30 Years of Lance Quiz

Okay, despite the fact that I forgot to do the whole singing-blow-out-the-candles-take-the-picture thing for Lance's birthday last night, I did do one thing right: the 30 Years of Lance Quiz! I gave everyone the quiz to see how well they knew the birthday boy. The winner won fame, fortune, bragging rights, and a basketball hoop that goes over a garbage can. (Too cool right?) The loser? Shame, teasing, and losing the right to call Lance 'friend'. (Okay, maybe not that. But Tad was teased.)

And the big winner was... Heidi! Funny, right? I guess that means one of two things: she's a really good guesser, or I talk about Lance way too much around her. (She would admit to neither.)

How well do you know Lance? Are you is best or worst friend? The first person to get all (or the most) right by 8pm EST Friday night will win a fantabulous prize, comparable to what Heidi got to take home.

30 Years of Lance Quiz

1. Where was Lance born?
a. Toronto, Canada, eh?
b. Vista, California
c. Provo, Utah
d. Otterbein, Indiana

2. In what was Lance born?
a. The hospital
b. The side of the road
c. In a barn
d. At home

3. What is Lance’s middle name?
a. William
b. Bernard
c. Dance
d. Vigo

4. Lance is the:
a. Oldest child
b. Middle child
c. Youngest child
d. Only child

5. Where did Lance serve his
mission?
a. Miami, Florida
b. Hamburg, Germany
c. Los Angeles, California
d. London, England

6. What level did Lance get to in
Scouting?
a. Star
b. Wolf
c. Bear
d. Eagle

7. How old was Lance when he met
his baby momma… a.k.a. Maren?
a. 17
b. 22
c. 5
d. 14

8. What is Lance’s favorite food?
a. Italian
b. Thai
c. Mexican
d. Junk

9. What is Lance’s all-time favorite
TV show?
a. Lost
b. The Simpsons
c. Transformers
d. Desperate Housewives

10. What has Lance never done?
a. Biked through Death Valley
b. Had a gay roommate
c. Built a giant pyramid out of
school chairs
d. Been to the Grand Canyon

The Big Three-Oh

Happy 30th birthday, Lance!

He went to bed a young man and woke up an entire decade older.

I have to say, 30 looks good on him.

Lance is not like me. (Duh.) He doesn't feel weird about spending all his birthday money two months before his birthday. (I would feel picked on if I didn't get any gifts, even if I had already spent my money!) He didn't seem to mind me saying "Hey old man" instead of "Good morning". (I'd have a problem with him calling me Old Man.) And he's not really into the great big parties that I love. (He's very patient with me for that!)

So Lance chose a few families to invite for dinner this evening to help us celebrate. We had yummy hamburgers, hotdogs, and brats, chips, strawberries, and root beer floats for dessert. (No way was I making another cake!)

The predicted thunderstorms never developed, the mosquitoes weren't too bad, and the heat eventually subsided. The men sat outside and talked computer and video games (big surprise), the kids ran around like crazy lunatics having a grand time (as expected), and the women sat inside and talked about kids and childbirth (big surprise again!). All in all, a good evening!

The only bad part is that I never really got around to taking many pictures. In fact, I didn't even get a picture of Lance. Oops. Sorry hon. But that's okay, because I'm pretty sure that last year we only got a picture of your arm for your birthday. Is no picture really much worse? Um... now that I think about it, we never got to sing Happy Birthday or even blow out candles. But the kids got to play with sparklers - that's kinda close, right? Man, I'm a bad wife. Okay Lance, next year you will definitely get a picture of yourself next to a cake with lit candles while we all sing Happy Birthday.

There. I feel better.

Here are a few of the pictures I actually did manage to take:

Yi-Chou and Tad Culver

Don and Heidi Fry

Felicia and Aaron Trembath

The crazy lunatics

Happy birthday, Lance! I love you!

Chunky Syrup

Yesterday morning I picked 25 pounds of strawberries.

In a thunderstorm.

Because that's the kind of lady I am.

Actually, it's because I was already there, without kids, and was not going to drive 30 minutes home just because of a little soaking rain. I'm not made of sugar, nor am I the wicked witch of the West. (Unless you talk to my kids - they may think differently.)

Anywho, I was picking away when the storm came in. The lightening and thunder weren't too close, so I wasn't too worried. Besides, all the people around me were older locals who had lived in Indiana all their lives (yes, I listened in on their conversation), and they didn't seem too worried. I rationalized that if the 'natives' thought it was safe, then I'd be okay.

It wasn't until later that I realized that most of the people you hear about getting struck by lightening are locals who are doing something really stupid or random - like picking strawberries in an open field in an electrical storm.

Anywho, this is what 25 pounds of strawberries looks like:

I spent the rest of the morning washing and cutting the tops off. Oh, and protecting them from greedy little boy hands. (I swear Josh swiped at least a pound of berries himself! That boy lurrrves his strawberries.)

Then I made some freezer jam. I love freezer jam. My mom always made regular jam, but my grandma Roper made freezer jam, and it always felt like such a treat to have it at her house. So that's why I make it now. That, and I have no desire to deal with canning.

There's nothing prettier than the color of fresh strawberry freezer jam, especially against a blue wall. I wish my pictures were better, but none of them turned out so well.

Apparently, neither did my jam. Not one of them set right. Dang it!! They set so nicely last year, but this year they're more like chunky strawberry syrup rather than jam. But not to worry, because chunky strawberry syrup still tastes excellent on pancakes, waffles, ice cream, and toast. And we will be enjoying PB&CSS sandwiches all year. (Peanut Butter and Chunky Strawberry Syrup)

On a random note, the best chunky syrup (which, by the way, would make an excellent name for a rock band) I have ever had was in the middle of nowhere at Lance's Grandpa Red's house. (Okay, he lived in 29 Palms CA; but if you've ever been there, you'll agree that it really is in the middle of nowhere.) Anyway, Grandpa Red had a secret, artery-clogging, coma-inducing, palate-loving recipe for chunky syrup: put about 2 cups of syrup, a cup of chunky peanut butter, and a whole cube of butter into a syrup holder. Microwave until melted and well mixed. Pour liberally and enjoy the few minutes you have left on earth as your arteries slowly clog.

Hello Cake, My Old Foe (Or, Cake of the Month - Chocolate Peanut Butter Torte)

Lance's 30th birthday is on Monday. In honor of this momentous occasion I offered to make a cake for him to take to his LAN party tonight. (Am I a good wife or what?)

What in the world was I thinking?

Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time knows of my sordid affair with cake. It's a one-way romance: I love cake, but it doesn't always love me. *sob* I can make it taste good, but visually... I am in need of some major practice. Hence the cake of the month idea. (And it's not like I want to make professionally decorated cakes. I just want my cakes to look... normal. I know, it's a lot to ask.)

Well.

Things have been going pretty well the past few months in the cake department, which is why I think I got a little cocky and told Lance he could choose any cake recipe I had. He decided on Peanut Butter Torte from TOH. (The recipe, by the way, is not online. Weird.) Sure! A three layer cake with chocolate ganache filling? No problem!

Problem.

Well, it started fine. The batter looked and tasted great. I greased my pans and started baking. When they were done and cool enough, I tried to get the cakes out.

@#%&^#$!!!

I mean, Darn.

No, no more lies. What I really meant was @#%&^#$!!!

I mean, seriously, why do my cakes always stick to my pans? I know I'm greasing them right! I know I'm making the batter right and waiting for them to cool a little right and whatever else. What is wrong with me?

After much soul searching on the matter of my bad cake karma, I proceeded with the filling. A simple chocolate/peanut butter ganache. Yum. Easy peasy.

Not so much.

Even after freezing it for a couple of hours, this is what I still got.

Well, for the love of holy Pete! What in the world did I do to deserve this? I mean, really, I have made a proper ganache before. And I followed the directions perfectly. Well, whatever. I've come this far, I might as well go all the way.

So I make the frosting. And you know what? I did that right! Hooray! Then again, it's kinda hard to screw up a cream cheese/whipping cream frosting. (Although I'm sure I could if I really tried. Or not, for that matter.)

So I proceeded to frost the cake and try to hide all of its... imperfections. I did, mostly. It was just a little lopsided. On more than one side... but still, it looks okay, right?

And then, I put on the crushed Butterfinger bars and honey roasted peanuts.

Viola! Other than the lopsidedness, can you even tell what a mess it was before? Besides, it's going to be eaten by a bunch of guys playing computer in the dark. How perfect does it need to be?

Heaven only knows what will happen once Lance cuts it. (I suspect it will fall over in a pile of sad, chocolaty goo in that hot room full of computers and geeky men.) But at least it tastes good and (kinda) looks good!

Moral of the story: Lance doesn't get to choose the cake recipe anymore. Because I'm pretty sure that was the problem.

Bampa

My dad came for a really quick visit on Monday evening and Tuesday afternoon. (He had business in Chicago and Indie.)

The boys were so excited. Joshie walked around the entire time saying "Bampa! Bampa! Bampa!" and wanting to sit in his lap. He really is Grandpa's little guy.

Well, we Madsens like to treat our guests right. A few highlights:

- Grandpa got to sleep on the guest bed in Joshie's room, which put Joshie in the port-a-crib in Spencer's room. Two hours past bedtime, the boys finally fell asleep.

- At 3am the next morning Josh woke up angrily screaming, waking everyone up and keeping me up for an hour before I could get him to go to sleep in the office. (Life's hard for a 20 month old. And his mom.)

- A trip to the ever popular Monster Mini Golf. Way fun. We kept score for the first two holes and then threw away the card. Why? Well, if you have to ask why then you have obviously never played mini golf with a four year old and 20 month old. Spencer liked to get the highest score possible and Josh liked to put his ball three inches from the hole and then take two or three swings to get it in. (That is, when he wasn't picking up everyone else's balls and running away with them.) It was fabulous!

- Spencer taught Grandpa how to play Wii. And by taught I mean beating him at tennis and knocking him out in boxing. (I also spanked him at baseball!) But Grandpa redeemed himself a little when playing golf with Lance that evening.

- We showed Grandpa the *Dang* good food at the South Street Smokehouse. Verdict? Yummers again! I even tried the Fried Pickles in your honor, Kerry. Verdict? Yum!! However, I could really only eat one or two; they were pretty big. I think I'll stick with the onion rings.

-Spencer dissolving into hysteric when his first t-ball practice was canceled due to rain. (It really was quite heartbreaking to see him; he was soooo distraught over it!) We played at the play ground for a while instead.

- LOUD thunderstorms all night Tuesday. All night. Loud. (And of course Josh slept through the entire thing. Can't sleep in the same room with Spencer, can sleep through thunderclaps that literally rattle the windows.)

We love you, Bampa! Come back and visit anytime!

P.S. Anyone else want to visit? We'll show you just as good a time, I promise!

Dumped.

My Internet is miraculously working today. Yippee! So I'm madly blogging while I have the chance. Because that's how I roll, people.

On Saturday I got to do something every woman secretly wants to do: drive a dump truck. (C'mon ladies- you know you wanna!)

I needed some mulch for my front flowerbeds and figured out that even after paying the $17 fee for the customer service truck, it was still cheaper to buy in bulk from Wredes Rocks than just in bags.

Plus, I got to drive a dump truck.

How cool is that?

(Answer: very.)

The boys were muy muy impressed. Spencer even got to help press the button to raise and lower the back of the truck. (What is that called? The dumper? That doesn't sound right...) (Oh wait - the bed. That's it!)

So I went to pick up the mulch. They gave me literally two minutes of training on the truck and then sent me on my merry way.

It was big and heavy and drove about as well as you would expect a dump truck.

And it beep-beep-beeped as I backed it into the driveway.

Awesome.

It was so exciting that we even have some video of it. Because that's how the Kadsen with an M family rolls.

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

And how does the mulch in the flowerbed look?


Great!

Dumptruck great!

Stupid

Our stupid Internet is acting stupid. (Working intermittently at best.) The stupid cable guys can't come to fix it until Friday morning.

I have to hurry with this post, because who knows how long the connection will last. I feel like I only have minutes to live and am leaving one last letter to my loved ones!

A week without constant Internet?! What am I to do? How will I survive? How will I plan Sharing Time for Sunday?

I have a feeling my house will be very clean.

But no worries - I'll be back soon. With wonderful posts about dump trucks, monsters, grandpas, and more.

But one more thing: stupid stupid stupid. (Not you - this situation!)