Conversations With Carson

Being the oldest of 7 kids, and having spent many years babysitting, I feel that I have a certain right to embarrass and torture my younger siblings. After all, at one point or another I have wiped poop off all their butts.

They owe me.

That's why I have no reservations about telling you the following about my younger brother Carson.

Carson & Savanna, my brother and sister

Carson recently received the call to serve an LDS mission to San Diego. I could not be prouder of him. But also, I'm a little worried. Carson is... naive. And I won't say how I know that he's naive because it would seriously embarrass him. For reals. And I love my brother so I would never do anything to embarrass him, ever.

...

...

Anyway.

I told him the other day that this would basically be him when he reaches the inner city of San Diego:





Minus the coffee thing. And instead of an elf costume obviously he'll be in a missionary name tag and suit. But other than that, I'd say this is a pretty accurate depiction of what we can expect from Carson as he discovers the big city.

After I showed him this video, he adamantly told me that this was NOT what he'd be like. He said that, in fact, he would have a lot in common with the people of San Diego because he liked cars and he is a good car mechanic. He said he'd have a few tricks to show the fellow car enthusiasts of San Diego. He has a passion for what my brothers call "straight-piping," where you modify your muffler to make your car sound louder, and therefore, 1,000 times more awesome, than a normal-sounding car engine.

 Then he said this:

"I'm gonna teach 'em how to cut off mufflers down there."

To which my Dad replied, "Oh, they already know how to cut off mufflers."

I can see the headline now:


Mormon Missionary Unknowingly Involved in Massive Chop Shop Operation


Carson, please think twice before helping any "investigators" with their "car part business."

Please. I don't want to have to nickname you "Chop Shop Carson."

Muffin Binge

First of all, I just have to get it off my chest that I went to dinner at my parents' house and I caught my dad gorging himself on muffins. Actually we were all just sitting there wolfing down our soup and muffins and all of a sudden I see this huge pile of muffin wrappers by his plate.

"Uh, Dad, did you eat all these by yourself?

"Uhhh... Yup."

"Holy cow, Dad! How many did you eat?"

"I had a few."

I counted the wrappers. He consumed an impressive amount of muffins. I had to document the moment:

 He was a little embarrassed. Camera shy.

 He had eight muffins. EIGHT.

^^ Eight empty muffin cups^^

Don't get me wrong, my mom makes amazing muffins, among her many talents. Tonight they were whole wheat and apple, fresh out of the oven, and they were delicious. So I really don't blame my dad for eating basically a whole pan of them by himself. It just surprises me because my dad is one of the most wiry people I know. He does not eat refined sugars, white flours, or basically anything processed. Hardly any pork or red meat (Unless it's deer or elk. No, for reals.). He also works out every day. He rides bikes and horses and runs and walks.

When I was younger, he had his own butcher business and his shop didn't have a rail system to move the big sides of beef from cooler to cooler, so he would carry them everywhere. Like, he would literally lift them up and carry them around. Entire quarters of beef. Twice his weight in raw, red meat. By himself. My dad is a tough cookie. Actually, maybe "tough muffin" would be more appropriate.

But he just doesn't look like the type of guy who could fit EIGHT MUFFINS inside his stomach.

Anyway. Eight muffins.You deserve it, Dad.

By the way, if my dad knew I was writing this stuff about him, he'd probably die. When he found out I had a blog, he was like, "Now you have no privacy." So do me a favor and don't tell him he's basically the star of this post.

He doesn't want the whole world to know "muffin" about him.