Michael Martin Murphy or John Michael Montgomery?

I don't know if this is a real memory, or something I made up today, but it made me laugh so much that I had to share it with y'all.

Back when John Michael Montgomery was singing about the Grundy County Auction, Robyn (my sister) had to have his album. She asked for it for Christmas, and my dad (or Santa, I can't remember) tried his best to deliver.

When Christmas morning came around, Robyn's heart was broken when she opened up a CD-shaped package only to find Michael Martin Murphy's (not John Michael Montgomery's) face staring back at her.

And wouldn't you be heartbroken, too? I mean, compare their pictures.

John Michael Montgomery looks like someone Robyn's teenage heart could have crushed all over.





Michael Martin Murphy looks like Chuck Norris with a cowboy hat on.





See what I mean?

Ragnar Relay Las Vegas 2009

On the last leg, I told my teammates that I didn't come to Vegas to drive the losing team to the finish line. Even though I was being sarcastic, they were in no way the losing team.

Besides coming to the Ragnar Relay's Las Vegas Series to be the driver of a non-losing team, I came to spend the weekend with friends and family in a seven passenger car as we worked as a team to relay across a 171 mile course that started at the Clark County Fairgrounds and ended at the Red Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.

We spent a lot of time together and covered a lot of ground. Here are a few pictures to help you get a photo-recap of the weekend.













































The team ran all day and all night and then all day again. By the end we were tired and a little loopy (especially Joe before his last leg).

After seeing the race first hand, I might be tempted to do more than drive the next time Robyn asks me to participate.

Eins, Zwei, Zuffa

When you're a Mormon attending Utah's version of Oktoberfest, the only activities you're going to be able to participate in are those loosely linked with, but not at the center of, the original Bavarian celebration. That is, you're not going to be able to drink beer, so you're going to have to settle for Americanized polka dancing, $10 Johnsonville bratwursts (the least Bavarian of all the brats), and the alpine slide.

On Labor Day, Anne and I decided to give it a shot and see how well Utah could do Oktoberfest. We went with hopes of enjoying our German heritage, doing German things, and especially finding some German lederhosen for me und a German dirndl for Anne.





Our hopes were shattered after searching the Oktoberfest market, where all we could find were Mexican bracelets, knockoff sunglasses, and blankets emblazoned with wolves, bears, and other North American (or non-German) animals.

In dire need of a distraction from the very disappointing market, we headed up the hill to wait two hours to take the 30 second ride down the alpine slide. It was fun, but still not German enough.

So, in a last ditch effort to do something German, we ordered and ate the $10 brats (each with a side of $5 sauerkraut), and topped off our meal with some German chocolate cake (the least German of all the cakes--except in name).








While we ate, the polka band made us feel a little bit closer to our German roots. I mean, they did play some polka music...before they ended their set with an Irish jig.