The Extended Golds

Funniest Fish Funeral Ever

We had pet fish once.
They were named Dorothy and Goldie.
One for our last name and the color of the fish
and one for my grandma and Elmo’s fish.

I think they lasted in their bowl in my kitchen window for three days.
Abigail still recalls with great emotion the day she found them both laying belly-up.
“Their eyes, mom. They were just staring at me.”

Daddy was gone, so Papa took care of the situation.
Fortunately, somewhere in the book of life law is the rule
“Dads take care of  pet burial.”

With papa’s love and care the fish took the next huge step in their circle of life:
they became garden fertilizer.
Our girls know how much papa loves their garden,
therefore they knew that the fish got a royal ending.

fishing with papa

To this day, they beg me for more fish.
I always tell them no.
“You begged me for a cat.
You promised me you would take care of it.
I’ll sleep with it, feed it.
And you don’t.
Then you begged me for a dog.
Mom, we’ll walk it, we’ll feed it, we’ll play with it, we’ll give it a bath.
And I do it way more than you ever do.”

The first fish experience combined with the dog and cat makes three strikes.
I will never be guilt-ed into another fish experience.
Not unless it’s the fish that will end up on my plate to eat.
And we all know that salmon or tilapia aren’t going to fit in a tank.

We now settle for fish window shopping at Walmart every time we visit.
I think that makes me a “good enough” mom and that’s as high as I aim nowadays.

The other day on facebook, a friend asked a serious question.
Should she replace her son’s fish for the 5th time without telling him,
or just go ahead and tell him that it’s dead?

All I could think about was the master himself Bill Cosby.
How I love Bill Cosby.
I wish I could find other masterful and clean comedians to follow.

Better yet, if you have Netflix, go and watch the whole second episode so you can have all the laughs.

I love you Bill Cosby. I really do.

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Daddy’s Baby
I guess LG had been trying 
to grow his hair out again.
I hadn’t noticed
until a few days ago he
lamented to me,
“Alice, I forget how far back
my hair has receded
until I grow it out.”
Bad for LG.
Good for me.
I love his hair buzzed.
Imagine my surprise
today
when Caroline
brought this photo to me
and said,
“Mom this is so strange.
Dad doesn’t have pokey hair.”
LG I guess
you are going to have to 
keep
your
hokey pokey
style.
We’re you trying
to grow it out
at hopes of
revisiting
those newlywed days?
Better luck next time.

Guest Post – Jarrett Ferguson Gold – Are Blondes Really Dumb?

It is against my better judgement to publish Jarrett’s jibberish, but when a family member actually takes time to write something, you can’t very easily turn it down, can you?

For the stories sake, you need to know.
I am Alice.(just in case you are blonde and have no idea who this blog belongs to)
LG is my husband.
Jarrett is LG’s cousin.

Jarrett is a liar, or maybe I should say that in a nicer way? Jarrett is a story-teller. He learned it from the best of the best, and it’s the very reason we get along so swell…just as soon as we worked out his hurt feelings over MY honeymoon in his backyard! Yes, my whole honeymoon was spent with my husband’s family. Can you believe we are still married? Apparently sleeping in your in-laws basement and your in-law’s in-law’s Winnebago is good luck for the long life of marriage. Who knew?

On with the guest post. All about blondes. And me. You can just disregard the part about me because it’s all lies. LIES!!! Yes, the owner of the blog gets the last word Jarrett.

The picture on facebook that started it all.
Jarrett: “Perfect corn maze for my dear sweetheart!”

Jarrett and his beautiful blondies



Is it true? Are blondes really dumb?

I’m not sure where the rooting of the blonde jokes comes from but there are some that do take the analysis seriously. Wikipedia link. 

I really never took it all that seriously. And based on my experience, being married to a blonde woman with blue eyes I never really thought of my wife as a dumb blonde. Oh sure there’s the occasional joke like the above referenced picture but she takes it well and knows I mean no harm by it.

Here’s a question: If she gets her hair highlighted, and the roots touched up, does that really make her a true blonde? It’s hard to tell anymore. The $100 Hundred dollar visits to the hair dresser drive me a bit crazy but she does have blue eyes naturally and was blonde as a child. I think most blondes grow up to eventually be browns anyways unless artificially maintained. IS that because they do get smarter as they get older?

As I ponder this infinitely eternal question of “Are blondes really dumb?” I can think of a lot of conflicting data. My sister is not a blonde. We used to call her an “ink head.” She was meant to be blonde but God dropped ink on her head instead. I love my sister, she’s a sweetheart, and as I get older I feel ashamed for the trauma that me and my two brothers likely caused her. We called her fat, dumb, lazy, and many other mean and cruel things. In the end, she turned out to become a really great person despite her horrible childhood with 3 awful brothers! She’s one of the sweetest most patient persons on the planet. She’s still a bit air-headed but she really does know a lot more than she lets on.

I’ve known LG longer than Alice has known LG. LG was very blonde as a child. AND he’s a very smart guy. His wife Alice on the other hand is not blonde and I would find the words flakey, flighty, or spastic to adequately describe Alice. I’ll never forget the first time I met Alice….or, was it just the sound of her voice I heard?

I had just gotten home from my 2 year Mormon mission from Spain. LG and I hadn’t seen each other in about 3 years due to the overlap of our missions. LG and Alice got married just a few days prior to my homecoming. LG and Alice got the honeymoon suite out in the backyard since they had recently taken vows! We’re talking deluxe accommodations for privacy. The Winnebago had a sign placed on the door, “If it’s a rocking don’t come a knocking!”

Being a recently returned Mormon missionary I had no qualms about knocking on a door and disturbing someone! Besides, I wanted to catch up with my dear friend and family member LG. Share my mission stories and hear some of his mission stories!

I certainly didn’t want to enter “their space” so LG and I took our conversation in the house. We’d been talking for maybe a ½ hour or so when we hear: “LG – WHERE ARE YOU? GET OUT HERE AND MAKE ME A HAPPY WOMAN!”

I was floored when I saw/heard this. I just wanted to catch up with my cousin who I hadn’t seen in 3 years and she’s yelling and carrying on like this after he’s been gone for 30 minutes?!! I asked: “What kind of NEEDY woman did you marry LG?”

When he replied it all made sense to me: “I married a sister missionary from my mission.” I offered my congratulations and condolences and LG went on to carry out his newly found and soon to be mastered husbandly duties.

So now were back to the original question: Are blondes really dumb?
I can’t say that I’ve done any scientific research, I can just think of two brunettes that exhibit blonde like qualities in the form of my sister and my cousins wife. Both of which are very sweet and awesome women!
In the end I know that my blonde wife can’t be all that dumb – after all, she did marry me!

J. Ferguson Gold

A couple of funny blonde jokes:
  1. A dumb blonde was really tired of being made fun of, so she decided to dye her hair to look like a brunette.When she had brown hair, she decided to take a drive in the country.After she had been driving for a while, she saw a farmer and a flock of sheep and thought,“Oh! Those sheep are so adorable!”She got out and walked over to the farmer and said,“If I can guess how many sheep you have, can I take one home?”The farmer, being a bit of a gambler himself, said she could have a try.The blonde looked at the flock and guessed, “157.”The farmer was amazed – she was right! So the blonde, (who looked like a brunette), picked one out and got back into her car.Before she left, the farmer walked up to her and said.“If I can guess the real color of your hair, can I have my dog back?”
  1. The assistant asked the blonde if she would like her pizza cut into six pieces or twelve.“Six please” she said, “I could never eat twelve!”
  1. A blonde asked someone what time it was, and they told her it was 4:45. The blonde, with a puzzled look on her face replied,“You know, it’s the weirdest thing, I have been asking that question all day, and each time I get a different answer.”

Church in the ToyBox

Today, I will be attending church,
like I have every Sunday of my entire life.

I am sure I will learn something.

I am sure I will laugh a few times.
Mormons can be so funny.
Even the world-wide leaders have great senses of humor.

I may even cry. I often do.

I will make too many comments in Sunday School and then feel bad that I did.

I will miss my friends from Tennessee but be grateful for the new ones that as members of the same church were here to welcome us with open arms, as soon as we arrived.


I will cook the family a good dinner.

I will wrestle with Caroline for the hour and 1/2 of the Sacrament Meeting and then rejoice when the closing hymn starts on the organ and she screams “Nursery” because she knows it’s time to go and hang with her toddler buddies and color, play with bubbles, mold playdoh, sing songs, and have treats.

God bless you Nursery leaders.

But, I can’t help thinking about what it would be like to worship in the Lego church.
Maybe it really wouldn’t be a worshipin experience (I don’t like legos that much)
but it would be awe-inspiring I am sure.

I think today, at one point, I will close my eyes and imagine myself here.
I will imagine the words coming from a plastic preacher.

But mostly I will imagine my 4 bedlamites as still as cellulose acetate.


ahhh…that’s more like it.

I am sure Jordan would love to join me.

I’ll Fly Away When I Die
This is a note for funeral planning some day.

I don’t plan to die any time soon,
but like the control freak that I am,
I want to make my wishes known
before it is too late.
Please have someone with a banjo
sing this song.
And have someone else read this verse:
Enos1: 27And I soon go to the place of my arest, which is with my Redeemer; for I know that in him I shall brest. And I rejoice in the day when my cmortal shall put on dimmortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure, and he will say unto me: Come unto me, ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the emansions of my Father. Amen.
And just for your further assistance.
My favorite hymns are:
If you want to forgo all the amazing accolades
that so many will have prepared
and sing the whole service,
I would love it.
Well, maybe just one speaker.
Whoever would make me
out for the funny, quirky, crazy, loving, and amazing
Saint that I am.
And I like to imagine my spirit
sticking around,
just to hear the compliments
and the truths of who
people knew me to be.
And then I will gladly
walk towards
my Savior
in all His glory
while
the voices of my loved ones
sing His praises.
Only to meet my other loved ones
on the other side
singing the same hymns.
What a lovely way to go.

Show some love.

I have talented friends and family. In fact, I am pretty sure that everyone I know is uber talented.

I have recently been given two great opportunities to show some love.
They came through youtube.
Go figure.

This first video was done by the one and only Jimmy Hinson.
He writes music for video game. How cool is that?

Here is a song that he wrote to help earn money for his sister Emily who just donated her kidney to her sweet husband. The song is great and so are Emily and Jared. They are some of the sweetest people who deserve lots of love. You can imagine the financial strain of a kidney transplant on two college students, so send them a hug.

And do it in the form of a .99 c song purchase. Put the song on your ipod and next time you go and exercise, you can imagine yourself in a video game running to get to your kidney recipient in time. At the receiving end of your purchase will be these two sweet faces.

And you can also show some love to LG’s cousin Eliza and her husband Kyle.
They have managed to make a Jimmy Wong video that is a tribute to their shared love for each other and the BYU campus. Pretty impressive.

Go here to vote for Kyle’s music video.

Just the name “Jimmy Wong contest” made me want to vote.
I love showing love.
Especially when it is so easy.

Guest Post – Catherine

Catherine and Grant are some of our favorite people. Maybe I should say Grant and Catherine are some of our favorite people? Grant wouldn’t like being referred to last. He has an ego to feed. Grant happens to be LG’s cousin. He is Uncle Dirk’s offspring. Therefore, my kinship is as strong as LG’s.

For her guest post, Catherine has a cute little story to share. I hope none of you will take it as sacrilegious. You know how we love our Savior Jesus Christ. But when you love Him and teach your children about Him, you are bound to get a few funny stories.

Dakota was playing dress up and comes out with an off the shoulder outfit.
Here is how it goes:
Me: Dakota that’s not modest.
 Her: Jesus wear outfits like this. 
Me: He does? 
Her: “Yeah remember the picture where he got cut in the boob??” 
Me: Oh yeah, that’s right! and I had to laugh!


And I had to laugh too. That’s why I begged Catherine to do this guest post. Aren’t you glad I did? Kids say the darndest things.

Tennessee Bridge
Please excuse my boo-hooing. This is going to be a very sentimental post.

I’m already crying and I haven’t even started writing yet. I’m a mess.

When my father in law e-mailed this photo, he had appropriately named it “looking west”.
 Maybe I should also get him to send me the other side entitled “looking east”
 as I am sure there will always be a part of me that will do both.

In 2003, LG and I, with our three little daughters crossed over this bridge for the first time as a family. The girls were so young: 4,2, and newborn. We had come across the country for law-school and Grandma Gold’s empty house was a perfect place for us to crash while we house hunted (an hour and a half away) in Knoxville. It was two doors down from my in-laws, which is about a mile beyond this bridge. We didn’t know it at the time, but we started a tradition. It had been a long trip, where we learned all sorts of car sanity games. We challenged Abigail to a Tennessee Bridge off. She must suck in all the air support she could and holler “Tennessee Bridge” as we drove over. She should not stop hollering until we safely reached the side closer to grammy’s house.

Well, here we are, almost eight years later. LG’s employment is going to drag us back to where we came from. We can’t complain. It’s a great job. We love Utah and we know it’s what God wants us to do, but it is very emotional…especially for a big sap like me.
My mother in law just posted a picture of the bridge on facebook and said they are closing it down. They have built a bigger and better bridge off  to the other side. All I can do is cry. And reminisce. And scream, “Nothing can be bigger or better.”
So many trips and holler contests are flying through my brain. Abigail is 4, then 5 then 11, ever increasing in volume and intensity. Sophia was 2 and couldn’t quite pronounce the words, but still hollered right along with her sister and now she quite possible has some of the best breathe control. Bella was probably just crying that first trip across, but her volume was likely as loud as it is today, even though the words now come out loud and clear: TENNESSEEEEE BRRRIIIIIIIDDDDDDGGGGE. 
Sometimes the girls were in soccer uniforms or church dresses. Sometimes the car was loaded down with winter gear and Christmas presents. Or food that we didn’t want to go bad in our fridge at home. Sometimes we had a cat with us and a dog. But never both the cat or the dog. Thank goodness. Sometimes they were in bathing suits and we may have even had the occasional birthday suit in there. I can smell the homemade loaves of bread that Faye sent home with us and the Thanksgiving leftovers. I am blinded by the black of most of the nights when we were headed back home while I calculated which caffeinated soda I would purchase at the corner gas station just beyond the bridge. The kids would already be falling asleep and wouldn’t even notice the bridge.
LG and I got really good at driving across that bridge super slow while the kids’ faces turned bright red and finally gave in to the need for oxygen. A parent has to do what they have to do for the occasional win. We would have to remind ourselves not to slow down if it was at night and the girls weren’t paying attention. The girls have now turned their attention to teaching baby Caroline the tradition.
I am not sure how many times LG told me of his trips to the little market close to the bridge while we drove by. “I always got my gas there when I was a teenager.” “Dad and I used to stop there for worms when we would go fishing.” “We used to drive our bikes down here when we were kids”, to which I would reply, “Are you kidding me? This highway is frightening.” The response would always follow, “Yeah Alice, I’ve told you a million times, we would take the back-roads; they are so much safer.” I would laugh inside because I don’t think that there are really any safe back-roads in the whole state of Tennessee; I have personally puked while trying them out in the car. That’s when I started driving everywhere so I could avoid car sickness.
But back to the bridge. They are tearing it down. They are tearing down a piece of our family. And I can’t stop crying, but I guess it is kind of fitting since we have to move forward. We can’t stay here forever.But even if we aren’t going to be Tennessee residents and even if we aren’t going to get to visit grammy and papa as often, we now know that at least a piece of each of our hearts will forever be floating down the great Holston River. I think I can hear it as it faintly rolls along to the tune of Tenneeesssssseeeee Briiiddddgee.
wah wah wah.

Hokey Pokey

Jordan, my brother-in-law is funny. I really really love hanging with him and his wife Meagan. In fact, they are some of my favorite people to hang with. Jordan is one of the only stay at home dad bloggers that I know. Read this recent funny post. He is teaching his kids well. The shirt that Jordan is wearing in the above photo says “I work out every day”, and it has a wii controller on it. This shirt goes perfectly with the theme from Jordan’s background on his blog: Super Mario.

So, a funny story about my dear Jordan. It is completely inappropriate and that is why he will love this post. Another thing I love about Jordan is that he actually reads my blog; even my own family doesn’t do that.
One night a while back we were all sitting around a campfire at my in-laws. We got talking about stuff. I can’t even remember how it went. I waited too long to blog it. I think that somehow we got talking about the love life of my mother and father in law. Not in specifics, but just in general fun. I said something about hanky panky.
Jordan then chimes in with, “No, you know they don’t call it that when it involves a Virgina Tech grad?” My father in law is a proud Hokie. My mom and dad don’t do the hanky panky…they do the Hokey Pokey.
I know I am not doing the real incident justice, and I am sure that Jordan will clarify the details, but all I can say is that I have not laughed that hard in a very long time. I couldn’t breathe.
And it’s moments like these that bond Jordan and I together. We thrive on impropriety. And really, life would be so boring without people like us.

Oh yeah. This joke went on forever. Put your right hand in. Put your right hand out. Put your whole self in. Put your left hand in. Still laughing.