Does this amaze anyone else?

In this corner, weighing in at a whopping 25 Lbs. and stretched to an unbelievable 32.5 inches, we have the unbelievable Marin-zilla.
Katie took Marin in for her 12 month check up today. The doctor could do nothing but laugh when she saw Marin’s measurements. It turns out that Marin, at her 12 mo. check up, is the size and weight of the average 22 month old child. She is the same size of a child that is two months shy of twice her age. The doctor assures us that she is perfectly healthy in every way, she is just really tall. She’s already tall enough to pull things off of the kitchen table. Like plates and glasses… it’s almost an accident waiting to happen. We’ve got to watch her like a hawk. She’s able to reach more trouble than any one year old ought to be able. Good thing that she’s so cute.

Hallow-egg Tutorial

We’ve done this a few different ways over the years. When we first started making these eggs, we started with some left-over Easter Egg Dyes, a sharpie magic marker and whatever else we could find to be creative.
Hard boil the eggs. Allow them to cool and keep them at room temp. Do not refrigerate the eggs after boiling. It will cause them to sweat when you are ready to color them. They take some work and you will have a ton that you think are just uglier than snot, but the pumpkins are always easy. (Great for kids) Not much to it. I’ve never done it, but you may be able to use some Tie-Die tabs from an arts and crafts store if you don’t have any extra easter egg dye lying around. But it will probably stain everything badly. This year we used some of the absolute cheapest acrylic pain that we could find at the craft store. $1/tube. I don’t know how the acrylic paint would work on the eggs because this year we used fake wood eggs. (So much better and less temporary, but took us a few years of passive searching to find. {Thanks Holly})
This whole project is a lot of fun, but there are really no good instructions, just lots of creativity. Another thought may be to head to a creek bed and collect a few nicely rounded stones and then paint them. This could be fun because the jagged edges could make a good witch face… like I said, be creative, it’s more fun that way.
We are considering getting some clear lacquer to cover the eggs so that the paint won’t rub off onto each other. (this probably won’t matter with the temporary hard boiled eggs)
Have fun and post pictures if any of you decide to make them.

Dancin' Muchine II

This is a fun one. Marin loves to dance, (as mentioned before) Here we caught her Droppin' it like it's hot into some poppin' and lockin'. She's got some pretty sweet moves. Aparently her new favorite movie is High School Musical. Katie and I were not really fans, but it was worth it to see her jam out to the ending credits.

Tis' the Hallo-freakn'-ween Season

Katie and I decided to get crafty this year. Instead of making award winning pumpkins,
We decided to mix in some easter. We painted some awesome halloween eggs. It was the coolest FHE in a long time. Katie's are the ones that actually show some tallent.

Play Time

These are some of our new favorite things. The swings at the park are so much fun. Marin likes them too. But she likes them best when I (Daddy) am pushing her because I am so much more reckless than Katie is. Katie keeps her safe and I teach her how to potentially injure herself. I’m such a role model. The other day Marin slipped in the pool and went under for a split second. Katie was on her before the splash peaked and when Marin was safe in Katie’s arms, instead of terror, I was proud. Proud that she could go under and not come up screaming from terror. She did so well. She coughed a little, but not a tear was shed. That’s my girl. We’ll have you swimming on your own in another two weeks. Woo Hoo… Here is another fun video clip for your enjoyment.

Getting excited for Halloween

Anyone that saw Holl-Balls last year will recognize this costume.






Here is a better one.

Dancin' Muchine

So there is one thing that we love to try and get Marin to do because we think that it is so funny. From day #1 she has always seemed to be very picky about music. When we would play something she would either get really happy or really angry (we think that this depended on whether or not she liked that particular style of music. In the beginning she seemed to like the more classical style. Nothing too pop. And by classical, I mean classical composers. She also seemed to be choosy about who was singing it. She hated church hymns. They would make her so angry. Well now a-days, she is not so finicky. It does not even have to have a beat and she will instantly get a big grin and start to shake what her mamma gave her. She even likes it when I (Daniel) sing to her. If you have ever heard me sing you know that it’s bad. (Heather, do you remember that time after church when you waited with me when I was going to meet with the bishop for my mission interview. I’m still scarred by the look on your face when you heard me try and match a note. I still remember, “Maybe your tone deaf? Hi Ya’ll!”) Anyway, Marin loves any kind of music now. It does not matter how distant the source may be from her if she hears a tune, she will stop everything and listen. Then she will do her dance. This is what we find absolutely hilarious. Some of our ward friends once spotted her standing on the church pew dancing to the prelude music in a cute little dress and are still laughing about it two weeks later. We keep trying to catch her on video, but she gets really distracted by the camera. Here is a cute example of her being stubborn.






This is all the dance that we’ve got so far.

Counting my many blessings

I am apparently more of an “all or nothing” kinda guy than I ever knew. You all wanted to hear more about my work, so now I can’t stop thinking about what I can post about work. I’ll share one more work story for now. Then I need to get back to cute pictures of Marin. I’ll try to diversify my postings from now on. Mix it up a bit.
So as you may assume from my previous post that there is not much about my job that really gets to me. For the most part, I have the worst behind me and now I’m moving forward. (At least I feel better believing this.) Truth be told, there is one thing about my job that I really despise.
It is the untimely death of an infant or child. Nothing tares me up inside more than this. Some days it’s all I can do not to bust into tears myself when I sit in a room with some, almost was, parents and try to help them in any way possible. Knowing that there is not a thing on earth that I can do but watch them suffer. I cannot help but imagine myself in their shoes and it will instantly break my hart. Today I helped a Dad say good bye to what would have been his first child. His first son. Mom was still in the hospital bed recovering while Dad was doing his best to take care of business. Turns out that Nate had only two more weeks to go till full term. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be in perfect health and development. “Just a fluke thing” said the Grandma. Not “just a” anything says me. The amount of raw emotion and feelings could not possibly be summated into a “just a” phrase. I look into the eyes of this parent or any parent that loses a child and I learn one thing, THIS IS PAIN. I am so sorry.

Its days like this that I am so happy to know what I do. That families can be together forever. On top of that I’m comforted to know that innocent children are just that… innocent.

So do with this what you will. You may file it away into the deepest nether regions of your mind and only think of it when forced to for some reason, but I think that the truth of the matter is that we should all at least think of things like this from time to time. It reminds us all to feel. And not just for ourselves. I’m sorry to have been the blogger buzz kill.

This one is for Linda

I am pretty sure that there is not a single person that views this blog on purpose that does not already know that I am a Funeral Director for a living. It’s funny, but I really don’t ever, or have not yet, gotten tired of all the questions that people have. Most people feel like they are being a burden by drilling me to satisfy their morbid curiosity. The truth of the matter is that I really do love my job. I don’t get tired of the conversation because I know that I’m still just as curious as most people asking the questions. The only thing that will instantly drive me to absolute anger is when someone finds out what I do and their instant reaction is that of disgust followed by their drilling Q’s. I am not a lesser person because I do what I do. First, I provide for my family, and so far we are not eating from the dumpsters. Second, I see my job as a sort of sacred trust. If the body is a temple, and I thoroughly believe that it is, then I am providing the service of caring for someone’s most sacred possession when they are no longer able to. Third, anyone who has lost someone close to them knows that it can be one of the most difficult times in their life. It is my honor and privilege to do my best to help a family along their personal grieving process. I am not a counselor, but can certainly be a comfort to the family that has no idea what to do and how to do it. I am a director. Now to you, Mrs. Wife of the bishop’s councilor, how many “Thank You” cards have you received in your life for helping someone with one of the hardest things that they will, hopefully ever, have to go threw? And furthermore, I didn’t say “EW!” to YOUR face when I saw that you had apparently volunteered to store 1/4th of the worlds butter supply under your skin, and then ask you about what it is like being so fat! That would have been extremely rude. And FYI – I just got another thank you card in the mail today.
Now, no matter how much I do enjoy my chosen vocation, there are certainly days that I wish that I had stayed at home in bed. Lately it’s been pretty mild. But I do have some good stories to tell. Most of you have heard my best one, but as this is for Linda, the rest of you can get a repeat.
The following is not really for the faint of hart:
Working for a short time in San Francisco was so great for good/gross stories. For example… There was this one lady that I happened to get the short straw on. She was a heroine addict and had O.D.’d after sneaking into an empty room at one of the homeless hotels in the city. Now, just imagine the stench that a homeless hotel would have. Now, imagine how badly decomposed a body would be in order to overpower the rancor of hundreds of homeless packed into a single small building. The only reason that anyone found the body was because they started to smell her. They estimated the date of death to be about 14 days before they found her. Next, imagine this, heat will speed the rate of decomposition. Mid July in California. San Francisco can stay cool, but sometimes it does not. The latter was the case. Homeless hotels do not have air conditioning. Neither do they have fly traps. Now for some math. 14 days + dead body + flies = Fat Maggots!!! EVERYWHERE!!! But we’ll come back to that. Let’s talk briefly bout some science of a dead body. The vascular system of the average human body only holds enough blood to fill 1/3rd of its capacity. Since the heart keeps the blood moving it’s able to circulate and never settle. When the heart stops, the blood will settle to the lower third of the body due to gravity. When the blood settles it will seep all the way out to fill the capillaries in the skin to capacity. Then, because it’s not circulating, it will coagulate there and cause a permanent dark purple, black stain on the skin. The easiest way to understand this would be to think of a scab that forms under the skin on 1/3rd of the body. This is called a blood stain, or livor mortis. This is how they (cop shows) can tell if a body has been moved from the original scene.
So, if a lady were to O.D. and fall face forward on the floor. The blood would settle to her face (being on one of the lowest points) and stain it dark purple/black. Time makes the stain continually darker, unfixable and swollen beyond normal recognition. This was the case.
Now let’s get back to the maggots. Her arm looked like swiss cheese. There were so many holes in her from the maggots burrowing their way threw. It was one of the most disturbing and disgusting things that I have ever seen. Until 30 seconds later when we had to roll the body on its side so that we could put the water hose to her nostril and flush out her nose and mouth form the thousand and thousands of maggots that had taken up residence there. They were pouring out of her mouth and nose and every other orifice that you could imagine. And the stench was just enough to bring the strongest stomach inside out. As if matters were not bad enough….
Pause…
This body was kept under near frozen conditions due to the advanced state of decomposition. We removed the body from the cooler and allowed the body to thaw so that we could embalm her.
Unpause…
As the body and maggots began to warm up, the maggots began to reanimate. They had not died in the freezer. They were just hibernating in the layers of their own lard that they formed from the consumption of rotting flesh. As they reanimated, they began to evacuate the deceased (we where pumping it full of Embalming chemicals) and wiggle onto the work table and then onto the floor. You could not step anywhere without a nasty crunching/popping noise. It took all that I had that day to not just walk away and never return. I do however feel fairly confident that the worst is behind me. So far so good. There was nothing about this poor lady that was not absolutely revolting. But that brings me back to the cool part of my job. I get to do my best to try and work some sort of incomprehensible magic and make a disaster into something that will be pleasing enough to let the family say goodbye. Sometimes that can be done and sometimes it can’t, but when I get hugs and thank yous and even tears of gratitude for the work that I do, suddenly it’s all not as bad as I thought it was. I really do love my job. And I think I’m darn good at it.
Now, Linda. Where is my invite?

Splishy Splashy

Day Trippin at the Beach

This looks cool

I found this really cool you tube video so I thought that I'd post it.

Edible Dogs

So I have a good friend, many of you know her, that is absolutely obsessed with hot dogs. I find this kind of funny because I’ve known her for a few years now and I never really knew just how deep she was into her obsession. I thought that I knew her a little better than this. My bad. Learn something new everyday. Here is another thing that I learned, apparently I have a bit of a hot dog obsession my self. Maybe I’ll call it more of a fascination for a good hot dog than an obsession. Either way, there can be no denying the occasional urge for a good dog. When it strikes, there is no way to avoid it. I’ve tried. The craving will haunt me until I eventually succumb. My dog of choice will always be this-un. I find comfort in the thought that Kosher means Kosher.
Every once and a while, I will find myself in a pickle of a craving and unable to get to my trusted dog. For example sometimes I go to the fridge and find something sub par like those Oscar Meyer Cheese filled franks.

(Katie’s favorite) Barf!!! For some reason, they just sick me out. But she likes them so whatever. Now, the point that I’m making is that when I need a hot dog, I’ll even bring myself so low as to eat one of those mystery meat, mystery cheese? things that they call a hot dog. My head is lowered in shame. Please forgive me. Before I stop rambling, I want to make clear that there is one place and one place only that it will forever be acceptable to eat a nasty hot dog and have it taste like the best thing to ever have crossed your lips. You all know this well, it’s the dog that you pick up at a ball park with a bunch of good friends. It’s the place where you may no longer feel ashamed to indulge in a sick little pleasure and feel no embarrassment. I’ve decided that this reason, and this reason alone is why baseball is so popular. No one in their right mind would go to a game and subject themselves to such a long and slow torture unless the food somehow made it worth it. Isn’t that really what being American is all about, finding a legit reason for unhealthy food? Sounds good to me.
The End

Marinzilla

I'm a little sorry to all my friends that log on to the site in the hopes of finding out how Katie and I are doing only to be inundated with info, pictures and video clips of how Marin is doing. This post will be no different. The truth of the matter is, Katie and I no longer have much of a life outside of Marin. And we love it. So again, I'm a little sorry, but only for you. Nothing in my life is more exciting to me than she is. So when you want to know how Katie and I are, your answer will be in Marin.
Marin had her 9 month check up today. Coincidentally she is 9 months exactly today. The doctor told us that Marin is the weight of the average 14 month old coming in just barely shy of 22 Lbs. In height she is the same as the average 16 month old. She is 31 in long. I can't give any percentages because she does not even show up on the charts for a 9 month old. So it's probably safe to assume that she is in the 100th Percentile? Simply put, she is just huge. As soon as she learns how to walk, I'm afraid that she'll already be able to reach the stove. That's bad news. But she is as healthy as an ox and no where near the size of one... yet. And simply because I think that she is the cutest Marinzilla to ever roam the planet, I'm including a second picture on this one post. Is that a forked tongue?

This is what we learned this week