Posted by Jordan
Few people have heard the un-released original recording of John Denver's 1971 hit, "Country Roads." You may not believe this, but it was actually written about Cache Valley Utah! But for "greater commercial appeal," the subject of the song was later changed to the more sentimental and nostalgic West Virginia.
Okay, so that may be partially to entirely fabricated, but here are the original lyrics (at least as I envision them):
Almost heaven, Logan Utah
Wellsville Mountains, Little Bear River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
Northern Utah, mountain mamma
Take me home, country roads
All my memories, they gather 'round her
Farmer's lady, stranger to big cities
Cold in winter, haze inverted sky
Taste of Aggie Ice Cream, and cow poop in my eyes
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
Northern Utah, mountain mamma
Take me home country roads
The last verse--unchanged from my "original version"--is the one I've had playing in my head every day for the last year in Denver:
I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin' down the road, I get a feelin'
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday...
Yes, we know we haven't been gone for long. But those who knew why we left Logan in the first place are not surprised: After one year living in the Denver metro, we have packed up our apartment and moved back home to Northern Utah.
It was necessary for us to leave for many reasons, some of which we did not find out until we got there. We gained experiences over the last year that we couldn't have had any other way, and made friends that otherwise we might never have known existed. I'm grateful for these things, which we will take with us...
But there's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
It's so good to be home.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
And the winner IS...
Posted by Jordan
Some of you may remember that last December we decided to run a little contest on our blog to NAME OUR BABY.
We had a lot of great entries, and this was, perhaps, the most productive thing we could have done to stimulate thought and explore more name possibilities. In fact, we actually chose DAPHNE CLAIRE, both first and middle, from suggestions on our blog which we had not previously considered, but that we immediately fell in love with!
Thanks, everybody, who participated, except for my brother McLain, who should never be allowed to name a human being. Sheri, bless you for choosing normal names for your children.
THE WINNERS:
The name Claire was submitted by Kristen Weller and Sarah Cantrell, with variations Clair by Emily Berkley and, to a lesser extent, Clarah, by Mindy Percival. With this many winners, you're all going to have to split the prize, which will be 1/4 of a gift certificate arriving by mail soon. (Just kidding.) We'll figure something out here soon.
For a long time we were going to use Claire for the first name, but then we read Daphne, and it became a big back-and-forth dilemma. We liked both names almost equally, but after trying to come up with blasted MIDDLE NAMES (the hardest part, really) to go with each, we decided that the best combination would be to sacrifice Claire as a first name and make it the world's cutest middle name.
Now, the winning submission for the first name Daphne came from Jaicee's little sister Naomie! Congrats, Naomie! You win the prize! Soon a van with a TV crew will pull up to your front door and present you with a giant check for ONE MILLION DOLLARS!!
Just kidding, of course. What you actually win is babysitting privileges for life!! Hoorah!!
Just kidding again. We'll take you out for a night on the town when we get up there. Thanks for the suggestion! We love you kiddo!
A little about the name Daphne:
Not only was this the name of the hottest character from Scooby Doo...
...(what a namesake, eh?), Daphne is from ancient Greek mythology.
Daphne means "Laurel Tree." Daphne was a nymph who was so extremely beautiful that she was lusted after by both men and gods. When Apollo, the sun god, tried to pursue her with intent to force himself upon her, she prayed to be turned into a laurel tree rather than to have her virtue and chastity taken from her.
And so it was, she was transformed into a tree, which kept her forever virtuous. The tree became sacred to Apollo and its leaves were used to crown the victors of the ancient Olympic Games.
Now THAT is a namesake: beauty and chastity. A rare combination! We will remind her of this when she becomes a Laurel in Young Women. (Does anyone know if there is a link between the ancient myth and why the Church chose this name for its sixteen-year-old Young Women???)
So there you have it! Daphne Claire Knutson. We know some of you are not a fan of the name, but hey, we pretend to like YOUR kids' weird names... ;P
Some of you may remember that last December we decided to run a little contest on our blog to NAME OUR BABY.
We had a lot of great entries, and this was, perhaps, the most productive thing we could have done to stimulate thought and explore more name possibilities. In fact, we actually chose DAPHNE CLAIRE, both first and middle, from suggestions on our blog which we had not previously considered, but that we immediately fell in love with!
Thanks, everybody, who participated, except for my brother McLain, who should never be allowed to name a human being. Sheri, bless you for choosing normal names for your children.
THE WINNERS:
The name Claire was submitted by Kristen Weller and Sarah Cantrell, with variations Clair by Emily Berkley and, to a lesser extent, Clarah, by Mindy Percival. With this many winners, you're all going to have to split the prize, which will be 1/4 of a gift certificate arriving by mail soon. (Just kidding.) We'll figure something out here soon.
For a long time we were going to use Claire for the first name, but then we read Daphne, and it became a big back-and-forth dilemma. We liked both names almost equally, but after trying to come up with blasted MIDDLE NAMES (the hardest part, really) to go with each, we decided that the best combination would be to sacrifice Claire as a first name and make it the world's cutest middle name.
Now, the winning submission for the first name Daphne came from Jaicee's little sister Naomie! Congrats, Naomie! You win the prize! Soon a van with a TV crew will pull up to your front door and present you with a giant check for ONE MILLION DOLLARS!!
Just kidding, of course. What you actually win is babysitting privileges for life!! Hoorah!!
Just kidding again. We'll take you out for a night on the town when we get up there. Thanks for the suggestion! We love you kiddo!
A little about the name Daphne:
Not only was this the name of the hottest character from Scooby Doo...
...(what a namesake, eh?), Daphne is from ancient Greek mythology.
Daphne means "Laurel Tree." Daphne was a nymph who was so extremely beautiful that she was lusted after by both men and gods. When Apollo, the sun god, tried to pursue her with intent to force himself upon her, she prayed to be turned into a laurel tree rather than to have her virtue and chastity taken from her.
And so it was, she was transformed into a tree, which kept her forever virtuous. The tree became sacred to Apollo and its leaves were used to crown the victors of the ancient Olympic Games.
Now THAT is a namesake: beauty and chastity. A rare combination! We will remind her of this when she becomes a Laurel in Young Women. (Does anyone know if there is a link between the ancient myth and why the Church chose this name for its sixteen-year-old Young Women???)
So there you have it! Daphne Claire Knutson. We know some of you are not a fan of the name, but hey, we pretend to like YOUR kids' weird names... ;P
Sunday, April 11, 2010
NUMBER THREE IS HERE!!!
DAPHNE CLAIRE KNUTSON
*Born Sunday, April 11, 2010 at 9:40 a.m.
*6 lbs., 14 oz.
*19.25 inches
*Born Sunday, April 11, 2010 at 9:40 a.m.
*6 lbs., 14 oz.
*19.25 inches
Beautiful Mom, Beautiful New Baby
Proud as can be...
Proud new Big Sisters...
I'm starting to feel outnumbered in this family.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Update!! Closer than I thought!!
Posted by Jordan
SO... In my post this morning about the 7-lb. Breakfast Burrito, I mentioned that I finished half. It was exactly half, because I cut exactly in half before I began eating, so that I would have a frame of reference for my progress, a "mile marker" if you will.
When I finally gave up at the half way point, the waitress slid the rest into a foil pan and I brought it home to show Jaicee what HALF looked like. She hefted the tray and remarked that it felt like more than three and a half pounds.
Oh, if that were true, it would confirm my suspicion that they were trying to dupe me at that dang restaurant. When I first saw the brute last night, I thought, "There is no way that all of that food weighs only seven pounds." Just before throwing in the towel, my ego's self defenses tried to console my failure with the rationalization that this had to be more than seven pounds. I know I can do better than a mere three and a half pounds.
I was RIGHT!!!
I took that half of a burrito to the grocery store this evening, and set it gently on one of the produce scales.
FOUR-AND-A-HALF POUNDS!!
DANG YOU JACK!!! YOU GAVE ME A NINE POUND BURRITO!!!
Do the math. That's 28% bigger! I knew it.
Now, If I had only had 2.5 pounds of burrito remaining instead of 4.5, I might have mustered the must to keep going.
Then again, maybe not. It really was a pretty nasty burrito.
SO... In my post this morning about the 7-lb. Breakfast Burrito, I mentioned that I finished half. It was exactly half, because I cut exactly in half before I began eating, so that I would have a frame of reference for my progress, a "mile marker" if you will.
When I finally gave up at the half way point, the waitress slid the rest into a foil pan and I brought it home to show Jaicee what HALF looked like. She hefted the tray and remarked that it felt like more than three and a half pounds.
Oh, if that were true, it would confirm my suspicion that they were trying to dupe me at that dang restaurant. When I first saw the brute last night, I thought, "There is no way that all of that food weighs only seven pounds." Just before throwing in the towel, my ego's self defenses tried to console my failure with the rationalization that this had to be more than seven pounds. I know I can do better than a mere three and a half pounds.
I was RIGHT!!!
I took that half of a burrito to the grocery store this evening, and set it gently on one of the produce scales.
FOUR-AND-A-HALF POUNDS!!
DANG YOU JACK!!! YOU GAVE ME A NINE POUND BURRITO!!!
Do the math. That's 28% bigger! I knew it.
Now, If I had only had 2.5 pounds of burrito remaining instead of 4.5, I might have mustered the must to keep going.
Then again, maybe not. It really was a pretty nasty burrito.
Not Even Close
Posted by Jordan
Just West of downtown Denver, on a hill overlooking the mile-high city with all of its glittering skyscrapers, professional sports arenas, Elitch Gardens, and gang-infested North-Side suburbs, some malicious and conspiring man named Jack decided to open a restaurant.
It's actually a really a fun place to visit. He's got anything and everything with the name "Jack" in it covering the walls. Pictures of Jack Russell Terriers, Jack Nicholson pictures, an Alan Jackson CD, a game of Jacks... use your imagination. Also, if you have named your kid Jack, Jacklyn, Jackson, Jackie, or anything with "Jack" in it since the restaurant opened, the child gets free food for life. (This almost swayed me to change our decision on our soon-to-arrive daughter's name...)
Besides the great Jackmosphere, they say the food is fantastic. Awesome looking burgers, which my co-workers say are among the best they've ever had, and which are so big you have to cut them into quarters before you can pick them up. Big platters of Mexican food smothered in melted cheese and topped with fresh guacamole. Nothing here comes small, but it's cheap. For example, one of the said behemoth burgers costs around $8.
Now, I imagine that on a slow day, Jack took inventory of the food in his restaurant kitchen that had to be eaten before it passed its expiration. He must have decided to fry it all up, pile it all together, and serve it on a plate the size of a car hood... and suddenly a monster was born: The SEVEN POUND breakfast burrito.
It smells as evil as it looks. Problem is, the pictures cannot do it justice. To actually have it placed before you, this giant mound of insanity... all you can do is laugh. A picture just doesn't really capture it adequately. It is so filled with heat, potatoes, (and I believe the spirits of damned souls) that the Travel Channel's Man v. Food ran an episode on it.
Ingredients:
-an entire 5 lb. bag of potatoes, chopped and fried
-a dozen scrambled eggs
-fried onions
-half pound of meat (ham, I think, but it could have been bacon)
-half pound of cheese
-handfuls of fresh roasted hot green chili peppers
-one large tortilla draped over the top
-your choice of green or red chili sauce
Not even Adam from Man v. Food came close to finishing this. Thousands have tried, but less than 200 have ever finished it. If a woman can somehow accomplish the feat of sending all seven pounds down her esophagus and fit it all within the confines of her abdomen, temporarily displacing most of her internal organs and severely inhibiting her breathing, she will get free food for life from the restaurant. (You've got to remember that seven pounds is as much as a newborn baby.)
If a man finished the burrito, he gets his picture on the wall of fame and doesn't have to pay for the meal.
Whoop-dee-flippin-doo.
That's like saying, "Hey, if you pay me $15 to kick you hard in the groin, and you don't scream or pass out, I'll return your $15 bucks and put up a picture of your tear-streaked red face for all to see and wonder: 'What kind of fool would voluntarily allow his body to experience this kind of pain?'"
I guess I'm that kind of fool. My manager took me and a co-worker out to this place after work last night. My capacity for food had started to become exaggerated by my employees who watch in amazement every once in a while when I take down my lunch in the office. Tony, (the guy in the picture) wanted to see if I could put my food where my mouth is... er, um.... I don't think I know how that saying is supposed to go.
I finished only half. It was shameful. I even trained the night before by having Jaicee feed me half a casserole dish of chicken enchiladas, then I ate a bowl of mashed potatoes and drank half a gallon of water. But last night, I couldn't take one more bite.
Here was the problem: It wasn't so much the volume, as the taste. The burrito itself was not delicious. The red sauce was boo-nasty. It smelled gross when the crane lowered it onto the table in front of me, and from the very first bite, it was gross! It didn't taste like breakfast, or anything even remotely appetizing. It was just mouthful after mouthful of smoke-out-your-ears spicy hot potatoes. I was proud that I made it through three and a half pounds.
The fact that I could have held more was confirmed after I waved the white napkin, when I tried to put out the fire with two tall lemonades. There was more room in there afterall. I'm not saying I could have finished it, but I could have held more than half of that demon burrito if it actually tasted good. Like if it were seven pounds of hash browns and sausage country gravy. I could have done it. But one more bite of this nastiness would have brought it all back up (and if that happens at the table, they double charge you for cleanup, and for grossing out the other patrons.)
I had Tony and Josh carry me out on a stretcher, moaning and half conscious, feeling like I had a stomach full of molten lava. Go ahead, Jack, keep the $15. I lose this time. But I take consolation in the fact that I can make a WAY better breakfast burrito than you.
(P.S. does anyone know what happened to the feature that lets me add videos to my posts?)
Just West of downtown Denver, on a hill overlooking the mile-high city with all of its glittering skyscrapers, professional sports arenas, Elitch Gardens, and gang-infested North-Side suburbs, some malicious and conspiring man named Jack decided to open a restaurant.
It's actually a really a fun place to visit. He's got anything and everything with the name "Jack" in it covering the walls. Pictures of Jack Russell Terriers, Jack Nicholson pictures, an Alan Jackson CD, a game of Jacks... use your imagination. Also, if you have named your kid Jack, Jacklyn, Jackson, Jackie, or anything with "Jack" in it since the restaurant opened, the child gets free food for life. (This almost swayed me to change our decision on our soon-to-arrive daughter's name...)
Besides the great Jackmosphere, they say the food is fantastic. Awesome looking burgers, which my co-workers say are among the best they've ever had, and which are so big you have to cut them into quarters before you can pick them up. Big platters of Mexican food smothered in melted cheese and topped with fresh guacamole. Nothing here comes small, but it's cheap. For example, one of the said behemoth burgers costs around $8.
Now, I imagine that on a slow day, Jack took inventory of the food in his restaurant kitchen that had to be eaten before it passed its expiration. He must have decided to fry it all up, pile it all together, and serve it on a plate the size of a car hood... and suddenly a monster was born: The SEVEN POUND breakfast burrito.
It smells as evil as it looks. Problem is, the pictures cannot do it justice. To actually have it placed before you, this giant mound of insanity... all you can do is laugh. A picture just doesn't really capture it adequately. It is so filled with heat, potatoes, (and I believe the spirits of damned souls) that the Travel Channel's Man v. Food ran an episode on it.
Ingredients:
-an entire 5 lb. bag of potatoes, chopped and fried
-a dozen scrambled eggs
-fried onions
-half pound of meat (ham, I think, but it could have been bacon)
-half pound of cheese
-handfuls of fresh roasted hot green chili peppers
-one large tortilla draped over the top
-your choice of green or red chili sauce
Not even Adam from Man v. Food came close to finishing this. Thousands have tried, but less than 200 have ever finished it. If a woman can somehow accomplish the feat of sending all seven pounds down her esophagus and fit it all within the confines of her abdomen, temporarily displacing most of her internal organs and severely inhibiting her breathing, she will get free food for life from the restaurant. (You've got to remember that seven pounds is as much as a newborn baby.)
If a man finished the burrito, he gets his picture on the wall of fame and doesn't have to pay for the meal.
Whoop-dee-flippin-doo.
That's like saying, "Hey, if you pay me $15 to kick you hard in the groin, and you don't scream or pass out, I'll return your $15 bucks and put up a picture of your tear-streaked red face for all to see and wonder: 'What kind of fool would voluntarily allow his body to experience this kind of pain?'"
I guess I'm that kind of fool. My manager took me and a co-worker out to this place after work last night. My capacity for food had started to become exaggerated by my employees who watch in amazement every once in a while when I take down my lunch in the office. Tony, (the guy in the picture) wanted to see if I could put my food where my mouth is... er, um.... I don't think I know how that saying is supposed to go.
I finished only half. It was shameful. I even trained the night before by having Jaicee feed me half a casserole dish of chicken enchiladas, then I ate a bowl of mashed potatoes and drank half a gallon of water. But last night, I couldn't take one more bite.
Here was the problem: It wasn't so much the volume, as the taste. The burrito itself was not delicious. The red sauce was boo-nasty. It smelled gross when the crane lowered it onto the table in front of me, and from the very first bite, it was gross! It didn't taste like breakfast, or anything even remotely appetizing. It was just mouthful after mouthful of smoke-out-your-ears spicy hot potatoes. I was proud that I made it through three and a half pounds.
The fact that I could have held more was confirmed after I waved the white napkin, when I tried to put out the fire with two tall lemonades. There was more room in there afterall. I'm not saying I could have finished it, but I could have held more than half of that demon burrito if it actually tasted good. Like if it were seven pounds of hash browns and sausage country gravy. I could have done it. But one more bite of this nastiness would have brought it all back up (and if that happens at the table, they double charge you for cleanup, and for grossing out the other patrons.)
I had Tony and Josh carry me out on a stretcher, moaning and half conscious, feeling like I had a stomach full of molten lava. Go ahead, Jack, keep the $15. I lose this time. But I take consolation in the fact that I can make a WAY better breakfast burrito than you.
(P.S. does anyone know what happened to the feature that lets me add videos to my posts?)
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Preg Prog... Or The Lack Thereof
Posted by Jaicee
At this point in pregnancy, I always have this daydream of going in for my next prenatal, being examined by my OB, and hearing her say,
"Oh my goodness! Why aren't you in labor? You're dilated to a seven and totally effaced! You're not going home! Let's get you up to labor and delivery and get this baby out!"
That's my dream. And it doesn't come true, ever. And yesterday at my appointment it still didn't come true. It was difficult not to feel exasperated as I walked back out to my car yesterday with her voice in my head: "two centimeters and only slightly effaced." Ugh.
However, I did recieve some good news: For a long time now I've been confused about my due date and thought it was the 18th, but my doctor confirmed to me that it is officially the 15th. YAY! I realize that doesn't actually mean anything... but it makes me feel better anyway! Any couple of days we can shave off is good, right?
Last night at about 8:30, during Family Home Evening, I began to notice that I was having more frequent than normal contractions. So I quietly began to time them while also trying to be any use to Jordan, who was teaching the girls about prophets, and then getting treats, and then getting the girls ready for bed... After about an hour and a half of timing them, I finally told Jordan that I was having contractions 10 to 15 minutes apart for the past hour and a half... but not to get our hopes up yet!
HA! If you know Jordan... well, it would have been easier for me to stay calm and unexcited if I had just kept it to myself. Next time I will! It's difficult to stay unexcited when Jordan is excited! But we still tried not to get our hopes up, knowing that it wasn't real labor. I waited and waited for them to get any stronger or closer together, but nothing changed. Finally when we got into bed at 11:00 or so, we just prayed that the baby would come sooner than later, and went to sleep hoping to not be asleep for too long! Alas! Here I am, the next day. No baby yet.
But on a happy note, despite all of the chaos going on in our lives right now, our cramped apartment, and half-packed house, we finally have an actual place for the baby to sleep when she does come! This is probably only exciting to me. I found a super cute Moses basket online at WalMart for only $30. And I discovered for the first time their Site-To-Store option (I'm probably the last one in the world to discover this...), that allows you to buy items that are available only online, but not have to pay shipping! Hooray! I love that!
Anyway, I figured it would be perfect for us because of our lack of room, and because we will need to be mobile for the next few months. Despite my feeling unprepared for every other change that's happening in the next few weeks, I'm just grateful that now I can at least feel ready for the baby when she arrives!
At this point in pregnancy, I always have this daydream of going in for my next prenatal, being examined by my OB, and hearing her say,
"Oh my goodness! Why aren't you in labor? You're dilated to a seven and totally effaced! You're not going home! Let's get you up to labor and delivery and get this baby out!"
That's my dream. And it doesn't come true, ever. And yesterday at my appointment it still didn't come true. It was difficult not to feel exasperated as I walked back out to my car yesterday with her voice in my head: "two centimeters and only slightly effaced." Ugh.
However, I did recieve some good news: For a long time now I've been confused about my due date and thought it was the 18th, but my doctor confirmed to me that it is officially the 15th. YAY! I realize that doesn't actually mean anything... but it makes me feel better anyway! Any couple of days we can shave off is good, right?
Last night at about 8:30, during Family Home Evening, I began to notice that I was having more frequent than normal contractions. So I quietly began to time them while also trying to be any use to Jordan, who was teaching the girls about prophets, and then getting treats, and then getting the girls ready for bed... After about an hour and a half of timing them, I finally told Jordan that I was having contractions 10 to 15 minutes apart for the past hour and a half... but not to get our hopes up yet!
HA! If you know Jordan... well, it would have been easier for me to stay calm and unexcited if I had just kept it to myself. Next time I will! It's difficult to stay unexcited when Jordan is excited! But we still tried not to get our hopes up, knowing that it wasn't real labor. I waited and waited for them to get any stronger or closer together, but nothing changed. Finally when we got into bed at 11:00 or so, we just prayed that the baby would come sooner than later, and went to sleep hoping to not be asleep for too long! Alas! Here I am, the next day. No baby yet.
But on a happy note, despite all of the chaos going on in our lives right now, our cramped apartment, and half-packed house, we finally have an actual place for the baby to sleep when she does come! This is probably only exciting to me. I found a super cute Moses basket online at WalMart for only $30. And I discovered for the first time their Site-To-Store option (I'm probably the last one in the world to discover this...), that allows you to buy items that are available only online, but not have to pay shipping! Hooray! I love that!
Anyway, I figured it would be perfect for us because of our lack of room, and because we will need to be mobile for the next few months. Despite my feeling unprepared for every other change that's happening in the next few weeks, I'm just grateful that now I can at least feel ready for the baby when she arrives!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
I'll take the blame...
Posted by Jaicee
Here's an equation for you:
In English, the equation reads: One razor accidentally left on the side of the tub after shaving legs, plus one little pile of brown hair sitting in place of said razor, equals a frantic search for bald spots on the heads of two mischievous little girls. I learned this equation in my applied parenting class. Yes. This is Norah's scalp. I've learned my lesson to never forget to put my razor back up in its clip out of reach of children. Naivie and Norah were taking a bath, and I walked in and found Naivie "combing" Norah's hair with my razor.
"See, mom? I'm combing her hair all pretty!"
From what Naivie told me, (and from what I know of my children from expeirence), I'm pretty sure that "Norah the Explorer" started "combing" Naivie's hair first, and then they just started taking turns like good girls!
How wonderful!
Luckily Naivie came away with only a few shorter hairs on top of her head, and Norah's bald spot could have been a lot worse! So I'm grateful that my dumb forgetfulness didn't create worse problems than this.
Here's an equation for you:
+
=
In English, the equation reads: One razor accidentally left on the side of the tub after shaving legs, plus one little pile of brown hair sitting in place of said razor, equals a frantic search for bald spots on the heads of two mischievous little girls. I learned this equation in my applied parenting class. Yes. This is Norah's scalp. I've learned my lesson to never forget to put my razor back up in its clip out of reach of children. Naivie and Norah were taking a bath, and I walked in and found Naivie "combing" Norah's hair with my razor.
"See, mom? I'm combing her hair all pretty!"
From what Naivie told me, (and from what I know of my children from expeirence), I'm pretty sure that "Norah the Explorer" started "combing" Naivie's hair first, and then they just started taking turns like good girls!
How wonderful!
Luckily Naivie came away with only a few shorter hairs on top of her head, and Norah's bald spot could have been a lot worse! So I'm grateful that my dumb forgetfulness didn't create worse problems than this.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
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