I just can't win

When I was a young wart-hog, I remember a Chuck E. Cheese commercial in which a kid is having a bad day, and dejectedly tells his mom, "I just can't win." So of course she takes him to Chuck E. Cheese and all is well.

Well I was in my company's gym the other day, and they were having a raffle. All you had to do is put your name on the card and drop it in the jar and you could win a Steptoe & Johnson towel, or hat, or something. Sweet.

So the submissions ended at 4 pm, and at 3:45pm I put my card in the jar. And I was the only card in the jar! I was a shoe-in! I was so excited, I called M. to say how we were going to win the grand S&J prize.

Four o'clock came and went, and then 5 o'clock and 6 o'clock. No one called me to congratulate me. I was in a contest of one (possibly two, if there was a late entry), and I lost. How pathetic is that!

The Children are Fighting

Yesterday we had a bit of a fight in our house. Phyllis is still upset.

You see, we asked Roomba to vacuum every day, usually in the morning while we teach seminary. He does a great job, by the way.

Unfortunately, this morning Phyllis was relaxing in her pot with her vines hanging out all over. Well, one of those vines was in Roomba's way.

You guessed it, he broke it right off. She was furious, but being a potted plant, there was nothing she could do but sulk.

Although Roomba is usually very well behaved (he doesn't fall down the stairs, he doesn't chew up power cords, he doesn't leave dirt on the floor unless he has a full diaper - I mean, filter) he has had problems in the past.

For example, we have an 18" tall penguin that M. is going to finish painting soon, and has been going-to-finish-painting-soon since November... but I digress. We have an 18" penguin that was hanging out near the door in the office one day when we sent Roomba in to do his thing. When we came back an hour later, the penguin was in the corner, facing the corner like a kid on time-out. But being an inanimate object, he couldn't do anything about it. It was very sad.

I've been searching online for a Roomba whisperer, like the dog-whisperer, to help Roomba get along with our plants and penguins, but I haven't found anything yet.

P.S. I cannot wait until they invent a Roomba lawnmower. Cha-ching!

Big Babies

Despite the title, this isn't about politics.

We went to the doc today, and Des was hiding his face with his hand. "No pictures please!"

But that wasn't so alarming as his size. The boy is (estimated to be) over 6 pounds, and Mari's not due until March 10. Don't they say the baby does most of his growing in the last 2 months?

I'm not sure, because I stopped reading baby books months ago. I will be the most uninformed father I know. I'm just going to follow my instincts!

But I digress... The doc was shocked, because Mari was only a 6 pound baby at birth. Her brothers were 6 and 7 pounds, respectively, and her mom was a small baby. Apparently baby size is only passed through the mother. But I told doc that Ellsworth genes were very dominating. (Dominant is the usual term, but in this case I think dominating was appropriate).

So Mari is scared at the size of this boy, and the docs may induce a little early. I'm just happy all our food is nourishing and strengthening Des's body, just like we prayed for.

Big, healthy babies: painful coming out, but wonderful to have and hold.

When a Prophet Dies

I was threading the last loop on my tie early this morning, when Mari came into our bedroom a little teary-eyed.

"President Hinckley died," she said.

I was a little shocked, but not very sad. Although I loved and admired President Hinckley, I didn't know him personally, so I didn't feel a personal loss. And I felt like, at 97, that's as good a time to die as any. He had lived a long, full life; he served the Church well; and I learned things from him that made me a better person.

Mari, it seemed, was more emotionally invested in the Prophet. I love that about her.

In seminary, we talked about his death with the kids. We noted that, in the Old Testament when a prophet or judge died, often the people fell back into apostacy. But not us. Our church rolls on.

We talked about succession - how the next President of the Church will be Elder Monson (and not because he's the First Counselor in the First Presidency). Perhaps it doesn't have to be this way, i.e. it's not written in scripture that the longest-serving Apostle will be the next President, but that's how it is and how it has been since the Church began. (I think-was Brigham Young the longest-serving Apostle?) Well, if not Brigham, than that's the way it's been done since Brigham Young.

We then had the kids write a little journal entry about what they remember about President Hinckley. I figure, I can do the same thing here.

I enjoyed President Hinckley's straight-forward way of speaking. He didn't use much fluff in his talks, but he always spoke from his heart. He's not my favorite speaker (Elder Holland is), but I did enjoy listening to him. But that's judging my favorite speaker by speech style. I can't really say which Church leader has had the most impact on how I live. I just don't know the answer.

President Hinckley introduced the policy of building many mini-temples throughout the world. I remember watching conference on a TV in Puerto Rico when he made the announcement. I was so excited, because I remember Dad had told of an experience, I believe in a temple-worker meeting, in which President Kimball had said he envisioned the day when smaller temples would be built next to stake centers, so we could do our family history work and then go next door and do the ordinances for our families.

He also instituted the Perpetual Education Fund (how's that going, anyway? I loved hearing the stories early on).

Also, he was a little irreverent. He challenged Elder Haight to a duel in conference, and "knighted" Elder Eyring after he was sustained as a member of the First Presidency. Scandalous.

I will miss President Hinckley - he's been in the First Presidency of my church for as long as I've been paying attention. He's taught me much, and he'll be in my memories forever.

But I don't think I'll cry. We weren't tight like that.

When is a compliment an insult?

Have you ever received a compliment that made you feel like dirt?

Yesterday, a judge told our legal team, "This case was very well litigated. You can be proud of the job you've done, and your client was well represented."

He then denied our client's asylum claim, which, if she is deported (we're appealing, of course), may very well be a death sentence. A brutal, agonizing death sentence.

Like strawberry cheesecake, the words were sweet when they entered by body and tasted like... well, you know... when digested.

I never want to be a judge. I don't think I'd smile, except maybe a nervous smile from time to time.

I was unconsolable yesterday when I got home. I highly recommend the institution of marriage, for the support it provides, among its many benifits. As Mari's head rested on my chest, her breathing soft and even, I was still punching away on my Blackberry, drafting notes to myself of arguments I might raise on appeal.

Appeals are tough, because the court does not look at the whole record again, rather it just looks to see if there is evidence to support the lower court's ruling.

If you want the truth, don't look to the courts. Seriously. They are not designed to arrive at the truth. It's like two men have a disagreement. They decide, "Let's fight, and whomever wins is right." They fight, one wins, he's right. Courts are set up similarly. You have two sides. One side presents a story, and the other side attacks the story. The opponent is not interested in the truth, because that would involve discussion, corroboration, gathering as much evidence as possible. Instead, each side tries to limit evidence that can be presented in court by their opponent, and include as much evidence as they can for their side.

What's the deal with my name?

I'm going to commit blog taboo by putting my whole name out there: Adams Ellsworth! Seriously, what is it with my name that makes people add an "s" on the end of "Adam"? Everyone does it. Just yesterday, the librarian at my lawfirm spelled my name "Adams Bellsworth." The "B" I understand, because the "m" could in some occasions produce sufficient stoppage to generate a "b" sound. Try it. But the "s"? It comes from nowhere.

I mean, has anyone ever met someone with a first name of "Adams"? Madison, maybe. Jefferson, Clinton, perhaps even Roosevelt. But Adams? Not I.

And yet for some reason people feel a compulsion to add an "s" on the end of my first name. It has happened all my life. As far as I know, my siblings don't suffer from the same name-disease. I wonder if my name has a subconcious power to cross neural pathways.

I like that thought. My name has special powers. They aren't very powerful yet, but even so, you can't resist them, can you?

And what might happen if those powers grow...? Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

or is it Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha?

Christmas, Sissel, and MoTab

We arrived at D&J's on Christmas Eve. We stopped at a corner antique store on the way in and bought a few children's books for Junior. Pete's Dragon, The Secret of Nymh, and Peter Cottontail were among the titles we finally decided on, although there were many other good ones. I put back Puss in Boots - I think I only picked it up because I like Puss in Boots in the Shrek movies. I don't even know the original story.

Dinner at the Melting Pot was delicious, although I am sure it was far more frustrating for me than for Dan, Julee, and Mari. My batter kept falling off, my ravioli stuck to the bottom of the pot, the pot was crowded with all these stick-things, and all the main courses were oily, probably due to the fact that we were cooking them in oil.

But the food was still delicious, and the cheese and chocolate dips were heavenly.

Christmas Day arrived pleasantly. Mari was already up and Dan was hammering away at something downstairs (rocking chairs on the front porch). We took some pictures and opened our presents. We ate a delicious breakfast of homemade biscuits, gravy, and other stuff, and after presents, Dan and I watched the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas performances from the last few years.

Renee Fleming's voice was beautiful. Audra McDonald's was rich and deep with feeling. But the one that blew us away, that I wanted to listen to over and over, and that gave me chills was Sissel. When she opened with In the Bleak Midwinter, our eyes were riveted on the TV screen. Her voice was so clear and so solid - it was breathtaking. Her next Norwegian numbers were equally beautiful, if not more so. We sat mesmerized, spellbound, each time she sang. Her voice floated and danced on top of the rich and deep currents of music sung by the choir. I was amazed at the size of the choir and its precision, and I was blown away by the way Sissel's clear and perfect voice complemented the richness of the choir.

Honestly, I do not think I have ever heard such a beautiful voice, or such a beautiful combination. It's no wonder the CD is #1 on Billboard's classical chart and has been nominated for 2 Grammy's. FYI, although you may not know who she is, you have definitely heard Sissel before, since she sang some of the haunting numbers in Titanic.

Well, after watching some MoTab, we ate a delicious lunch.

We watched A Christmas Story and relaxed for a while. Then we watched a few SNL Christmas skits, and although they were funny, I think they detracted from the beautiful Christmas I had enjoyed to that point.

We talked a lot, and towards the end of the day, we pulled out the Thanksgiving puzzle. We made some good progress, and hated to leave, but work calls...

What a great Christmas! Next year, it won't be quite so quiet since both of our families will be slightly larger.