Monday, December 9, 2013

Festival of Trees: Results Edition

Thanks to our kind friends and family members, we were able to donate this beautiful sports themed tree at the Festival of Trees this year. 





We had so much fun putting this all together. Seriously, it was a blast. We were able to meet some of the most selfless people in the process, and I will honestly never forget some of the stories I heard while we were there decorating. 



Right when we got to the Expo Center, my grandma and I were waiting for my mom and Grandpa to park the cars so we could begin decorating. There was a woman across from us who literally had over 100 China dolls arranged around her tree. She also had a beautiful wedding dress displayed in the background. 

Since we were just getting started, she came over and asked me what our theme was and why we were donating. I told her what we were doing and she threw her arms around me. I then asked her what the story behind her tree was.

She proceeded to tell me that the dolls she had there were ones she had collected since she was a little girl. She told me that her daughter loved those dolls. She also explained that the wedding dress next to the tree was the one she wore on her wedding day.

"You are donating your wedding dress?" I asked.

"Well, I don't have much use for the dolls or the dress anymore. My daughter passed away and she was the reason I kept it all. She was supposed to wear my dress when she got married, but that day will never come," she replied.

Devastating. I can't imagine losing someone (especially a child) that I cared for so much and then turning around and doing service for others.  

There was another woman who had lost her son just two months prior there decorating a tree. Just down the aisle from us was a mom donating in honor of her daughter who had tragically been hit by a car at a birthday party. Several more trees were decorated in honor of fathers and mothers who had passed away, leaving children and spouses behind.

It was overwhelming seeing people who had experienced such great loss give back to those in need. I know there are a lot of bad things happening in the world, but for one day I got to see an outpouring of love and kindness...and it was beautiful.

Faith in humanity=restored.

Here is our how our tree decorating process went down: 

We started out with a 9 foot beast of a tree. We had to reinforce the inside of it with rebar and PVC pipe. Good thing Mom is tall, because my 5'5'' stature wasn't going to cut it.


Mom is an excellent tree fluffer.


My Aunt Kim has mad ribbon decorating skills. She made our tree look like we had hired a professional.


Here is my hero, Grandpa Gale. He had only been home from his mission for two weeks and was out building a basketball standard for me. Love that man.


Paige sat in her stroller and didn't make a fuss the whole time. Best. Baby. Ever.


Porter ran the errands for us/did the grunt work no one wanted to do.


It all started to come together when we realized we needed more stuff...shopping break!


The decorating dream team in front of the finished product.


Shout out to my mom for spending her entire birthday helping us with this!



Included in our display: a 9 foot decorated tree complete with sports themed ornaments, a basketball standard, score keeper (with accurate blue/red score displayed), a couple of basketballs, a BYU lawn chair/blanket/football set, two footballs, baseballs, softballs, a baseball glove, a catcher's mitt, baseball bats, batting helmet and gloves, cones, office putting green, a golf club, rugby ball, volleyball, artificial turf (don't know why anyone would want it, but still), a soccer goal, soccer ball, baseball tee and bases, and of course, a Cougar pillow pet.

Oh, and the best part is...OUR TREE SOLD. Again, we are sincerely grateful for everyone's help. Another big shout out to all of those who donated:

Darryl and Kim Larson Family
Courtney Bassett
Scott and Mickelle
Trudy and Lon
Bobbie Morrill
Lance and Karin
Lance Ellett
Bryce Forbush
Mike Walker Family
Boxall Family
James, Priscilla, and Marshall Gale
Coleman Green
Michael Millward
Bonnie Shill
Doug and Bev Drury
Brent and Pat Griffin
John and Sally Wible
Grant Haldaway
Mark and Christie Oldroyd
Tim and Jan Blackburn
Randy Klabacka
Barbara Nielsen
Brian and Sheyda Golladay
Rose Family
Danielle Sozio Carrino
Landon Taylor
Ally Davis
Craig and Jackie Dearden
Melinda Chappell Sharma
Alex Lysenko
Kosorock Family
Dalby Family
Ellett and McKeon Families
and all of the anonymous donors who also contributed.

It turns out some pretty important people (Jenna Morrison) liked our tree, so we landed a spot on Channel 2 news. Click here to see it, we start at about the 8:10 minute mark. 



Thank you all and have a Merry Christmas!

With love,

The Ellett's

P.S. - there will be a funny post again next week. We had an interesting experience when Porter tried to get a flu shot. Stay tuned...


Tuesday, November 19, 2013

A Dreadful Question

I made the biggest mistake today. I asked THE question I vowed I would never ask. No, not the, “when is the baby due?” question, I’m not that dumb. Let me explain.

I remember when I was asked for the first time. Porter and I had only been married like five seconds and we ran into someone I hadn't seen in a while.

Friend: “Hey, how was the big day?”

Me: “The best, thanks for asking.”

(But seriously, it was the best. The dance party was off the hook.)


Friend (right in front of Porter): “Soooo, how is married life?”

What kind of stupid question is that? Porter is standing right there, what am I going to say?

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is the worst thing ever. I wish every second of my life that I was single again.”

I mean really. DUMBEST QUESTION EVER. Don’t ask me it because I will no doubt give you an exaggerated answer like I have stated above (jokingly, of course).

However, I made the mistake of asking it today. It makes me sad to realize I have succumb to asking stupid questions (because there is such a thing). I know there are people whom I have never met that read this blog (queue crazy lady who writes me incredible hate mail), so let me just give you a glimpse into what my life is like.

I’m seriously so awkward when it’s silent. I panic and I hate when conversations fall into a rut, because I try to save them and it doesn’t go well.

Anyways, I stopped by Wal-Mart during my lunch break to check out their Duck Dynasty swag. (Side note: Seriously, if you aren’t watching Duck Dynasty, you are missing out on the best show on television. Even better than New Girl. Boom, I said it.)

I was just looking around because I have a younger brother who is obsessed with all things redneck. I feel bad for him because literally no one in my family is particularly passionate about hunting, fishing, etc. and poor Kirk is in love with it. His dream is to grow up, buy the state of Montana (what?), and live in the middle of nowhere so people won’t bother him. Strangest life goal, I know.


Anyways, I was walking around when I bumped into an old friend/acquaintance (I use the “/” because I totally forgot her name and I feel like you can’t call someone your “friend” if you don’t at least know their name.)

She was there with her husband, which I knew was her husband, because of their matching wedding rings…so tender. She started asking me a bunch of questions, then I asked her a couple questions, and then it got to the point where I should have said, “Well, it was good to see you again,” and then walked away.

But, of course, I’m not that graceful.

Me (standing next to life size Uncle Si cut out): “So do you like Duck Dynasty?”

“Friend”: “No way, I’m not really into trashy TV.”

Timeout: Now that I think about it, I would have never followed up with this question if she hadn’t just insulted my taste in television. I mean she didn’t know I secretly want to be a Robertson sometimes, but still.

Me (panicking because I have no idea how to follow such an insulting statement: “Oh…uhhh….well, how is married life.”

“Friend”: “Good.”

Awkward silence.

Me: “Well, that’s nice.”

Awkward silence.

I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only logical thing someone like me could do. I picked up the Uncle Si throw pillow, I looked at the girl, and said, “I actually really love this show. And you should too.”


Then I just walked away. I hate myself right now.

Until next time,

Carlie

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Good Times at the Gym

Porter and I go to 24 hour fitness every morning. We see the same guy when we check in and the same girl at the front desk as we are leaving. The gentleman that sits at the front desk when we first get there always says, "Good morning, enjoy your workout!" On the other hand, the girl (who is always wearing a half smirk on her face) just stares at us uncomfortably.

Today, her stare was especially annoying. Maybe I was just grumpy from having to open all of the obnoxious snap chats Porter had sent me while I was working out with the caption, "Happy Hump Day!" (Side note: I'm probably the worst snap chatter ever. I rarely respond, and while I do find most of them to be rather pleasing, the image of Porter taking selfies at the gym weirds me out haha).



So anyways, we are leaving the gym and the girl at the front desk stares, and stares, and then stares some more. It's getting to the point where I'm about to bust a cap on her face. So, to relieve me of this anger and keep me from a future assault charge, I'm doing what brings me great pleasure and calms down...I'm going to write to her instead of slap her upside the head.

Here is my poem to the strange girl at the gym:

She is at the front entrance and greets the members walking in,
each and every morning she wears that twisted half grin.

It comes time for us to finish up and walk out the door,
I dread walking past that one girl because it has happened before.

Yes, that strange girl at the front desk will just sit there and stare,
because the site of a one-arm man with a hot wife is rather rare.

We try to stare back at her hoping one day she will quit,
but she continues staring on from her chair she does sit.

I want to ask her if her mother ever taught her about respect,
because if she doesn't stop soon, she is going to get decked.

She makes me so angry but Porter isn't even phased,
his positive attitude about this kind of stuff leaves me amazed.

So for now, I will try to ignore that infuriating girl who sits at the front,
but if she doesn't stop soon, I'm gonna get up in her face and be rather blunt.

So, there's my rant for the day. Until next time,

Carlie

(Also, there are only ten days left to contribute to our tree. That's right people, only 10. We are so close to our goal! If you are a good person who wants to help the children of Primary Children's Hopsital, and have the means, please donate here.)

Friday, October 25, 2013

All These Kids Are Weird

So this happened. Yes, Soul Surfer and a shark.



And I'm pretty sure we killed it. Bethany Hamilton would agree...and also appreciate our sense of humor.



I'm glad Porter doesn't get offended when I come home with an epiphany like, "oh my gosh we have to be a shark and that surfer girl for Halloween...it would be hilarious!"

Now the hard part is coming up with something just as epic next year. Challenge accepted.

Anyways, we went to the ward shindig last night. We took our adorable nieces and nephew with us.



*Insert bragging moment here*

So we were babysitting because Porter's sister, Sarah, and her husband, Weston, were at a reunion dinner. Sarah ran cross country at BYU and was a national champ...no big deal. Anyways, they are honoring the cross country team at the BYU v. Boise State football game tonight, so we had the honor of tending the cute little kiddos while they were at a special dinner. It was nice to bring kids with us so we weren't like some weird couple just kickin' it at the trunk or treat with the small children all around.

*Bragging complete*

Naturally, the children in our ward who don't know Porter were fascinated by the costume. They kept patting him down to try and find where he hid his arm. My niece Lyda was watching as these kids came up and examined her uncle. I think it was kind of strange for her to see people so mesmerized by Porter's arm because she doesn't know any different.

After a curious little boy finished his examination of Porter (who was like the 10th kid to come and look at his missing limb), Lyda turned to me and said with a straight face and a little sass, "All the kids here are weird." Hahahahaha, I died. Oh how I love her so.

So I then had to ask, "Why do you think they are weird Lyda Bea?"

"Because they are all touching Porter," Lyda replied.

"Oh, they are just curious because they haven't seen anything like that before," I told her.

Lyda sat quiet for a second and then said, "Well, they have never seen me before and they aren't touching me!"

Touche little one, touche. 

Happy Halloween to all of our lovely readers! 

Oh, and if you haven't checked out our donation website yet for Festival of Trees, please do. We are a little over half way to our goal! THANK YOU to all of those who have already donated. We are truly grateful.


Until next time,

Carlie


Sunday, October 6, 2013

For the Love of the Game

If you know me at all, you know that I am obsessed with Christmas. Like the kind of obsessed where my roommates made me wait until after Thanksgiving to listen to Christmas music out loud in our apartment (little did they know, I was bumping the *NSYNC Christmas album in October with my headphones in.) It’s my favorite. So naturally, I drag Porter to every single Christmas-themed event I can find.

While going to see Christmas lights is awesome, nothing tops an event they put on here in Utah called “Festival of Trees.” It’s magic. People decorate trees and wreaths and then they are auctioned off. All proceeds go to those being treated at Primary Children’s Hospital. My grandma introduced me to it my freshman year at BYU, and I have gone every year since.



For some reason, last year was different. The festival was a little heavy for me. It seemed like there were a lot more trees decorated in memory of loved ones. While it was a beautiful tribute and a wonderful thing for a family to do, I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Here I was enjoying all of the Christmas trees with Porter, who is nothing short of a miracle.

After Porter’s accident, he was life-flighted to Primary Children’s Hospital. While the nerve damage was irreversible and he lost the ability to use his arm, he has still been able to live a full life. Here I was, walking around the expo center, doing nothing to help those give me the one person I can’t picture my life without.

I called my mom (if you haven’t picked up on this pattern yet, I call my mom a lot) and explained that I felt like we should be doing something different. Her response, “Carlie, what is the true meaning of Christmas?” When I didn't say anything she said, “I know what it is, do you want me to tell you?”

She then told me a story, which I had actually heard before, but for some reason had failed to remember. When I was six, I was hospitalized for pneumonia. I know, pneumonia doesn't sound like a bad deal, but when you have chicken pox, severe asthma, and an immune system that isn't fighting it off, you die. And that’s exactly what happened to me. I flat lined, twice. But for some reason, my time on earth wasn't over and I came back.


One night, as I was recovering in bed, my mom was sitting in my room and she said she began to wonder why all of this was happening to me and to our family. All of the sudden, doctors started to rush in with a patient that was in bad shape. My mom stepped outside and saw a woman sobbing hysterically.

My mom walked over to another member of the family, who my mom found out was the aunt in the family, and learned what had happened. There had been an accident. This family’s Christmas tree had caught on fire, which led to their home catching on fire. Everyone got out, except for one son. In an effort to save his brother, the older son (who had already made it out safely) ran back into the home to rescue his younger brother. As a result, the older brother was severely burned and his lungs were filled with smoke. The aunt went on to explain that the older boy was an angel of a child. He had a full-ride scholarship to UCLA and was going to be the first person in their entire family to graduate high school. The younger boy, on the other hand, was a troublemaker. He was always giving his parents fits. 

My mom made her way over to the boys’ mother, who only spoke broken English. My mom for some reason wrapped her arms around this other mother as she cried and screamed for her child. Through her tears, this mother just continued to repeat, “oh my boy…my boy.”

You can probably guess how this story ends. The older son tragically died and the younger brother survived.

My mom then said to me, “It was that night as I stood there with that woman I learned the true meaning of Christmas. We are like the younger son. We are troublemakers and we all have a perfect older brother, Christ, who came in to rescue us and then died for us. He was the perfect example of love and service. Forgetting ourselves and serving others should be what Christmas is all about because that is what our Savior would do.”

So, that’s what Porter and I are trying to do this year. We have signed up to decorate a tree at the Festival of Trees. It is an event that is put on every year where people decorate trees that are then auctioned off and all of the proceeds go to the children being treated at Primary Children’s Hospital.

The theme for our tree is, “For The Love Of The Game,” which is probably not a surprise to those of you who know us. Right now, we just need to raise money to put towards our tree. Whatever is not used for the tree will go directly to Primary Children's Hospital.



We want to raise $3,000 to go towards our tree and all of the gifts we put on display with our tree. Aside from purchasing all of the decorations, we want to buy sporting equipment (bats, gloves, balls, shoes, etc.) that will be included in our display. It seems like a lot, but if we could get a little help from lots of people, we could make it AWESOME. To donate, click here.

We are also selling these rad bracelets. They say DOn’t quIT on them (don’t quit, do it…get it??). If you don’t know what the saying is referring to, read this story and find out. We are selling them for a whopping two bucks. That’s right folks, $2. That being said, we won’t turn down additional donations:)






If you want to make a donation, please visit this website. If you want to purchase a bracelet, please email us at pcellett@gmail.com and we will work on your order. Porter will also be selling them in Wayne County, Friday, October 11th. This is something we are really excited about and we would greatly appreciate your help with.

Until next time,

Carlie

Sunday, September 29, 2013

DOn't quIT

One year for Christmas, Porter received a gift from his grandma. It was a picture frame with the saying, "DOn't quIT" on it. It wasn't exactly what Porter was wishing for, but it would later have an impact on him that he would never forget.



Porter's dad was his basketball coach starting at a young age. He and his teammates would always talk about how they were going to win the state championship when they got older. As the years went on, Porter's dad continued to coach them well into high school.



Then during Porter's junior year of high school, a couple of his teammates felt like they should be playing more than they were. Others started to tell Porter that the only reason he got playing time was because he was the coach's son. Porter's dad eventually lost his job as the head coach of their basketball team. Porter was devastated and decided that he was going to make everyone happy and just quit playing ball.

After making the decision, Porter went home and laid on his bed in his bedroom. He started crying because he loved the game so much. Then he saw it. His grandma's Christmas gift was sitting there on the shelf. He looked at it and read the words again, "DOn't quIT."


Instead of giving in to what others wanted, Porter decided he wasn't going to quit the game he loved. His senior year, the Wayne Badgers were region champs and went to New York to be on the show, "Good Morning America." Turns out, not quitting was a pretty good move.




Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Hate Mail

I got my first piece of hate mail. I was so beyond excited. I really do love getting email and messages from people telling me they enjoy the blog, but there is this overwhelming excitement that I feel when someone writes me and hates my writing.

I almost get as excited as I did as a small child getting new church shoes. By the way, my facial expression below was what my face looked like when I read the complaint too.



Ok, so let's get to it! Here it is in all of its glory, complete with my commentary in parentheses:

"Hi Carly, (Actually, my name is spelled C-a-r-l-i-e, common mistake, it's cool)

I'm writing because I am upset by what you are writing on your blog. While some may consider it funny, I find it ofensive. (Well, your spelling is offending me, so now we are even) There are probably others out there that fell the same way I do. (Did you mean feel?)

Whenever I read won (one) of your posts, I cringe. I can't believe that a sweet young man like Porter would be ok with what you are writing. You are making fun of him for something he can't control. You are not a good writer or a good wife. Please take down your blog.

Sincerely,

***** ********

P.S. I'm sure there are lots of other people out there that would agree with me." (Yeah, thanks, you mentioned that already)

I loved it. I loved every word of it. This person is right. I'm a terrible wife. In fact, just last night I made Porter peel the potatoes that I was putting in the crock pot for dinner because I was making something else. Try doing it with a right-handed potato peeler too, it's not easy.



I also make him open doors for me even if he has stuff in his hand. I'm the worst, so there is no need to tell me I'm a bad wife. You can tell by my devious smile the day we got married that I so badly wanted to torture Porter for the rest of his life.




What my critic failed to realize is that my blog doesn't make fun of Porter. I joke about how other people treat Porter. However, based on this person's writing skills, I'm going to assume this individual can't read either. 

Until next time (because there will be a next time),

Carlie

*Disclaimer: I really hope I'm not offending people, honestly. When we started this, Porter and I mostly just wanted to make people laugh. Feel free to let us know by leaving a comment if you aren't cool with something (or if you like what we are doing). In return (if it's negative), I will publish your comment and dissect it for our readers:)



Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Discrimination y'all

Porter and I were just having a conversation the other day about discrimination. Not like a serious conversation about discrimination, but a very REAL conversation about the said topic. Let's be honest, the world hates on people like me and Porter every day, and they don't even realize it.

You see, we are survivors. We have struggles most people wouldn't even begin to understand. It's a daily struggle. Why are we discriminated you ask? Well, because we are left handed. I was born that way, I can't help it. And although Porter wasn't born that way, he doesn't have much of a choice now either.

You right handed people don't know what it's like to ruin a perfectly good white shirt because you didn't realize you had pencil marking all down the side of your hand from taking notes all day. You haven't experienced the frustration caused by something as simple as using scissors. There is nothing I hated more in elementary school than having to cut stuff out to make a meaningless craft. Lastly, and most important, the Wii automatically defaults to right handed people, so we have to change it before each game. Life is hard people.

We live in a right-handed world. Even something as simple as shaking hands is dominated by that blasted, less-dominant hand of ours. Now, I only bring up shaking hands because I have noticed that with Porter it is literally the most awkward encounter of all time. ALWAYS.

When you go to shake, you automatically stick out your right hand. That is, if you have one. So, when people first meet Porter and they extend their right hand, only to be met with Porter's left hand, magic happens. Literally.

I have been around Porter long enough to categorize people into groups based on how they shake his hand and this is what I have come up with:

The Polite/Humble Folk: This group of people, upon noticing Porter is missing an arm, will kindly switch over and use their left hand to shake his.

video

The Prideful and RIGHTeous: this group of people will continue to keep their right hand extended even after they realize Porter only has his left hand to spare. They are sticklers about it for some reason.

video

The Feminist: This is typically found in women. They do this side hand squeeze thing. It's ridiculous.

video

The Homie Handshake: This is for people who aren't friends with Porter, but pretend to be. When they realize that he only has the left hand, they frantically come up with a handshake like they have been bros all along.

video


The Hopeless Hugger: These are my fav. This group of people is full of kindred spirits. They typically panic during the handshake process, and instead of playing it cool, just hug him instead. Priceless.

video


If you have ever had the pleasure of shaking hands with this fine lad, feel free to classify yourself. If you haven't, well now you know how to handle the situation. You're welcome.

Until next time,

Carlie

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

24

Today is Porter's 24th birthday...I know, I know, he's super old. Like really old. He was alive back when they used VHS, dial-up internet, and floppy disks. I guess I was too, but 21 sounds A LOT younger than 24, so I can call him Grandpa Porter from now on.

To commemorate his 24 years of life, here is a list of 24 things I bet you didn't know you could do with one arm.

1. Drive a stick shift
2. Zip up a jacket
3. Butter toast
4. Swim...in a straight line


5. Shoot a shot gun accurately
6. Push ups
7. Change pipe
8. Bat over .400

9. Cut meat
10. Tie your shoes
11. Type fast on a computer
12. Make killer YouTube vids


13. Pick up more hay bails all at once than the two-armed wife
14. Play golf
15. Open a jar
16. Ride on the tube without falling off


17. Go across monkey bars
18. Drive a motorcycle
19. Tease a sassy sister-in-law



20. Throw sheep. I literally watched him pick one up and throw it back into the corral. And it wasn't a small one.
21. Reel in a fish
22. Play ball

  video


23. Inspire lots of people






24. ....oh, and he can even ride a bike.

Happy Birthday, PJ. I hope you like rockin' your all black J's today at work!

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Loa-isms

I have been a big time slacker lately. But for a good reason…like for this reason….


...and this reason (yes, all three of us girls contributed to the 35 we caught)....

 

...and definitely for this reason.


I love going home and kickin' it with these lovely people. However, I have found it more and more difficult to come back to Provo after each trip. I wonder if I could convince my parents to let me live in their new lake front home and mooch off of them forever. A girl can dream, right?



Anyways, this post is going to be a little different than those in the past. This isn't going to be about some awkward one arm encounter, rather my inability to "redneckonize" what Porter means when he says weird stuff.

This is what happens when a California girl marries a small town farm boy from southern Utah. We have trouble communicating sometimes. It's not a problem, but I knew it would happen on occasion ever since the time I went to Porter's home ward and a man had this whole long conversation with me where I literally had no idea what he was talking about. I just smiled and nodded. He kept using all of these unfamiliar sayings that I have now deemed Loa-isms (Loa is where Porter is from). I seriously love Loa with all my heart, but sometimes there is a little bit of a language barrier for a California girl like myself.

Like when someone says, "It's colder than a witch's titty caught in a snow drift!"

I have come to learn that this particular phrase means that is a bit chilly outside.

Or, when a young man is trying to compliment you and he says this, "Your eyes look like two sheep turds floating in a bucket of milk."

So. Darn. Romantic.

There are also the ones like, "I'm sweating like a frog crapping golf balls!"

I haven't been able to translate that one yet.

Then, when you ask someone an obvious question you get something like this, "Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?"

A simple "yes" would suffice, but a response like that is simply too comical to pass up.

And my personal favorite that my mother-in-law shared with me is, "If we get divorced, are we still cousins?"

Money. You can translate that one on your own. I think that is my favorite one yet.

Back to my point. Yesterday, I forgot to take the chicken out to thaw for dinner. I text Porter after I had gone to work and asked him if he would take it out for me in between work and classes. He said he would and I totally forgot about it. 

He started texting me later on that day (in my defense, it was like five hours later) about some medication that I am taking to get rid of an infection in my leg. I told him I didn't like the way the medicine was making me feel, to which he replied via text message with, "That is really strange, at least we know it is doing something. The chicken is out."

Boom, I thought I had ran into another Loa-ism. The chicken is out, what does that mean? I sat and pondered it for a second, even Googled it (FYI-don't ever Google that), but I could not figure out what it meant. Was the chicken supposed to be my infection and was on its way out of my leg? I was so lost. Darn California education didn't prepare me with the language translation skills I would need to succeed!

Finally I had to text him back and ask what "the chicken is out" meant. I was ashamed of my lack of redneck knowledge. I was even more humiliated when he text me back.

Porter's response: "It's not a Loa phrase...I took the chicken out to thaw. I was just letting you know."

Just when I thought I was getting a hang of these sayings, I had mistaken a perfect sentence for a Loa-ism. I promise to get better. I will be doubling my dosage of Duck Dynasty so that I can one day be fluent in redneck, because "froggin'" just isn't cutting it.



Until next time,

Carlie


Tuesday, June 25, 2013

#OneArmProbs

In honor of Facebook finally allowing hash tags, I figured I would share a couple of our favorites. Porter and I, for some reason, think it is hilarious to verbalize hash tags in awkward situations. When something funny happens to Porter, it is generally #onearmprobs and for me it is #onearmwifeprobs. Here are a couple of our favorite #'s.

Wedding Dance:

Instead of doing a traditional (or in my eyes boring) first dance at our wedding reception, Porter and I decided to spice it up a bit. It started out with Brad Paisley's song "Then," but was quickly remixed into something magical. When we were trying to figure out what songs to include in our remix, we tried to pick songs that had funny dances associated with them, for example: the chicken dance, crank that, etc. My sister was helping us with it, and she made a suggestion.



Ry: "How about the Macarena."
Me: "Oh yeah, great idea."
Porter: sitting quietly.
Me: "What about the Macarena, Port?"
Porter: "Yeah we can do that, I just will only be able to do half of the dance."
*Awkward silence as Rylee and I realize that the Macarana is a dance that straight up takes two arms.*
Ry: "Well then, Car can do the right arm and you do the left!"
Brilliant. But it still warrants #onearmprobs.



The Pit of DOOM:

If you haven't ever seen Porter in a tank top, then it may be difficult to visualize this. Porter has part of his shoulder, but then it is a clean cut from there. He still has an arm pit, just no arm to cover it. Unfortunately for me, I'm a little vertically challenged so my face is level with that uncovered arm pit.



At his swim meet this past weekend, Porter was either shirtless from having just got out of the pool, or sporting a tank top to cover up until his next race, which means that sweaty arm pit was constantly exposed. I was trying to show Porter something, when he stepped in close to me.

Then it happened.

That nasty pit came straight for my face at the exact moment I was trying to tell him something. Yes, pit sweat dripped right into my mouth. We decided the moment was worthy of this: #onearmwifeprobs.



On a little more serious note, Porter competed in a Paralympic swim meet this past weekend at the Olympic Training Center down in Colorado Springs. It was honestly one of the coolest things I have ever witnessed. There were people there who were blind. Several more (if not the majority) were in wheel chairs. There were even a couple of athletes that didn't have ANY limbs at all. I don't know about you, but I would never even get near a pool if I didn't have arms or legs to help me swim.

(The ribbon is red, but the medal is for taking first in his classification)

At one point, I was trying to film Porter's race from behind the starting blocks, so I was standing on the pool deck. It had been an awesome, but exhausting weekend. I was tired, and it was Porter's last race, so I figured I could suck it up for a little bit longer. I then saw a little girl there who could not use her arms talking to another girl in a wheelchair. They were congratulating one another for their performances in their race when the girl in the wheelchair said, "We are so lucky to get to swim here! How awesome is this?"

I'm not an emotional person, like at all, but I almost started to tear up. Here I was feeling a little "tired" from watching a swim meet and these two girls who had severe physical limitations were dawning smiles and expressing their appreciation for being able to compete.

You would think after being married to someone who has had to overcome physical obstacles that I would appreciate having a healthy body, but I realized this weekend that I could do better.

These athletes didn't make excuses, which is why I think even they deserve a hash tag in honor of their stellar attitudes: #justdoit


Until next time,

Carlie