just like the ones I used to know

This Christmas I'm grateful that it was a white Christmas. My heart sings praises at the sight of a fresh blanket of snow. It captures me for a brief moment, and all seems right in the world. Even when my tires are spinning instead of gripping and it takes 2 or 3 tries to get up my rediculously steep driveway, I'm still smiling on the inside because all is snowy and white.

Next time you find one of those perfectly formed snowflakes that has landed on your sleeve, stare at it for a second and try to remember how amazed you were the first time you realized that snowflakes really do look like those paper creations you cut out in elementary school. I'm back in Kindergarten every time it snows.

Snow makes me happy. It just does. And when the rest of the world is bah-humbugging when it snows on Easter, I'll be dreaming of a white Memorial Day, just like the ones I used to know.

BROOKS OR BUST!

'g' stands for...

Garth Brooks, baby!

I've always wished that I had seen Garth Brooks in concert before he retired. So when he announced that he was doing one more concert in Kansas City, Rhett and I decided we had to see it. We tried to get tickets, but they sold out in minutes. Then they opened up 2 more concerts, and they sold out. Then they opened up six more concerts, for a grand total of NINE shows in one city. I was online for about 4 hours from start to finish, clicking and refreshing and clicking and refreshing, and I ended up with 3 tickets to the 1st concert. All 3 tickets were separate, and all 3 were "rear-view" seats. But we didn't care. So off to Kansas City we went. The concert tickets were $27 each, we flew out there on buddy passes, and we got a discount at the Marriott, so all in all, it was a fantastically affordable good time.

Rhett's cousin/best friend David came with us. He works at one of the radio stations in Salt Lake, so he did a call-in report on the concert that night after it got over, and then the next morning on the morning show. I told him he had to give me a shout out since I hooked him up with all my connections, but I'm pretty sure it slipped his mind. Silly boy.

The concert was absolutely AMAZING. Garth Brooks is a master performer. I loved every second of it. Oh, and my crappy "rear-view" seats were 2ND ROW, and actually SIDE VIEW, and awesome. Plus, there was one seat next to me that never filled up, so after Trisha Yearwood opened, Rhett came down and joined me so we got to sit by each other. It was perfect!

Below, Garth obviously pointing right at me. YOU TOO BUDDY!

Of course he jumped into a hole in the stage when it was over.

I LOVE YOU GARTH!

(However, my superfanhood ends there as I will not be purchasing his latest hits album since it is sold exclusively at Cesspool-mart. What does he have against Target anyway?)

Look it up first, people

One of the more entertaining aspects of working in the maternity ward is hearing all the new baby names that parents come up with. Today I came across one that just blew me away, and it was all I could do to keep my composure and appear supportive. This was not the name of the newborn baby girl born to mom and dad a day ago, but the name of the adorably outgoing big sister who was frolicking all around striking up conversations with adults, at only 5 years old. She had light brown hair parted in the middle with 2 long braids, each with a sparkly pink fuzzy hair bobble at the top, which of course matched her shiny pink coat, pink pants, and pink shoes. Just cute as a button. After she told me how old she is, I asked her her name.

"Purgatory."

I repeated it aloud in disbelief and sent a questioning gaze to the mom hoping she would correct her silly daughter and set the record straight. But she just smiled with a great deal of pride and nodded her head, repeating the sweet name. Purgatory.

What should we name him?

This is my new friend that lives in the backyard. He eats there, he sleeps there, he watches me through the window while I'm vacuuming, so he ought to have a name. He stayed there for hours. Rhett came home for lunch and he's the one who spotted him through the window. Mr. Deer stayed all through lunch, and then I cleaned all 3 bathrooms, vacuumed the bedrooms, stairs, and living room, and he was STILL there. This was no prance through the yard. He was getting comfortable. I started whipping up some cream to put on the slice of pumpkin pie I was about to serve him to welcome him to the neighborhood, but I guess I spooked him. Must be lactose intolerant.

So let's get this guy a name. I'm taking votes. So far I've come up with White-Butt or Peeping Tom. A little help please?