My dad sent me this picture of their front walk today in Alpine, UT, with the message "Eat your heart out."

This is a picture of my backyard, also taken today.  

Sorry, Dad.  I'm not jealous.

Adam is a boy after my own heart.

This kid loves to read.  

Brad's mom gave him the Fablehaven series for Christmas, and within 2 weeks, he'd read all five books.  Now, he's moved on to some other fantasy-rich series, and this is how he spends every spare minute.  The above picture is Adam "watching for the bus".  It's a good thing Pepper was also there as a back-up.

This morning, Susanne messaged me that the Starz Network is planning to make a series based on Diana Gabaldon's Outlander books.

Best. News. Ever.

I may have been a little obsessed with these books last year, but in my defense, they are AWESOME and totally obsession-worthy.  So far, there are seven books in the series, all of them like 900 pages long, so I was able to immerse myself in Jamie and Claire for literally months last winter.  There is no better way to combat Berlin at its coldest and darkest.

Then, this summer, Brad's sister Becky gave me the first book on CD, so Jess and I listened to it as we drove the two days from Utah to Texas.  She and I were alone in my car (the boys all wanted to drive with Brad in his), so we listened to it non-stop (there are some parts not appropriate for a sixteen-year-old, so I had to fast-forward here and there).  We didn't even like to stop for food, so we subsisted on the trail-mix, beef jerky, and the fountain drinks we purchased when we had to stop for gas.  Yes.  It is just that good.

So, when I heard the news that a TV series is in the works, I flew into a Google-mania.  And, that is when I found this:

Is it wrong that just reading the word "Sassenach" got my heart pumping?

 I'm pretty sure I wouldn't recognize Jess without this phone in front of her face.

Tonight marks the end of what I have been thinking of as Primary Boot Camp.

I was called as our ward Primary president the week before Christmas.  As many of you know, all the Primary children switch up to the next class at the beginning of the New Year, so this is a time of much scrambling to get kids placed into the correct new class with the least amount of confusion possible.  Our ward is very large (150 Primary-aged kids) and I know almost none of them, since we are still relatively new in our ward.  The previous presidency expected to be released in November, so they hadn't done much in the way of preparing for the January craziness.

So, my counselors and I were in panic-mode for the last couple of weeks in December (which is a time of built-in crazy anyway).  We had several classes that needed new teachers, so on top of trying to sort out all the children, we were trying to figure out who could teach them.  Again, I don't know many people in the ward, so I was relying on my counselors' advice and good, old-fashioned faith that we'd call the right people.

Well, we survived the first few weeks of January, no children need therapy (that we know of), and we have called eight new teachers that seem just awesome.  And tonight, we knocked out the only two meetings we are required to hold for the year--Eight is Great and Priesthood Preview--which we held back-to-back at the church.

When I plunked this box of meeting props on my counter tonight at 8:30, I heaved a big sigh of relief.  I told myself back in December that if I could just get through January, the rest of my Primary year would be a breeze.

Of course, I may be singing a different tune come Fall when the Primary Sacrament Meeting  Program is upon us, but tonight, I feel pretty good.  Now, I can put on my jammies and go upstairs to watch Lady Sybil die after having her baby.  I've earned a good cry.

 Evidence that our No Food In The TV Room rule is being ignored.

Serenity now!

One of the perks of Brad's job is that he gets a brand new company car about every six months.  He pretty much gets to choose any new Mercedes-Benz that he wants, and anyone who knows Brad will recognize that this thrills him to no end.  My husband is a bona fide car nut, so he will pore over the available cars, fairly giggly with anticipation as he picks out his new lovey.

So when he pointed out his newest choice, he was less than amused when I told him I thought it looks like a Grandma Car.  Since ordering it, Brad has expended much energy in trying to convince me that his new S Class really WILL be cool, and not grandma-y at all.  I, of course, have expended my own energy in coming up with all the Granny References I could think of, sparing no opportunity to remind him that when his new car arrives, he can look forward to driving really slow, catching up on his knitting, getting lots of cats, etc...

Well, the new car arrived on Wednesday.  I bought the accessory necessary to every Grandma Car and placed it in his back window last night.

When he sees it this morning, I'm not sure what he'll do.  If I disappear from the blogging world for a few days, it's because I'm in the doghouse.