Four years ago today I tied the knot with a lovely filly from Seattle…
Happy anniversary, Bella!
Happy anniversary, Bella!
My wife Lindsey blogged the other day about things that get her excited (read: make her happy). Liking the idea, here are my top 52 natural highs, heavy on sappiness and in no particular order. Continue reading…
The wife and I were talking over the weekend about our corporal markings and how we got them. Breathtaking conversation, I know. But we both thought it was interesting how a scar is really just a physical story from your past.
With that, here are the stories behind my engraved blemishes in the order I received them. Some dates are educated guesses of course. Not that you asked, but I thought I would document them none-the-less: Continue reading…
Lindsey and I found out what we’re having today–it’s another baby girl! I am slowly getting outnumbered by three female lovelies, but I was very happy to hear the news. Our first girl has been a good sleeper, is a lot of fun, and the economist in me is happy to know we can get a lot more mileage out of the hand me downs pre-owned clothes.
After talking it over with Lindsey, I think we’re pretty much set on the ever-popular Madison as a name calling her Maddie of course. So I formally welcome you to the Snows, Maddie! See you in about five months. Hopefully you’ll be a little more tranquil than your older sister Sadie, but we’ll take what we can get.
What makes something the worst job ever? In my eyes, it’s a lack of excitement. The worst jobs in the world are boring. Yeah, Discovery’s Dirtiest Jobs Ever are pretty bad, but I’d like to think I’d pick one of those any day over boring work. Excitement = Happiness.
Before I describe the worst job I’ve ever had, let’s run down my list of employers and/or clients in chronological order: Chick-fil-A (first job), IBM (PC specialist), Lucent Technologies, Youth Soccer Coach (paid, baby!), Cingular Wireless (retail clerk), BYU Performing Arts (male secretary), BYU web developer, Griffio (my company, still a male secretary), Combat Films (freelancer), Weblogs Inc (blogger), Provo Labs (business incubator), Next-Generation (writer), GamePro (writer), and GigaOM (reporter/blogger). A large number of the latter gigs have been managed concurrently and are/were part-time.
My wife went out this evening so I had the little one all to myself. With Lindsey leaving at six, it was up to me to make dinner and entertain Sadie until her bedtime.
After dishing up Spaghettio’s to the youngling and downing a delicious quesadilla for myself, I decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood with Sadie in the stroller. I was just about to grab my Blackberry (as I normally do), but said, “forget about it.” I’m glad I did.
Sadie and I had a blast. The weather was beautiful, the sun was shining, and I didn’t have a care in the world. That’s rare for me. We stopped for a cherry Icee (more juicy than a Slurpee, mind you), and Sadie nearly drank the entire 32 ounces. We sauntered the neighborhood for a good hour as I kept thinking, “I haven’t had this much relaxation in a long time.” It felt so good.
So I ask you, Smooth Harolders; what do you do to relax? Do you have to remind yourself to do so?
I’m 27. Married. And I have one little girl with one more (girl/boy) on the way due this October. I’ve been self-employed for over three years, I work from home, and I believe in God. Here are 10 things that scare/worry me at this point in my life: Continue reading…
Long-time Smooth Harold readers know I like baseball. I like to watch it, and I like to play it. After becoming eligible this year (I turn 28 in July), I will be playing in an adult baseball league starting next week. Not softball, baseball. The problem is I haven’t formally played the game since being a freshman in high school some 13 years ago.
Rumor has it a handful of ex-college players in the league can throw upwards of 80 miles per hour. Yikes! To further compound the problem, a lot of pitchers put quite a bit of junk on the ball, so that’ll be a challenge as well. I hit some fast-pitch balls on Saturday at the local batting cages and made a lot of contact, but keep in mind these balls don’t move position, nor do they break. Oh, and my arm is way out of shape.
I’m really in over my head…
First, let me preface this post with a disclaimer: I come from a long line of individuals that simply must be right all of the time. No inaccuracy, however insignificant, can go uncontested in my immediate family. Part of that stems from the high number of intelligent siblings I grew up with, not to mention two shrewd parents. And while I can’t speak for others, I know my motivation to cross-examine every single statement was — and still is to an extent — rooted in my desire to display how much I know rather than enlighten others with meaningful truths. Truths with value. How noble of me, right?
That said, my feelings have slowly changed over time, especially since courting the beauty and brains that is Lindsey Snow of Seattle, Washington. In the last 4 and a half years of knowing her, Lindsey has taught by example in discerning what warrants correction, and what doesn’t. I can’t imagine how many times she must have let slide something I inaccurately said. I doubt she even acknowledged the act, rather opting to just let it go. At the same time — and while typically a quiet individual — Lindsey will readily stand up for something that matters; a material truth. “What matters,” you ask? I’ll leave that up to you, but I do know the order someone was cut from a reality show or what color shirt someone was wearing (when not profiling a criminal, of course) doesn’t matter.
I’ve been presented with three opportunities in the last week alone to correct another individual on some minute detail. In realizing what was important, I decided against correction without telling myself, “Don’t worry, Blake. You REALLY know what s/he doesn’t.” I just moved on in the moment, and it felt really good. Like, “Wow, that was really nice. I should do this more often,” good.
So, yeah. It’s a refreshing experience not to have to be right all of the time. There I go boasting again…
Lindsey and I went the doctor today to solidify evidence that she is, in fact, pregnant with our second child. Sadie, our first, is currently a year and a half old. I’m really excited with the prospects of another little mini-me running around the house, filling it with more life than it already has. And I’m really proud of Lindsey, not only as a husband, but as a father too. She really does a great job with Sadie and is very patient while teaching her. She’s hoping for a girl as am I. But a boy would be just as exciting (i.e. the pressure of having both flavors would be off). We’ll find out what we’re having in a couple of months.
A hat tip to any seasoned fathers and mothers out there with lots o’ kids and/or teenagers in the house. I feel for you. Sorta.
I like music. I like it even better in iTunes. So with that, here are the artists, albums, and songs heavy in my rotation for early 2007 ordered by ones I’m listening to the most. Nota bene: these aren’t necessarily what have been released in early 2007, just what I’m currently listening to:
Of course, my playlists are also peppered with 80’s, classical, and a bunch of other stuff, but this is what has my attention as of late. I’m also anticipating Air’s new album due March 5 (new single here). Mmmm. Air. What are you currently listening to?
A while back, I received an email invite from both my wife and a colleague of mine. The request was for me to share five things you may not know about me on this here blog. I believe the meme phenomenon was called “blog tagging” or something. Well, here’s number one (others to follow periodically… maybe).
First off, I don’t drink alcohol. So after turning sour on coke, juice, and other soda varieties all the time, I decided to ask for a virgin drink while dinning at a restaurant a few years back. The only kiddie cocktail they offered was a Shirley Temple, so I obliged and have been in love with them ever since. So much that just last weekend I bought a bunch Sprite and grenadine and having been sucking down the cherry-lime goodness to no end during the busy first months of the year. It’s gotten so bad, that I drink the things at all hours of the day. Just listen to what my wife said as I prepared yet another Shirley Temple over brunch this morning: “Blake, it’s 10 in the morning!!??” True story.
So yeah, I love Shirley Temples. If they weren’t virgin, I’d be a drunk.