Stunted Development

When I was 11 years old, my parents moved to Utah for 3 years, which really did a number on my friend quotient.

This is one example of what happens when a tween has too much time on his hands. For more stories, go here, here, here, here, here, here or here.

Having no friends during the "tween" years can be risky. It means there is no one around to tell you to stop wearing a cape or to put the LEGOs into storage.

The term "late bloomer" doesn't even begin to cover it, and I can only hope that the photographic and video evidence of this time period is at a minimum.

One example is my miniature replica of the U.S.S. Enterprise from Star Trek. I got it for Christmas, and this sucker is about 1 1/2 feet long and has buttons on it to make photon and warp speed sounds.

Yeah, pretty much awesome.

Anyway, despite what is socially appropriate for a kid my age, I spent months flying that thing around my house, pretending to shoot all the figurines and books lying around on the shelves.

The best thing that could have happened would have been for someone to snap it in half. However, I recently went through some personal history boxes and discovered my old, trusty U.S.S. Enterprise.

Is it bad that I had the distinct urge to pull it out and start flying it around again?

Fathers and Sons

For those of you who don't know, the LDS church has a yearly tradition where fathers and their sons go camping overnight to commemorate the restoration of the priesthood. It usually involves scorched pancakes and runny eggs for breakfast and all the other typical camping shenanigans.

For several years, I've gloried in the fact that I don't have any sons and am therefore exempt from attending.

(Tangent)
It's not that I hate camping. I actually enjoy it.

But there is nothing fun about cowering by yourself in your tent while a bunch of 8 year olds run around shooting stuff with BB guns and the rest of the camp applies war paint to their faces to prove their masculinity in a rousing game of capture the flag.

In moments like that, I can't help seeing "Lord of the Flies" references.
(End Tangent)

Well, this year, our bishop (the local leader of our congregation), decided to be funny and put me in charge of breakfast.

As a result, I had no choice but to fill the back of my truck to bursting with pancake mix, syrup, eggs and juice and trek up the canyon.

While it wasn't the most painful experience of my life, I will say that it was just a little awkward to be all by myself and still have the biggest tent of the whole group. It's the only one we own, and we got it so we could camp as a family with enough room for whatever we would need.

I kept joking that I should have brought a flatscreen, a Wii and a generator.

... maybe next year.

Kids say the darndest things

I can only imagine the number of mispronounced words I said as a kid. I'm betting my parents have a whole list hidden in a safe deposit box, just waiting for the day when they can bring it out to achieve maximum embarrassment.

Unfortunately, I don't have the patience to set up the same goldmine because I just heard the best one ever come out of my daughter's mouth and I can't help but post it for all the world to see.

This afternoon, I brought the mail home, and in the pile was the newest Friend magazine.

Immediately, she yelled:

"My fagazine, my fagazine!"

Best. Day. Ever.

Frilly Scarves

Did I miss something?

Since when could men wear frilly scarves without the risk of getting an atomic wedgie or their head shoved in a toilet?

If I'd worn one of these, I wouldn't have made it through junior high.



And yet, I keep seeing these everywhere on campus.