Ode to Faja

For the first time I've come to the blogosphere speechless, because I don't even know where to begin. How do we "kids" define and thank our fathers for everything they do. The only way that comes to mind is to speak their language.

Hey dad,

Last night at the rodeo a clown pulled a bra out of a car calling it a fan belt. He said "this thing here reminds me of that ole Barack Obama -- loosing more and more support everyday."

And what is more "dad" than The Beatles.

I can honestly say that without our dads' shameless Beatles brainwashing, Michael and I would never survive the occasional road trip. Our music taste is as different as black and white (no pun intended).

With that, to all our dads that double as our friend, it's easy to see "We get by with a little help from our friends."

thanks for all the years of help, laughter and love

Strawberry Days

Ro-de-o: [Rho-dee-oh]: n. a public exhibition of cowboy skills, as bronco riding and calf roping.

If you've never been to the Strawberry Days Pleasant Grove Rodeo, it's time to change your ways. The Probsts invited us to join and opened our eyes to a grand 'ole time.

The Probsts:

Our dearest friends from Spanish Fork.

Sad I didn't take a picture of this, but they sell a bowl of sliced strawberries soaking in sweet cream for $1.50. So good.