Prince George Has a Lot of Grandparents

Tana made the homepage of KSL.com holding "Prince George"—a half-Samoan baby with a 40-year-old mom and a 76-year-old dad. Said couple manages the Seville, Tana's retirement home.

While you're working out the math on that, I'll add that Prince George's momma is said to be a Samoan princess, thus the title for the little guy. He has a lot of admirers at the Seville; lots of adoring grandmas and grandpas.

You can watch KSL's video report here.

The White Stuff

Finally, snow.

We've waited so long; when I saw the benches covered in fog last night, I couldn't wait to get up this morning to hike. Spence, sadly, couldn't be bothered. 

He missed all of this.

I love this place.

And I love my new boots, which have been waiting to be broken in since Christmas.

Looky Here

The winter issue is so done, and it feels so good. It got a little crazy there.

In addition to reading that smallish thing I've been working on for the past little chunk of my life, you should definitely read Brad Wilcox's devotional, "His Grace Is Sufficient."

It Was Time

I've downsized. From a 54–fluid ounce Extreme Gulp to a 32-ouncer, to be exact. I picked up this little gem at a gas station in Price on the drive home from Colorado.

Unlike my old mug, my new mug doesn't glow in the dark. But, I now no longer carry around a keg that, filled, is approximately half my body weight.

In addition, while I am not a fan of carrying around anything that bears a brand, the red Coca-Cola is so much classier than the Extreme Gulp, no? Or at least as classy as a girl can be when owning a plastic refillable soda jug . . .

See? Look how it camouflages into my office.

It's one step closer to weaning myself off the tap. Here's to being carbonation free in . . . 2013. :)

Santa Shenanigans

 

Santa, caught in the act! Stuffing his belly and buttox in Grandma's closet! It must have been a meager year for the man in red . . . he was looking a bit slender, losing his pants and all.

 

With Bob Barker flare, Santa started calling out names, and Uncle Fred came on down! Everyone got a chance on this lap.

Captain Jack got a squeeze.

Coco scores pink pajamas!

Santa's helper takes a turn!

Niels—never lacking for enthusiasm. YES!

I must have been a very good girl this year, because I got some sugar!

About "Staticians"

It's becoming increasingly apparent that no one can conceive of what Spencer will do as a statician (Grandma Karford's word). I will grant that the connection is not as direct as med school = doctor, law school = lawyer, MBA = businessman, farmer = crops. But he gets these looks—I get these looks—when it comes up in conversation. Blank stares, really. Pittying blank stares.

So in brief,  for the few family members who ever read this blog, statisticians analyze data. All kinds of data. Data about your DNA and about crime in your neighborhood, about air pollution and new medicines and financial regulation and product-line efficiency and on and on and on. Where do they work? Anywhere. Is it a crappy degree? The New York Times doesn't seem to think so: see "For Today's Graduate, Just One Word: Statistics." Quote: “I keep saying that the sexy job in the next 10 years will be statisticians,” said Hal Varian, chief economist at Google. “And I’m not kidding.”

Anyway, statisticians are also featured on magazine covers, like this one, below, of Jonathan, one of Spencer's stats program buddies. Jonathan is quite possibly the smartest person we've ever met. And he—not an engineering, not a pre-med, not a pre-dental, not a biochemistry student—is the college's poster boy.

The Buddies

It would be fun to hear their story, these two—the guy on the left in the blue cap, who spiritedly flips off the ref every time he makes a call against Boise State, holding it up high and proud for an unreasonably long minute, as though the ref could actually see it, and the guy on the right, with his Boise State picnic-tablecloth-style shirt complete with, wait, is that—yes—a matching visor. Perhaps they're just work acquaintances or coincidental season-ticket seat mates, but judging by their well-timed double high five—the two-handed one where you square up shoulders first—and their combined arsenal of blue- and orange-confetti party poppers, one for every Boise touchdown, I think it's fair to say this friendship runs deep.

I'm a little late in posting "the buddies," as we dubbed them when we had the fortune of sitting a few rows up from them at the Thanksgiving-weekend BSU football game. I can't remember the opponent, but I will always remember the Hail Mary pass that ricocheted right into the hands of Matt Miller (our Montana boy), who was reclining, in the end zone, on his back when the ball hit him in the numbers. And I will always remember the antics of The Buddies.

If I had made a New Year's resolution, and maybe I still will (better late than never), I think it would be being a better friend to all of my buddies, new and old. More phone calls. More lunch dates when in the same town (or state, or country). And more high fives—with two hands.

A few more snapshots from the blue turf:

There's Montana Matt, no. 2, center. He makes Tana proud every game day.

Seeing through 2012

We got ambushed by a kids' hockey team, in uniform. We didn't get our puck back until their coach called them off.

Gaylen gets MVP of the day for being the, literally, immovable goalie.

"I'm Like Disney on Ice"