Flashback Friday: Chameleon

Since Parker is such a large dog, he naturally has large ears and he absolutely hates getting them cleaned. A while ago, when we were preparing to clean them, he took off running and tried to hide.

Unfortunately for him, there aren't many places where he can be incognito. He blends in here about as well as I would on stage at the New York Ballet or even in a friendly softball game or anything else that requires any kind of athleticism or coordination.


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Flashback Friday: Thanks, Craigslist

A little over five years ago, I rushed out of the office to grab a quick, nutritious lunch from Wendy's. I pulled my 1993 Acura Integra (known affectionately as Teg) into the drive-thru lane and was in deep concentration while debating my Dollar Menu item selection. It was my turn to pull up to the ordering board. I put my car in gear and pressed on the gas while letting off the clutch. Teg made an awkward noise, an automobile equivalent of an old man's last breath, and lurched forward. It then died while being stuck in first gear.

I couldn't move.

There were at least five cars behind me, the line wrapping all the way around the restaurant and into the street, and eventually they started honking for me to pull forward. I couldn't start the car and I couldn't even get it in neutral to push it out of the way. I ended up leaning my seat all the way back, putting my pointy-toe-slingback clad foot up on the dash board and pulled back as hard as I could on the stick shift. I figured either I would break off the shifter or die of an embarrassment-induced heart attack. I preferred the former.

It worked and my car was suddenly able to move into neutral. I don't remember what happened next but somehow, I was able to make the car hop/lurch a few feet over to where a parking spot had miraculously just opened up. I left the car there and called Z to come and rescue me from my humiliating fast food predicament.

That week we fixed the problem--a worn-out transmission--and decided it was time to upgrade to a newer vehicle.

A few weeks later I was in New York on a media tour with a client. I was in the back of a cab, puttering along in East Village traffic when my cell phone rang. It was Zach telling me about the nice couple who replied to our Craigslist ad about the car. The couple, whose car met its own untimely demise when a girl ran a stoplight, came over to see Teg and decided he wasn't a fit for them either, but Zach liked them a lot and joked, "Then can I interest you in a house?" Our rental house next door had just come up for rent.

The couple kind of laughed at the thought of looking for a car but getting a new house and decided to humor him and take a look. They loved their Avenues apartment but since they had just adopted a friendly golden retriever named Bonnie, decided a house would be better for them.

They took it on the spot.

When I returned from my trip, I met the couple, Maegan and Gabri, and immediately liked them and the way Maegan acted like it wasn't a big deal to sign the rental contract while sitting on our couch that had a folded sleeping bag in place of where a cushion should be since our new giant dog ate it. The fact her husband had an adorable, charming Italian accent didn't hurt either.

We hit it off immediately and Burly, Idaho's Maegan soon became one of my very best friends.

They moved back to Gabri's hometown of Rome, Italy a couple of years ago. I visited her there last summer and while we were sitting in a small, sidewalk cafe as Maegan gave me a wine-infused Italian lesson, I realized how lucky I am that I never got to order my Junior Bacon Cheeseburger.

Maegan & me near Rome's Villa Borghese

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Flashback Friday: Father's Day Family Outing

This year for Father's Day, my brother and I decided to team up and give our dad the gift of golf. My parents are avid golfers, playing every few days--my mom even played 27 holes in one day last week.

Since they rarely venture up to the Big City, Derek and I told my parents they must come up and spend the day with us so that we can golf together as a family (although we were missing one--our sis, Malarie). Sure it's supposed to be my dad's chance to pick whatever he wants to do, but since he's a good dad he lets us boss him around.



We had a great day, we golfed at Wing Point so that my airplane aficionado father could enjoy watching the jets take off and land at Salt Lake International.

[Update: I just realized the two pics above are actually from another golfing trip my bro & parents were on together. Somehow they ended up in my photos from this day, but since they're so cute I'm leaving them in anyway.]

I opted out of golfing myself, since, in my delicate condition I wasn't feeling up to playing 18 holes (actually, I was just being lazy but I've found that people are much more sympathetic if you blame things on being pregnant).

Instead I was Derek & Zach's cart companion. The three of us enjoyed speaking with accents, something that we always do whenever we're together although none of us are sure why. This day we alternated between "hillbilly" and "British" (we had to class it up a bit since we were on the course, you know) with an occasional bit of Irish brogue thrown in.

We also observed how much my brother and dad are alike. Ever since Derek was big enough to move around, he's always stood, walked and gestured exactly like my dad. Them' are some strong genes.

And lucky for us, he also inherited my dad's gift of telling stories and adding so much detail that we all feel like we were actually there witnessing his funny adventures. This explains why my stomach muscles hurt the next day even though I didn't do anything strenuous.

Laughing-related injuries are the best kind.


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Flashback Friday: Notre Dame

Last month, Kristyn traveled to Price from her home in Washington to baptize her beautiful little girl Ava in our hometown church. (Fun fact: Kristyn is one of my best friends, I've known her since I attended her older sister's birthday party when I was the whopping age of two weeks old.)

Ava's baptism was at Notre Dame de Lourdes Catholic Church which just so happens to be the same place that Kristyn, Marisa, our friend Rachele and I made our First Communions when we were in second grade. It's also the church where Z and I were married.

After the baptism festivities, Kristyn's husband Lance took a picture of the three of us, with the girls, on the front steps of the church:

(R): Marisa & Ella, Me & Mirando (in my belly) and Kristyn & Ava

Which looked surprisingly familiar to one of us in the exact same spot around 1986, although we were much more dressed up here:

(L): Father Schuh, Marisa, me, Rachele, Kristyn

Flashback Friday: Flying the friendly skies

Grandpa showing me the ropes during an early flying lesson

A significant part of my childhood was spent at local airports. My dad is a pilot and we had an airplane when I was growing up, as did my grandpa and uncle. I remember going to the hangar where we kept our plane in Price and visiting with the lovely woman who ran the airport, Ardith. She would give me a Salted Nut Roll while I would "help" my dad do important plane maintenance or accompany him for a scenic ride.

One of my grandfather's planes was used for the US Dept. of Agriculture to spot animal predators that would harm farmers' livestock. On this plane he had a machine attached to the wing that would shoot out long, kite-like flags that were used to mark where certain animals were spotted.

When we would get into town, he would always buzz over our house to let us know he was there, often flying about a telephone pole's height off the ground, waving at us and then shooting flags out for us to chase. Sometimes he would fly over our friends' houses as well if we were playing there outside, needless to say, making my brother, sister and I the coolest kids in the neighborhood, er, rural subdivision.

Growing up, I assumed I would eventually have a pilots' license and airplane as well. That was before I learned how hard it is for me to just park my car [see: large dent and scratch to the driver's side door of the Explorer].


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Flashback Friday: The glorious day of my birth

This week I turned 29 years old. I have no idea how this happened. I'm fully convinced that someone is playing a trick on me and that I am actually still 24, since that's the age for some reason I always go to say if I have to answer a question about how old I am and I don't think about it first.

In honor of the extraordinary day I entered the world, my mom sent me some pictures to commemorate the occasion.

With my flowing locks of hair, I'm rocking the mic during baby karaoke

Fresh out of the oven

Several months later, I'm equally alarmed at having to wear 35 pounds of clothing
and my dad's striking resemblance to a 1970's version of Abraham Lincoln

Flashback Friday: Let's be honest, I just liked the outfit

This is as close as I ever came to holding some sort of profession in the medical field. As a child, I had thought about being a nurse just like my mom (who is wearing her nurse hat here), but when I realized that even seeing a paper cut made me nauseous I realized that it probably wasn't the best career choice for me.

Flashback Friday: Homecoming 2000

When I was a senior in college, I had just moved back to Cedar City from Boston (notice my wayyyyyy grown out highlights, I was too poor in Boston to keep them up) and was bummed to have to live there without Zach in town to keep me company, even though I only had to be there for one semester. He had moved to Salt Lake to finish his last semester at the University of Utah, and although I had fun hanging out with my roommates, I missed him a lot.

One weekend he surprised me and traveled down to Cedar to take me to the homecoming dance at SUU. Go T-Birds. This photo is of us as we left for the dance. One of my roommates even took our photo as we were leaving, just like my mom used to do.

Also, you'll notice I have my pink pashmina in this picture, which I still use constantly to this day. Zach gave it to me as a birthday gift that summer. Apparently, when I find something I like, I really stick with it.

Flashback Friday: Swiss Miss, Miss and Mr.

Enjoy this little snapshot I had on my computer, of my fabulous client who lives in Norway but is from Sweden and speaks English, Norwegian, Swedish, French and Italian; me, who is from Price but lives in the far-away and exotic land of Salt Lake City and speaks English, British, Australian, Canadian (in some parts) and South African; and Greg, patron saint of California airports, who is from France but lives in NYC and speaks English and French and probably lots of other things, too because that's just how those Europeans are.

This is the three of us in May in Geneva, Switzerland when we were all there for meetings. We had a great time during the trip, going to lots of dinners and out for drinks. There was usually a group of about 10-20 of us and I was the only American every time. It was wonderful, even with feeling like the least refined person there among all of the incredibly smart, successful, educated and well-traveled people. I'm sure that they, too, were impressed with me and the sophisticated way I held my beer cozy.

Flashback Friday: No good, terrible, really bad day

For this week's flashback, I'm going to share a story. It's about the fantastic day I had a few months ago. I didn’t ever blog about it before because at the time, it wasn’t funny. At least not to me. The dozens of guests at my office Christmas party who were regaled with my sad tale by my loving husband may have had a different opinion. (Thanks a pantload for that suggestion, Amanda).

The story takes place on a Saturday that I had looked forward to with promise. I was soaking up the last of the fall weather while we finished our front yard, Fall was quickly coming to an end. My brother had asked me to take him to the airport and said I could keep his pick-up truck for the weekend for my landscaping needs. Score! I had a day of yard work (which I actually enjoy) and visiting with friends planned.

8 a.m. – Drive my brother, Derek, to the airport. He gets out at passenger drop-off, I climb into the driver’s seat with a wonderful Saturday in front of me. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice what else was in front of me. A police car. Keep in mind, I’m not even a football field’s length away from where I dropped him off and I am GETTING PULLED OVER. At the airport. Is that even legal? Luckily, the 12-year-old cop (no way he was old enough to be on The Force) let me go with a warning.

8:15 – Officially pull out of the airport grounds and get on the freeway.

9 a.m. – Looking forward to my yummy breakfast and cup of coffee I’m preparing for myself. Zach has already left for work. Birds are chirping and the sun is shining.

9:15 – My cell phone rings. It’s Zach. He ran out of gas on his way to the restaurant. Who runs out of gas?! He does. I agree to bring him the gas cans we use for the lawn mower.

9:20 – Finish loading the gas cans into the back of my Explorer. Notice that one of the gas cans is missing a lid. Ooooh, breakfast. Can’t believe it has to wait as I rescue my absent-minded pizza guy. Pull out of the driveway. I’m on my way!

9:30 – See Zach on the side of the road. Resist the urge to find out how one runs out of gas when I see how grumpy he is. He fills up his car with the gas can. Only 10 more minutes ‘til I’m home with my breakfast. I drive away as he’s getting in his car.

9:31 – My cell phone rings. Zach is mad that I drove away before waiting to make sure his car would start. Duh, isn’t that what the gas is for? I guess I have to do everything around here. He tells me to come back because the car isn’t starting. I’m mid-intersection and must act fast. Quickly make a U-Turn at one of the city’s busiest intersections. That was close. Glug, Glug, Glug. Realize that sound is GASOLINE LEAKING ALL OVER THE INTERIOR OF MY EXPLORER AND I AM POWERLESS TO STOP IT. Take note of the fact that this particular road has no shoulder. Nowhere to stop. Glug, Glug, Glug. I get stuck at the stop light. Glug, Glug, Glug. The longest stop light in the history of stop lights. Glug, Glug, Glug.

9:32 – Glug, Glug, Glug. I cannot believe there is no f#$@&%@ shoulder! ARGHHHH!!!! Glug, Glug, Glug. Make a hard right to pull in front of Yanni’s Greek Express. Glug, Glug, Glug.

9:33 – [Editor’s note: The next sequence of events are not for the faint of heart and have been substantially edited since they included language that was offensive to truck drivers, hardened criminals and sailors the world over.] This is where I, as the French say, lostmyshit. In public. On a very very busy Saturday. I pulled the down comforter that I had been planning to take to the dry cleaner, but is now referred to as Exxon Valdez, out of the car, the gas cans went flying. The rug that covers the back of the car was pulled out. There may or may not have been excessive stomping on these items. Cars are driving by, people are staring. Children are scared.

9:33.5 – Zach’s red car drives by, he smiles, waves and honks. Beep beep! False alarm. What do you know? His car could start after all! No need for the emergency U-turn. Oopsy!

9:34 – I answer Zach’s friendly beep, beep with a one-finger salute and make sure he is clear on exactly what I think he can do with himself.

9:34.5 – Continual stomping on the items while screaming and crying may or may not have happened here. I can’t make any promises.

9:35 – Leave the sad pile of gasline-soaked items in a pile in front of Yanni’s Greek Express and drive away. Yes, I left a huge mound of stuff, including two gas cans, in the middle of the road.

9:35 – Hurriedly drive away with my windows rolled down to ensure I didn’t die of oxygen deprivation and to guarantee that every living thing within a 40-mile radius could hear my pain through the impressive string of swearwords I'm piecing together. Who knew those words could be used as nouns, adjectives, verbs and prepositions? Impressive.

9:35.5 – Realize I’m speeding down a dead-end road. Make another U-turn, heading to the Mountain of Gasoline-Soaked Dispair, the scene of the crime. See that Zach is there, cleaning up my mess. He has a look of fear in his eyes. He is afraid. Very, very afraid.

9:36 – In one breath, I give him a colorful play-by-play of exactly what happened to me and exactly why it’s his fault. He is still afraid.

9:37 – I head home, all windows down, just as a freak snowstorm/windstorm begins. Awesome.

9:50 – I walk into my house, wreaking of gasoline, soaked and cold from the snow. Attempt to scrub the inside of the Explorer with soapy water. It doesn’t help.

10 a.m. – Calmed down, with the Explorer parked in the driveway with all doors/window open, I make a conscious decision to enjoy my day. So what if the weather is horrible now, I got pulled over and my car is now a multi-ton flammable object? I’m going to find my favorite cozy sweater and embrace the snow!

10:15 – Dig my sweater out of the winter clothes box in the basement. So soft. Feels like heaven.

10:20 – Put on my sweater. Ahhh. So comforting. Notice there’s a little tiny string on the arm. Carefully pull it off. SWEATER UNRAVELS. From the wrist to the shoulder. I kid you not. The entire sleeve is now split in half.

10:30 – Screw breakfast. Where's the Vodka?

10:35 – Wearing yet another shirt, head out to see how the front yard is coming along (the men were there to deliver the sod). Tell my neighbors how horrible my day has been. They feel sorry for me.

11 a.m. – Maegan pulls up in front of the house. Just what I need, my friend! She wants to go to the fabric store. Sounds perfect! Get me the hell out of here.

11:20 – Brousing JoAnn’s fine assortment of buttons. Think that maybe I will swap out the boring buttons on my old cardigans. I am so clever! Everyone will love my custom button makeovers! This is a great day after all.

11:21 – Help Maegan pick out her own buttons. Cute buttons for all! Notice a leaf stuck to the top of my boot. Wipe off the leaf with my fingers.

11:21.5 – Realize the leaf isn’t stuck to my boot at all. It’s actually stuck to the huge MOUND OF WET SOGGY DOG POO that is stuck to the top of my boot. Except that huge mound of dog poo is now covering my hand.

11:22 – Paralyzed by fear, or rather, by wet soggy dog poo, can’t find the quickest way to the bathroom. Did you know JoAnn’s doesn’t have a public bathroom?! They do if you show the scared and confused cashier the wet soggy dog poo on your hand.

11:23 – Run into the “employees only” bathroom and realize it’s out of paper towels. Awesome. Trying to scrub the poo off my hand without touching it. Just as difficult as it sounds.

11:25 – Walk to the car. Decide to go home. Go back to bed. And start over tomorrow.

11:30 – Realize I never got to eat my breakfast. Possibly the greatest tragedy of all.

Flashback Friday: Summer of '97

I could be wrong but I think this photo was taken the summer that I graduated from high school. My two best buds Erica, Jilly Bean and I were inseparable those months before I moved from Carbon County to Cedar City to go to college. One of the things that I love about this picture is that we're all wearing each others' clothes. Which we did all. the. time.

We must have had the world's largest closet, since it was necessary that we drive to the north-east part of town to Jill's house, then to the middle of town to Erica's then way out of town to my house and even farther past that to get to another friend, Chantel's (whose shirt I think I'm wearing here), just to pick up all of the items to wear each day.

Because if there's one thing Price, Utah is known for, it's a remarkable fashion sense.

Flashback Friday: Summer of '85

Happy Friday!

This week's flashback is a picture of me on my sixth birthday, living the 1980's high life and loving my dad's Ocean Pacific sleeveless t-shirt.

Totally tubular.

Flashback Friday: Ladies of High Society

Like my post from two weeks ago, my Flashback Friday post is also from this summer. Again, I haven't scanned any new photos so you're at the mercy of whatever is stored on my computer at the moment. However, this post is very timely. See, at the end of the day on Tuesday, my boss Matt was breaking out the tequila and beer for us (Hey, it had been a hard day. OK, no it hadn't.) and I made a comment that I actually prefer Boone's Farm. That was a joke, except I was a little bit serious. It's a secret I try to keep hidden, but I really do enjoy the flavor of this $1.99 grocery store treasure, and hopefully I will still be able to buy it there as long as our sometimes-lame legislature doesn't ruin this for me.

For those of you who don't know, Boone's Farm is a sad excuse for an alcoholic beverage and I'm pretty sure doesn't really contain any alcohol at all. To those with a discriminating pallet, it probably tastes much like a fruit punch would if you let it sit in the fridge for too long. However, for some reason, I have an affinity for it and have been known to buy it on occasion when in a jam and needing to round out the beverage assortment after the liquor/wine store has closed.

As you may or may not know, Z & I trekked down to Southern Utah to play tourist with the Millers at Zion National Park this summer. We had so much fun and seriously, that place is amazing. For four years I lived within miles of it and never went there. Not once. I'm glad the Millers finally convinced us to check it out.

At the end of one of the days, we were all unwinding and were going to play a game of cards since the Miller princesses were fast asleep. The boys headed out to get snacks and returned with a couple of bottles of Boone's Farm for Abby & me. Nothing but the best for us!

As always, the Boone's Farm did not disappoint and a great time was had by all. (Disclaimer: Actually, I don't remember that we really even drank this. Sadly, I think it may have just been used for photo prop purposes. Maybe all this Boone's Farm has rotted my brain.)

Abby & Me with 0ur loot: a 2007 Fuzzy Navel. Ah, a very good year.

The review for this at the BOONES FARM FAN CLUB (yes, there are people out there more looney than I) reads: "Deeply colored and powerful, with a rich, fruity peach aroma and layers of peach, fuzziness, and navel. Immense structure."

Yummmm, fuzziness in a bottle. With a convenient, screw-on cap.

Flashback Friday: Beantown in '00

When I first heard of doing a "Flashback Friday" blog post every week I thought it would be a great motivator to encourage me to scan in some of my oldest photos so that I could save them for posterity in digital file formats. Growing up, I loved to look through the yellowed pages of my grandmothers' photo albums, and ideally, someday my future grandchildren will have the pleasure of making fun of my hair and fashion choices by simply turning on some electric device.

Anyway, I have totally slacked at the photo scanning and for my last several Flashback Fridays I have had to rely on the images available on a slideshow I had to make for my 10-year class reunion last summer. I am working off limited material, people.

This photo below, while not groundbreaking or particularly interesting, is at least a glimpse into what I looked like as a soon-to-be child-bride. The summer before my senior year of college, I packed up my bags, used 1991 Apple Powerbook laptop and fake ID (if you knew me back then, you'll know I answered to the name of Pam Rodriguez) and headed to the East Coast where I roomed with one of my best friends, Tori, in a very old, very dirty fraternity house.

We lived here with some very smart, some very socially awkward MIT frat guys but the killer location and views of the Charles River and Boston skyline made up for it. Plus, sometimes there was free beer.

I enrolled at Harvard for the summer where I experienced serious culture shock, considering that my classmates at SUU would often roll into class late and dirty from working on their farms and my fellow Hah-vahd students rolled into class tardy because their family's private jet took a bit longer than expected returning them from the beach house.

Zach and I got engaged that summer, much to my nearly-40 and single professor's dismay. While getting hitched in your early 20's is common in the Beehive State, it turns out it's not so much standard procedure in the REST OF THE WORLD. Who knew?

Z flew out to visit and help me move back home and I had a great time showing him around my temporary digs. We tied the knot the next summer.

Z & Me in Harvard Square. Because I was private-jet-less and beach-house-less, I actually had to work at a job to support myself. The three-story brick building over Zach's left shoulder was where I punched the time clock, the Harvard Coop. Basically, one of the coolest university book stores ever known to woman. They even have a Clinique counter in there. And a Starbucks.

Flashback Friday: Bracciano, Baby!

This week's Flashback isn't from a very far-away time. It was just this summer, May actually, when I swung by Rome to visit everyone's favorite Italian, Maegan. One day, while Morgann and I were visiting, we boarded a train to Bracciano, the town that, despite its romantic and dramatic centuries-old history and stunning setting alongside a beautiful lake, is better known as the place where little Katie bought a one-way ticket to Crazytown.

Bracciano is the kind of place a little Italian village should be. Quaint cobble stone roads, balconies with flowers spilling over the side, dozens of small restaurants with tables perched on the sidewalk, tucked-away parks and a castle (of course!).

It was an incredible day, we had so much fun going on the castle tour, which was in Italian so I didn't understand anything, but I'm sure was enlightening.


We also stopped at a park and watched Italian teenagers flirt with each other while the younger children played in front of their parents.


We made sure not to not miss our daily gelato supplement.


We visited the town square area where we admired these adorable ladies. I would just love to have known what they were talking or gossiping about. It seems serious.


Then we stopped for wine. Then we missed our train back to Rome. So we went back for more wine while we waited for the next one. And we missed our train again. (This may or may not have had something to do with all the wine, but I prefer to blame it on the notoriously unreliable Italian scheduling system. I'm sure that's it.)

I spy three M's in the window reflection.

Flashback Friday: Partying like it was 1999

Since it's the start of a new year and all, I thought I'd post a picture from a past New Year's. To ring in the start of 1999, my friends and I trekked down to Vegas to party it up. With plenty of drunks wandering the Strip, climbing stop lights and wearing the kind of clothing people seem to only feel comfortable wearing in Las Vegas (thank goodness), Sin City did not disappoint.

Although this was a fun, albeit crazy, night, I don't think I'll be doing this again any time soon.



I have no idea who many of the guys are in this photo, but the girls, from left to right: Monica, me, Holly, Heather, Charity, Kristyn & Mandy.

Flashback Friday: Merry Christmas, Pard'ner

A little holiday treat: Zach as a cowboy when he was around two or three.

Enjoy!

Flashback Friday: Christmas in '81

I love this picture, which accompanied our Christmas cards in 1981 (I was two years old), because of

1. My dad's sweet Grizzly Adams beard;
2. My adorable crocheted dress with matching purse and doll; and
3. My mom! She is a hot mama. Hopefully I'll look that good after having a baby (but I doubt it).

Flashback: M-I-C-K-E-Y? Because tube socks make me so, so happy.

A little Flashback Friday treat for you: Zach's family at Disneyland sometime in the early 80's.

Zach wishes he still had that captain's hat so that he could look more convincing when bossing around his workers at the restaurant. But let's all be thankful he doesn't still wear shorts that, uh, short. Cute little Amie, Z's sister, is wearing an outfit that I also owned and loved. His dad looks awesome and, unfortunately, doesn't wear those socks anymore. But Zach's mom's outfit is my favorite. The fact that she wore those high-heeled platform sandals while chasing mini-Zach around the Happiest Place on Earth for a full day makes her my hero for sure (Can you even imagine what he was like as a child? I can't keep him under control now and he's almost 30!). I hope that if Zach and I take our future children to Disneyland someday I remember to look half as stylish as she did.

The lesson for today is that fashion always trumps comfort, girls.

Moonwalk Monday: Bunny Names

Since I missed last Friday's Flashback, as well as the one previous, I thought I should post one today. Don't worry, loyal reader(s), as of this Friday we will resume normal Flashback programming.

These pictures were taken in May and June of 1983, which means I was almost four years old. I loved animals, still do today, and was lucky enough to have a menagerie of pets. Dogs, cats, a turtle, rabbits, pigeons, chickens, ducks, a guinea pig and a short-lived hamster rounded out our family at one time or another.

All of them had names that we chose after an extensive process involving research into the animal's appearance and/or personality and usually the input of a focus group or two.

Pictured below is the appropriately named Snowball--a name that is so creative it must have taken days of brainstorming and debate:



And her bunny sibling, Black Snowball:

Even at four I was a naming genius.