On the route? Give me a shout.

That is if I can make it three days without my cold progressing or getting hurt any more hurt.

Planes, trains and … well, I guess that was it.

Last weekend we took advantage of having Hagen and Cheryl in town (Curt had to stay behind and work) to celebrate my dad's birthday a few days early. We kicked things off with our weekly trip to the Benton Airport for lunch then headed back to the new house for some surprise festivities.

But before we could get started a little swinging was in order.

Then things kicked up a notch when we moved over to the tire swing.

At some point this seemed like a good idea.

Then the kids surprised Grandpa with his present—a trip next year to Colorado to ride a train through the Rockies (which means we have 12 months to listen to him talk about it).

After that, there was some singing.

And a birthday kiss (luckily that came before she got to the cake).

Home Sweet Home

Our time on Jacqueline is drawing to an end and while we're excited to start the next chapter in our lives, it's also a sad time for us … especially me … because I'm an overly emotional, highly sensitive sap. (Seriously, I can get choked up leaving a hotel room.)

All emotions aside, our house has been a great house. We've put a lot of work into it over the years and it's rewarded us with a bone-dry basement, a rock-solid foundation and an invisible no-vacancy sign for any wayward rodent to see.

Carrie and I bought the house before we were ever even married and I honestly believe it brought us closer together and probably sped up the inevitable—which after 10 years was quite a feat. The first night we officially became homeowners, we (Carrie, Zoe and I) slept on the living room floor on a pile of blankets and played with Zoe's glow ball in the empty, pitch-black basement. The house wasn't perfect, but we knew we could make it our own. For months we lived with my parents while working on it every night after work, sometimes until two or three in the morning. We didn't really know what we were doing, but we figured it out by trial and error, with a major emphasis on the error. Most nights, it was just the two of us, a can of paint and Willie Nelson. Over time, the gold-flecked sinks and flowered vinyl flooring slowly disappeared and the home we had in our heads became a reality. It took years, but we eventually got to every room, some more than once, and the results made us really proud, not just because we liked the way it looked, but because we did it ourselves.

Over the past decade the house has hosted a slew of family members (including some who are no longer here), it's introduced us to a few people who we now think of as family and helped us welcome two new members to our own nuclear family—one with a tail and one without. It's been a house filled with music and laughter and tears. We've danced in its hallways, wrestled on its floors and run through its yard. It's been a part of us … it's been home.

Now it's time for someone else to create their own memories in it, I just hope they love it as much as we have—and that they keep my hedges trimmed nice and neat.

Here's a drawing my brother and sister-in-law had created when we first got married.

And here's a few shots of the inside. 

Not quite like giving birth, but …

Here's the latest TV spot I have been working on for WSU.

It's a …

Sorry for the excessive nose rubbing, apparently it's allergy season again and, by the way, Park really wasn't trying to drag the announcement out, the fact that it was a baby and not a cow or a lion was pretty big news too.

17 weeks and counting

After a quick run through the sprinkler last night, Park took a moment to stop long enough and give a big brotherly hug to his mom's growing belly and his future sister or brother. He still insists it's a girl. (We'll find out on Wednesday.) And we'll soon find out if his hugs for his sibling will continue when the little one arrives next year.

From the archive

When we were in San Diego a couple of months ago Carrie walked into Hagen's room to discover that the Junkyard Dog was taking on the Fabulous Moolah in the top card of Wrestlemania XXVIII. Luckily I grabbed my cell phone in just enough time to catch the end of what I was told was an epic match.