce, and the same toasted bun. While the tomato, lettuce, and sauce act as perfect compliments to a Double Double, alas, when competing with a third patty and slice of cheese they are almost drown out entirely. Because of that, after my first few bites I found myself thinking "Wow, that's a lot of cheese!", instead of my usual reaction, in which my thoughts melt away during those few delicious minutes.

In the end, the 3 x 3 was a functional burger, though suprisingly quite inferior to its smaller counterpart. Indeed, the fact that that burger inflicted 50% more damage on my body than the already dangerous Double Double all but ensures that I'll never make the mistake of ordering another in my lifetime.

All That Glitters is Not Gold

I have been a bachelor the past five days, with only my Diet A&W root beer to keep me company.* Truly I don't seem cut out for single life.

Granted, it has been worse in years past. There were a few times in Cambridge when Michelle was out of town where I'd find I was staying up until 2 a.m. flipping channels and eating cereal, hoping for something to replace the loss of her company. Diet A&W can be good for that sort of thing, but not nearly good enough.** I haven't been quite miserable this time around, but I haven't really been happy either. Instead all this free time has painted my weekend and my evenings in a grayish hue.

One might be tempted to think otherwise -- that this kind of alone time is exactly what you need. Evenings free without fretting about getting dinner on the table or the kids ready for bed! Just hours and hours to work on all those projects you've put off until you had enough time to get to them. But I defy you to be even half as productive as you imagine you'll be, and to not spend the better portion of your evening or your weekend trying to find something (and generally something unproductive) to fill the void left by your loved one's absence.

Sadly tomorrow they will return, and all this longing produced by their absence will quickly be forgotten amid the daily routine. There might be a few moments, perhaps even a day or two of increased joy, but soon enough we'll settle back into things, and be comfortable enough to be occassionally cross with one another. And then, paradoxically, I'll surely return to craving just a little more free time, not really knowing what I'm wishing for, the feelings that spurred this post naught but foolishness. Only after she leaves again will I remember.

The great tragedy seems to be that even recognizing all this beforehand, I am yet too human to alter that course of those events.

*Yes, my brother Nathan technically has stayed at our home in Michelle's absence, but he's home so little that I've found my Diet A&W is the only thing I can really count on.

**Some of you might be thinking "Hey, Aaron like's Peanut M&Ms a lot -- why doesn't he just get some of those?" To any who might be wondering, I fear without Michelle around to provide some form of regulation (even if it's just a look of disappointment) I might sink to uncharted depths in that regard. I'm not anxious for a relapse right now -- not with Halloween coming, quickly followed by Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Once Upon A Mattress

On Saturday we sat at the feet of the prophets (in our living room) watching General Conference. We also went bed shopping. Thrilling stuff, I know.

I know two things about mattress shopping (and probably only two things): (1) buy a name brand; and (2) never pay full price.

An otherwise unexciting day of shopping was made more interesting because of this fact: we found two local mattress stores both of whom offered to beat their competitors lowest price on any mattress by 5%.*

Michelle would lay on each mattress and comment on the different feel -- often times going back and forth between the comparable Serta and Simmons models. I would lay on each, pretend to have a comment, and think about how much it cost.

After we'd settled on a mattress at the first store we thanked the salesmen and told him we needed to do some due diligence at other local stores. It was at this point that he reminded me about the 5% price guarantee and volunteered that a competitor was selling the mattress we had our eye on for $200 cheaper. He claimed he'd match and beat the price by giving us the same price and not charging us sales tax. That sounded pretty good -- but we still left.

Later in the day we visited the competitor -- who also claimed they'd beat any price by 5%. Their salesman was a bit more aggressive. I'd hoped to keep under wraps the fact that we'd already shopped at a competitor, but Jared gave us away: "Daddy, this store has toys too!"

Once we got the 2nd store to agree to match the first store's price (note, he only agreed to match the first store's price, not beat it), we left and went back to the first store.**

Then came the final bit of finagling. We went back to the first store and sat in the parking lot. Michelle urged me to talk again with the sales rep at the first store, telling him we'd been offered the same deal by his competitor that he'd offered earlier, and asking him to beat it by 5%. I was loathe to be so pushy, since I essentially was making the man bid against himself. Once Michelle pointed out it was all part of the business, and that they'd even invited that kind of haggling, I decided to venture.

After I inquired, the man at the first store decided to sweeten deal by offering us a free bed cover, valued at $120, as well as no interest financing for 26 months (meaning we could earn the interest on that money, instead of them). I rewarded him by letting him know that we thought his presentation was better than the other guy's anyway. We then signed on the dotted line, and are now the proud owners of a new Simmons mattress.

* This had my head spinning. If two competitors promised to be the other's lowest price by 5% -- couldn't I eventually get someone to sell me a mattress for $1?

** The salesman started to press as we made our way out the door, wondering why, with their price match guarantee, I didn't just finalize the sale there. I finally had to be candid: "We're looking at spending a lot of money. I'd like to be able to consult with my wife in private before we come to a decision."

Donut Escapades

In Spring 1997, I was a freshman in college, recently finished with somewhat successful basketball season and only a few months away from a mission. Basketball had brought some degree of notoriety, but did nothing to add to my list of close friends. It was a lonely year in many respects, but would've been more so without my good friend Jamin to commiserate with.

Jamin and I made a memorable Spring break trip that year: a five hour round trip drive to Rochester -- the nearest place with 7-Eleven's -- for Slurpees. Most thought the trip, and my fetish for Slurpees, inane foolishness. I might have agreed, but that didn't mean I had anything better to do.

I thought on that trip Saturday as I decided to drag my family with me to Los Angeles (roughly 5.5 hours roundtrip), to sample a few famed donut shops. Perhaps sensing history, Michelle was surprisingly complicit, especially after I suggested we'd finish the day at Pink's hot dogs. My younger brother Bryan, visiting from Utah, also took to the idea. Perhaps he remembered accompanying me on a few of those early morning trips in upstate New York just after my mission when I took him on an hour long trek to get donuts from from Holland Farms before anyone was up.*

The impetus for this trip was a recent article on MSN, referenced in a previous post, purporting to feature the "America's Best Donuts." Two of the ten shops listed were in the Los Angeles area. As I mentioned before, I was skeptical, wondering openly what criteria were used to discern the best donuts, and what the author's qualifications were enabling him to make such bold assessments. After all, how many shops has he been too? How thorough his research? Had he had any training in donut theory? My suspicion was that by "best", the author really meant "most famous," which often has nothing to do with taste. I felt obligated to make my own assessments. Hence, last Saturday's trip:

At each store we bought six donuts, opting for a standard maple bar and glazed donut where possible, and then selecting the other four donuts based on what offerings seemed most intriguing or appealing. My review the shops and their donuts follows the order of their rankings based on Saturday's visits:

Randy's Donuts

We began the morning at Randy's. Having visited the store earlier in the month, I knew they made quality donuts. Saturday's visit only reinforced that. Our 1/2 dozen donuts cost just over $5. Here's the menu:

We started with another buttermilk donut and this time sampled a glazed donut:

Michelle raves about the Randy's buttermilk donuts ("They taste like buttermilk!"). I don't see (or taste) it.

The glazed donut, though, was remarkable. Soft and slightly warm, the glaze was lighter than most other glazed donuts -- almost more refined. The donut doesn't call attention to itself like its more famous Krispy Kreme counterpart; it's subtlety only adds to its delightfulness. The glazed donut also had more of a homemade taste than any donut I've ever purchased. It was a favorite among all of us and easily ranks as one of the best donuts I've ever eaten. Seriously. I think I'd contemplate a trip to Los Angeles just to get a dozen (well, maybe two dozen) of those glazed.

We also tried a Randy's cinammon crumb donut:

Here, Randy's distinguished itself from a previous favorite donut of mine from Mag's Donuts in Orange County. Randy's cinammon crumb donut -- a cake donut -- was lighter and softer than any cake donut I had ever eaten.

Lastly, we enjoyed the maple bars:

The maple bars on Saturday didn't have the slightly crunchy exterior like the one I'd sampled earlier in the month. They were, however, just as soft and chewy, and the maple icing remains the best I've ever tasted.

Stan's Donuts

Stan's was our third stop, but finds itself second on our list. Stan's didn't make the MSN list for "Best Donuts" but came highly recommended by a friend. I discovered later it apparently made Forbes 2001 list as the best donut shop in America. It certainly lived up to my friend's recommendation, even if no particularly donut there made for a particularly compelling experience.

Stan's is nestled in Westwood very close to the UCLA campus. We spent a little under $6 on our half dozen:



Stan's website boasts over 75 different kinds of donuts, and claims you'll find donuts there that you won't be able to find anywhere else in the world. By all appearances that was true, as the sight of all those difference kinds of donuts was simply overwhelming.

Still we managed to decide on six for sampling:

We first tried the pink donut, which Stan's dubbed "The Simpson's Donut." It looked every bit the part, but tasted very ordinary. The same actually could be said of all the donuts in the box: the glazed (very much like the generic glazed I could get at an Albertson's), the maple bar, the cinammon crumb (which is actually a yeast donut here -- the cinammon crumb is held to the donut by light glaze that actually falls off the donut in large chunks), and the cherry topped cream filled (I'm not sure what we were thinking in selecting this one). The orange buttermilk donut actually did distinguish itself, if only because, as Michelle described it, it tasted like "manufactured orange."

In the end Stan's is a fine donut shop that seems to distinguish itself by variety, rather than quality. It was a fun little shop, and I found myself rooting for the place. I'm sure if there were a Stan's right around the corner from where I live, I'd be quite contented to visit it as my dependable local donut shop. But you know what they say, "Jack of all donuts, master of none."

Frittelli's Doughnuts & Coffee

Last, and decidedly least, is Frittelli's. The first shop on MSN's list of "America's Best Donuts," it automatically brought with it higher expectations. Fritelli's seemed to embrace the expectations, too, by taping the very same MSN article to one of their display windows and prominently displaying a chalk board sign on the sidewalk that claimed "America's Best Donuts!" Alas, the store epitomized my greatest fears style over substance.

Frittelli's appears to market itself as a high end, designer donut (sorry "doughnut") and coffee shop that caters to the rich and famous in Beverly Hills. Indeed the doughnuts can only be had at designer prices. Our half dozen donuts cost us over $11.00 -- more than twice what we paid at Randy's and Stan's. I suppose none of the other places gave us a nice baby blue box though.

(Yes, that's the Food Network on in the background on an HDTV. Perhaps now you're starting to sense why the doughnuts were so costly)

We started with the maple bar:

Once we divided up the doughnut and parsed out samples, Michelle and Bryan gave initially glowing reviews -- with Michelle focusing her comments on the donut's texture. What I tasted, though, was a very ordinary maple bar, and that wasn't enough for me. Once I noted this outloud, Michelle and Bryan were both more moderate in their praise.

We then sampled their blueberry buttermilk doughnut:

The buttermilk doughnut was more dense than what we'd tasted at Randy's. In fact, it reminded me a lot of banana bread. It was a very average doughnut -- with blueberries.

We next tried the "Heath Bar Crunch" chocolate doughnut:

Admittedly, it had never occured to me to put a candy bar on top of a doughnut. I liked the Heath Bar, but the rest of the doughnut was unremarkable. In fact, the candy was sweet enough that it shifts your tastebuds can't taste the donut. Perhaps they intended it that way. (Honestly, I'm not sure I like the idea of candy toppings on donuts.)

Lastly we went with the trifecta of designer doughnuts: butterscotch, orange cranberry, and red velvet:

The orange cranberry doughnut actually came closest to matching Fritelli's reputation -- an orange cake donut, orange glaze, with cranberries sprinkled on top. I felt like I was eating something fancy.

The butterscotch doughnut tasted nothing like butterscotch, and the red velvet doughnut tasted like a bland chocolate (albeit deep red chocolate). With each of these cake doughnuts, the cake itself wasn't nearly as fresh as it had been at Randy's, and I found my I was reminded more of Mag's consistency and texture more than anything else. In a blind taste test they might have easily been from one of the inferior donut shops here locally.

Throughout our sampling, I remained quite cognizant of the price of the doughnuts (nearly $2 each), as well as the chalkboard promises of "America's #1 Doughnuts." Perhaps that's why, on the whole, I found Frittelli's utterly disappointing. Indeed, Frittelli's promises high end, designer flavors, and sometimes the donuts actually tasted like what they were described to be. But even when the taste matched, I often only tasted a very ordinary cake doughnut with exotic flavors. On the scale of doughnuts I've eaten and donut shops I've visited, it would never even occur to me to place Frittelli's anywhere near the top -- even ignoring the price disparity. Were Frittelli's just around the corner from my home, I suspect I'd never even be tempted to visit. And if I was, the cost of those donuts would probably easily drive me elsewhere. The doughnuts just aren't good enough.

So in the end, my research brought mixed results. We confirmed one truly top notch donut shop, enjoyed an average donut shop with lots of character, and, despite it's recent national acclaim, exposed a pretender. All in a day's work.

* For further details, see the 2nd half of the now two year old post on my Top 21 Donut/Pastry Experiences of All Time

Changing of Seasons

Summer has slipped quietly into Fall here in San Diego. The once unmanagable heat, which twice this summer required us to condescend and turn on our air conditioning, has given way to the crisp 78 degree Autumn air.

The changing of seasons has given cause for deep reflection. And, In pondering my existence the past few days, measuring it against the perilous times we are in, I've been stuck with one almost irrepressible thought:

I still cannot be trusted with an open bag of Peanut M&Ms, no matter the size, and no matter how many I may have already eaten in a day.

'Tis the Season

Too early for candy corn?

I didn't think so either.

How to Eat Fried Dough

We returned from Oahu Monday morning.* Those looking for a travel log should look elsewhere. Here we deal with donuts.

The first sampling came from Napoleon's Bakery, which accompanies the Hawaiian restaurant chain Zippy's. We stopped by in the late afternoon to look over the dinner menu, though it was the bakery that intrigued me.**

What you're looking at, and what caught my eye, was this chocolate yeast raised donut. It was a new concept to me, and I had no reason to resist.

While a unique concept, the chocolate yeast raised donut proved to be unremarkable. The chocolate in the dough added very little to the donut beyond the color. still, I didn't lament the 93 cents it cost me to try it.

A few days later we stopped by Agnes' Portuguese Bakery in Kailua. Michelle raved about these malasadas:

I didn't. They have to be eaten warm to be tolerable. Michelle would talk of the crispy outside and the softy and chewy "delightfully warm" interior, with just the right amount of sugar. Perhaps too she was swayed by the notion that their Portguese donuts. Had they been called "Oversized Hush Puppies coated in sugar", she may better have seen them for what they were.

At any rate, I wasn't so easily fooled. Granted, as Michelle pointed out, all doughnuts are ultimately only a combination of fried dough and sugar. Not all donuts, however, compel such coarse reminders of that.

I, instead, spent my morning appetite on these bad boys:

I decided to tackle this enormous cinammon roll, as well as a macademia nut covered maple bar. Both were well dressed up, and undoubtedly would've tasted better if I felt like I could have afforded some milk to go along with them.*** Neither, however, left a lasting impression.

Lastly, while vacationing I ran across an article purporting to list "America's Best Donuts." I'm more than a little suspicious that most, if not all, of the donut shops made the list because they're famous or quirky -- not because they've got America's best donuts. However, one on the list, Randy's Donuts, was only a few blocks from where we parked in Los Angeles.

Groggy though we were from a miserable red-eye, we left a place in our schedule for Randy's. We bought several kinds. In fact, we had to buy $5.00 worth to be able to use the credit card.

The maple bar above was the best I've ever tasted: the frosting was perfectly sweet and the donut itself slightly crispy on the outside. I fear unless I return there again, I will never taste its equal.

The chocolate frosted cake donut above had semi-sweet chocolate frosting. I wasn't impressed, but then the maple bar had raised the stakes a bit. Michelle liked the buttermilk donut a lot too, but my tastebuds had been ruined by the time we got to that donut, so its subtleties were lost on me.

In all, a fine vacation, though I went far enough down that sugary path that we've resolved again to go without sugar...at least 'til Friday.

*First post in almost a month? Two words: Nintendo Wii.

** While there I observed a man wearing a U of U med school polo shirt. He seemed to have observed me too, and apparently wanted to confirm his suspicions I was LDS. His approach left something to be desired: he walked up to me and asked "Are you wearing two shirts because it's fashionable or because it's too cold out?" How would you have responded? I just started at him blankly for a few seconds before deciding to say flatly, "I'm not wearing two shirts."

***Our best efforts found a gallon of skim milk for $5 at Safeway.

President Faust's Passing

I've been remiss in not honoring the passing of James E. Faust sooner.

For those not yet made aware, James E. Faust, Second counselor in the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, passed away last Friday due to causes incident to old age.

There are two talks I'll long remember President Faust for: The first was his talk for the 1998 First Presidency Christmas devotional when he spoke about the similarities between Santa Claus and the Savior -- thus putting to rest any doubts about whether Santa Claus is real.

The second talk was the one he gave during the Sunday morning session of the October 1997 General Conference. It was titled "The Weightier Matters of the Law: Judgment, Mercy, and Faith." It was not so much the doctrine he taught but the emotion with which he shared the following story:

"I fear that some of our greatest sins are sins of omission. These are some of the weightier matters of the law the Savior said we should not leave undone. These are the thoughtful, caring deeds we fail to do and feel so guilty for having neglected them.

"As a small boy on the farm during the searing heat of the summer, I remember my grandmother Mary Finlinson cooking our delicious meals on a hot woodstove. When the wood box next to the stove became empty, Grandmother would silently pick up the box, go out to refill it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and bring the heavily laden box back into the house. I was so insensitive and interested in the conversation in the kitchen, I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen wood box. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my omission for all of my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness."

As he drew near to the end of that story, emotion overcame him and he stood at the pulpit weeping as he tried to regain his composure. His tears offered a powerful and eloquent sermon that I have never forgotten.

After hearing of his passing, I thought of this quote of his from the Priesthood session from that same October 1997 conference:

"I would like to say a word to you brethren who are a little older. President J. Reuben Clark Jr., a Counselor in the First Presidency, used to say from this pulpit, 'Brethren, I hope I can remain faithful to the end.' At that time, President Clark was in his 80s.

"As a young man, I could not understand how this wise, learned, experienced, righteous Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ could have any concern for his own spiritual well-being. As I approach his age, I now understand."

There's little question but that he indeed remained faithful to the end. We will miss you, President Faust, and your good company, good humor, and good counsel. May we live faithful enough to qualify for the blessings you now enjoy.

Weightier Matters

Faithful readers of the Forbidden Donut know that this is a forum for only the most serious of issues. Tonight's post is no different.

On my refrigerator, pinned beneath a magnet, currently rests a coupon from a recent Ralph's circular offering 2 12-14 oz. bags of M&Ms for $2.00. I'm wondering whether I should use it.

Here's my quandry: this morning I reached my long sought after weight loss goal--235 lbs.* Alas, being under 240 lbs. isn't all it's cracked up to be, since, among several remaining physical impefections, my ab muscles remain hidden. Indeed, it will still be with great caution and reticence that I'll take my shirt off on those Hawaiian beaches in a few short weeks.

Partly because of that, and partly for good measure, I've determined I should probably strive to lose another 5 to 10 lbs. (since I've obviously still got it to lose). I figure this will at least give me a good buffer zone just in case I ever feel like I need to eat a dozen donuts or something similar after a particularly trying day at work (or better yet -- for no reason at all).

But the coupon expires next week. Given our impending trip, do I trust myself to buy 2 more bags of M&Ms? The real question is: Have I reached that threshold of responsibility where I can buy those bags of M&Ms and do anything other than scarf them both down on consecutive evenings?

History says no. Indeed, history says the M&Ms would stay in my secret stash jar for a day, maybe two, maybe even a week. But while they're there, I'll be thinking about them. Always thinking about them. And as soon as I open up the bag, I'm only 8 or 9 handfuls and a stomach ache away from finishing it off. Numbness to follow, then contrition, and finally, the next evening, increased cravings for more M&Ms. It's at this point when I talk myself into just eating the 2nd bag all at once and getting those M&Ms out of the house. A stomach ache follows, then contrition, and then the cravings return the next night. Before I know it, seven years have gone by filled out by delightful but regrettable treats, and thousands of promises made and broken to start in earnest tomorrow.

And yet...isn't it a sacrilege to pass up the chance to buy a 12 oz. bag of Peanut M&Ms for $1.00? That's the question that needs to be answered before next Wednesday, when the coupon expires.


* I actually hit this weight a few weeks ago on a fast Sunday but was so hungry by the end that I decided to eat several bowls of Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms -- that set me back a few days.

Living In Fear

Michelle & I both managed to finish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows late last night: Michelle finished around 1 a.m. I followed about an hour and a half later.* Decision time came at about 10 p.m. We'd both been reading about two hours (two separate books, since I was adamant about not sharing in those first few days) when I made the decision to throw caution into the wind and plow through the rest of the book**. I think, perhaps, I may have set the record for the quickest finish for a working bishopric member with two little kids.

Finishing the book meant no longer living in fear -- fear both of those demented souls anxious to spoil the ending, and those who, by overestimating their cleverness at keeping secrets, inadvertently give it away. This is why we tried to keep a low profile, avoided discussing the book with anyone at church, and had to shew away our Sunday evening guest when she mentioned she was reading the book.

In the end, the book, especially the unspoiled ending, was well worth the added measure of security.***


* No, it's not because I read slower. The Federal Government seems to frown upon reading for pleasure during the work day. This is why I was about 100 pages behind.

** It remains unconfirmed, but I may well have finished the book in record time for the category of "working bishopric members with two little kids."

*** It might not have been worth it if I'd ended up missing my court appearances this morning, which I did not.

WiiBay

As if my week weren't already eventful enough, last Saturday we made an afternoon trip to Costco. We'd been hoping only for some bread, tortillas, lunchmeat (and fine samples), but ended up finding a pallet of Nintendo Wii's for sale. I had been searching stores for them casually ever since they came out last November. I'd never found one.

Knowing, as I did, that demand for the Wii continues to outstrip supply -- likely well into next year -- it was a golden find. I wasn't strong enough to resist. But then, I didn't try. Almost as quickly as I saw them on the pallet, I read the sign quickly, put it in my cart, and moved on to buy some tortillas. Michelle even expressed delight.

As we got to the checkout I looked back at the pallet. Several more had disappeared since I'd last seen it. We then raced home. I quickly checked eBay to verify my suspicions, and then I took Jared with me back to Costco to buy two more*.

Yes, you're welcome to come over and play.


*There were five left by the time I got in the check out line again.

Two Stories of Obsession

Alas, I'm left alone on a Friday night with only my blog to keep me company. How dreadful my situation must be!

Yet there is reason for optimism.

The world is gearing up for two major events next week, either one of which would leave their respective fan bases scrambling to catch their breath. Combined, the results may well be cataclysmic. Surely you're familiar with both: the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and, only slightly less well known, NCAA Football 2008.

As to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, some might be aware I recently took 6 weeks to reread the first six books -- almost to the exclusion of all else.* Having re-read the books, puzzled through Snape's return to the dark side and Dumbledore's demise, I might have thought few people in the world would be looking forward to Book 7 more than I was.

Indeed, I was mistaken. A friend of mine recently disclosed he'd published an electronic book, entitled Harry Potter 6 3/4: The Unofficial Harry Potter Index. The book reveals both an unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter*, and an index of most everything that shows up in the first six Harry Potter books. Jared then takes his research and offers his predictions on what's going to happen in Book 7. I have not read his book and make no vouches for its accuracy or credibility (though it is nice to see his wife gave a testimonial for the book). I note, though, knowing how thorough he was, that I have not read his book for fear that he may have gotten things exactly right -- and I don't want him ruining the book for me. For anyone curious or interested, he's no longer charging for the book. Email me and I'll send you a copy (with his blessing).

As to NCAA 2008, the game will be released on Tuesday -- though there are reports that some stores have broken the honor code and released the game early (No comment on whether or not I happened to visit two different stores today in hopes of confirming such reports and finding an early copy).

I have a long and storied history with the NCAA Football franchise, though again, there may be crazy people more ready to demonstrate their devotion than I. For my part, I actually bought a Playstation 2 last week for the sole purpose of playing this game, particularly online with family and friends. I also splurged on a special memory card that allows me to download the named rosters for all 110 Division I NCAA Teams (said rosters having been assembled by the truly obsessed).

I had initially proposed taking a week off work to both read Book 7 and get the NCAA game out of my system. Apparently, though, we're already using my vacation time on some trip to Hawaii, and Michelle claims it's not refundable. My suspicion, though, is that she just wants first crack at the game.

* Unhealthy in a good way...kind of. It's like me buying a bag of Double Stuf Oreos, then eating the entire bag in one sitting. Unhealthy? Obviously, but also mildly entertaining -- especially if I decide to blog about it.

I hope they call me on a ...

As part of my new bishopric duties, I showed up at the church tonight wearing a white shirt and tie. I had expected to attend opening exercises for mutual. As it happened, however, the missionaries were in the parking lot with a number of priests (also in white shirts and ties) gathered round. Apparently, it was "exchange night" with the priests.*

For a moment it seemed they might need someone else to drive, and I was hardly in a position to make myself seem unavailable.

At one point, an aged onlooker in a Scout leader uniform wondered in what seemed to be a mocking tone of curiosity -- mingled with an air of superiority: "Hey, are you guys going tracting tonight?"** (As though it could be the evening's only worthy pursuit if we were to spend it with the missionaries).

"I sure hope not," I blurted before having a chance to measure my words. The uniformed inquirer was taken aback by the apparent defiance, which I then pressed further by noting "I've already done two years of tracting."

Not willing to give up, he then rejoined with what seemed to be a mounting sense of superiority "Well, we've all done two years of tracting."

"Ah yes," I replied wryly, now determined to win the point, "but I made sure to do mine well enough that I wouldn't have to do it again."

I suppose some see a kind of bravado to tracting. It's like missionary manual labor -- meaning it's hard, and not something missionaries generally look forward to. Perhaps if I were a more upstanding member of the church and a more diligent returned missionary, I would've been chomping at the bit to get out there and go tract out my neighborhood and show both the missionaries and the priests how we Spanish missionaries worked it in Roseville.

Not tonight.


* Why they stopped calling them "splits" is beyond me -- maybe to avoid the inference or implication that ice cream might be involved?

** Apparently he felt safe that he wouldn't volunteered since he was wearing a scout uniform.

You'd Better Watch Out

From reports, Jared had an especially difficult day behaving. He talked with me calmly about when I came home from work and sat next to him in the "time out" corner. In fact, he mentioned at one point that "Mommy and I are mad today." He then seemed to settle down, for a time.

Not much later he was acting up again. Michelle, feeling frazzled, resorted to the only disciplinary option she felt she had left: calling Santa Claus.

Jared happened to overhear her conversation and begged for the chance to talk with Santa as well (no doubt to give a report on Michelle). Essentially, Jared had to be obedient and good or Santa would not bring him any presents this year.

Jared quickly fell in line.

Later, Michelle called Santa back to report Jared's improved behavior. Jared continued to beg for the chance to speak with the jolly old elf, so we gave him the chance. I was on the other end of the line practicing my best "Ho, Ho, Ho", when little Jared got on the phone.

"Hi Santa," he said confidently.

Santa then conveyed to Jared the need to be obedient to be on the "nice" list this December. Jared reluctantly agreed.

I suspect if we use this technique too often, the magic might wear off. Only a few minutes after his rare conversation with Santa, he noted to us "I don't like Santa."

One For the Record Books

I'm sure most of you were hanging onto to your seats anxious for updates on the success or failure of my month long commitment to do without sugar. I've now gone 21 days without it.* Its siren song remains alluring, but has less power over me -- for now. I've matched that effort by swearing off most carbs after dinner and exercising almost daily. As a result, I've lost over 10 lbs. in this same span.

A nearby Ralphs recently sold 12 oz. bags of M&Ms for a dollar a bag (with coupon). Tempting fate, I had Michelle purchase 2 bags of peanut M&Ms for safe keeping nearly two weeks ago. I haven't touched them.**

Last week Albertsons offered all General Mills cereal at 6 for $10 -- 8 for $10 on a special Thursday 8 hour sale. Additionally, for every 3 boxes of cereal purchased, they gave out a coupon for a free gallon milk and a coupon for an additional $2.00 off the purchase of 5 boxes of General Mills Cereal. At last count, I think I purchased 23 boxes that week*** -- also I believe a Clark record.

* By my calculations, it's been over 8 years since I've gone this long without satisfying my sweet tooth.

** By my calculations, this is the longest any two bags of Peanut M&Ms have survived in the Clark household since the candy was invented. [Not counting, of course, the time last year when I'd purchased 24 packages of discounted "Pirates of the Carribean" M&Ms. The fact that any two of those packages survived more than two weeks had little to do with self-control -- since all 24 of the 12 oz. packages didn't last much longer than a month collectively.]

*** No, Michelle wasn't thrilled with me buying 23 boxes of cereal - citing some phantom "storage space" issue. As it happens, though, aside from the bargain basement price of the cereal itself, these milk coupons turned out to be quite valuable: They're apparently worth "up to $4.50" depending on the price of the gallon of milk. However, our local store automatically rings up the coupon as worth $4.50, irrespective of the actual price of the milk. Last Saturday then -- while I was buying 5 boxes of cereal, a gallon of milk, and some 99 cent day old bread -- the cashier accidentally rang up the milk coupon twice, deducting $9.00 from the total, and I ended up with a grocery bill of $1.19. [Of course as soon as I noticed the error, I pointed it out to the manager and cashier, both of whom decided the mistake wasn't worth correcting]. Today I actually used 1 of my milk coupons to buy 2 gallons of milk: the 2nd gallon ended up costing me 19 cents. I suspect these kinds of victories can only be truly enjoyed by those on a tight budget. Or maybe just by me.

**** For those keeping score, this is the 150th posting on the Forbidden Donut.

New Frontiers

Tuesday evening I got an unexpected call from the Stake President inviting me for an interview the following evening. Despite the fact that we've only been in the ward six months, and that I hardly know anyone, I was asked to serve as 2nd counselor in a reorganized bishopric. We were sustained and set apart this morning.

I confess I felt absolutely ridiculous sitting on the stand today -- all the more because I knew that most of the ward probably has no idea who I am. * I've spent the rest of the day bewildered.

Oh, and I've now been 8 days without sugar.

*Indeed, one woman confessed to me afterward that she never remembers seeing me in church before today.

Desperate Times

It's now official. Michelle recently set in motion plans for a week long trip to Hawaii in early September -- without the kids. She can hardly contain her excitement (though I've had difficulty discerning whether her affection the past few days is because she loves me or because she loves this vacation).

At any rate, that gives me little more than three months to at last meet my weight loss goals, which right now are about 20 lbs. away.

Toward that end, and recognizing that the love of sugar is the root of all evil, I committed last night to do without sugar for nearly a month -- using the same kind of stick incentives that've brought me success in the past. It's unfortunate that it came to this, but alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. I lament that I'm not stronger and cannot instead simply adopt a protocol of moderation.

So, as a personal favorite to me, please feel free to enjoy generous amounts of peanut M&Ms, Cookies & Cream ice cream*, and sale priced sugar cereal over the next month or so. It will mercifully mean less for me.

*A recent weakness.

American Idol Woes

There it was. Michelle and I had invested almost two hours in the American Idol season finale -- on a 20 minute DVR delay. We'd waded through random musical numbers, including "Wind Beneath My Wing" from an apparently inebriated Bette Midler.* We endured awkward, cringe-inducing "Golden Idol" awards, and a Clive Owen speech about how wonderful American Idol is and how many records they've sold. We didn't want to, but we did -- and it would all be worth it when they announced the winner of this year's American Idol is...


Hey! Wait a minute! What the...?!


Alas, our DVR stopped recording the show just as the winner was about to be announced. For a few seconds, Michelle alternated between anxious, high-pitched squeals, and threatening growls (strangely resembling a menacing coyote).** Since we'd been on a 20 minute DVR, we totally missed the ending. All was lost. We had to check out the online news websites to find out Jordin won.

I blame on the fact that Michelle opted against voting for Melinda Doolittle last week. (I still debating whether to ever forgive her for that.)



* Though maybe she was just trying to liven up the song by acting inebriated.

** She also came very close violating one our recently added house rules: Don't throw the big TV.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

I took Jared to his first Cubs game a few days ago -- they were playing the Padres here in San Diego. I'm not sure which of us was more excited: Jared, who would get to ride the trolley, drink lemonade, and eat popcorn; or me, getting to watch the Cubs in an idealized father-son evening.

It started out that way. Jared was fascinated by the trolley, peppered me with questions most of the way there, and stole the hearts of the surrounding passengers.

The game, however, was a little different story. Oh the hot dog, lemonade, nachos, and ice cream cone were everything Jared had hoped for. He cheered for the fireworks following the home runs (and I let him, even though they were for the wrong team), and asked me more then twice when we were going to be able to get out on the field and play. I hadn't quite counted on the possibility, though, of a nearby drunk guy screaming words Jared had never heard before, at the top of his lungs, at some of our favorite players. The man must have thought himself quite amusing...that is, until I put him in a non-lethal version of the Siberian choke-hold.*

Michelle and I are now waiting out the next few days to see if Jared managed to learn any new words lately.

*No, not really. Only with great effort, however, did I manage to avoid throwing peanuts at him.

Mother's Day Meanderings

Semi-organized thoughts and anecdotes from the last three weeks:

• Among the highlights of my two week training in South Carolina: I went nearly two weeks without sugar. To acknowledge the accomplishment, I devoured a 12 oz. bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms for dinner the following evening.* [Obviously, as long as I'm eating them to replace a meal -- instead of in addition to a meal -- I figure I'm cutting calories.]
• Leading up to perhaps the most important day this century -- July 21, 2007 -- I've started re-reading the Harry Potter series. Oddly, when I've been caught reading these books on the trolley or an airplane several adults have felt quite at liberty to strike up a conversation discussing the books [the kids normally just smile or nod approvingly.]
• I set a new record yesterday on our exercise bike: 10 miles, burning 596 calories in 24:36. This bested my previous record for the 10 miler, set in May 2005, by 14 calories and a full 20 seconds. I chalk it up mostly to temporary insanity and a dash of guilt over what I'd eaten the night before.
• I've now seen two late night screenings of Spider-Man 3 since it came out last week, and have fallen asleep during both viewings.
• We went out for pizza with friends Friday night. What does it say about a pizza place that their best dish is an ice cream sundae?
• Jared and I got Michelle a Mother's Day gift yesterday -- an IKEA gift card. Though Jared was supposed to tell Michelle it was a secret, he instead immediately told her exactly what we'd bought: a red card. Even so, our established family routine should have required Michelle to at least feign some obliviousness [and thus maintain the illusion of a surprise]. After all, it's only common courtesy. But she didn't. Instead, she defiantly declared that she was pretty sure she knew what we'd bought. So I gave her the gift a day early and she lamented that I'd spoiled Mother's Day. That'll teach her.
• Speaking of Mother's Day, Michelle, anxious for a sugar fix of her own this evening and recognizing she'd used up all the eggs yesterday, asked that I make her no bake cookies tonight. [In my youth I was a master at the art of the no bake cookie, having learned to keep them on the stove for just the right amount of time to ensure the proper texture.] Making them tonight, though, brought back teenage memories, including one time I had made no bake cookies on 3 consecutive evenings. On the third evening, when my dad found me hovering over the stove as the milk, sugar, butter, and cocoa came to a rolling boil, he rebuked me and wondered openly whether I wasn't addicted to sugar.** Obviously he couldn't have been further from the truth.

* My research indicates that Peanut Butter M&Ms are far inferior to their more upstanding older brother, the Peanut M&Ms How can I tell? In a typical 12 oz. bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms, I start feeling disgust and regret before I even hit the halfway point in the bag. With the 13 oz. Peanut M&Ms bags, those feelings are easily delayed until at least 2/3 of the way through the bag. Never mind that I end up finishing the bag in one sitting either way, the Peanut M&Ms offer a far less unpleasant experience.

** Mind you, he never actually told me to stop making the cookies.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

A few of us at my office are headed to South Carolina for two weeks of training from the Department of Justice. The thought is that we'll emerge from the training as able trial lawyers.

We had one of my co-workers over for dinner recently who is also slated for the training. In conversation his wife expressed some reticence about the two-week training and the possibility (surely mostly in jest) that he'd be swept away by some of the solicitious eye candy that'd surely be attending the conference and sizing him up.

After they left, I wondered openly to Michelle why she didn't share similar concerns. I expected something from her that both reinforced her trust in me, and also reminded me how dashingly handsome I remain. Instead I got this:

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I'm just worried about how much you're going to eat!"

Sunday School

She played contented in my arm
And cooed mid my hand's soft caress
I felt to catch her playful glance
And hold fast to her trusting touch.

But I could not hold her tight enough
And the moments hurried past,
unmoved by helpless pleas.
Time would rob me of my little girl;
I missed her already.

House Rules

We had family home evening tonight. Owing to some of the events of the day in our home (which perhaps it'd be better if history mostly forgot), Michelle gave an impromptu lesson on "rules". She'd hoped to have us collaboratively agree to a "No yelling" rule. Once Jared learned what a rule is, though, he sponanteously suggested several of his own:

• Don't kick the lamp
• Don't kick the clock
• Don't kick the computer
• Don't kick the walls
• Don't kick the couch
• Go on the potty
• Don't pee on the floor (this had been suggested previously)
• Don't hit, except for the mean, mean pirates
• Don't throw the big TV

Our home feels much safer now.

Old Habits

It's that time of year.

It doesn't matter what kinds of promises I made to myself in the contrary...With a few minutes to kill during my lunch hour today, my feet made their way to a nearby downtown Ralphs to survey the leftover Easter candy.

I came home with three bags of candy: Cadbury Mini-Eggs, Reeses Pieces, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Each were $1 a bag.

Throw Down

This past weekend, Michelle threw down the gauntlet, sending a message that her cooking needs to be taken seriously.

First there were the birthday cupcakes on Friday. Up into all hours of the night on Thursday, Michelle put together both strawberry and brownie cupcakes. Those strawberry cupcakes, though a little understated, ranked among the best cupcakes I've ever eaten*. The brownie cupcakes were no slouches either.

Saturday night Michelle took it to another level and put together a restaurant quality Mexican meal (that I would've paid money for): carne asada, grilled shrimp, rice, beans, homemade salsa, and guacamole. It's easily in the top three meals she's made of all time.

If that weren't enough, there was the three layer, triple chocolate cake, with ganache filling.

Yes, I know. I was thinking the same thing. I married well (Lots of hours as a missionary tracting hard in the rain -- ask anyone).

Anyway, please, take your best shot at matching Michelle's cooking. She'd like nothing better. Be warned, though, I've yet to meet her culinary equal (except for that one time we went to see Alton Brown). Just make sure I get to taste the fruits of your labors.

*At least one co-worker gave voice to the same opinion. Another, perhaps overhearing those comments and sensing the challenge, brought in her own cupcakes on Monday for no apparent reason. For the juicy details, please email the secret family question to my email address.

Cause for Celebration

I'm 29 years old today, and we're going to celebrate (the 15 or so grey hairs on my head notwithstanding).

A few years ago, as my birthday approached, I had a conversation with Michelle that started down the well worn path of feigning disinterest in any birthday celebration. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's not that big a deal" was the general theme of my remarks. Michelle rebuked me and effectively stated that birthdays are a big deal in our house, and I'd just have to deal with it.

Ever since I've allowed myself the indulgence of looking forward to my birthday, and reveled in the fact that we make a big deal about birthdays in our house.

Conference Chaos

Years ago when I was a missionary in the budding metropolis of Corning, CA (the olive capital of the United States). Soaking in another conference weekend in the chapel, I vowed then that I would attend every session of conference for the rest of my life.

Alas, any hopes of staying true to that promise ended a long time ago. Now, having two little ones, the notion of attending (and even paying attention to) a full session of general conference -- other than the priesthood session -- seems like wishful thinking. As a result over the last few years conference weekend has become a mix of probably uplifting messages that I only catch parts of (and not even those parts not very well) amid a guilt riddled two days where I feel I could've caught more if I'd only exerted myself more. My sense is it's even worse for Michelle -- who doesn't get to attend the priesthood session.

And here's a random conference question I've long been trying to figure out: When I'm watching conference on a delayed schedule, is it as sacreligious as it feels to leave my eyes open during the prayer?

Unsolicited Advice

I've discovered the secret to exercise and weight loss. It will soon be revealed to the world in a hard cover book, value priced at $19.95, complete with meal planner, easy to follow recipes, and a picture of me on the cover showing off my bulging biceps.

But to those faithful readers who still bother to check this blog -- even though it's been weeks since I've had a decent post -- I'll sum it up for you for free:

The stick often works better than the carrot on lazy people -- at least initially. Indeed, don't be afraid to use a big stick.

Take me, for instance. I've been in a rut for weeks (some might say months) where exercise has been difficult and good eating near impossible. I mostly blame Michelle.*

I've tried incentives, and at one point even small sticks. For instance, Michelle and I both agreed that if we ate sugar during the week, the offending spouse would have to withdraw $5 from his/her personal account and place it in the other's. This worked fine until we realized that if we both cheated at the same time we effectively got to have our sweets and neither had to give up anything. Obviously we can't have the penalty money going to each other.

So it was time to bring out a bigger stick. Now, if I cheat and eat sugar I have to put $50 in my children's 529 college saving's fund -- which means I'll never see it again. I've also made the same threats against myself (always in writing and always sent to Michelle) when I need a little extra motivation to exercise in the evening. And of course, it works.

Now some of you might not have $50, so feel free to use whatever is precious to you. It needs to be precious enough that it'll be painful if you fail, and make sure someone is there who is willing to punish you when you do (Michelle has only been all too eager). You'll be amazed at what you can accomplish when someone effectivley has a whip at your back, ready to lash you at the first sign of failure.

Obviously I don't want to jinx things, but I think you're looking at the next best seller.




*Required Disclaimer (as the pressure eases on the strangle hold around my neck): I'm kidding folks. Definitely kidding. Mostly.

Help Solve a Crime

I came home this evening to find a type-written note at our door. Apparently, our apartment/condo complex's beloved advertising blimp is missing. The situation is grave, indeed, and someone in management really isn't happy about it. So they've crafted a letter offering both a carrot and a stick (though mostly a stick) to the residents of the complex -- which is no doubt intended to induce shame and guilt in even the most innocent tenants (which we are). Sadly, it's mostly made me giggle (though I feel guilty about the giggling).

Perhaps you can help solve the crime.

"Subject: Blimp vandalism, $500 reward for information

Last night the blimp that we use for advertising above the property [and what a blimp it was!] was cut from its securing lines, thus allowing it to float away in a totally uncontrolled manner. This act of criminal vandalism resulted in a loss exceeding $7,000.00 and is a felony. In additions, the person(s) responsible for this act created a significant safety hazard to aircraft in the area as the blimp was allowed to freely float in the airspace used by commercial and private aircraft en route to Montgomery, Gillespie and Lindbergh airports. Further, at such time as the blimp descends from flight, there is no way to know where it may land, placing persons and property on the ground at risk.

We have notified the San Diego and La Mesa Police Departments as well as the Federal Aviation Administration of the situation and all agencies are taking this action very seriously. Formal investigations are being commenced by these agencies and we anticipate residents will be contacted during the investigation. We ask that you cooperate fully with any representatives of these agencies in their investigations and supply any information you may have as to suspicious activity or personal witnessing of the destructive action relation to the blimp by any party. Additionally, we are offering a reward in the amount of $500 to anyone who provides us with information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person(s) responsible for this irresponsible and reckless act.

In the course of our operation of the blimp we took specific precautions against accidental loss by adding extra securing lines and metal reinforcement to the primary cable in order to avoid potential for injury or damage. For someone to have cut the steel-reinforced line, a premeditated and planned action against the welfare of people both on and off the property was committed. We ask that if contacted, you assist law enforcement with their investigation and efforts to identify and ultimately apprehend the responsible party.

Please contact us in the [...] management office at [...] with any information you may be able to provide and we will insure that the proper authorities are notified. Thank you for any assistance you can provide in this matter."

Buffalo Chicken Blues

Perhaps you're not as easily taken in as I am, but then I'm not usually a sucker for hamburger commercials.

I found I could not resist, however, Carl's Jr.'s latest creation -- the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich. I wasn't fond of the commercial, mind you, but the sandwich seemed to offer a piece of the halcyon days of my youth, when a perfect weekend required little more than a good video game, a pizza, 50 wings, and a bottle or two of orange soda.*

My interest in the sandwich worked itself into a frenzy over the weekend when we got a coupon in the mail for a "buy one get one free."

Alas, what a tragic disappointment. One might have easily mistaken it for a McChicken sandwich drenched in Frank's Hot sauce. Yet at the same time they have so little confidence in their sauce and in the sandwich, that they feel the need to slather one side with a forgettable ranch sauce. The result is a dismal mess -- and not the kind of appetizing mess they'd lead you to believe.

So, learn to be wiser than I have been. Stay away from the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich at Carl's Jr. Stick with the pizza and wings.

*I grew up in a world where it was near unthinkable to order a pizza without an order of 50 or so chicken wings. The only question was how hot you wanted them. It was a simpler time.

Bleak Prognosis

Before I visited the doctor today, Michelle decided to enter my recent symptoms into Web MD - the all-knowing, consumer friendly, website -- to discern what I might be suffering from (and oh how I have suffered).

Here are the symptoms: a painful sore throat, lightheadedness, a fever, swollen and painful-to-the-touch-lymph-nodes in my neck, insatiable appetite for peanut M&Ms.* Alas, things did not look good, for, according to the website, I may well be suffering from. . . the Plague.** My concern only grew upon learning that, apparently, the bacteria causing the disease "can be carried by small wild rodents, other wild animals or even household pets," all of which are terms that have been used to describe my children.

You can probably imagine my relief when it turned out to be a simple case of strep throat.

*Okay, okay, so maybe she only put in "enlarged or swollen glands."
**Web MD then helpfully points out "It is possible that the main title of the report Bubonic Plague is not the name you expected." It then provides a few helpful synonyms, including "Black Death", and "Black Plague."

Sick Day

I have been miserably sick all weekend. To make matters worse, there's been nothing good on TV.

7th Inning Stretch

Today marks seven years of marriage for Michelle and I. Spurning the traditional anniversary gifts, I bought her a 5 lb. fillet of beef from Costco this year -- and two vanilla beans.

Now, before you start throwing rocks at me, know this: I've never seen her so giddy over anything I've gotten her before.* After spending the day scheming, she excitedly informed me tonight she's got five recipes in mind that she's anxious to use the filet on.

For her part, she's arranged for baby sitting and a golf outing tomorrow morning, as long as her clavical is feeling up to it.** I note without reservation that she's my favorite.

In other news, we also jointly resolved -- for the 37th time this year -- to go without sugar for a time. For those not keeping track, there've been 49 days so far this new year. The pact comes with cruel twist: each violation is punishable by a $5 fine, payable to the other, out of the guilty party's personal account.

All the same, happy anniversary to us!



* Not to be compared to the pound of veal given to a 4 yr. old Bill Murray in Scrooged that lead to the following exchange:

Four year old Bill Murray: "But Daddy, I asked Santa for a choo-choo."
Drunken Butcher of a Father: "Then go and get a job and buy a choo-choo!"

Shortly following this sad exchange, the older Bill Murray is mocked for by the Ghost of Christmas Past for tearing upon witnessing the exchange, and Bill dryly retorts (in a way on Bill Murray can), "I was touched by a gift. A four-year-old kid receives what at today's prices is an expensive piece of meat."


**Indeed, as a federal employee I now count President's Day among my favorite holidays -- all the more because so many of the rest of you have to work.

The Anti Anti C.S. Lewis

It's Valentine's Day. A day of love. A day of fun. A day of sugar cookies (for me anyway). Yet I am provoked to wrath.

A family friend recently decided to take a few swipes at C.S. Lewis, decrying, among other things, those who "constantly quote him." It's one thing indeed to check those foolish among us who might treat him as a prophet (he was not) or those who declare him to be "the be-all-end-all of the gospel" (which would be silly).* It's entirely another to disparage the man and his writings.

Tsk Tsk Sister Astle, I think you're making a big mistake -- a mistake you should be too smart to make.

Here's the first clue: you've admittedly never read anything he's written! Instead, your familiarity with C.S. Lewis appears to be based entirely on: (1) quotes from talks/church articles; (2) watching the recent cinematic adapation of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.
You've been given bread crumbs (and in the case of the movie, moldy bread crumbs) and yet seemed to have declared yourself familiar enough to give an opinion on the entire feast. Sure you are better than that.

Indeed, if you think simply that The Screwtape Letters gives "great points regarding the devil and his attempts to lead us away from our goals" then you have missed the weightier and more valuable portion of the book. The devils in the book are merely a vehicle for him to address subjects such as prayer, discipleship, humility, love, and death. Additionally, Letter VIII addresses trials or, as he refers to certain trials, "spiritual troughs." In all I have ever read on trials and enduring, I'm not sure if I've ever read anything quite as touching and inspiring. I'm quite serious.

Be careful not to cast the book aside just because people, including recently President Faust, -- are fond of quoting it, or because you perceive some have an unhealthy obsession with it. They're quoting it for a reason -- and they're not even quoting the best parts!

Ah, and you've apparently prejudged The Chronicles of Narnia because you've seen the latest movie. Not a good move (and, after repeated viewings, not that great of a movie). It's the same kind mistake you'd be making if you'd decided on the New Testament by comparing the battle scenes in the Four Gospels to the battle scenes in The Passion of the Christ. What battle scenes, you ask? Exactly. Let's just generally try to avoid judging a book based on the movie.**

You also don't want to miss out on several chapters in Mere Christianity, or the allegories in The Horse and His Boy, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Prince Caspian, and The Great Divorce. If that weren't enough, his books are refreshingly short.

So let me put it simply: Lewis was not a prophet. He is not "the be-all-end-all of the Gospel." Be that as it may, many, many of his writings (*not all*) are inspired and offering compelling insights on gospel principles -- far more than you've given him credit for. People do well to quote him.

Your criticism of his writing is uninformed and undeserved. Lest my wrath be upon you, I think you owe him an apology.


*I've never actually met or talked with anyone that I knew to be guilty of either offense. Furthermore, I'm almost certain I've heard and read the same conference talks and "countless church articles" that quote C.S. Lewis and have yet to sense any unhealthy admiration of the man or any undue weight to his writings.

**For what it's worth, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is among my least favorite books in the Narnia Series.