The Big Night

We had so much fun at Graduation!  The wind was howling and it was freezing - so Idaho!  But we had a great time anyway!

Mr. Bechtel's mom, and sisters, Laura and Sarah, came up.  Grandpa and Grandma Ricks came too, and we were a good cheering section.

Golden Delicious aced her speech.  She nailed it perfectly:  perfect length, perfect timing, perfect story.  I was super proud of her.  She has worked like a little trooper and it was awesome for her to have a moment in the spotlight.

Granny Smith got a little bored as the announcer was reading names.  He said, "this guy is going too slow.  They need an auctioneer to read these names!"

And the happy graduate with her Daddy and Co.

Preps for Graduation

Getting Golden Delicious graduated was a full court press for the entire family.  (Since Braeburn could not be bothered with such formalities, it was also our first experience with such things.)  G. D. had to give the Valedictorian speech at graduation.  She wrote a beautiful talk, had it approved, and then the day of graduation she changed her mind and decided to re-write the whole thing.  AHHH!  She wrote and wrote, Mr. Bechtel edited, I gave a few comments, and Mr. Bechtel edited again.

At the last minute, she realized that graduation would not be complete without a decorated hat, so Mr. Bechtel and I found ourselves racing to Wal-Mart for bling, and then to the stadium to reserve seats for the occasion.  Miss Delicious came up with a cute design for her hat.

Then, she worked on her speech some more.  Then she said, "mom, do we have anything to eat??"

"Um... well... there's some cold cereal..."

"Nicole's family and so and so's family is taking them out for a nice graduation dinner..."

"?????"

"Ok, I"ll have some cold cereal."

"good idea.  Sorry."

"Good Luck with your speech, Darling!"

Senior Prank

Golden Delicious was VERY ready to graduate.  She could not leave dear old BHS, though, without a proper, lasting memorial to her time there.

She and her friend came up with this hilarious plan to place themselves randomly on the "fame wall", complete with green picture frame and all.

They dressed up the best they could to look late 80's - early 90's (I told her that her bangs were not big enough and she was horrified at such awful fashions!), then they got some random trophies, and took their picture.

And here they are:  Ida F. Rodd and Shirley J Oaking, BPA State Champions 1987.

She discreetly posted it on the wall while in the midst of a crowd.  It was a beautiful plan.

Unfortunately, the duct tape was not strong, and it was positioned directly above a garbage can.

When she got back to school on Monday, it had fallen into the Garbage and been hauled away.

We were very sad.  But these things happen sometimes.

Que Sera, Sera.

Happy House Photos

Here is the missionary wall.  I send Elder Braeburn a kiss and a prayer whenever I walk by.

And a shot of "King" our super amazing gold fish who has lived for years and years and is a true survivor.  One time we were cleaning the house and put him in the garage and forgot about him for several months.  He was just fine.

My mom's treadmill, that took up my bedroom for the whole winter, because Golden Delicious wanted to use it every day  (or at least 3 times).  And happily went back to Grandma's house several weeks ago.

And the mud room.

Self Portraits of the Spy Twins

The boys had to draw self portraits for their last assignments in Mort's Art class.  Art class has been a dramatic adventure this year.  All the druggies, and drop outs get put in art and the boys have had some pretty exciting stories including how to best smoke pot, how to act like a wild child and then transform to an angel for seminary, etc. etc.  Also, "foxy fridays" with very scary girls in the school.

So, the actual art of art was somewhat secondary...  But here are their photos.  The raw material that the genius painting will come from.

Can you tell who is who?  Here's a hint:  Nova looks quite a bit happier than Prairie.

That's customary.

Elder Braeburn and the Turkish Barber

We love letters from Elder Braeburn, especially ones with illustrations!  He sent us a recent letter detailing his last trip to get a hair cut.... and I quote....

"This has already been a great day.  There's a turkish barber on High Street who Elder Rogers always visits.  Usually he'll give the haircut and then flip a coin.  If we call it correctly in midair, the haircut is free.  Needless to say, whenever we need a haircut, we make a beeline for his place.  I know that haircuts are a recurring theme in my letters.  Perhaps this is because letters and haircuts always happen on the same day.

However, here I will beg your pardon and go off on another haircut tangent.

Turkish barbers are the only true barbers.  Something in the Turkish air gives them an artistic genius, thirst for precision, and steadiness of hand that is unmatched among their inferior western counterparts.  They begin by asking if you'd like a hot-towel shave.  One of the few tragedies in my missionary life is that I shave every morning, making this sadly unnecessary.  Someday.

They then spend a few minutes staring at your head, muttering.  One doesn't tell a Turkish barber what sort of hair cut is wanted.  They tell you, which makes every cut an adventure.  This is great for guys like me who really have no idea what to ask for anyway.

So, this guy surveyed my head and then went to work, clipping and trimming away.  When the hair cut was finished, he brought our a metal rod with a cotton ball on the end, dipped it in barbasol and then dramatically set it on fire.  To my horror, he proceeded to whip this fireball at and around my ears.  He didn't burn me, but he torched all the fuzz off my earlobes.  I still smell burnt fur.

This was absolutely fantastic.  I can never again by satisfied with a barber who does not use fire.  Great Clips will just never be the same again."