Turkey Bowl 2012

Although Snick had their own Thanksgiving dinner in Eugene, we still spent a couple days up in Yaktown this year.

We couldn't miss the Turkey Bowl!

This year, the non- Darrell/Sheila Smarts (Melissa, Syd, Jack) beat the Smarts (Chels, Shea, Darel). Nick played all-time offense since the teams were uneven due to a hernia injury to Big D. 

Albeit freezing, we still had a good time (at least I did since I won). Melissa's clutch play deep in the fourth clutched the win for the Non-Smarts. Afterwards, the winners basked in their good fortune and skill while binging on She-She's frittata. The losers also binged on She-She's frittata, but only because they needed to drown their sorrows and eat their feelings.

It was a good Black Friday. 

Even Taz showed up!

So kind of Taz to cook everyone dinner.

Sick.

Models.

Mr. Personality

Every once an awhile you meet someone who truly defies all your expectations.

Someone who makes you laugh at all the right moments.

Someone who blows your mind - literally, makes you wonder how such individuality exists. 

Someone so weird you like it.

Someone who can know everything and nothing at the same time.

Someone who inherited all the right genes.

Someone you can't live without.

That someone, is Mr. Personality.

Sweet, weird, talkative, odd, hilarious, imaginative Cole.

He truly is the comic relief, the class clown, the odd duck - and we love him for it.

I'd like to share a few conversations I had with Cole this past week.

Cole: Hey Syd, have you ever been to the secret underground battle?

Syd: No, I haven't Cole.

Cole: Do you think Mom would take me there someday?

Syd: I don't know, maybe.

Cole: You know, someday, like when I'm five.

Cole: (as I'm entering the playroom to put Evie down for a nap) Hey Evie can't come in here because I'm watching a really scary gorilla movie (King Kong) in here and it will scare Evie.

Syd: Well Evie is going to sleep in here right now.

Cole: Well the movie will scare Evie and I think it will scare you too Syd so you can't come in here.

Syd: I think you should wait until Dad gets home to watch that movie Cole.

Cole: (Pensively) Okay, I will wait five minutes for Dad to get home and then I will watch it.

Cole: I want to play Superhero Basketball (which is basically chase) with Sydney and Darel. Darel you can be Pink Pepper. And Sydney is Evil Rosie. And I'm Horn Dino.

Later while playing...

Cole: Hey! You're not cheering for me. I'm not Cole. I'm Horn Dino!

Even later...

Cole: I wanna be in a basketball game and Dinos don't wear shirts.

And even later...

Cole: I need my basketball helmet on.

Cole: My monster feet made my feet hot, so my boots are colder. (Explaining why he's changing into his rain boots)

Three minutes later

Cole: My boots are too hot so I need my spiderman shoes on.

At 9 AM

Cole: How many cookies have you had today?

Syd: Two.

Cole: That's going to make your muscles small. I'm going to eat a lot to make my muscles big. And eat grilled cheese too.

Syd: That's good Cole. That's got a lot of protein.

Cole: How much protein is in a grilled cheese?

Syd: I don't know, maybe 5 or 6 grams, depending on how much cheese.

Cole: No, I think there's thirty-nine hundred.

Syd: 3900?

Cole: Yeah.

Cole: Hey Sydney, look what I can do to bad guys. Keep your eyes at me for three minutes.

Two seconds later.

Cole: Actually, I have to put it together so keep your eyes at me for four minutes.

Five seconds later.

Cole: Now keep your eyes on me for five minutes. See? Thats how I get the bad guys.

Ten seconds later.

Cole: Here's my new weapon all made by me. I'm creating a new weapon.

Cole and I are writing a graphic novel (more and this to come).

As we were naming all the superheroes in our story, we had this conversation:

Syd: How about Twinkle Toes?

Cole: That's not a superhero name!

Syd: It's not? Well what should we name mom?

Cole: Firewood. Mom will be Firewood.

Syd: Are you sure? A superhero named Firewood?

Cole: Yeah. Mom will be Firewood.

I could go on and on, but I'll leave you with this:

Cole calls himself "Night Sky" when he's dressed like this. He insists that we call him "Night Sky" when he wears this get up. He even asked me to get him a "Night Sky" costume for his birthday.

I seriously love this kid.

Darel's Faces

Every time I come home I find "treasures" on my iTouch, cell phone, laptop, or camera from Darel.  It has gotten to the point that I now have a folder on my computer entitled "Darel's Faces".  Since treasures are meant to be shared, I thought I'd share with the world wide web.  Behold the hottness of Darel:

Syd occasionally joins in the fun.  To be fair, I am also sharing a pic to show Darel does have normal faces--when she tries.  A good family friend of ours once told us that Darel was the only Smart that didn't go through the ugly adolescent phase.  Ouch to the rest of us!  Maybe I should send him some of these pics and he might change his mind.  

Happy Birthday Dad!

 World Wide Weapon

 Wolverine

 Shelly's Biggest Fan

 Handsome Rob

James Bond 

 William Wallace

Spartacus 

 Edward Cullen

Man with a bag of TRICK

 JB's Biggest Fan

Diego

Coach

President

 Phillip

Petunia Boy

 Grandpa

Puffy

He may have many names but we're all glad to call him dad.  Happy Birthday Spiffy Dad!!

A Very Bad Decision

Some years ago, I boldly declared, “I will never own a snow-blower.” I reasoned that in the Smart home, we are manly men (and sometimes women), and we can darn well shovel our own snow. The morning of big snow storms, I would get the kids up early, assign them a shovel and challenge them to race our neighbors, who predicably for our neighborhood, rely on sissy machines, aka, snow-blowers to do their work. We were always proud when we could clear our driveway and walks faster than the neighbors with their mechanical equipment--well, at least I was always proud of this fact.

Now, we have all read how John Henry and his mighty hammer out-dueled the steam powered equipment of the Railroad Company (aka, The Man) and laid down railroad tracks with great speed in order to save the job of the working man. When I tried to emphasis this story as a point of pride to my children, they sharply pointed out that John Henry's efforts cost him his life, but more importantly, that they didn't want their working class jobs to be saved. "Buy the Snow-blower! Puuulease!" They pleaded. My response? “Pride has a price, and in this family, we are apparently willing to pay it!” Instead of a snow-blower, I invested in a number of very fine snow shovels over the years. Currently, there are about five of them in my garage--each one of them just waiting for an opportunity to shame our neighbors in a show of seasonal determination and grit.

Even Sheila in an act that can only be viewed as betrayal, would frequently side with her offspring by suggesting, “What do you think about a snow-blower for Christmas this year?” or “Do you think a snow-blower would be a good gift for your birthday this year?” In stubbornly rejecting all such suggestions, I mocked the very notion of such a wussy gift: “I most definitely do not need, nor want, a snow-blower. We have a number of quality snow shovels in the garage that would just go to waste if we were to purchase a snow-blower. Besides, the kids like to get up early and shovel the snow. They love to compete with the snow-blowers in the neighborhood.” Of course, I tried to say this when the kids were around, so they would understand what fun it is pit brawn against machine in manly test of strength and determination. They mostly just rolled their eyes and gave me looks that were not to difficult to decipher.

Now we have enjoyed a mild winter this year, that is until the first of February, when it dumped 0ver a foot of snow on Yakima in several days. I was ecstatic--I love the snow, especially, the first big storm of the year. Sheila? Well, she usually threatens to start looking for property in Tuscon whenever this happens. I just ignore her because as long as her grandchildren are in the Northwest, she’s not going anywhere. This last storm, however, tempered my enthusiasm for winter storms; and in particular, it caused me to rethink this whole John Henry versus the Machine macho attitude and my refusal to buy a snow-blower. Without my children/domestic yard slaves to assist with the job of snow removal, the whole John Henry challenge thing seemed pretty hollow, and frankly, just a lot of meaningless work. I’m pretty sure that everyone in the neighborhood was done with their driveways before me. After the third snowfall in three days, I told the Sheila, “I don’t think I’m going to actually shovel the snow today. It’s only a couple of inches deep. Instead, I think I’ll just dump a bunch of ice melt on the driveway and hope for a warm Chinook to blow in.” At which point, I escaped to the safer environs of my office, alleging that I was way too busy to shovel that morning. In reality, I was bordering on exhaustion. Needless to say, I was chagrined when I returned home and found that Sheila had shoveled the entire driveway and the walks. Ouch!

Without the muscle of my children/domestic yard slaves to push the snow around, I felt defeated. My manly decision to reject the generous offer of my caring wife to purchase me a snow-blower, in retrospect was obviously a very bad decision.