The Creation Musuem

For Christmas my family decided to do "family gifts". My parents decided to take us all the the Creation Musuem. I have to say it was amazing and I would recommend it to anyone. The one downside is if you have young children and children who don't like reading it really isn't the place for them, otherwise go for it.

How precious is life.

I think that it is a safe assumption that most people forget how percious life is, and just how quickly it can be taken away. Most of us live our daily lives not thinking that it could be our last, and that's alright. But what if it was your last day on earth? How would you be remember? Did you do all the things you wanted to do? Did you tell that special someone that you you love them? Did you kiss your kids goodbye, or tell them you are proud of them? These are all very important questions, ones I hope we don't have to ponder to much on.
In the summer of 2005 I had an experience that made me see life in a different way, and think of those questions. I had just dropped my husband off at work and was on my way back home. I was coming up 75 north and as I was crossing the bridge there was a pick-up truck that was cutting in and out of traffic. Once we were back in Ohio at the 75/Fort Washington Way merge this pickup truck cut me off and slammed on their brakes. I wasn't able to slow down quick enough so to keep from rear-ending the car I jerked my car to the left and lost control.The pickup truck hit me, flipped on it's roof due to the impact and I was sent spinning into more traffic. When my car stopped in the grassy medim I opened my eyes and saw the pickup truck on it's roof. I was scared, the first thought that went through my mind was "OMG, I killed someone." I picked up my cell phone and called 911, they asked me if the other driver was alright. I got out of my car and ran to theirs to check. The female driver was hanging upside down still strapped in her seat, but was alright. Police, fire and EMT came, but everyone was alright. We both walked away with no injuries, but most likely a different view on life.
Now as a woman, I am blessed with the greatest gift of all, the gift to bare children. I am sadden when I see so many woman who take this gift for granted, this is never what God intended it to be. Sexual intercourse has became something that a lot of women use to 1)get guys, 2)show love to someone or 3)have fun. And when someone gets pregnant outside of marriage, the most common thing to do it abort the unborn child. Most of these children are unwanted, and so it becomes so easy to that that precious life and toss it aside because it doesn't fit in with our lifestyles. A child's life is the most precious thing that there is, and people don't see it. We our so upset when we lose a loved one, what about an unborn child?

Chestnuts: foodstuff or IED?

(Written by Vince)
While traipsing through Jungle Jim's seeking out food for our Christmas dinner, my eyes caught hold of an interesting sign:

Italian Chestnuts

$2.99/lb

Chestnuts. Of all the unique foods I had ever consumed, not a single chestnut had ever crossed my palate. Instantly, warm images of yule logs, Nat King Cole, and family togetherness flooded my mind. I quickly scooped up a pound and noticed that they looked like buckeyes, which reminded me of a Boy Scout incident encountered as a teen. Before the flashback could begin in earnest, I saw the sign with cooking instructions:

Roast for 25 minutes, turn over, then roast for an additional 15 minutes

Seeing this idiot-proof recipe for holiday happiness, I tied off the bag and headed for home.

While making dinner, I decided it would be best to start roasting the chestnuts. So, I pulled out a pizza pan and tuned on the oven. Looking at the controls, a small amount of panic struck: there was no mention of temperature in the directions. I surmised that roasting nuts would occur at 450 degrees, set it, and set about finishing dinner preparations.

Exactly 25 minutes later, Denise, Savannah and I were sitting at the table eating when I heard a short concussive blast from the oven. Everyone stopped eating and looked to me for my reaction, which is when the flashback began:

Once, at a Boy Scout campout, my patrol leader had suggested that we throw buckeyes into the hot coals of a fire to wake up a cohort who was sleeping by the fire during a wilderness survival outing. He said that they would pop like popcorn, but instead they tore through the air like nature's brown shrapnel. I got hit in the side of the head. The boy who we meant to wake up did just that, perfectly timing his choice to sit up with a coal shooting from an exploding buckeye and catching his overly styled hair on fire.

I shook off my PTSD experience and realized that I had set the oven temperature far too high, and that more detonations were imminent. Quickly leaving my seat, turned the temp down to 350 and grabbed an oven mitt and kneeled to opened the oven. What greeted me was a whiff of burnt chestnut innards and a spattering of pale greenish-white remnants of the ovenly suicide bomber. As I reached in to grab the biggest remainder of it's carcass (now hidden in the far corner of the oven), my oven mitt caught fire. Not smoke or a red spot, mind you: the oven mitt burst into flames. As I'm flapping my arm like a penguin trying to escape an orca on a blubber bender, I burn the inside of my arm on the inside of the oven. Howls of laughter shot from the two loving latter-day saint ladies between bites of the dinner that their fallen chef had prepared.

The end result was a pile of gently blackened chestnuts that tasted like miniature overcooked microwaved potatoes, which was underwhelming for all those who consumed them.

Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.

Unless you're on fire.