We've been "Jimmered."

With no NBA team to speak of, our attention and support has turned to college hoops. And as the loyal BYU fans we are, we are rising and shouting because the Cougars are indeed out. Leading the way is one Jimmer Fredette, a cute little Mormon boy who can sink a mean jump shot from just about anywhere on the court. He and the rest of the Cougs are awesome to watch, especially when they are on national TV and handily beat San Diego State both at home and on the road.  We decided to make a family party out of yesterday's game, and while some attention turned to iPods and some to indexing, there were at least three of us who were set to spring.  Our cheers definitely rang out -- something that hasn't been happening much around here lately.  It felt so good.

Sorry, Aztecs, but your thousands of students dressed in white shirts and ties with bike helmets on don't scare us--it just looks like they've let the MTC take a field trip.

This guy--

--is taking advantage of his one shining moment.  Go, Cougs!

Hey Deb--this year, you can pick BYU and Ohio State for your final two teams and it will actually make sense!

Where amazing can still happen...

Glenn's boss offered him 4 tickets to the Cavs game. Your first thought is Eh, who cares? But then you find out that they are in row 5.  Not row 5 of Loudville.  Row five on the floor.  Pretty much front and center.  And so we took the tickets.  Jill took Leah and Brooke to her house, and Glenn and I took Emma and Andrew to the Q.

We had tried before to get Andrew down on the court before the game, but had not been successful.  This time, with the number of people in attendance plummeting, our chances shot up, and sure enough, both Emma and Andrew were asked if they wanted to go down.

Emma got to be a "Courtside Kid."  She sat under the baskets and got to take pictures. 

She was thrilled, of course, as evidenced by her expression on the JumboTron.

Andrew got the chance to be a Ball Kid.  He and four other boys got to stand at half court and have one of the starters hand them a basketball which they got to keep.

I personally was so excited for Andrew.  I didn't know what pictures to take, I thought I probably should be videotaping it, I was trying not to cry...I was a little star-struck and overwhelmed on behalf of my son.  So here is the best I got...

A.P. put his arm around Andrew and told him to enjoy the game.  He instantly became my favorite basketball player.

After the pre-game excitement, we settled into our seats.  Yes, we had to look UP to see the JumboTron.

It is like a completely different world down there.  There are lots of rich people to look at, and you can actually see the players faces and even read their lips (not necessarily a good thing, Mr. Scola.).  I could even pick out Porter's teacher and took a couple of pictures, until I realized that watching the Cavs girls dance that close is really uncomfortable.  Their moves are a lot easier to ignore when you're in the nosebleeds.  I told Andrew (and Glenn) to cover his eyes. Yikes.

It really was an awesome experience.  Andrew was on cloud 9, despite the inevitable loss.  He usually fixates on the loss rather than just enjoying the experience, but that night, what he got (floor seats, t-shirt, ball, words of encouragement from an NBA player, the opportunity to scream and cheer and actually be heard, time with his parents, and...free chalupas!) far outweighed the outcome of the game.  On the way home we heard over and over, "That was awesome."  He asked (voluntarily) for a thank you card that he could write to Glenn's boss, and wrote a whole paragraph on his own.

You don't need a king to have an amazing night. 

Shooting (and dribbling) star.

Found on the fridge on a snowy February morning...

These kids know what they're talking about.

A stormy night.

We all knew it was coming.  A huge storm.  Snow, ice, rain, then back to snow.  And it was going to hit late at night, so all the children across the viewing area were hoping for a snow day this morning.  I told them that if ever there was a chance to get one, this was it.  But still you can never be too sure...how many times have we been under a "Winter Storm Watch/Advisory/Warning (what's the difference, anyway???)" only to wake up to a light dusting.

As we all settled in for the night, the storm began.  Snowing outside, tossing and turning inside.  Minds racing, husbands snoring, falling in and out of sleep.  A sick child, who was going to be staying home the next day regardless, crying out in the night.  Stumbling through the dark house, comforting, climbing back into bed, the husband asking "So you're not getting up?"  Dear, it's only 3:15.  I have more than two hours of sleep left till that alarm buzzes.  Phones ringing with a sub job, listening to see what job I won't be able to take, relieved that it's for the cafeteria cashier and I wouldn't have done it anyways, putting the phone down on the night stand.  Settling back in for 15 more minutes.  Rustling and rising from the other side of the bed.  Footsteps tripping down the stairs.  Husband's voice informing me that school has been cancelled.  But we didn't get the call...That's because you never hung up the phone...Turning off the alarm. Pulling up the covers and falling back asleep.

I'm taking a snow day, too.

'Tis the season...

On fire. Or at least wishing I were.

Chandler:  So ah, isn’t a bit cold out for shorts?

Robert (Pheobe's boyfriend): Well, I’m from California.

Chandler: Right, right. Sometimes you guys just burst into flames.

{Remember Friends?}

{ I don't either.} 

What is it about us Californians?  Why do we think we can get away with minimal winter wear in these sub-freezing climates?  Why, on a day I KNEW I'd be going out for recess duty, was I wearing little more than a thin wool coat, with a thin cardigan sweater underneath, no hat or scarf, and athletic mary-jane style shoes?  Sure, I had upgraded to socks and gloves from the day before, but as the wind picked up and started whipping around the playground and the temperatures seemed to be taking a nose dive, I realized I am still a California girl.  One who has a skull thickened by too much sunshine and 60+ degree days in the dead of winter.  One who, despite being a wholly converted Clevelander for nearly 15 years, must not truly believe deep down inside that it is really going to get that cold.  That surely a mere 30 minutes outside in these frosty conditions couldn't be THAT big of a deal.


Well, my friends, I think I was hit over the head with an icicle today.  I think it is time to bundle up and face the freezing facts...or I am surely going to be losing a digit or two to frostbite.  It's time to accept that those lazy, hazy days of West Coast winter are no longer my reality, no matter how much they are ingrained within me, that I have not, nor will I ever, spontaneously combust to combat the chill.  

Californian?  Yes.  Superhero?  No.