Friday, December 2, 2011

Komodo Teacher Melon


I was playing charades with my cute little niece Olive and adorable nephew Cole when this magical moment occurred:

Cole: (on all fours, prowling about his living room, hiss/grunting)

Kimber: Lion?

Cole: No.

Kimber: Tiger? Panther?

Cole: No. I'll give you a hint. It starts with "komodo."

That kid rocks.

In other news, I was lame and didn't go visiting teaching in November. Not to brag or anything ... but I don't think I've flaked out on my VT duties in probably three or so years. Maybe more--I'm that on top of things. Perfect record, baby. Until I was lame and forgot that Thanksgiving vacation would consume the last golden days of the month. Sorry Jocelyn and Cody! I'll make you something delicious this month. The truth is, I really love visiting teaching. It's pretty much a great excuse to make two new friends in the ward. I knew Cody in high school, and let's just say I'd want her in my handcart company. She's rock solid. And Jocelyn is witty and stylish and has a cooking blog that I drool over. She was also my older sister's roommate several years ago. Come to think of it, my older sister knew both of my teachees before I did, and probably better than I do. And I didn't visit them in November - gah!

Today Nathan and I went to Magelby's for lunch with a LivingSocial (Groupon wannabe) coupon. We got the buffet (natch), and it wasn't as good as I remembered it from when I went there for lunch with my family at graduation. But the dessert buffet was heavenly and made it all worth it. We noticed that the restaurant was filled with older, well-coifed, and amply-jeweled people ... most of whom we vaguely recognized from somewhere. We felt like we were in the Provo mafia lair.

The guy who cuts the roast beef looks exactly like these dudes, sans glasses.

We also came up with this dumb joke, inspired by the fruit salad:

Girl melon: Honeydew you love me?
Boy melon: Yes! Let's get married, now! To Vegas with us!
Girl melon: We cantaloupe.

An Israeli melon ... too conflicted for a union.

I had something else to say but I can't remember it. I think it had something to do with how the Christmas season makes me feel inadequate as a housewife because I don't own a glue gun and I'm not currently snorting tinsel.

 Oh well, back to reading Mistborn.

Is it a belt or a fanny pack? We'll never know.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

El Capitan 'Merica

I chose a picture of little captain because I like him better this way.

Nate and I just watched Captain America: The First Avenger.


Graham was definitely preferring Nathan over me today. One time he burst into tears when Nathan left the room. Two reactions to this Daddy-favoring: 1) Cuuute, he loves his daddy so much, 2) WHAT? I gave him life! blah blah blah mother's ranting anthem of justified martyrdom blah blah what the heck?!

We went to Ruby River Steak House tonight. I got a filet mignon. Where has beef been my whole life? Also I had a deep-fried yam. Why they deep-fry it, I don't know--who eats the skin? But the inside was like world peace covered in molten heaven (i.e. candied pecans, marshmallows, and cinnamon butter). Thank you, Sadie, for the recommendation. But sourdough bread as their free bread offering? Psh. Nobody likes sourdough bread.

Thoughts on Captain America (spoiler alert: Captain America dies kind of but not really. Ok, socially he dies if you know what I mean):

I thought the skinny version was cuter.

They should have emphasized the continuity of his character between pre- and post-buffification. They highlighted his patriotism in the beginning, but he was kind of meh afterwards. Maybe I'm just touched more by the underdog ... and after he became the super daddy under-doggy he just seemed less awesome and sympathetic as a character. I wanted some vulnerability.

Must protect Peggy from the inactive grenade! So cute. I wonder how they attached his head to a twelve-year-old's body ...?

Richard Armitage (aka John Thornton from North & South!!!) as the assassin who kills Dr. Erskine ... foaming at the mouth! Gah! What about the rose in the hedgerow??? From cotton to cyanide ... who knew?

I'm about to crunch my suicide pill, Margaret ... crap, wrong movie! Ack!

Peggy's marksmanship= yee haw!

I rock a red lip (matching my nails!) and a half up-do. And I'm chums with Wallace & Gromit because we're all British!
Final thought: America always wins. Get used to it. We rock. So grab your kitschy vibranium shield (that's really a boomerang?) and put on your awesome WWII era clothes, we're going to melt an ex-Nazi red skull-faced megalomaniac with a Norwegian cube that he found in a secret compartment in a wall with a tree carved into it. That's basically it.

P.S. final thought: I love Tommy Lee Jones. He's the same character in every movie he's in, but I love that character so I don't care that he has no versatility. He's like an ice cream maker--good for only one thing, but a really good thing. To contrast, Edward Norton is a Swiss Army Knife. A completely different kind of gadget.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

"Do Not Deny Me Your Gifts, Jacob"

-Kohor of the House of Kohoanticklemeelmo
(The Testaments)

I love that guy. Not because he's the evil villian, but because he's just so jaunty. A protagonist could never walk with such swagger.

This is awesome:

In other news, I haven't blogged in a while because I've been too busy with these awesome things:

Indexing! The indexing reps in our ward send a basket full of goodies around RS/Priesthood every week for those who have indexed ... or who swear on their firstborn's blessing outfit that they will index later in the day. So did I ever index? No. Did I ever want the candy/snickerdoodles/sugar cookies in the basket? Every flipping week. Did I take them without earning them? Twice. On accident. Not the taking, but the forgetting to keep up my end of the bargain was the accident. So I came clean and decided to do two batches to even up my score (because that's how you get into heaven/don't get called to nursery, duh).

Then I got addicted! But it's a righteous addiction, so it doesn't count. It's funny, as I'm reading the scrawly handwriting of some British census taker, I subconsciously think of him (of course it's a him) as educated and bookish. Probably has buckles on his shoes, you know. Crappy, infuriating handwriting that makes me wonder if the souls of those whose names he's illegibly recorded are tormenting him in the spirit world because he's the reason their descendents don't know they exist ... tangent.

But today Nathan pointed out that the census takers then were probably what they are today--bums needing a temporary job (sorry cousin Terisa. I know you worked for the last census, and you are not a bum! You are the exception). So this gives me greater reason to be bugged by them. They have horrible penmanship and they probably live in their mother's cellar where they play British video games all day while they eat Digestives. Gah! (Full disclosure: I only started indexing again a week ago.)

Attack of the Cuteyerdly Lion

What else have I been doing? Raising a kick-diaper baby. Graham is awesome. He crawls. He climbs. He succumbs to sleep training (no judging ...). He bites to show love (I hope that's what he's trying to show). He points. He gives high fives. He gives kisses (the best!). He breathes like an asthmatic robot because it gets him attention. He likes acorn squash. He was a lion for Halloween.

What else have I been doing?

Playing intramural soccer with my sister Katie and losing in the tournament to a bunch of super in-shape dorks who are probably still dating their high school boyfriends. When did super wide sports headbands become a thing? Psh. Go ahead and steal the championship t-shirt from me, young fillies, but guess what? I don't have to share my fridge with five other girls anymore. That's true glory.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Team Writing

When you are just a few words away from hitting 45,000 words and want to get there fast, enlist the help of your husband. Magic will happen:

Miss Farley sniffed. “He did—though through letters from a supposed ‘Aunt Eleanor.’ He offered me twenty quid for every bit of gossip I could procure. I refused, of course!”
And then, Darth Vader beamed into the room and strangled Emile with his dark force!
“GAaaack,” he wheezed through the death grip.
“Give me a cupcake if you want to live!” Darth Vader intoned.
Just as he was about to die, Thor flew in with his might hammer and golden locks, and said, “Darth, I am your father!”
He hammered his head off, and it was gross—all over the rug.
The pursuit of the terrorists continued.
That’s when Thor turned to Madeline. “The black plague has taken almost the whole community. I no longer believe in God.”
“Thor, you are a God!” Madeline exclaimed, clutching her bonnet.
“S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t think so,” Thor said, poutily, his red cape flowing in the Victorian zephyr.
I'm pretty sure this passage will secure me a book deal.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

New Phone New Phone

After dropping my red little "Rant" one too many times, the screen broke and I had to live with the white screen of death for a few days while Nathan came to terms with signing another two year contract with Sprint so we could upgrade our phones.

The "Rant"--always reminded me of Lindsay Lohan for some reason.

Behold, the replacement. The Sanyo SCP-2700:

I never text, "C U 2nite." Shudder.

This wannabe Blackberry beauty is fun. What makes it so fun, you ask? Let me tell you. It's not the useful keyboard, or the moody dark blue I love, or even that the screen works. Here's why the Sanyo SCP-2700 is the coolest phone I have (at least until Nathan gets me the iPhone of my lustful dreams).

1. The Ring Tones. I have so many to choose from--all in addition to the classics like "Asian Bell" and "Ring Tone 7" (don't we all just love "Ring Tone 7"?) There's "Luxury Time" that's just begging for a Beyonce voice-over. And what about "Invisible Emotion" (as opposed to that visible emotion that floats around our faces like mist) ... I'm pretty sure it was thisclose to being the backup beat to a TLC song. But my personal favorite is "Gloomy DJ." I can just see him in the club, recently dumped but showing up to work anyway because he's devoted to the music--but he's down, he's depressed, he's ... gloomy. Like a little rain cloud he conjures fat beats and scratches wicky wickies. And then I answer the phone and talk to my mom. Except my mom hates calling people on the phone so I probably talk to someone else.

2. This isn't really about the phone, but it's in the phone, so it's pertinent. Apparently I put Cinnabon in my contacts list when I lived a few blocks away from them in Seattle. I would call them right before they closed (usually when the craving struck) to make sure they had one left for me to come buy. I would beg them not to close and then rush across the freeway to secure that Mother Theresa of all buns. Then one time I went there with Nathan while we were dating and they recognized me as "the girl who always calls ahead." Gah.

I would date this.

3. Something else in my phonebook: "Computer KASS." This was the computer-automated phone system that would call me at six in the morning to see if I was willing to substitute teach that day. Too bad after substituting three times (once each in kindergarten, middle school, and high school) I decided that I hate children, education, and doing anything while pregnant.

Graham and Nate laughing at a blonde joke.

So that was more about my phonebook than about my phone ... but really, the phone is pretty average. It calls people. It rings when people call me. It has a little Gloomy DJ living inside it, crying.

Thursday, September 15, 2011


Tonight I played soccer for the first time since having Graham.

My touch was off.

My lungs were burning.

My legs were weak.

My joints were loose.

My knees are bleeding.

I scored a goal.

It was awesome.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Writing Tips for the Bump on a Log Inside

1. Exercise. I'm currently in a health competition with some family members, so I've been exercising a lot lately. Partly for prize money, but mostly for the sake of the poor jeans I've been squeezing my motherly thighs into. Guess what has been increasing along with my max number of push-ups (currently about eleven ... sheepish). My number of words written a day! My brain feels better and I feel more motivated in all areas when I exercise.

No more lounging in my sherpa boots! Jillian would kill me.

2. Rachel Portman station on Pandora. Excellent soundtrack for my historical novel. Find the soundtrack to what you're writing and play it while you work. It keeps me focused and inspired.

Rachel looks like a writer. Mus be the cardigan.

3. The "Don't Stop" Rule. I feel one of the biggest hurdles I face while writing is my tendency to write a sentence ... hit a blank ... and then go surf the internet for ten minutes because I "deserve a break." It's ridiculous and fueled in part by my silly desire to have a perfect first draft, and also in part by my lazy and easily distracted nature. Worst distractions: Facebook and blogs (two great literary agent blogs, by the way: and Lately I've been self-enforcing the "Don't Stop" rule ... meaning I don't stop writing. I worry more about getting it down instead of how I'm getting it down. That's what my second draft is for. This is really helping me move along in my first draft, it increases my confidence that I can get it done, and sometimes what comes out of my head, unrevised, isn't so bad after all.

NOT the soundtrack to my novel.

4. Having a set time to write. While I don't keep this religiously by any means, I try to write from 8-9pm. Nathan has graciously agreed to help me set aside this time, and that helps a lot. Waiting until I have absolute free time to write meant never writing. Yes, there are dishes in the sink (smelling pleasantly like curry coconut shrimp), but I'm 1,500 words closer to being J.K. Rowling. Ha!

Coolest watch I ever owned. My parents gave it to me for my birthday. They put it on my wrist while I was sleeping and I didn't notice until I was eating breakfast. Nathan won't let me buy a replacement online for $20. Boo. Actually, he just told me to think about it for a couple days. Here is the link in case I forget.

5. Concept Map. I made these in eighth grade biology--they are basically a visual representation of your subject (my novel, in this case). Seeing the whole plot laid out in front of me helps get me excited about the scope of my work, see holes and opportunities in my plot, and plan future scenes.

What helps you write?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Carbonated Pasta

Allergies are grating my throat and purging my sinuses ... so nothing brilliant here today.

Random Thoughts:

Poor Graham has a little cold and I'm feeling guilty that he may have given it to his little friend Heidi.

When I hear the words "pasta carbonara," I can't help but think of pasta with a bubbly sauce. I imagine pasta that tastes like Pop Rocks, but without the crunch.

I love things that make me happy (duh). Like this fabric, for example.

It's Kaffe Fassett's Paperweights in Cobalt. I used it to make Graham's baby carrier. Or rather, my baby carrier that I use to carry Graham.

Babywearing Fashion

Every time I start considering putting more time/energy/money  into what I wear I come across a scripture about the fashionable ways of the wicked. So I use that as an excuse to continue wearing nothing but t-shirts from high school, old jeans, and flip flops (from JCrew! I'm turning into a Zoramite!).

I want to be this woman. She's spicy, intelligent, and the wife of my favorite writing teacher. She read some of my writing once, and I'm sad to say that if the material I gave her had a body, it would be an angsty teenager's body, wrapped in used Kleenex, a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul clutched tightly in its black-nailed fist. I want to take her (Louise, not the teenager body) to lunch and learn her secrets of awesomeness.

I need these shoes:

I'm small I know but wherever I go the book deals come all day.

Also, last night I had a dream about an old homeroom teacher slash boy's varsity soccer coach. I was in his class in 8th grade ten years ago when Alex Bylund, the news junkie of the group, announced that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

I'm convinced this is no longer just allergies. The pill I took three hours ago has had no effect. I believe Graham and I are suffering the effects of the same race of bug. I've discovered that flannel burp rags are a great alternative to handkerchiefs--much softer and with fun baby-themed prints to cheer me in my weakened state.

Off to eat some soup dear husband brewed for me in the microwave.

Friday, September 9, 2011


The MBAA (MBA Association) opening social was last night at Rock Canyon Park in Provo. A sign at the bottom of the park said "MBAA at top pavilion." So we went to the toppest pavilion we saw. A crowd of obviously BYU students were milling about, eating BBQ food.

Nathan: I don't see anyone I know. Are you sure the second years were invited?

Kimber: Yeah, and what's with the only soda available being caffeinated Dr. Pepper, caffeinated Mt. Dew, and Sprite? What kind of school do you go to? (caffeine=darkest sin)

Nathan: Seriously.

So we grab one of the few remaining Sprites and decide to set up camp next to a friendly-looking couple before we grab burgers.

Nathan (addressing couple): I've learned my lesson enough times to ask which one of you is in the program.

Man (smiles): I am.

Nathan: Are you a first year or second year?

Man: Second year.

Nathan: Which track?

Man: Uhhh, what?

Nathan: Which track are you? (the MBA program has several different emphases to choose from)

Man: (confused look)

Kimber: We might not be at the right party. Is this the MBA social?

Man: No, this is the construction management party. The MBA party is up the hill.

Nathan and Kimber: Ohhhhhhhhhh. Well, thanks for the Sprite.

Kimber (once we are out of earshot, judgmentally): That explains all the caffeinated soda.

Because we all know people in construction are coarse and caffeinated!! Bah.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Yes, Get Rid of the Postal Service


Two reasons. Two pieces of mail, specifically. They were both lurking like toads in my mailbox yesterday.

1. A notice reminding us to renew the registration on our car = inevitably safety check fail = $$$

2. A ticket from running a photo-enforced red light = $$$


Ready to forgive, I went back to the mailbox today. What did I find? Ads.

Die, USPS, die!

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Awww Man

The blog, once again, has been neglected like an ugly old hamster owned by an ADD child. I hope that metaphor rings as true with you as it did with me. The child loves the hamster, yes, but does he feed it? No. Then the hamster dies and becomes "saucy" and is buried in a neighbor's yard, its grave marked by a Sharpie'd piece of cardboard. Semi-true story.

Not related to my hamster metaphor in any way, but you all come here to see pictures of Graham, right?

I've been having some blog-stalker moments. No, don't worry, no one's stalking me. I'm not that cool of a blogger. But I am that cool of a stalker! Let me explain.

Please, Mother, explain!

Last weekend Nathan, Graham, and I visited Nathan's brother and his new esposa in Washington, D.C. As in, the home of this awesome blogger who inspires stroller/fashion/food/hair-envy in me. Her little baby girl is just a few days older than Graham, so naturally they'll get married and Graham will have some really awesome in-laws. Anyway, we were also there because Nathan was presenting a paper at an engineering conference that weekend. The rest of his lab would be staying at a hotel downtown and attending church at ... the Capitol Hill Ward ... potentially the ward of the stalkee!!

Look! I'm a Nephite!

Would I see her at church? Sit in the pew behind her and let Graham charm her daughter with his two-toothed smile? Discreetly touch the sleeve of her boutique vintage blouse and be instantly healed of both my seasonal allergies and my addiction to basketball shorts? One could only hope.

Mom just gives me this old toothbrush to chew on.

Then this stupid thing called Hurricane Irene happened. And church was cancelled.

Psh, stupid hurricane.

So I'm still wearing t-shirts and dressing my baby in second-hand clothing (not even thrifted, people, I got his whole wardrobe for free!). I'm still sneezing and not wearing mascara because it's harder to rub/itch my eyes with makeup on. I'm still frumping it up in Provo.

And loving it.

Because of these fellows:

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Chocolate Melk and Pee-pee Teepees

Nathan is out buying BYU creamery chocolate milk (pronounced "melk" in our house). I said be back in ten minutes because I'm sleepy ... it's been fourteen! It's not, like, the journey to the creamery is, like, epic or anything (that's for my family ... explanation in a later soapbox about the overuse of the word "like" and the misuse of "epic").

A funny thing happened today. Nathan was fiddling with a couple of these little treasures:

Pee-pee Teepees! A marvelous gift from a marvelous mother-in-law.

These cute little fabric cones are meant to prevent "baptism in the yellow fountain." While changing a diaper, you simply pop a teepee on your baby boy's business and go on worry-free. They are a little flimsy, and mostly for laughs, and also have never been truly tested as Graham has failed to grace us with his Bellagio-esque show when we've remembered the teepee.

So Nathan had some teepees, and this, he later told me, was going through his head (quickly, ie. faster than his logic could keep up with):

Silly teepees. Silly blue teepees. When we have a girl, will we get some pink teepees?

Then he realized his silliness and confessed his runaway train of thought.

And now he just came home, with no chocolate melk because the creamery was closed, as was the Crabtree building where there is a milk vending machine, and the Wilkinson center was also closed ... then the poor boy remembered the vending machine in the Wymount laundry room and so he came home with a pity-Twix.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Exodus in Numbers

The blogging famine has ended. Apparently, the process of moving sucks all the creative juices from my being and replaces them with A&W Root Beer, Corn Nuts, and packing tape residue. That is my excuse.

The exodus in numbers:

Let my Wintogreens go!

1,582: miles traveled
5: days it took (including one day of hanging out with the familia in Denver)
11: feet of clearance on our Uhaul
2: roadkilled armadillos seen
3: hours Graham was entertained by playing with a toothbrush
13: dollars spent on beef jerky
34: pages of Great Expectations read
5: minutes spent talking about whether it's appropriate to bear testimony that God has a sense of humor
530: calories in a bag of Corn Nuts (Ranch flavor)
20: questions in a game Nathan and I discovered we aren't very good at (he failed to deduce "seahorse," I "the earth")
2: number of nuns in a minivan who saw us pointing at them
6: inches pillow in Texas hotels are short ... everything's bigger in Texas, except the pillows!
3: Albrechtsens very happy to be done moving, for now.

Monday, August 15, 2011


Seeing a little blue crane logo above the toilet seat in your hotel room and recognizing it from the toilets in the house you grew up in.

Some things just warm your heart as they comfort your bum.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Hairy Thoughts

I don't know why, but I'm suspicious of girls with bushy eyebrows who are otherwise stylish and attractive. They are always so confident, so comfortable with their bushy selves. And I envy them--not the brows, but the boldness.

Like two furry eels leaping towards each other for a kiss.
Sometimes I don't shave my legs for weeks on end (my Utah winter coat, you know), but I usually cover up that little garden with pants or dark tights on Sundays (because dark blond hair does show through beige nylons--learned that the hard way). So I don't think hairy legs can count as my antibeauty anthem. I don't have the pride to flaunt them.

I used to consider my poodlerific head of hair my "statement piece." But guess what? Pregnancy turned my hair straight! It took me twenty two years to figure out how to deal with that Brillo pad and now it's on its way out. I think it's starting to go curly again, but I'm not quite sure. What I do know: I look like a total dweeb with six inches of straight hair and six inches of curly. Gah!

I look like I'm growing out a perm. Blegh. Also, what's with the Leno chin??

Saturday, August 13, 2011

A Thought on Packing

When seeking newspaper to wrap around and cushion your stuff, perhaps don't grab the free city paper that is always available in a stand by your mailbox. It's free for a reason ... like because the paper is funded with smutty ads instead of subscriptions. Wrapping your framed engagement photo up in a print for a "gentleman's" club is awkward. An my poor Scentsy warmer is blushing at the "massage" ads it's nestled inside. Gah! I need a stack of the Deseret News.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Graham is .5 Solar Years Old!

Happy six months, Teddy Graham!

To celebrate, Graham barfed all over himself while we were driving around Houston looking for a place to live next year. Then Daddy-O bought him a cool green ball to make him feel better, and also because we think Graham should have a ball (a blow-up globe doesn't really count). Then the waitress at Pappasito's Cantina wouldn't stop glomming all over him because he is so cute and she is so disrespectful of a baby's personal boundaries. But can we blame her? Not really.

Happy Half Birthday, Graham!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Grubby Pigeon Shoppe Presents Boy Bands

I've come to the shocking realization that there's no money in being a stay-at-home mom. For some reason I thought Graham would be giving me a check every other Friday ... but that hasn't been happening and he won't return my emails. So apparently I'm an unpaid intern.

Come September, Nathan will be back to full-time student status and, like me, be doing nothing for our bottom line except making it a deeper shade of red. Student loan red (look for the paint chip at Home Depot).

What is the answer to this problem? Budget more? Have Nathan take on a part-time job? Sell some of my excess crap?

Uh ... how about OPENING AN ETSY SHOP?

Why I didn't think of this sooner is beyond me, because I'm super duper crafty and artistic. Pretty much Gadianton Robber crafty. Why, in the past two years I've partially completed a knitted pixie hat for Graham, sewn overly large pajama pants, made a ghastly yellow plate in a pottery class, and constructed a defective nursing cover. I'm pretty sure I'm qualified to do this.

Especially because I have the greatest idea ever. There's a hole in the huge market of headbands that I must fill.

I give you the baby boy headband.

"The Dino," just one of many designs.

Why should girls have all the fun of overdeveloping their neck muscles in order to support a massive head ornamentation? Graham feels left out of this party, and Nathan won't let me buy him a Newsies cap. The solution? The baby boy headband, or "Boy Bands," as they are called in my new enterprise: The Grubby Pigeon Shoppe.

Graham's other option. Not in the shoppe ... this is a little hat Nathan used to wear!

Pretty sure I've found my true calling. Visit the Grubby Pigeon Shoppe today!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I Love X-Men

I just saw X-Men: First Class.



How did I not know about Michael Fassbender? "But you killed my mother." !!!! Kevin Bacon's head gets the jukebox treatment!

Preferred powers: telekinesis and telepathy ... so pretty much I want to be Phoenix, but without all the crazy.

Check out my belt.

But we're talking about First Class, not The Last Stand (which was disappointing).

Nathan didn't like the disparity between Xavier's character in the beginning (hitting on girls in bars, drinking from the huge test tube thing) and the end (benevolent and wise)--he said there was too much maturing too fast. But James McAvoy is just so cute--like a powerful little mouse with a cute accent.

Mystique--played by the girl who will be playing Katniss in The Hunger Games. Personally her head looked funny while she was in blue mode--a bit wide. She is no Rebecca Romijn, but I think she did well. Does anyone else think it's weird that she's a sixty-year old in the other movies? Yes, her cells age more slowly ... but it's awkward to think about an old lady running around naked, and blue no less!


-Hugh Jackman cameo. Although ever since my bridal shower when I named him as the one celebrity I would leave Nathan for (joking! of course), my poor hubby has a bit of a complex about him. What made it worse: it was a joint bridal shower with my future sis-in-law, and when it was her turn to answer the question, she just blushed and said she wouldn't pick anyone over her fiance. Way to make me look like a scarlet woman ...

-Emma Frost's awesome sixties style. Big hair, wide belt, fluffy Russian hat ... awesome.

-How the Nazi coin came full circle.

-The retro X suits.

Am I a diver? Or a kick-tush X-Man?


-Magneto's helmet at the end. Red horns? A bit much, Erik.

-Mystique's total rebound from Hank to Erik ... but can I blame her?

-Cold War plots aren't my favorite because ... nothing happens. Okay, so there was great action in the movie, but it just feels overdone.


-The movie.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Happy Birthday Nathan!

The two men in my life, and five of the doors in my life.
My wonderful husband is 27 years old today! That's late twenties! Gah!

Nathan is pretty great.

He is smart (760), funny (haha), tall (5' 11"), dark (but still Caucasian), handsome (left and right), and sweet (naturally).

He can bench press Graham (probably more?), tie his shoes, and make popcorn from scratch.

Breakfast fit for a father.

He works for the most profitable company in the world, of all time. He can grow a beard really fast.

His feet are well-groomed (a rarity in men, I think), he can fly a (toy) helicopter (named Choppy), and four is his favorite number.

Nathan's #2 baby.

Nathan hates spiders, cheese, ignorance, and terrorism.

His favorite book is Great Expectations. His favorite movie is The Testaments. His favorite person is me.

He is my husband, and he is wonderful!

Saturday, August 6, 2011

La Boda

Once again, I am writing this post late, but dating it as if it were on time in order to preserve the loveliness of having a post for each day.

Thoughts on Mexican weddings:

-If the US (the white portion, at least) and Mexico started to battle, and the outcome of the war was determined by dancing skills, we would lose, my friends. Mexicans have rhythm, coordination, hips. We have slightly ashamed bobbing from one foot to another, with some exuberant YMCA arm action when needed. When the Cha Cha Slide faded (oh how I hate that song), and the banda music started to play, all us whities left the floor, confused, while the Mexicanos paired up and danced actual steps! There was poise, finesse, and Nate and I even spotted a discreet tush grab. I was jealous (not of the goose, but of the skills).

Goose bum ... get it? Goose bum?

-Mexicans know how to dress up for a party. I had a picture of Graham and his gorgeous new aunt that I wanted to post, but I lost our camera on the way home! Arg. But she looked lovely. Her dress had pockets! How awesome is that? And her guests: glamorous. Lots of shine, high high heels, and gowns. Not dresses, gowns. I was in an ill-fitting polyester number and felt dreadfully out of my league fashion-wise. At least I had a cute baby on my hip--the ultimate accessory, even if he was doing his grunting baby eagle squawk during the slide show.

A composite image of all Llubia's guests.

-This is a reflection on weddings in general: they are great. Weddings are the ultimate combination of family, tradition, love, fun, and food. Mmm fajitas! I'm so glad we were able to attend Justin and Llubia's wedding. Even though I don't know either of them super well, I think my bachelor's degree (sniffs and adjusts spectacles) allows me to declare them great together (but you don't need a degree in marriage and family studies to know the obvious!).

Felicidades, Justin and Llubia!

Friday, August 5, 2011

El Paso=Houston-Humidity-Trees+more Mexicans

I'm sitting on my motel bed, watching my little son sleep on the other queen in the room. I never knew he stretched his arms in his sleep. I love seeing his little belly rise and fall.

Highlights of the day:

Graham was a charmer on the plane. He only squawked a few times, and besides that was nothing but cute. So he spit up about four times ... on Nathan.

Pizza and carrot cake for dinner. Yum.

Graham got to meet his Grandpa Albrechtsen for the first time! So sweet! On top of that, he got to meet all his cousins, and a few new aunts and uncles.



I was a major Sudoku cripple on the plane. The "warm-up" puzzle was already filled in ... so that's my excuse. I jumped in to the "easy" cold. Then I made a mistake I was too lazy to find. Then the "medium" puzzle was super hard and I gave up before the flight ended. I am ashamed.

While Nate's family gathered around the motel pool to chat, we had the displeasure of learning that white Spongebob boxers do not a swimsuit make. One word: cling. Gah!


Tomorrow I get to go to my first Mexican wedding. Or perhaps it would be a half-Mexican wedding because Nate's brother is American and his fiance is Mexican. I am so excited! Although if any of you were wondering, there will not be a nacho cheese fountain. :(

Thursday, August 4, 2011

So I Overpacked ...

I've come to realize that of the truckload of stuff I brought to Houston this summer, I really only needed about a third of it, and that's with using the word "need" generously.

But my dreams of making crème brûlée made me bring my ramekins (both the large and small sets).

My aspirations of getting back to my pre-pregnancy weight inspired me to bring my size 6 charcoal Express "Editor pant(s)" ... even though they still need to be hemmed, even after over four years of owning them.

The "Editor Pant" ... I'm pretty sure these will help me get published, either because of the homage in the name, or else the posh omittance of the "s" at the end.

Visions of fun-filled game nights prompted me to bring Risk, Monopoly, Scrabble, Canasta, and more. I guess I forgot Netflix existed when I packed those ...

All these, and more items, have remain unused the entire summer. Gah!

Popcorn air popper? Collecting dust. Brown canvas wedges? Deemed to dangerous to wear while carrying a baby. Mug with the Boy Scout logo on the side? Not allowed to use it, according to Nathan.

I have too much crap!

So today, I went on a purge. Kind of. It was probably a junior-level purge. Or maybe novice-level.

I threw out:
-expired coupons (pretty painful, I know)
-a stained, white hair band (took some effort)
-empty battery packaging

Okay, okay, so I have a long way to go. But I am a believer in simplifying and getting rid of stuff. Before we moved to Tejas I threw out/gave away about 75% of my t-shirt inventory--which seems like a big step until I tell you that all of the purged were either white (I hate white t-shirts), the wrong size, or full of holes in compromising areas.

Tomorrow I will throw ten things away. ... Two of those things cannot be trash. Baby steps.

Also tomorrow: my first airplane trip with a baby in tow!! I better go overpack.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Library Love

I love the library. Love it!  Because:

1) Free books. Duh! And when I'm done, I give them back--my shelf space is reserved and I don't have to haul them around every time I move.

2) Free movies! Granted, the selection is not that great. But they are free. Take that price-hiking Netflix! On a sidenote, while I think raising prices almost 60% isn't the most customer-friendly move, I do have to admit that $16/month for unlimited streaming and about 8 DVD's a month (that's our turnaround rate if we hit the mail just right) is still a pretty darn good deal.  The real downside is that I'll feel like I need to watch more TV/movies to get my money's worth. And I would really like to cut down on my screen time. So I can bond with the environment, you know ... which in downtown Houston consists of the little grass patch outside the exercise room. Or the hummingbird-sized mosquitoes.

(Do PETA members swat at mosquitoes? I really dislike PETA. I like animals (both on a bun and off), but come on!)

3) My baby just woke up ... he likes libraries, too. Board books in Spanish, anyone?

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Monday, August 1, 2011

Graham Eats

What a goof! His breath smelled like onions for the rest of the night ... and even the next morning.

This next one might not be worth the four minutes unless you are a grandparent ... but I love his reaction at the one minute mark.

I love this kiddo. Feeding him is a blast.

Sunday, July 31, 2011


Kimber: I'll clean up Graham's dresser tomorrow.

Nathan: If you keep putting things off until tomorrow, you'll have a lot of empty yesterdays.

Kimber: What greeting card did you get that from?

Nathan: Uh, President Thomas S. Monson.

Kimber: Touché.

The complete quote from President Monson's October 2008 General Conference talk, Finding Joy in the Journey: "I thoroughly enjoy many musicals, and one of my favorites was written by the American composer Meredith Willson and is entitled The Music Man. Professor Harold Hill, one of the principal characters in the show, voices a caution that I share with you. Says he, “You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected a lot of empty yesterdays."'

Saturday, July 30, 2011

So I'm Reading a Fantasy Novel ...

I'm equally parts delighted and ashamed when I read a sentence like this:

"Blushweaver fell silent, watching the latest display from the firemasters."

I'm reading a fantasy novel. On the cover is this:

Apparently blue eyeshadow is not fashion suicide in the city of T'Telir (of the kingdom of Hellendren, duh!).

I don't think I'm the "typical" "raging fantasy nerd" (as my bro-in-law calls them). I'm not wearing an amulet, Graham's name isn't Wolfsong, and I didn't get engaged during a creative writing class taught by Brandon Sanderson (but I did witness such an event). But then there's the small part of me that wishes cloaks were in fashion ...

Back to reading Warbreaker. Thanks for the suggestion, Jenn!

Friday, July 29, 2011

It's About Cannibalism

I just finished watching The Way Back, a film adaptation of Slavomir Rawicz's memoir The Long Walk, an account of his and a few others' escape from a Siberian gulag (tsk tsk Communists!) and subsequent 4,000 mile trek to freedom through the Gobi dessert and Himalayas. Then I made the mistake of Googling the story ... and found out it was potentially all made up. My warm, fuzzy, inspired feeling was just consumed by the dark gray skepticism monster.

You will be thirsty while you watch this.

Anyway ... in the movie based on the book which may or may not be true, the little band survives by eating a snake. There's also a gross moment when Colin Farrel eats a little grubby caterpillar. Colin Farrel also contemplates eating some of his companions.

All this made me wonder ... what would I eat if I were hungry enough? Probably not human. Okay, I can say with certainty that I would not eat human. Because the goal would be survival, yes? So if I survived, I would then have to live with that super creepy knowledge that I was a cannibal. It's an elite club, yes, but the membership dues are brutal. Also, I looked up "cannibalism" on, and apparently we don't believe in it. In fact, a gory 1975 Ensign article written by a BYU psychology professor discusses how cannibalism can be seen a corruption of the sacrament.

So people are off the menu, but what about snakes? I'd be okay with snakes, I think. Especially if it were cooked. Snake would definitely not be the grossest thing I've eaten, I bet.

While at a tapas bar in Spain I had the displeasure of consuming the lining of a pig's (Google has corrected me) cow's stomach--unknowingly. That happens sometimes when you don't speak Spanish fluently and you're in a noisy bar and the man behind the counter just hands your roommate a plate of something and you say yes when she offers you a taste. There's a picture of the dish below. The flavor wasn't so horrible, but the texture was just like eating pure fat.

Looks kind of like honeycomb, right? Honeycomb of vomit!

It's a good thing a Carte D'Or shop was a few doors down so I could purge my mouth of the foulness with some expensive European chocolate ice cream.

What's the weirdest thing you've eaten? Feel free to comment anonymously if your answer is "human."