Heartbreak in Provo

I drove six hours to make it back from Thanksgiving in Idaho in time for the elite eight BYU–UNC game hosted on the Cougars' home turf. I got the best seat in the house: half field, between the two teams. Yep, this play happened right in front of my face.

North Carolina played some of the most phenomenal soccer I've ever seen. It was one of the those games where the undeserving team almost won: BYU missed two gimmes, pretty much their only two real chances of the night. North Carolina, with its six starters who play for national development teams and one who played for New Zealand in the Olympics, out-shot BYU a billion to 10. In the end, the better team won, but it was sad to see the season end, and to miss out on a work trip to San Diego for the final four, where I was hoping to ask Kayla Varner (pictured's) boyfriend, Bryce Harper, to sign the Nationals hat Spence is getting for Christmas. Shucks.

Tacoma vs. Tree

Woke up to this Saturday morning: Provo's first snowfall, and a little surprise that got me out of cleaning the chapel with the Young Women.

 My little truck, which I will drive until the day it dies, sustained the injury. Just another dent to add more character, this time in the roof:

No other damage. We punched the roof back up and she's still running like a dream. Landlord's homeowner's insurance may cover it . . . but given the other dents, including the last one—which, through insurance reimbursement, funded my trip to Italy—I'm not sure we'll fix it.

Character and all, I still get people stopping me in parking lots and on the street and at all the auto-body repair places asking me if I'd sell it. No, I'm taking this one to its grave.

Poor Rom Rom

If you're feeling a little sad (this one's for you, G) post-Tuesday, try watching this piece that we started on Tuesday morning and churned out and sent yesterday. My colleague and co-conspirator on this said his wife "found it soothing."

And if you vote blue and don't need to be soothed, watch it for the butt-chin! Best I've come across, for sure.




 Nothing like a little all-nighter to make you feel like a real journalist again.

Life Goal: Get a Gavel

We had a fantastic time in Florida supporting Gaylen as he takes the accounting world by storm. Yes, he is now officially Mr. NASBA, head of the National Association of State Boards of Accountants, the guys (and gals) who administer the CPA exam around the world, set and enforce standards, and punish fraudulent accountants.

And, as you can see, when you reach such a peak in this or many other fields, you get . . . a gavel! Congrats, G! Wield it well!

This also means that for two more years, Coco and G will be traveling the world for conferences and such, and I am seriously contemplating quitting my job to be her travel buddy. And let's not forget my new NASBA aunts, Taut Beth (they use the French "taut" instead of aunt in Louisiana, from which Beth hails) and Aunt Maxine (my new sewing instructor). Have to see them. And we have to defend our title—our group won Pluto's great adventure in Epcot. I have a pin to prove it.

We danced our little hearts out the last night on the Indiana Jones stunt stage at the NASBA gala, where Kim and Jon had their palms read and Gaylen was embarrassed royally by a belly dancer. A good time was had by all.

And Seth, that sweetheart—who, along with two of Gaylen's firm partners, made the trip out to cheer G on—agreed to bring her band to play Niels' wedding . . . whenever that is . . .