Thursday, December 11, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The absolute best part of Thanksgiving for me is to be able to play football with my brothers. All of my brothers are great athletes, and it makes me very proud in a big-brother sort of way to watch them knock the socks off of somebody. I obviously didn't have brothers to play with, and I drove all over town (in vain) looking for a football game to join. I ended up playing a pretty hardcore game of Ultimate with a bunch of hippies. Ultimate is also called Frisbee football, and the hipsters do frequently refer to each other as bros, so I guess it was logically the next best thing.
Despite the lack of brotherly bonding time, we still had a great Thanksgiving because we had what any good Thanksgiving needs, namely:
twelve layer jello,
the type of listlessness that only tryptophan can provide,
and really big, tasty, turkey legs.
Friday, November 21, 2008
When the phlebotomist was getting me unhooked and ran through the list of Coban bandage choices, I promptly told him to make it purple, because Weber will always hold a special place in my heart. I must have said purple a little too quickly and possibly too enthusiastically, because he gave me a look that said "Ohh, purple, eh? You sure you don't want to read over some of those donation questions a little more carefully?" My first thought was to tell him that I bleed purple. But then I realized that he had physical evidence to the contrary in his hands. I couldn't risk making him think I was lightheaded, because then he would have made me lay down for even longer.
I was a little nervous at first about riding my bike home after donating, which is why I caved in and ate one of the free chocolate chip cookies to replenish my waning blood-sugar levels. Actually, I had two of them. And a Capri Sun apple juice. And a packet of trail mix.
The city of Eugene is prepared though in the event of any fainting/narcoleptic college students on bikes. I think that it is precisely because an emergency of this nature could arise that the city has not picked up any of the fall leaves. Every street in the city is lined by corridors of dead leaves at least four feet high. Before when it rained and the rim brakes on my bike basically became a "just for show" feature, my commute was a little scary. Now I ride with a lot more confidence knowing that the leaves are there if I ever need to launch myself off my bike for any reason.
On a completely separate note, this picture was staged - I needed it for my PowerPoint for my class today- but it's still pretty cute.
Friday, November 14, 2008
As if these almost celebrity sightings weren't enough, I just got an e-mail from the UO president, Dave Frohnmayer. Now most of you probably don't have an entire hemisphere of your brain dedicated to the minutiae of 80s movies, but Dave Frohmayer is the name of the sausage king of Chigago from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It's reassuring to know that if the president of the university gig ever seems like it's not going anywhere, Dave can totally go back and reign over the land of stuffed meats. As a footnote, the sausage king of Chicago is really named Abe Frohman, but lets not get nitpicky.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
and I ended up with two-
But that's not all, if you call now we'll also throw in two enormous pumpkins-
And two cool-looking fall gourds-
But wait, we're not done yet. If you're one of the next 15 callers, we'll throw in at no extra charge 9 ears of the most delicious corn you've ever had in your life-
And a big bowl of tomatoes
The best part of the story isn't the fact that I wanted one bike, and ended up with two bikes and a bunch of produce. He actually tried to give me a third bike for Rocky, but we couldn't fit it in the car. No the best part of the story is that he didn't actually give me all those vegetables. We drove across the street to his neighbors farm, and we stole them. For the record, stolen vegetables taste so much better than store-bought ones.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
A week and a half ago, we loaded up a rental truck with all of our junk, and headed west to our new home. My orientation started on Friday the 19th, so we left early the day before and just drove straight through. We almost made it to Eugene (we were about 40 miles away) when the truck became leprous and started dropping pieces everywhere. Luckily, we were in the middle of nowhere (about 30 miles from a town on either side), so we felt really good about just abandoning a broken-down truck containing all of our earthly possessions on the side of the road. Even though it was a huge hassle, everything worked out really well. Nothing was stolen (until now), we didn't have to worry about parking the big truck in the tiny motel parking lot, and Budget even gave us some money back. We got all moved in, have already made lots of friends, and are really excited about our new home (minus the theft). I'm sure this is only the first of many, many adventures that I like to call "The chronicles of the Rigby Family at grad school." I'm going to end this post with a list of the things that I learned about Budget trucks during our trek.
Our good 'ol, not so trusty rental truck in front of the lava fields on Santiam Pass, with the volcano Three Fingered Jack in the background.
- The volume of a Budget gas tank (including fumes) can be exactly defined as the distance between Layton and Boise, and/or the distance between Boise and Bend, Or.
- Good idea: Driving the Santiam Pass scenic byway. Bad Idea: Driving the Santiam pass in a truck that is as wide as the road itself.
- While baling twine is excellent at securing hay into bales, it is also pretty good at securing car seats into the cab of a truck that only has two seat belts.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Marci and I made a piñata for Caleb for his birthday because he always said that the piñatas were broken by the little kids before his turn came up at the family parties when we were younger. Strong Bad was a natural choice because he has the most balloon-shaped head out of anyone.
Hey batter, batter, swwiiiingg batter!!!!
We made this cake for our friend Lindsay's birthday. The fro was made out of little cupcakes, and the pick was, ...um, just a pick. You can't really see it in the picture, but the grill on the teeth says Happy B-Day.
I know this last one strays slightly from my theme of piñatas and birthday cakes, but I had to put it in. This is our actual wedding cake. Marci's cousin made it for us, and it turned out awesome! The base was made out of Twinkies around a real cake, with Lil' Debbie brown and white cupcakes at the very bottom. Then it goes ho-hos, red zingers, yellow Hostess cupcakes, and orange Snowballs. The bride and groom at the top are Han Solo and Princess Leia.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
The following is an inventory of the new holes in my clothing/appendages:
New running shoes - 1
Cargo shorts - 1
Ankle - 2
Leg - 2
Hand and forearm - 6
My red shirt from Savers that I think says "We came to party" in Danish - 17
Friday, August 8, 2008
I like to think that the little slip that the first quail does is, in fact, one quail giving his little quail brothers a flying elbow-drop. That's right buddy, you show them who is going to be calling the shots around here. Then, why don't you just step on someone's head to make sure that they got the point. Well done.
This was only about five minutes after they hatched. It's awesome how far they jump. I'm sure what he was thinking was: "Walking was so two-minutes old; that's baby stuff."
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
On Saturday, I ran in the Xterrra Antelope Island 12K. I thought that because I was running on Antelope Island I would be able to see some really interesting wildlife. For the record, I didn't see any buffaloes roaming, nor any deer and antelope playing. I did, in fact, hear more than a seldom discouraging word when I was running up the hills. There was an article about the race in the paper, and this is what the race organizer said about the hills: "You can actually run all the way, but you've got to be a stud. It's steep enough most people will probably power hike it." I don't want to imply anything, but I didn't have to walk at all. Okay, I'm lying. I did have to walk about a hundred yards, and I was trying really hard to imply something there.
I'd like to give some shout-outs to a few things that made it possible for me to finish the race. Thanks to my "pump-it" sweat band and to my mother-in-law for giving it to me. Kudos to my Key Bank t-shirt for not chafing my nipps. And a final gracias to the Flo Rida song " Low" for getting me through that last, tough hill (it was a free download, alright?). But seriously, how can you get more motivational than inspired lyrics such as: "I was just like a clover, shorty was hot like a toaster." I mean, really, you can't top that. That is some well-crafted musical prose.
Look how cute my little family is.