Myrrh, Frankincense, Gold...and Air Guitar

I'm not sure if the Wise Men who visited the newborn Christ -- bearing their gifts of myrrh, frankinscense, and gold -- would have also praised the young Savior with a few rockin' licks of righteous air guitar. Regardless, that is how my kids opted to celebrate the birth of Jesus this year.

Their excitement -- a hyper-kinetic supernova catalyzed by the orgy of present-shredding that is Christmas morning -- manifested itself in SAGS (Spontaneous Air Guitar Syndrome), as seen in the photos above.

Happy Birthday, Jesus. Hope you like the mimed riff from "Welcome to the Jungle."

NEXT STOP: Tokyo Tales

The Love Song of Chiristopher and Heidl: Or, Famous Cases of Mistaken Identity

One way for you to get to know our family better is discover who we are NOT.

I, for example, am CHRISTOPHER, not CHIRISTOPHER (the first "i" inverted with the first "r"). Yet, as you can see in the scanned driver's license above, the state in which I live knew me as "Chiristopher" for a decade.

And, according to our most recent phonebook, I am no longer married to HEIDI. My new bride's name (and this is just between you and me, dear readers, so Heidi doesn't get all bent out of shape about my covert plunge into polygamy) is HEIDL.

I interrogated Heidi--er, Heidl--to see what other cases of mistaken identity she might be aware of in her family. Here is what I unearthed:

Her mom, RENEE GASSMAN has received mail addressed to RANGE GASSMAN and RENEE ASSMAN.

Her father, BYRON GASSMAN, has received mail to BYRIB GASSMAN.

Her sister, DEON GASSMAN, was listed in her high school yearbook as DEAN GRASSMAN. After marrying, the same sister, now DEON LEAVY, received mail for DEON SLEAZY.

And finally, HEIDI/HEIDL phoned in a take-out order to Cafe Rio a few weeks ago to be picked up by HEIDI YATES. When she arrived, they had no order for HEIDI YATES, but they did have an order for HAYLEE WHALES.

What about you? I invite you to post in the comments any humorous mistaken identities you may have endured in your life. Cheers.

NEXT STOP: Whalin' on the Air Guitar

Tess of the Innuits

I have just gluttoned on Cafe Rio, a crazy-tasty little Mexican joint here in Utah. I chomped down fire-roasted chicken tacos with black beans and rice. Now I am full and my belly looks and feels a little pregnant. As I sit and ponder my spare tire, a gut fed by daily snacking upon chocolate, chips, and comfort foods, I have decided to distract myself from this physical manifestation of my poor eating habits by posting a blog entry.

We recently bought Tess, our youngest, her first winter coat. As you can see, it makes her look like an igloo-dwelling Innuit.

Unlike the Innuit, Tess cannot yet brave frigid temperatures for days at a time to go whale or seal hunting. She can, however, conquer our child-proofed cabinet doors to rummage in the kitchen garbage can or steal fistfuls of sandwich baggies and aluminum foil.

NEXT STOP: Famous Cases of Mistaken Identity