Happy Christmas

Happy Holidays

deep thoughts by Jack Handy

I have a very hard time expressing myself in writing. I think about what I want to convey in my head, but getting it out in the written word always fails me. I sucked at English in school and it still shows today.

When I went to college I wanted to be an artist. My dad was totally against it, stating "You can eat art." It was for some time a major struggle between my father and I. Until I found a school that had their radio, TV and film under the art department. So, I went there to study radio, TV and film while I would secretly take more and more art classes. And I did, however; I found myself signing up for more math courses. Every semester I found had no less than two math courses at a time. Why would I start taking on more and more math? It came easy to me, it raised my GPA, and I found one professor who was inspiring. So, inspiring was he that I got a minor in statistics because of him and was attempting to get a major and then a doctorate (why I didn't is for another story). This professor was the most unorganized person I had ever met, but he loved math and from his love of math I was lifted. His love flowed from him like the love of a child. It was unconditional.

After two years of study, the radio, TV and film section was moved from the art department and placed under the communications department probably where it should have been from the start. I gradated with a bachelor of science degree under communication with a minor in statistics and had the equivalent of a minor in art, a minor in psychology and a minor in business, notice nothing related to English. And with all that stated, my father was correct, as always. I found art to be highly competitive (which I am not) and also very costly (being a starving college student was enough for me let alone a starving artist). And all the time my dad was saying get a math major. I should have. Love you, Dad!



the words I had to look up under Webester's website to spell correctly because I was so far off that spell check couldn't even find them are: secretly, unorganized, equivalent. Mom, I'm still the world's worse speller next to you.

At Patty and Bill's

Sas and Geno

I thought it very strange that Bill was calling us every week to remind us of his Bar-B-Que that he was having on Sunday, maybe he was sensing our reluctance of attending and when we both woke up Sunday morning and weren't feeling to well we almost backed out of it all together. My surprise was seeing Sas. I had just talked to her on the phone Thursday night and she never mentioned it. She flew in from Utah for a short visit. Man, it was good thing that we didn't give some lame excuse that we were sick or something. But Geno does look a bit hungover, doesn't he? Squinty little red eyes.

Last Sunday

Patty and Bill

At Patty and Bill's house. It was a very nice day, a little nippy. Drank a few beers and talked up a storm.

Look Ma I match the couch!

abbies

Abby Normal having a lazy moment. And with boxers that doesn't last very long.

Butters

butters

My big boy posing for the camera. Geno was a bit upset because it shows his bald spot - get over it.

Cat?

more buds

What was that a cat?

The buds

the buds

Abby is a bit more redder than her Uncle and smaller - Thank God!

hit by a what?

truck2

My Geno works in construction and on Wednesday I get a call from him. He stated that there was a little accident. Understatement of the year. A bull dozer backed into him when he was still in his truck, the guy didn't even look in his rearview mirror! and then all of a sudden the bull dozer driver claims he doesn't speak English. We're still waiting to find out if it will be totalled or not. He's only had the truck for a year and a half.

truck