I Say It Best When I Say Nothing At All.....

Following yesterday's "round table" discussion with Executives from Wachovia, the Western States Regional Vice President approached me and said, "nice boots!" I was wearing my Justin boots, something I wear almost everyday. "Thank you." "Hey, are you Mormon," he asked. I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I said, "yes." He then broke from his business professional character and said, "oh, sweet, Dude! I've got this funny story to tell you." He continued, "you remember Mr. Max? You know, Dude, Mr. Max. The guy who sells cheap polyester suits?" "Oh, you mean, Mr Mac . Yes. Mr Mac is still around. They're known for their attire for men," I said. "Sweet! Yeah, yeah, yeah....Mr. Max." "Anyway, Dude, when I was a kid, my dad was a Stake President." He laughed and then continued, "We were having a Stake Conference and a General Authority (church leader)

I've been invited to attend a conference tonight with Executives from Wachovia Mortgage Corporation. They want my feedback on how to improve their processes. I will be treated to dinner and a Jazz vs. Pistons basketball game. I called Coralee to ask her how her day was going and to inquire about our schedule for the evening. She informed me that she was cleaning up children's puke and poopies, but encouraged me to attend this evening's events. I'm feeling extremely guilty about this.

In following the counsel of our church leaders, Coralee and I decided we will spend Sunday evenings with each of our children, on an individual basis, and have an opportunity to discuss things that are important to them. This time is set aside, ideally, without interruption and it gives the children the individual attention they seek and/or deserve. We began this time with our youngest and moved our way up the ladder. We invited Karissa into the den. She played with some toys and told us all about them, "car.......car.......Thomas.......train......Thomas." She gave each of us a hug and a kiss and when her time with us was over, she happily went to bed. Matthew was very anxious to spend time with us. He told us about his day and the things he played with. He giggled often and told us he knew how to use the potty. We mentioned things that he will get to do next year with preschool. He smiled and said, "yes, cause I'm big!" "Yes you are," we excla

"I was pleased with your report card," I said to Bryson. I was driving with him over to his Cub Scout Pack Meeting last night, and this was a good opportunity to talk with him about the progress report we received that afternoon from his teacher. "You're doing a really good job in school and your mom and I are very happy that you work so hard." "Thanks Dad!" "Is school hard for you," I asked. "No. I've got good brains." "Where did you get these 'good brains'?" "I must have got them from you, Dad," he said. "I wish that were true, but I think you can credit your mom for the brains." "Well, then I guess I got my good looks from you." "Hmmm. I wish that were true, but I think you can credit your mom for the good looks too." "So, what did I get from you," he asked. "Well, about 20 years from now, you'll credit me, but not thank me for your baldness."

We decided last night was a good night to go out for dinner. We kicked around a few ideas, but most of the places were quite the distance from our home, so we thought we'd settle for Wingers (just a few short blocks from our house). They have been advertising their Fajita Platters for $9.99 and it seems their kids' menu is reasonably priced. As we were pulling into the parking lot, Coralee looked over and noticed another restaurant had recently opened up. We were thrilled to find out that it was a Training Table, one of our favorite places to go. We quickly changed our mind on where we were eating out and pulled into the Training Table's parking lot. The place is so new, the aroma from within was of carpenter's glue, not hamburgers and fries. After speaking with the restaurant's manager, I learned the place only opened up on Friday at 7:00pm. Jeff and Bryse had a Hickory Burger. Coralee had a Chile Verde Burger; I had a Guacamole Bacon Burger and we picked up s

When you hear of someone's passing, are you more concerned with how the survivors are dealing with it or, perhaps, are you most interested in hearing how the recently deceased left this world? As you are pondering this question, here are some Jack Handy quotes to influence you: I remember we were all horrified to see Grandpa up on the roof with his Superman cape on. "Get down!" yelled Uncle Lou. "Don't move!" screamed Grandma. But Grandpa wouldn't listen. He walked to the edge of the roof and stuck out his arms, like he was going to fly. I forget what happened after that. Instead of burning a guy at the stake, what about burning him at the STILTS? It probably lasts longer, plus it moves around. My young son asked me what happens after we die. I told him we get buried under a bunch of dirt and worms eat our bodies. I guess I should have told him the truth - that most of us go to Hell and burn eternally - but I didn't want to upset him. If your friend

With only 35 seconds left in the SuperBowl, Matthew exclaims, "I have to go potty!" The SuperBowl! Giants were only up by 3 points, and Tom Brady was about to advance his team down field. Tom Brady and the unbeatable Patriots! The SuperBowl! He has to go "potty"!!!! Yes, he has mastered the "potty" thing, but problem was: I had already changed him into a 'one piece' pajama. He is not the escape-from-the-pajama artist his sister Rachel was. His problem required my assistance. I ran with him quickly to the bathroom. I yanked off his pajamas and his pull-up and I say, "you go potty. I'll be right back." Before I could round the corner to return to my much anticipated game, "Dad! I'm done!" Only 1 second left in the game. It appears there are already celebrations, but referees are chasing players and coaches off the field to allow one more play. 'Were the Patriots on fourth down? Do they still have possessio