Fall, by the numbers

Annie and I have officially decided to mark our domesticity this Halloween by handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. That is, until Annie falls asleep at 8:00. Then I'm going to turn off the light and eat all the Recees cups before she wakes up. Shhh... don't tell her.

We've been taking advantage of the beautiful Autumn Provo has to offer by doing lots of seasonal activities. This Fall, by the numbers:

5 - the number of afternoon/evening walks Annie and I have taken to admire the foliage in our quaint, south-of-Center Street neighborhood.

2 - the number of pumpkins carved last Friday with Spencer and Courtney.

1 - the number of pumkins carved last Friday with Spencer and Courtney that didn't end up looking like it was done by a five-year-old.

2 - trips to the Provo Farmers' Market.

700 - the number of calories in one cup of salted Pumpkin seeds.

Approx. 10 million - the number of pumpkin seeds I ate before Annie discovered the above figure.

Sweet 16-year-olds

It's Tuesday night, and we're both still recovering from our super social weekend:

Thursday night: M. Ward concert with a bunch of 16-year-olds. Friday night: Pioneer Day party with a bunch of 16-year-olds. Saturday night: Yaks concert with a bunch of 16-year-olds. Sunday: Creed's mission farewell, where there were not very many 16-year-olds except for the one who spoke for TWENTY MINUTES about the stupid stake youth trek where everything was "so hard" because he had a "rash" and after walking all day, he "had to" go to a dance. (I'm sure Brigham Young was rolling over in his grave.)

Anyway, the point is, we love 16-year-olds.

Well, not all 16-year-olds. In fact, as a general rule, I think we find 16-year-olds pretty annoying. They are always text-messaging and making sophomoric jokes and listening to the Jonas Brothers.

No, the 16-year-olds we hang out with are an elite bunch, and by most accounts, they are cooler than we are. They are of the "post-indie" generation-- the kids who have not only rejected the corporate fads and the spoon-fed pop, but who have rejected the notion of rejecting those things simply for the sake of being unique or different. They are witty, funny, well-read and, well, cool.

If it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself that Annie and I are not complete social outcasts, well... I probably am.

But if you've ever been a young newlywed, you know how hard it can be to find worthwhile social activities to fill your free time. A lot of your single friends don't want to hang out with you because they can only stand so much marriedness before they burst into lonely tears. And you don't always want to hang out with other married couples because, well, you can only stand so much marriedness before you want to throw up.

We have been lucky, of course, to find a small group of friends with whom we all seem to share mutual enjoyment in each others' company. And when they aren't available, I know I can always call up my little brother Tagg and see what his friends are doing.

"Love" means nothing in tennis

A few months ago, Annie and I started playing tennis as a way to pass the long days and weeks of waiting to get married.

Annie played tennis in high school. My prior tennis experience, on the other hand, was limited to Camp Potoma during the summers of fifth and sixth grade, where the counselors gave up on improving our backhands after the first week or so and ended up just letting us throw the balls at each other.

Anyway, with my natural athletic prowess and cat-like reflexes, I caught on pretty quickly. And since Annie was rusty, we ended up at about the same skill level after a couple weeks.

That all ended yesterday.

I could tell within minutes that Annie had gotten her swing back when, during our warm-up rally, I lobbed her one and she smashed it so hard that I wanted to get into the fetal position right there on the court and beg her not to kill me.

The rest of the games pretty much went like that.

So the point of this story is that I'm now looking for a new tennis partner. Any takers?

Some blogosphere trash talk

So, after the creation of the Schingard blog and the resurrection of "Meg's District" (PS: TNT's next legal drama called; they want their name back) we decided it was time to get into the blogging game.

We realize the competition is stiff. Not only will we be blogging against the above listed opponents, but we also have Team Schmidt to take care of (a very schmidty story, indeed...).

We're not worried though. With McKay's writing ability, and Annie's HTML skills, we're confident McAnnie will quickly overtake its rivals and become the most frequently checked blog among the Schmidt family's bookmarks.

You want trash talk?

We got trash talk.

It's on.