Matching Sweaters

A Digest of our very big trip.

2011-08-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

Here we are hiking Independence Rock in Colorado. Booker added a few solid extra pounds to make this moderate hike extremely difficult. He was quite happy, though, "Blah, muah, ma"-ing the whole way. I would be too if I got to be transported in such a slick pack.

At Bear Lake in Utah: you're lookin' at four generations of good, family-loving genes.
This photo should be paired with a favorite mama/baby dance song. Which can be watched here. We love Solange and her really tight dress.

Great Grandpa Genius (His name is Gene. An older cousin, Roan, gave him this name. I believe it will stick.)

Uncle Dallas. Booker was a little fascinated with the pretty drawings all over his skin. He tried to pick them off.

Upside down in Tia Lindsey's strong, safe arms.

My dad, his grandpa.

Again: upside down.

A fun trick.

From Bear Lake we rolled into Salt Lake City for a couple of days, one of which we spent doing SERIOUS thrift shopping with my aunt Lori and brother bear, Dallas. You see, over the past several months I have been gathering and collecting the threads of yesteryear's children. I'll soon be opening an Etsy shop where I will be making these fanciful treasures available to the world!

A few other favorites we saw in Utah. We stuck to the...unique:

Gilgal:

The next stop was the Daughters of Utah Pioneers. They didn't allow cameras, but they did allow massive amounts of framed hair art. I fell in love with this AMAZING artistically genius concept. Josh, on the other hand, was dry heaving:

The framed art here is all made of twisted, knotted, braided hair! To make pretty things like flowers and trees.

This one is not actually in the museum--we wouldn't dare violate the Pioneer Daughters' trust-- but you can get an idea of what this wildness is.

(Other items from the museum not pictured)
"The smallest pitcher made by a deaf Mexican boy." Actual text.
Two-headed lamb.
Human baby skull.
A wreathe made entirely of all the early LDS church leaders' hair.
A complete replica of the Salt Lake City Temple made of sugar cubes.
And much, much more.

It was a rich trip.

The last leg of our mighty trip took us to the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. Josh's dad used his fine ability to craft these balloon-propelled boats. While we didn't get to race them (none of the moms wanted wet kids in their cars on the way home), Booker's sits proudly on the shelf in his room.

A treasure hunt, arranged and carried out by Josh.

The very scary pirate--with Goofy ears--guarding the buried treasure. The kids were an unbreakable team when it came to following the map, but when it came to dividing the booty, they initially didn't understand why each item wasn't individually designated for each hunter. Holding true to the traditional concept of buried treasure (mostly because of the lack of forethought), it became more of a free-for-all. In the end, all these buccaneers were happy.

Unfortunately, Booker did not make it in this photo of all the Downs' grandchildren. He was sleeping off a sinus infection. But what a bunch of cuties!

Aside from the carpeted restroom and a few sick members of this family, the second leg of this trip was a success. And now we're home. Safe, and happy, and home.

One more goody. A trick.

Warm Fuzzies.

2011-08-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

What to do when I post 40 jars of handed-me-down baby food meat in little, watery jars (for Booker: I have a policy that I won't feed him anything I wouldn't eat. Except breast milk. I won't eat that.) to Freecycle, and I get two people who could "really use it"? Here's the actual text: you be the judge:

Freecycler 1: "I really need them there's a lot of single moms at church and they have small children if you can hold them for tomorrow morning I can go and pick them up."

Convincing. And...

Freecycler 2: "I would like to ask for your consideration - this is not for myself but for a friend who has a cat with cancer and the only way she can get the cat to take the medication is to put it in meat baby food. If you are willing to let me take it for this purpose, I am sure she will be most grateful."

Final decision: I split it. Single moms get 25 jars, and the cat with cancer will get 15. Lucky cat. I earned my warm fuzzy for the day.

Vamos a la biblioteca, Juan! (Posted by Josh)

2011-07-04T10:34:00.001-07:00

It's a Sunday and we are fiending for something sweet. No bake cookies it is but alas we have no butter. In the dark, I am sent to the house to the right. We've had dinner with them, I've watched soccer games with the husband, they've given Booker toys...good neighbors, to be sure.
But they aren't home.
I consider the next house to the right who I've never interacted with, but who seem like nice people. Something about a sizable group of women smoking on the porch keeps me walking.
I consider the third house to the right; a retired couple with a great lawn. Once, they offered to watch Booker after only a five-minute conversation with us. "We do it all the time" she said. It was a reluctant and silent "no" to that offer, but maybe they'd be good for some butter. Not home.
Next I spot one of the neighbors to the left, watering her lawn. We haven't associated with her and her family much up until tonight. We looked at their wares during a garage sale once. We've said "hi." They have weekly parties that make for some memories. Memories not so much from the revelers peeling out into the street in a drunken stupor, but the honest-to-goodness, straight-from-the-movies drinking songs that stop just short of them knocking their bottles out of the air with their six-shooters. At any given time the husband and associates are sitting in the dark, conversing. Tonight I gave them something else to chat about. This is how it played out, straight from Spanish II back in Senor Roling's class:

Me: Hi.

Neighbor woman who's watering grass in the light of the streetlamp: Hi.

Me: Do you have butter?

Neighbor woman: (Puzzled look)

Me: Um, tienes manteca?---Do you have butter?

Neighbor woman: (Puzzled look again, then ventures a guess) Margarina?

Me: Si, es como margarina. Hay margarina y hay otro...manteca. O mantequilla?---Yes, it is like margarine. There is margarine and there is the other--butter. Or how about mantequilla (also a word for butter)?

Neighbor woman: (Puzzled look again. A pause. Then in English:) Butter?

Me: Si, si.

Neighbor woman: (Goes inside and gets tub of butter)

Husband sitting in the dark with friend watching the whole thing: (Laughs)

Me: Gracias. (I flee back to the house with my bucket of manteca or mantequilla. Or butter as it
is apparently called south of the border.)

I like our neighborhood. Mucho.

In awe.

2011-06-25T19:02:00.000-07:00

There are a million anxiety-provoking things that accompany pregnancy. And a million anxiety-provoking people who do not really help that situation. Each of these women has to face this monstrous, multifarious list of things-to-be-understood. What TYPE of delivery? Is my doctor one I trust? Where to buy clothes, and what will really be useful? What classes to take? How do I measure up to averages and charts?...And the list goes on and on. But then it stops, and amazingly each of these women goes from grasping and a bit wobbly, to finally finding her sea legs.

Saturday I spent the day hopping from one shower to the next, and I noticed this. And also remembered it in myself. The great shift from doubt and frustration and a million questions, to confidence. A confidence that I love watching my expecting-mother-friends attain.

And, as always, a few pictures of the boy:

Keep Blowin' That Whistle

2011-06-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

Try telling the children of Houston to "stop running" when they encounter this chilly fountain of life: their reprieve from the soul-sucking Houston summer. Yes, authoritative-man-in-the-red-shirt, keep blowing that whistle.

Fortunately, this little one is incapable of running, making us the proud parents of a rule abiding citizen kid (However, yesterday he was empowered with mobilization by performing his first SCOOT. Yes, a scoot. A backwards scoot.)

More water fun to follow:

First time swimming.

Bath.

And I just think this one is cute. I made that little monster muscle tank (printed it, at least). Suits him well, right?

Counting Time

2011-06-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

I have a funny way of measuring time. I always count it to my benefit. For example: if I were really excited about something, say, the end of teaching this year, two months before it's over I might observe, "It's been 11 weeks since I've returned, and I only have 9 more to go. That's more than half. And that counts the Monday holiday, and finals, which practically takes off two weeks, which means: I'm almost done."

That stream of thinking helped me do it. It's not that I didn't like teaching. On the contrary: I loved it. But I love Booker more, and I didn't see him enough. These days that I have with this little man are blissful, and sweet. And rich. And I don't have to count time like that anymore.

MUSTACHE*QUERADE

2011-06-12T21:31:00.000-07:00

Last night I threw a belated birthday party for Josh. He's 30. It was a Mustache-querade.

This is the invitation.

This Downs family is very adept at growing very impressive facial hair.

A little game we like to call "Match That 'Stache." The objective: to correctly draw the mustaches of these famous-for-their-facial-hair individuals.

DIY Party Favors.

The Guests:

Our house is a bit compact, but, one way or another, we were able to fit all our mustache-wielding friends inside. All in all, it was a lovely evening.

Sequence.

2011-05-23T18:21:00.000-07:00

For Josh's birthday weekend we ate at H-Town StrEATs, supporting the budding food truck business in Houston. And it was delicious. Our menu: lamb sliders with mint, arugula and feta; Thai spare ribs; and Montecristo Balls. Amazing. You can find their ever-changing location here.
A delicious cake Angeles made for Josh. Angeles is Booker's babysitter, and our friend. And she's Mexican, so she really knows how to make a Tres Leches cake. We only shared two minuscule slices. We indulged in the rest.

These party hats were not for Josh's birthday, but for our dear friend Danielle. The other invited friends were brave to wear them publicly. Booker is a darling gnome.

Photo-heavy

2011-05-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

Just posting a few recent photos: At the zoo. Booker wants the ICEE in his mouth. Booker wants everything in his mouth.
Our dear friends who were in for just a brief spell, at the Ft. Worth zoo. That place was very impressive. So much that I didn't feel bad for the animals because of the awesomeness of their man-made habitats. That's saying a lot.

A very impressive display of colors on the INSIDE of the cake I made for a friend's baby shower. I clearly sacrificed function for form in this case: sometimes aesthetics win.

The boys: my dear, sweet, sleeping boys.

And Booker. I love this babe. And very soon I will bid farewell to my time-sucking job as a teacher to spend more time wrestling and saying ridiculous things to this little fatso. I am thrilled.

W-A-S-H-A-T-E-R-I-A

2011-04-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

wash·a·te·ria. noun \ˌwä-shə-ˈtir-ē-ə, ˌwȯ-\. Definition of WASHATERIA. chiefly Southern. : a self-service laundry.

A washateria is where the Downs family does their laundry every two weeks. The name itself doesn't get much respect. Even as I type, the built-in dictionary on blogger refuses to recognize the word, degrading it with haughty and ruthless red underlining. We, however, are big fans of this chiefly Southern mainstay. If you will recall, we swapped in-house laundry services for glass doorknobs, and we haven't looked back thanks to these perks:

1) All of our laundry done in an hour-and-a-half.
2) It's only a few blocks away.
2) All the telenovelas (a Latin-American soap opera) you can ask for during that hour-and-a-half on a twelve-inch television. There's a new one out called La Reina del Sur about the female leader of one of Mexico's drug cartels. Based on a true story. Life-changing television.
3) Children who will watch the Spanish version of Shrek on their portable DVD player with your son while you do laundry (apparently it is funnier in Spanish).
4) Lots of opportunities to practice Spanish.

The one non-perk: Sitting in work after laundry day and being tickled under your clothes by what turns out to be a 10-12 inch black hair that does not belong to you, your wife, or your son.

Pre-diaper changing rundown (this father's perspective)

2011-04-10T19:25:00.000-07:00

1) Sell it. If he thinks you're enjoying it he will too.
2) Don't sell it too much. Excessive joy seems to make him need to go more.
3) Be fast you fool. Just because he went doesn't mean he won't go again. Soon.
4) His body is entirely capable of going pee then poop, poop then pee, both simultaneously, and any number of unimaginable combination (see #3).
5) Bundle the old diaper after the new one is on. It can wait. His can't.
6) Even though the old one can wait, at least get it out of his reach. Remember, now he can grab and chew.
7) Watch for the kicks. Changing him on the bed puts his legs level with your pelvis and you've talked about having more kids.
8) Do not be shocked and distracted by color, quantity, or smell. You lived in the dorms, you've seen worse.
9) Breathe through your mouth.

The Texas Lexicon

2011-04-03T19:20:00.000-07:00

While wandering through Baby Gap the other day, a cute little Texan boy approached Booker:

"He's FIXIN' to grow!!"

Indeed, little cowboy, he is.

Progress

2011-03-01T07:04:00.001-08:00

This is the first footage we have of Booker laughing which may be his best developmental milestone yet. Watch until the end to see what else he's mastered.

A discovery

2011-02-27T18:16:00.001-08:00

Booker found his feet today. Whether he knows they are his is debatable.

1..2..3..FOUR! Cheers for The Action Sampler!

2011-02-25T19:41:00.000-08:00

These are the photos our new camera takes. It may not look like much, but this shiny chrome box of plastic is a dream!

"Where did you get that name from...?"

2011-02-20T19:06:00.000-08:00

At least two ladies in church asked me that question today. In one form or another we've been asked that since his birth. My favorite variant by far has been, "C'mon now, what did you really name him?" He doesn't have a namesake per se, but if he ever tires of answering that question we'll let him choose from a diverse yet solid short list:

Booker T. Washington: Known philanthropist, educator, and social activist.

Booker T: Six-time world champion: five-time WCW World Heavyweight Champion (four times in WCW and once in WWE), one-time World Heavyweight Champion, native Houstonian, and known anabolic steroid user.

Booker T. Jones (second from left): Grammy-winning musician, producer, frontman of the M.G.'s, and one of a select few able to work the velour without an undershirt. I highly recommend the Melting Pot and Green Onions albums.

In answering the query of the dear ladies I went the well-traveled route with something like "Oh we just liked it," which is, incidentally, the truth. But the better question that they--along with past, present, and eventual inquisitors--should be asking themselves is not why our son's name is Booker, but why theirs isn't.

Blessed.

2011-02-06T19:15:00.000-08:00

Booker was blessed today by his father. That's Josh's new title: one he is growing into, while I try to fit the corresponding title of "mother." We are lucky. And Booker is funny. And still very bald. We love him.

The boy.

2010-12-22T08:49:00.000-08:00

Booker is much bigger. I suppose that is what happens over a few weeks. Six weeks. Have a look.

Llego.

2010-11-14T12:19:00.000-08:00

Booker David Downs
Born: November 11, 2010 at 4:23 pm
Heavy and long. 8 pounds, 13 ounces; 21 inches.
Big eyes, spider monkey hands, boats for feet.
Absolutely the most perfect thing either of us have ever done.

Frodo saved more than just Middle Earth

2010-10-21T11:06:00.000-07:00

Since our early days of courtship my wife has a habit of falling asleep during movies at home. Initially I was disappointed at finishing movies all by myself, especially when the movie in question was suggested by the sleeper in question. It didn't seem fair that if we were going to watch a period drama about the Trujillo dictatorship (In the Time of Butterflies), I end up the only witness to the traumatic murder of Salma Hayek's character. Marc Anthony's Lio? By all means. Rewind and rewind once more.

These experiences, and others like them made movie-watching seem like a bizarro version of sleepover where the last one awake was actually the loser.

With time, however, I have learned to suggest that a given movie would be cool for the both of us to see, knowing all along that it was a movie I wanted (next up: Tron). The disappointment is all but gone.
But now deception is unnecessary. In response to Jessica's persistence (which will likely aid in her childbirth), we began watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy on a nightly basis. The EXTENDED version at that. And does she sleep? Negative. She even asks questions:

-"Now who did the dwarves awake in the mines of Moria?"

- "Who are the Urukai?"

-"Did Arwyn just give up her immortality to Aragorn?"

I think it is also helping Jess overcome her fear of Gollum, which means I will be able to impersonate him freely by the end of the trilogy, an ability which up until this point has left me laughing but without affection from my wife.
I wouldn't have guessed that J.R.R. Tolkien would bring us closer as a couple.

But I am grateful.

And for his helping convert C.S. Lewis back to Christianity.

Some funny things about big, round bellies

2010-09-22T19:52:00.001-07:00

Sitting with Josh in my midwives' office today, waiting for my turn to hand over SIX vials of blood, we perused the "Buyer's Guide" for Pregnancy and Newborn: like Skymall, only slightly more pornographic. And for moms. I stand in awe at the products available to expecting mothers. See for yourself:

Amazing, all the activities a nursing mother can do while providing sustenance for her child.
http://www.mom4life.com/catalog.php?item=530

A bronze cast of the belly, perfectly tuned to the lovely chime of a bell. You can listen on their website.
http://mamasbelly.com/

"To prevent cleavage wrinkles." That's how they advertise.

http://kushsupport.com/

Just a few ideas for all you expecting fathers, and mothers...and baby-shower-gift buyers.
Weird.

As a side note, here is another very strange thing:

Wouldn't that belly be lovely cast in bronze? Ding!

Noble Parents.

2010-07-31T06:39:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen a more beautiful woman? And a good man, who loves that woman? That's my mom. And the other one's my dad. And they are both so good and brave.

Gift Exchange.

2010-07-29T06:54:00.000-07:00

In the Mortensen family, we have somewhat of a hierarchy of gifts. It looks something like this:

Something found on clearance that the giver couldn't pass up because it was too good of a deal. Only given to the receiver because his/her birthday was next in line.
Coupons made in Primary (thoughtful, but never very good on the follow-through)
Something special picked out expressly for the receiver. Like bikes. Or bike gear. That's always a hit.
Homemade presents: slideshows, picture frames, etc. (3 and 4 are somewhat interchangeable)
Organs.

Today, Mom gets to join Dad in proffering what has only been proffered once before: an organ. The greatest of all gifts in the gift exchange hierarchy. She and Dallas just went in for the grand kidney swap, leaving Dad with one, Mom with one, and Dallas with four. Hopefully this one sticks. It's a big, little-bit-scary day in New York City.

Sea Monkeys

2010-07-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

For the longest time I felt like what was happening inside my body was something comparable to what happens with this time-tested "bowlfull of fun." Turns out, it is even more incredible!

Here is our little Sea-monkey:

He looks like he might be enjoying the womb.

4 posts in one day

2010-07-12T10:59:00.000-07:00

We don't have internet hooked up just yet, so I am posting 4 times today...and this is the last one, which, consequently, will be the first you read. This week I will hit the 5 month mark of this wild pregnancy. These months are much more fun than the first 4. Just yesterday Josh felt the little Buster rolling around for the very first time. That was a big deal. It's very strange to feel that rumbling, and to try to conceptualize the idea that there is a human in there. Or perhaps an alien? I guess we won't know for sure until November. The ultrasounds don't do much to help his case. Here is his spaceship:

Bikes.

2010-07-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

It seems like moving bikes to a new house that is only a few short miles away would be fairly easy. Not when you have this many:
Plus a few extras that didn't make it in the photo. Our method:

Thank you Houston Mormon missionaries.

What to do when mutual is cancelled

2010-07-12T10:53:00.000-07:00

What do we do when the rains are torrential and the adults cancel mutual? We invite the adults who live close-by to come eat the sushi we were going to make. And, because many of those adults are also involved in the youth program, we get pizza as a side dish. A perfect combination.

Pizza, sushi, and a rainy day: all components of entertaining our very first guests in our new little house.

The Way I Choose Things

2010-07-08T14:22:00.000-07:00

Josh and I just broke free of our lease, leaving behind our 400 square foot apartment that was advertised as "like living in a treehouse" (this couldn't have been more true). As much as we admired the lack of parallel lines, uninsulated walls, and poor circulation, we thought it was about time to venture on to something a little more comfortable. Our checklist included, but was not limited to:

central air/heat
laundry
a dishwasher would be nice
2 bedrooms
windows that open (insane how much we missed those)
insulation
storage for our bikes

We accomplished finding a place that included 4 of those seven requisites. Why was I so willing to overlook the top three? Behold:

Cabinetry with glass panels.

Outside the kitchen window: our neighbor's yard.

Retro ceiling fans.

Built-in bookshelf.

I liked this cupboard in the bathroom.

And...glass door knobs. This was the real kicker.

So I overlooked the rest, and a few other things...
An irreparably rusty porcelain sink with 2 spickets: one for hot water, the other for cold.

Linoleum. Awful linoleum (but only in the kitchen and baby/guest room)

Drainage.

And again.

A funky little abode, but even the quirks are fairly charming. And here's the last photo: from the front door to the very back room. Shotgun style.

These old napkins

2010-07-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

I picked up these napkins with funny pink babies on them at an estate sale last weekend, and they're perfect for the season. Today we had the unveiling: the little rambunctious babe inside my womb, aside from showing us some very cool tricks involving the use of my bladder as a trampoline, revealed that HE is, indeed, a boy. A little man. We couldn't be happier. A little nino coming to join Team Downs.

Aside from what was revealed in what Josh likes to call the ultrasound "money shot," other images assured us that this little buster comes complete with a brain, four heart chambers, eyes, limbs, lungs, and kidneys. He's healthy...also very good news.

Ultrasound images to come...

A Birthday Celebration...posted a bit late.

2010-06-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

Cleveland turned another year, but swears it's his last. He doesn't feel like he needs to grow any older. Not that he's hoping for some sort of tragic interruption of the rest of his life, but rather that he feels he just doesn't have to turn another year. Lucky us: we got to celebrate Cleveland's last birthday with him. We managed turkey burgers, carrot cake (a birthday token from Sylvia Hollingsworth), and a very impressive display of candles that burn a flame the color of the wax. Very impressive.

Mira La Luna

2010-06-26T21:08:00.000-07:00

We woke up at 6 o'clock this morning, hoping to see this:

A Partial lunar eclipse. I found out about this celestial wonder from the nerdy newsletter I subscribed to sometime during my sophomore year of college: Sky and Telescope: The Essential Magazine of Astronomy .

We spent the early Saturday morning hours winding our way around buildings, to the highest points in Houston (the overpasses), and into the open bayous. But we never saw the moon. She must have been just out of sight: Houston should consider growing some mountains.

Aloha. Ohana. Mahalo.

2010-06-21T18:56:00.000-07:00

Sister Bears.
Hiking Stairway to Heaven

This is the hike: I didn't make this video, but the SAME music was playing in the background as we climbed the stairs...weird.

Buddha.

Maunawili Falls.
Three Tables.

I spy...a baby growing in that belly.

Waimea Bay.

Josh in a wonderland of bamboo after hiking Stairway.

'
Hawaii was the best time either of us can remember having, maybe ever. Sugary shave ice topped with even sugary-er sweetened condensed milk and ice cream; hiking (and Josh being attacked by poison ivy. gross.); sneaking past the guards to hike Stairway to Heaven; sleeping on Mary Lou's deck, overlooking the ocean; and all the other lovely things that accompany a trip to this island.

A Challenge for Our Forthcoming Progeny

2010-06-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

We have some ideas for what we want our child to accomplish:

Enjoy that record while you can, kid.

Ketchup. Catsup.

2010-06-08T07:07:00.000-07:00

This should be the last round of catching up. Lots has been left out, but if everything burned and all my unbacked-up files were lost, and I came down with a serious episode of amnesia, cyber world would save a bit. And I'd have access to some memories. I'm all about a Plan B.

Houston has a very serious soccer team. They thrashed Salt Lake City. We're sporting these hats as a symbol of us washing our hands of Utah, and fully embracing Texas.

A quick visit to Utah for a wedding: our favorite Salt Lake City place. The Beehive Tearoom is where Josh proposed to me over lavender ice cream and ginger tea...I would like everything in my life to be as fantastic as the tea room. I'll start with my own house.

Over the winter we dabbled in some P-90 X. Josh is practicing the pose: you can't be serious unless you know the pose.
Salvation Army Singing Group at the coffee shop across the street.

Oh, Texas...

Anniversary ride in Austin.
Followed by this new jazz wonder, Kat Edmonson. Such a fantastic discovery. You can listen to some of her music on her website.

The Hollingsworths threw a birthday party for me! 25.
And we went to Austin again to ride. And enjoy a Martin Luther King Jr. Celebration:

Two stripes means baby.

Mexico vs. Angola game...Mexico won and made a good 95% of the those attending very happy.

Josh turned 29.

Our friend Anne made Josh a dream cake.

Other things we are still doing in Houston:

Tolerating a very small, very weird apartment that doesn't get circulation. Because the windows don't open. So when I lend my very attractive vintage cake dome to a friend, and she returns it because it needs to be aired out because it's sitting in our kitchen (which is the worst of all non-circulatory rooms), my frustration over this casita escalates. Because she's right! However, thanks to another of our dear friends who keeps our best interest constantly in mind, we signed another contract for a new place to move into on July 1. And it has a screen door AND a fan in the kitchen. What a luxury. July 4 will be a true day of independence and liberation for the Downs.
Josh started a new job. Which is a very, very good thing. He's more independent and has his very own office: something he missed while touching shoulders with every one of his previous co-workers in their shared sardine-like office. This job is better for a million reasons.
I was offered a job to teach at a local high school for the upcoming year. And I'm thrilled. All those wretched days of substituting have paid off, and while many are battling the chills of a wild hiring freeze, I'll be warm and cozy in my very own classroom. I feel very lucky.
And our baby's coming in November. What a fantastic thing. We should find out tomorrow whether it's a nina o nino. I can hardly wait...Christmas is bad enough! These surprises are killing me.

And that's it for catching up. I'll try to be more responsible about posting so the very few of you who look at this don't have to deal with months of our lives tossed into one semi-lengthy post.

A Few Houston Updates

2010-05-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

Port Aransas is a lovely place. And just a few short hours south of Houston, along the Gulf of Mexico. We went there (Before the oil spill. Lucky): this is what we saw on the way down.

We flew kites. Yo Gabba Gabba kites.

An event all Houstonites look forward to is the infamous Art Car Parade. By "art car," people really mean...well, it's really hard to know what they mean by "art car." Art has never been more subjective than it was that night, in downtown Houston. For example...

As far as we could tell, this mermaid's breasts did NOT shoot flames, contrary to what they might look like, which would have been a singular sight. We did, however, see a scorpion that shot flames, and a REAL LIVE gypsy mermaid who wore...something like a giant koosh ball, halved, and fashioned into some sort of unsupportive bra. That sort of counts.

These lobsters boogied in unison. The bass on the side too. Very impressive. You can see the creator inside: very proud of his chimera of crustaceans and old cars.

A Sunday adventure: we found wild mulberries growing in the park. We picked them and made ice cream with hopes of NOT poisoning the friends we offered it to. It was risky. And a risk we had to take, and that made all the difference.

Update: no reports of sickness.

More to come...soon. I hope.

The Cycle.

2010-03-04T10:02:00.000-08:00

I want to be a blogger. But every time I commit to writing a post I think about how many posts I HAVE NOT written, but would still like to write, but they should probably come before the one I'm ABOUT to write...and how I should just start from some months ago and catch up because I want some things from our lives to be safely archived in the blogosphere, however safe that can be. And then I get overwhelmed. And quit.
So...I have some time and I've decided to do what lots of magazines do in January, and that is to do a "Josh and Jessica's Live 2009 in Photos" post. And then try really hard to not do the same thing throughout this next year. And so here it is: Our life in pictures (Installment 1).

A few from our Christmas 2009 trip to Mexico.

Same season, different temperature. Showshoeing in Provo Canyon.

Roller rink with the Young Women.

Trip to Northern California. American Gladiator battle with the nephews.

Trampoline with the cousins in Alpine, UT.

Our friend Mariko's baptism.

Josh graduated. Huzzah.

Which meant we had to say goodbye to our neighbor Fabino.

And move on to a Colorado Adventure.

I'm wearing my Colorado Adventure Scarf.

Our Neighborhood

2009-10-18T20:03:00.000-07:00

Our neighborhood is nice. Families walk their kids and their dogs. Across the street is a coffee shop where we don't drink coffee. We ride our bikes or run freely. But there is also the occasional drug addicted man in a motorized wheelchair who rolls up to one of his colleagues and shoots him 4-5 times then rolls away. Or the as-yet-unidentified arsonist who has proven that he/she is consistent and considerate as shown by the fact that the one dozen homes he/she has torched were unoccupied. Or the pack of feral dogs that apparently has cut short several cats' lives.
And good garage sales.

1125 1/2 Euclid St. #1, Houston, TX 77009

2009-09-13T19:38:00.000-07:00

Out of the unpacked boxes stored in our spare room and our tree-lined, dreadfully sticky neighborhood in Houston comes a brief post. Jessica and I are finally in Houston. She is a student teacher at a high school where she is a fair-skinned minority and the students call her "Miss". The students walk through metal detectors every morning. Some of them spell engineer E-M-G-Y-N-R. Her supervisor looks like Hitler. And she loves it. Absolutely and wholly loves it.
After two or so months of unemployment I found work at a recovery program for adults with mental illness and substance dependence problems. I do group therapy with some of the funniest, however foulest mouth people I have yet to meet. My boss likes money. A lot. Which is making it hard for me to work there and feel good about the quality of services my clients are receiving. More updates to follow as the first major moral dilemma in my life in a long time continues to develop.

I may be unable to help in the event of an emergency

2009-04-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

On a recent flight back from Amy and Alph's I actually reviewed what the flight attendant says to review but you never do. This is what I saw:

What do these hieroglyphics even mean? My best guess involves using laser vision to break through your window because there isn't any exit because the plane landed on a sandbar and then the ocean. If that's the case I'm screwed. Superman and I haven't spoken for years.

Un peu de cultura

2009-02-22T20:47:00.000-08:00

Watch this movie. It's in Portuguese but it has English subtitles.

Watch this movie. It's in French but it has English subtitles as well. Stick it out until the end. It's not about an affair we promise (The only thing worse than Hollywood is Le Hollywood Francais). They'll do anything to sell you a movie.

Both of these movies were in the "International" section of Blockbuster. Be careful in that area, there are likely some French movies that ARE about affairs. Probably all of them.
Shameless Frenchies.

2009-02-08T21:49:00.001-08:00

For those who may not know, Josh and I are moving. Where? Three hints:

Still haven't guessed?

What do Sam ______, excessively large cowboy boots, and Whitney _______ have in common?
That's right...Houston. We're moving to Houston, Texas. In May, just as the heat of hell settles in. We are moving to the land of bbq, and big things.
The reason for this drastic move from the lovely mountains of Utah to heat-blazen, hurricane-frequented Texas: I'll be student teaching in the Aldine School District, and Josh will be working a big man's job...the kind that comes after graduate school. We are up for some serious adventures, and growing more excited everyday. More to come...

What are you looking at?

2009-02-01T20:19:00.000-08:00

These are my boots.
With these green monsters I can wear my sneakers inside the rubber exterior without fear of getting wet. In them I am a Clydesdale. While others tip-toe around slushy puddles I slosh straight through. While others desperately look for footprints that have already been made, I make my own like King Winceslas of old.
But people stare.
In another time their stare might have been deemed a gesture of awe or reverence as they approached, offering up their soggy shoes as an effigy to me, the patron saint of functional winter footwear. Alas, we live in an age of heretics.
They try to hide it but by the time they have broken the tractor-beam attraction of my boots I'm on to them. I just don't see what the big deal is.
It's not like I look like the scary old man from Home Alone who ends up being nice and hits the robbers over the head with a shovel thus saving Kevin.
It's not like I could pass for some lesser-known brother of the world famous Super Mario Brothers who unlike his brothers actually spends his time plumbing and not saving bratty princesses from King Koopa and his minions.
I am a man not a sideshow.
If you're going to stare at least pay me the respect of congratulating me for being brave enough to wear such things in this impractical, fashion-crazed world.

"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate..."

2008-12-12T08:24:00.000-08:00

Empirical literature isn't making a perpetual distinction between cognitive-behavioral therapy and exposure and response prevention. Some clinicians classify exposure and response prevention as a separate empirically-based therapeutic approach from cognitive-behavioral therapy which is also considered an evidence-based practice. Conversely, many clinicians claim that the theoretical domain of cognitive-behavioral therapy is broad enough to include exposure and response prevention. This lack of consistent consensus makes it difficult for a researcher to identify meta-analyses which are the industry standard if he is trying to write a term paper on the effectiveness of a certain method as an intervention. One meta-analysis is for the latter and another is for the former. In other words, does CT=CBT=EX/RP or is EX/RP > CBT which may or may not be CT?
Welcome to the newest circle of hell. Glad you could make it.
I can't wait for school to be out.

The Advent Calendar

2008-12-02T15:21:00.000-08:00

On December 1, it seemed wildly befitting that we should address one of my still-favorite holiday traditions. However, the 1st has come and gone...but it's not too late! The Advent Calendar: a most blessed of observances. This is as close as we get to a real, live Santa Claus: in addition to the childhood nostalgia, the idea of a mysterious man, making special treats or prizes to be discovered one-by-one each day! Or, in the case of our Advent Calendar, a mysterious factory-working-man-in-China making special little waxy chocolate toys! A delight, nonetheless. Let the countdown begin!

And on the seventh day...

2008-11-30T23:17:00.000-08:00

Apparently we needed to be taught a lesson about keeping the Sabbath day holy. In the midst of research papers, computer programming nightmares, and a library of books that need to be read, we managed to convince ourselves that some long-awaited fix-ups to our domicile would be considered rest, and therefore appropriate for today--Sunday. And so I set to work as Jess made our very first Downs family Christmas stockings. My first task was to put blinds on our front door which is covered in classic single-paned windows. Although its look appeals to our taste, the door leaves us feeling exposed, even though we are tucked away in the basement. Ask my sister Amy who can testify that peeping Toms are not beyond crouching down to look on unsuspecting coeds and surely, married couples.

The first time I tried mounting the blinds, I put the mounts on wrong. On my second attempt the screw broke off inside the door. Jess astutely observed "Maybe you shouldn't do that on Sunday if it's making you frustrated." The blinds would have to wait.

On to project number 2: mounting our recently-purchased shelves from IKEA. They are incredible if I do say so in the manliest, hammer-swinging, Ty Pennington kind of way, not that of his very expressive interior decorating buddy. Turns out the wall is made of concrete. After a minute of drilling I had made less than one centimeter of progress. And that's assuming the torque on the drill was responsible. I was pushing hard enough on that sucker that my sheer anger may have been equally effective. Now we're looking into buying that super sticky business the bearded guy sells on infomercials.

Because I hadn't got the message yet, I moved to project number three: sinking a hook into the ceiling to hang our new/old light fixture. This time the drill made progress quicker than John Henry. Alas my hope was in vain. Within thirty seconds it had hit what I can only assume was a wood beam and my dull bits and wits could not make it go deeper.

I felt like Elijah tonight. It took a wind, earthquake, and fire of sorts before I heard the still small voice of my wife. If you're ever looking for us on a Sunday, you'll likely find us much like our tools, resting in the place where we belong.

There comes a time...

2008-11-28T22:15:00.000-08:00

A new duo's first blog post is monumental. Consider this our quinceanera... bar mitzvah...our first tattoo. In contemplating what might go into this first episode of our new epic, we considered the time of year: elections just passed, America's Ba-rockin', and Thanksgiving just came and went. Now is a time to proudly wear our red, white, and blue, and give you a little taste of our all-American side. Perhaps some photos of our homemade cranberry sauce or whole-wheat bread? Maybe even the serious kitchen appliances that made that possible? or how about Josh's Ameri-manliness as he participated in a Turkey Bowl. The best idea, however, came today: Black Friday. To celebrate this time-honored American tradition, we planned a trip to a local department store to find and wistfully wear some all-American matching sweaters. What an idea. How appropriate. However, we were a little disenchanted while eavesdropping in the checkout line at the Ream's on Center: Wal-mart employee trampled and killed in the early shopping frenzy to get the best deals.

We didn't make the conscious decision NOT to go to the store--we just didn't. I suppose that after hearing about people dying in Mombai, and others held hostage...the deaths over toys for little and big kids alike made us want to go to our little swirley-colored-carpet basement to eat leftovers of our "we're-all-just-so-grateful-for-what-we-have" turkey. Bless that bird. Bless the pilgrims. Bless Squanto. And surely, bless all of you.