For those readers who aren’t Utahns (50% of you), you should know that the BYU/Utah rivalry game is a pretty big deal… and this year’s was supposed to be ultra-tight.
…And my team lost. Here’s Hitler’s reaction, which pretty much sums up my feelings:
I really like calling him a butcher, because it’s just one of those real jobs. You know exactly what a butcher does, no question. It’s not something inexplicable like a designer or engineer. (I still haven’t found a good way of describing to non-engineers what it is I do… but I digress)
The other night, I called my brother to get some facts and figures about Thanksgiving. See, during this time of year BenTheButcher only comes up for air a few hours per day. He’s literally up to his chin in turkeys, hams, and other holiday meats.
So I called the man himself to get some interesting inside facts about working as a Butcher during this crazy time of year.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard my mother say:
I just can’t leave a dirty house.
Growing up, I never understood this phrase. Sure you could! I left my room dirty every morning (and it often miraculously cleaned itself after I was gone) and no one seemed to bat an eyelash. No cleanliness god punished me for shirking my duty. No strangers ever came in for a house tour and wanted to specifically walk into my room. What was the big deal?
You know that really awesome Leona Lewis song, “Bleeding Love”? Well, I keep bleedin’, keep keep bleedin’ out my 401k!
A few months ago, I wrote a post talking about this supposed recession and how I had yet to see any real signs of something they had been talking about for months already…
Several months ago, one of the speakers in church was reflecting on the many reasons why he’s been married to his wife. What he said hit me, not because I hadn’t heard it before, but because I understood it differently this time. He said they were “witnesses to each others’ lives.”
Later that night, I the opportunity to catch up with some old college friends who were here in Dallas. The reminiscing on old times and catching up threw me into a weird time warp. Talking with them reminded me of so many things and brought back so many memories from past lives.
Some time last week, my home office was infested with fruit flies. I’m not sure how it happened. Usually fruit flies are attracted to (among other things) fruit, and everyone who knows me knows that I have the worst time keeping fresh fruit in the house. How the fruit fly infestation occurred, I will never know.