Trekking Through Penalties and Loses

We opened the new year with an eventful weekend stuffed with the variety of life. From nerdy contests, to gorgeous vistas, to embarrassing punishments: there was something for everyone and a whole lot for us.

I think Ryan must have harnessed the mental prowess of the Vulcans with his Spock costume. I’m sure that’s the only reason he beat me this time.
I made Klingon Rokeg blood pie for our space quest expecting it to look cool but taste gross. Surprisingly, it was pretty good.

Ever since our Star Trek Scene It? competition almost a year ago, which I won, my brother-in-law Ryan has been longing to prove that the outcome of that game had more to do with a quantum singularity than his competence. His long-awaited chance for redemption came during the New Year’s Day weekend in the form of another round of the Ryan vs. Rachel Trek challenge. It was a close match but in the end, when I was only one question away from victory, Ryan initiated his transwarp drive and my overworked nacelles couldn’t keep up. I guess, unlike Scotty, I just couldn’t hold her together any longer.

Wesley looked more like Elvis than Spock with Ryan’s wig on but even space needs a king.
It was a perfectly perfect day for a little snowshoeing adventure.
The clumps of snow in the trees made the sky almost as pale as the ground. I felt like I was swimming through a whitewashed world.

The following day the trekking continued. We hiked up American Fork Canyon on the Mud Springs Trail with Jason’s parents using snowshoes. This excursion was Sue and Keith’s idea and an excellent idea it was indeed. While the temperatures up in the mountains weren’t exceptionally warm, our constant exertion kept us plenty toasty. I think those canyon climbs may have been longer and steeper than what my in-laws were envisioning but they still made it through two miles of powdery calm, with minimal whining, before darkness halted our goings.

The winter haze in the valleys didn’t have the power to invade our outing.
We decided to shoe on the wild side by detouring through a dell of water-infested snow.
The fingers of the river broke this portion of our path into lovely flowing pieces.

Our New Year’s Eve, as usual, was all about the parties. We visited the Rowleys first and played some rounds of Killer Oompi, which is Uno plus penalties, with that crew. I lost once and my punishment was proposing marriage to our friend Penny. Asking a girl for her hand turned out to be harder than I thought; I got a little tongue-tied. Why do females have to be so difficult? Next we were off to the Hughes family shindig. After some sundae action we convinced this group of friends to play Killer Oompi as well. We’ve been trying to persuade them that Killer Oompi actually is a fun pursuit for years but the idea of humiliating penalties has always scared them off so Jason was proud and shocked that his manipulation worked this time. The timing of my pleased hubby’s convincing could have been a bit better for me though. I think playing Killer Oompi that much in one night left me more and more unfocused as the evening progressed. I made a number of dumb mistakes I never would have normally and lost three rounds. Consequently, I had to carry Fran around like a pony and act like a worm-ridden dog. My back was not pleased with its pony duties but at least I didn’t lose the snow angel round. Cam, who ironically was the one pushing for this particular penalty, had to make a snow angel in the fresh powder as punishment for his defeat. Angel duties wouldn’t have been too bad if it hadn’t been nearly 2 AM and less than 10 degrees outside…and if Jim hadn’t been there to take advantage of his friend’s defenseless position on the ground with some ill-placed snowballs. What an angel!

I wish I could blame the way I look in this picture on a beverage but I’m pretty sure apple juice isn’t responsible.
Fran didn’t spare my back; she made the most of her hard-earned ride.

It was a fun weekend. Sure I had to suffer the shame of battling with a blunt bat’leth and the indignity of crawling on all fours but at least I find ridiculousness, even when it’s my own, amusing. And who wouldn’t appreciate naked aspens and frosty pines embellished by the shimmering heaps of fluffy powder clinging to their branches? Laughter and beauty are an excellent way to end one year and begin yet another. Hello 2013! May you be ever as much of an adventure as your predecessors.

We Wish You a Hairy Christmas!

Mustaches were hung by lips with care in hopes that St. Nicholas would dig that hair.

Every year for one brief evening we welcome ugly whiskers and hideous jumpers into our lives with open arms. The Christmas spirit is, after all, about accepting the outcasts among us and what’s more untouchable than lip hair so bushy it might transform into a beautiful butterfly at any moment? Therefore, let it never be said that the Sabins are scrooges for not only do we repeatedly embrace the disgusting but we mercilessly force our friends to do the same.

The Ashleys dressed in ugly Christmas shirts instead of sweaters.
The ladies looked nearly lovely dressed in their attire glitches.
Yes, ridiculous comes in homemade.

Last week we held our annual Christmas party and the theme was once again unsightly holiday attire and revolting mustaches. Over twenty chums joined us, primed with their tacky sweaters and even nastier facial hair, as we celebrated the season of stuffing by enthusiastically consuming tacos from Rubios and cupcakes from The Sweet Tooth Fairy. Although our full tummies protested, we boogied away the hours after our meal with some beats from Dance Central and then proceeded to the highlight of the evening: the white elephant gift exchange.

Bart and Brandi wore the grossest sweaters they could find but they weren’t gross enough.
Kenny didn’t want anything to come between him and his clean shave so he opted for fabricated follicles.
Brett and Lauren forgot to bring the ugly to the party.

In our version of the white elephant game the gifts remain wrapped until the end of the frenzy. The uncertainty of what’s under the paper doesn’t stop people from picking favorites though and that makes it all the more entertaining when the present everyone’s been fighting over turns out to be a panpipe CD or a box of chocolates so old an archaeologist would consider it an artifact. The unbridled gift stealing this time took over an hour to finish in what was quite possibly our wildest exchange yet.

Jason's
Jason’s mustache was hideous indeed. It made him look like a disturbing combination of French king and country hick.
The men took foul to a whole new level with their knitted fineries, hefty hair, and flighty sentiments.
Jeremy had to shave his mustache for a business meeting a few days before our party so we mourned his recently deceased facial fur with signage.

It was a diverting evening filled with all the jovial overconsumption and cheesy superfluity you’d expect from the season. We hope those who partied with us enjoyed themselves and didn’t have too much of a lingering bellyache from the night’s constant bombardment of tacos and graphic staches.

Happy Mustachemas to all and to all a hairy delight!

PJ & B

The sages have shared timeless guidance through the ages on how to prolong opportunities for loungewear wearing. Their great wisdom has taught us that if you can’t bring your nightgown to the shindig then bring the shindig to your nightgown. It was my turn to host Bunco this month and I decided to take this enlightened advice to heart by turning Bunco into a pajama party. Oh yeah, time to live it up like it’s 8 AM!

Pajamas and slippers are always in vogue at my house.

Breakfast and pajamas are kind of a packaged deal so I opted to make a morning meal our sustenance for the evening. Several years ago my mother-in-law Sue taught me how to make her recipe for British pancakes, AKA crepes, and I chose to share its deliciousness with my Bunco girls. Sue would be proud except I didn’t cover these goodies with her customary lemon juice and sugar. Oh the crepe corruption! Instead I concocted a variety of homemade toppings: caramel sauce, fat-free chocolate syrup, and fat-added chocolate syrup. I paired these condiments with ripe berries and freshly whipped cream for an even greater fat impact. Don’t tax your calculator by trying to count those calories; it might explode.

The creping went slowly and sloppily but pretty tastily too.

The preparations for this culinary endeavor went pretty smoothly. There were only two hiccups. Making individual crepes for 8 girls took a lot longer than planned and my hot buttery skillet coughed out more smoke throughout the process than a holey chimney. Luckily girls know how to talk so while I cooked away my guests were content chatting amid the lingering billows that made my kitchen resemble a seedy bar. I did complete the food fabrication though before we all passed out from smoke inhalation and the results were satisfying. My tummy would never accept a meal this rich in the AM but for a fake breakfast dinner it was pretty yummy. On a side note, I did practice my crepe making over the weekend and I think I’ve figured out a few tricks to make the process go considerably faster. So the next time I cook for a long line of famished ladies I believe I can fill their plates at a significantly quicker rate.

And the pajamas? So nice. Can we just play Bunco in our PJs every month? Seriously, it’s going to be hard to go back to rolling in regular clothes.

Thanks ladies for joining me for a cozy and stuffing evening. I appreciate your patience with the creeping creping and I hope your pajamas enjoyed their big night out.