While neither are superheroes per se, they are both "super" for sure!
Two "super" members of my family--Janee and Rhett.
I gotta be honest, having the feel of hair on my head felt pretty darn good!
The Incredible Hulk in so many ways!
Although this was a ton of work for Jenn and Darc, I think they also had a good time.
Even super heroes need their rest.
One of our family's favorite persons and Alison's namesake, and her beautiful daughter, Presley.
A super Grandpa, Kevin Burnett!
I mostly just hung out, but Darcee and Jenn gave me the mike, which made my day.
Okay, we know it's not a superhero costume, but she is so cute, does it really matter?!
Congratulations, indeed!
Hero-Up For Children Cancer was an amazing race! To say that we are proud of Darcee and her siblings would be a huge understatement. She had a cool idea to bring together persons interested in cancer awareness and raise money for cancer research all at the same time. I had my doubts initially that anyone could make money putting on such a race. I stand corrected--I now have the vision that Darcee had when she first conceived this race.
Darcee has often wondered whether there was a place for a woman like her in the church (and in our Mormon culture)--afterall she doesn't sew, she is not interested in crafts and she possesses only passable singing ability. What does a woman like her do in the church? How does she fit in? With such an obviously lack of normal LDS woman-like virtues, could she ever actually be called to serve as a Relief Society President?
So, what does she do? She runs. Not exactly the prototypical talent for an LDS woman. Despite the dearth of notable, more mainstream and acceptable LDS type talents, she is a super hero in all of the things that really matter. She is determined and courageous. She is an excellent mother and wife. She is the sort of daughter that every parent dreams of raising. In short, there so much more to her than sewing, crafts and music.
The race that Jen and her put on is hard to sum up. I have written more detailed thoughts in my journal that better describe my feelings on this race, but suffice it to say, that the next time this most remarkable daughter tells me she has a great idea, I assure you, I will not doubt. I have always viewed her as Wonder Woman, and now she has left no doubt--she is worthy of that moniker in every way.
Although the concept of the race was Darcee's, she couldn't have done it without a lot of much appreciated help. particularly from her siblings, close friends and ward members. And Jenn? Well, she is the real deal for sure--an absolute reincarnate of Marvel Girl! I can't wait to see what's in store for these two real life Super Heroes.
(As a post script, I must correct my beautiful niece, Alex who blogged that I dressed up like the Wolverine. Yes, she owes me a "super" big apology. This is because I exude the essence of the Wolverine to such a degree that simply allowing my inner-Wolverine to emerge can hardly be described as merely "dressing up.")
Applying "sunscreen" that I borrowed from a YW--it was actually some type of make up with a sunscreen element to it...regardless, it worked; and I'm pretty sure it made me smell really sexy.
The scramble to the summit.
The ridge overlooking Stuart Lake.
A summit smile.
Despite the occasional exposure, the YW climbed like champs.
The Summit with Brother Borchert and the YW.
The view from the false summit.
Our hasty belay with a very fortunate piece of webbing.
Since being called to the Stake Presidency, I have tried to divide my time equally between YM and YW. We have an outstanding group of YW in our Stake who are courageous and seek to challenge themselves physically. A recent climb of Mt. Stuart with a few of them, yielded a most remarkable spiritual experience. Below is the email that I sent to Sister Calaway (the Selah Stake YW's President) following our climb to memorialize what occurred.
Sister Calaway:
I wanted to again thank you for your pre-climb
prayer in the parking lot before we left. We talked about that prayer on the mountain way before things got scary. We talked about how much Sister Calaway loved each of the
YW and the power that comes with a righteous prayer. What I didn’t share
with them was President Grow’s (and my) concern over your use of the term
“extraordinary.” Please never again pray for “extraordinary” experiences
when I am leading a group of youth! When you spoke those words I was
really concerned. "Extraordinary" things happen when someone gets sick or
injured and we have to rely on each to get off the mountain. Please know
that I was extra careful because of your prayer.
I want to share with you my personal observations about
our climb so you know what really happened: Just below the false summit
there was a lot of rock fall—some of it quite dangerous. We went slow and
constantly communicated to avoid dislodging something that would injure another
member of our team. The YW were a little unsettled after we gained the
false summit and I could tell they were unsure about continuing. We were
only 400’ from the summit, but the vertical scrambling/climbing was ahead of
us. I urged them on. I struggled to find a good line to the summit. We gained the
ridge where I was comfortable and we could move quickly, but the YW were really
concerned about the big (2,000’) vertical drop off to the north. They
were moving very cautiously, so we descended off the ridge in an attempt to
find a safer route. Instead, we found ourselves repeatedly having to scale a number of
challenging 10-15' mini cliffs. By this point in time, the YW had zero
confidence in my route finding abilities, and clearly doubted that I could find a safe route to the summit. I could hear them
questioning me, “How are we going to get back?” I assured them that we
would find a safer, easier route back. (I might have lied just a little bit.)
I was watching the building clouds to the east
(which were moving directly towards us) and was very concerned about the slow
pace we had settled into. Many of the clouds were dark clouds, with
menacing anvils on the top (this type of cloud sometimes produce thunderstorms). The
summit route would be a very exposed place to be in a thunderstorm. My
anxiety was building and I kept thinking about your prayer where you pleaded
with Heavenly Father for these YW to have “extraordinary” experiences.
“What was Sister Calaway thinking?!” I wondered. No one wants to be
the leader where YW are going to have extraordinary experiences. I
was guessing that we had about an hour to get to the summit and return before
these dark clouds hit us. Our pace was likely going to take us a little
longer. We had one last challenging vertical climb (about 15’) to gain
the summit. I was really pushing the YW at this point. Our motto to that
point had been: “Be Amazing, Climb Strong!” I had to remind them, “If you
want to be amazing, you have to do amazing!” I feel bad about how hard I
pushed them, but I was feeling some anxiety about the clouds in the
offing. When we arrived at the summit, a thick cloud moved in.
I could no longer see the menacing clouds in the distance, but was now
concerned that we would have difficulty spotting the cairns in the low
visibility and that it would take us even longer to return. Of course, I
was keeping all of this to myself. I was outwardly expressing as much
confidence as I could muster for the benefit of the YW. I asked Brother
Borchert to offer a prayer on the summit. It was, similar to your prayer,
one of the most powerful, heartfelt prayers I have ever participated in. He
paused multiple times during this prayer searching for the right words to
speak. The Spirit was as powerful as I have ever felt. When he
ended, the thick cloud that had descended upon us was literally breaking up and
moving to the South. We were amazed to see blue skies peeking through this cloud, which was seemingly “fleeing” from us. I use the word “fleeing” because
it felt like the elements had changed immediately and that this cloud was being
moved or chased from our presence. As we ended the prayer, I noticed that
a couple of the YW were crying. I simply asked them, “Can you feel
that?!” We all looked up and commented on the dissipating cloud. The Lord
had heard our prayer. With renewed confidence we immediately set off
searching for an easier route to descend to the false summit.
My hope was that the heavens would remain open
long enough to let us get to the false summit, and perhaps to the 8,500’ level
where we might be a little more protected. I had a difficult time with
route finding coming off the summit as well, and again could sense that the YW were doubting my ability to lead. In fairness to me, however, it’s not like these are established trails; you basically pick the
best line you can and fight your way to and from a summit. Route finding
is part of the challenge of mountaineering. I always expect to be a little
lost and am comfortable trying to find a route. The YW clearly did not share my
enthusiasm for route finding. We experienced some challenging down climbs
coming off the summit, but again the YW did extremely well. They exhibited
great courage and faith.
Throughout the remainder of the day, the building
dark clouds literally “fled” from before us. Menacing clouds continually moved
towards us and at the last minute dissipated or moved to the south, away from
our path. I kept thinking about the Psalm of Nephi, who had been carried away to a high mountain and cried that the Lord would make his paths clear.
2 Nep. 4: 32-33. I don’t know how else to explain the phenomenon that we
continued to witness all day—where clouds were literally moved away from
us. While sometimes it was raining in the valley below us, our climbing
conditions were really pleasant.
There were a couple of other tender mercies at
different points along the way. First, finding relatively clean water on
the false summit in a small depression of a rock that we could filter when we
were essentially out of water. This was huge because our descent took us
much longer than expected and we were definitely in need of water.
Second, Madison Brown just happened (at the insistence of a righteous father)
to bring along 25-30’ of webbing—the exact length we needed to safely descend a
precipice blocking our path. Without this, we would have been required to
up climb (and backtrack) 500’ at a time that we were literally exhausted.
Most importantly, this climb reaffirmed the
great confidence I have in our YW. They are amazing, because they do
amazing! They exhibited great faith and obedience in following
their leaders even when they were way beyond their comfort level; they endured
pain, sleep deprivation and exhaustion with hardly a complaint. They were
buoyant and cheerful throughout the climb, making it truly a pleasure to climb
with them. I am particularly impressed with Madison Brown. She was in a
lot of pain. She had painful blisters early Saturday morning and could have
quit. Despite this, she soldiered on without complaint. Her determination perhaps
bordered sheer stubbornness. I was so proud of her. She struggled the last few hours
of the climb, but kept moving. The manifestation of the Spirit was
something I will never forget, but more important than that was the Spirit of
adventure, courage and determination exhibited by these very beautiful and
tough YW. You would have been so proud of them. It was such an honor to
accompany them.
I hope that this experience does not
jeopardize my opportunities to lead our YW again. My patriarchal blessing
promised me great opportunities to lead youth. This experience has
reaffirmed that promise. The reality is that mountains are dangerous
places. We try to be as careful as we can. I pushed hard for the
summit because I believed in our YW. I felt pretty strongly about not
turning back. I wanted them to be physically challenged and go beyond their
comfort level. Good things happen when we push ourselves
physically. In retrospect, I’m not sure I would do a straight-through 24
hour climb with our YW again. I would do it with adults who knew what
they were in for, but I think the YW had no idea what to expect, and were a
little shocked by the sheer physicality of this climb. They worked very,
very hard for 24 hours straight with no sleep and were mentally and emotionally stressed
beyond what they had perhaps previously experienced. In the end it was an
“extraordinary” experience for all of us.
I can’t say enough how grateful I am to Eric
Borchert, Ester Montgomery and Tom Gearheart. I love these great youth
leaders! A big thanks to President Grow, and our "rescue team." Although, we were never in need of rescue, our
hearts were lifted when we saw their campfire at Engel's Creek and realized they had come to
help us ascend the difficult trail up Long’s Pass. Also the food you and Sister Grow provided at the
trailhead was greatly appreciated!
Finally, Brother Borchert’s prayer on the
summit will forever be etched in my memory as a moment in time that I felt my
Heavenly Father’s love for me and the youth of our stake. I have no
doubts that He hears and answers prayers—sometimes even in immediate and
miraculous ways. At noon, on September 21st, on the
summit of Mt. Stuart, the heavens literally parted and I glimpsed a small
portion of the love and power of God. Despite the wonder and
power of that day, we will likely never invite YOU to offer prayer at the
beginning of a big physical youth activity. “Extraordinary” is
simply too stressful for leaders. Again, thanks for all
you and your presidency do for the YW of our stake.
On a recent climb of Mt.Stuart as I was taking a break and eating some of my brother Rick's World Famous Turkey Jerky, it dawned on me, this is my last bag of the jerky he had sent me. What then? Who will replace this? Over the years, Rick has occasionally sent things in the mail, such as this turkey jerky. He is always into something crazy. His crazy always involved a story--a story that was so remarkable and unbelievable that it had to be true. As the climb progressed, I couldn't bring myself to finish off the last of this jerky. It seemed too final.
It's been about a month since his death and I think about him all the time. I have been blessed with many things in life, but perhaps nothing as important as the amazing brothers that I have. It's hard to describe the Ricker. You can tell things that he did and said, but unless you knew him, people might not believe these stories. Everything he did somehow became larger than life; something worthy of a story--a Ricker story.
Recently, more than his stories, I've been thinking about Rick as an older brother and a mentor. He taught me how to dance--well actually, he made fun of me and told me that I'd never get a girl with moves like that, and so I taught myself by mimicking his style. He lovingly smoothed the path for me in school. Teachers would accusingly ask, "So you're Rick Smart's little brother?" I would remind them, "Yes, but Jan Smart is also my sister!" It was an interesting example of damnation and redemption in sibling associations all at once. He gave me important advice on how to be a man, "Don't give up your lunch money, or you'll be identified as a pussy." (This was at Lincoln Jr. High School, where hanging onto your lunch money could mean your life.) This last bit of advice turned out to be pretty important. I got pounded for three days straight, but it finally ended, when the hoodlums at my school realized that I wasn't going to give it up without a fight.
Rick also, and more importantly, gave me wonderful advice about the importance of serving a mission. He was a fantastic example of how to treat my parents, my wife and my children. Sheila and I so admired Rick and Cheryl, that we designated them as guardians for our children in our will. I think this speaks volumes about how much we admired Rick. He was always so welcoming to us and our children. The dinners at his home were legendary. I realize that Cheryl will keep the dinners and get-togethers going, but who is going to tell the crazy stories? There are indeed people in our lives who are irreplaceable. Rick was such a person in my life. We soldier on without these people, but our lives are diminished when they die. My life will go on without my older brother Rick, but I will miss him terribly. Whenever we spoke on the phone he would always remind me, "We just love you guys!" I knew he meant it. I will miss that.
Rick raised amazing children. I see so much of him in them. I am so glad that each of them spoke at his funeral. While it's impossible to adequately honor someone like Rick in an hour long funeral service, they were able to highlight the things that I truly loved about Rick. I am hopeful that Rangi can develop Rick's ability to spin a yarn and become our family storyteller. While he will never replace his dad, Rick's stories need to be told and retold. They help us feel connected as a family.
Today would have been Rick's 64 birthday. It's seems like an appropriate day to finish off the last couple pieces of Ricker's turkey jerky. While I miss him tons, I am so grateful to have had such an amazing brother in my life. There will undoubtedly be tears shed in our family today, but we will also feel great joy when we think about Rick and the fact that our association with him will endure this life.
(The first picture above is how I will always remember Rick. When I see him next, this is how I expect to see him. The second picture is the only picture I could find of me and my 4 brothers. This was taken at a wrestling tournament in Las Vegas that Rocky and Rangi were competing in.)
Despite being allergic to bees, I have been interested becoming a Bee Keeper for many years. Last year for Fathers' Day my family generously gifted me a bee keeping kit. It was too late in the year to order bees for my hive--I had to wait until this Spring to get them. Several days ago, after much anticipation my bees finally came. They arrived in a little wooden box, with the Queen protected in a special little box, inside the container.
I have been studying bee keeping on line. I learned and practiced the technique of introducing the Queen into the hive. I was pretty anxious about the "big dump", which is essentially the process of dumping the small colony into the hive. The on-line You Tube videos make this look pretty simple. In reality, it was terrifying. As instructed, I calmed my bees by spraying them with sugar water. After settling them down, I attempted the "big dump." My bees went crazy. Instead of going into the hive, they swarmed me. Apparently bees have a keen sense of smell. I discovered in an horrific way bees most definitely can smell fear.
After extricating myself from this seemingly life harrowing experience, I checked the wooden box my bees came in to make sure they weren't labeled "Psycho African Bees."
Later that night, I was at the Naches Ward building and ran into Stephanie Peterson, a Laurel in our stake who also happens to keep bees. I asked, "Hey Stephanie, what do you use to calm your bees?" She responded, "I just smoke them with weed." "Weed? Really?" I mused. Now there's some interesting advice. I was curious about how I would get the weed, and what the legal repercussions might be. Then it dawned on me, maybe she meant that she uses common field weeds to smoke her bees. I inquired. Sure enough, that's what meant.
After my first encounter with my bees, I'm not sure common garden weeds will do the trick. They might need something a little more potent to soothe their spirits. Fortunately, we live in Washington State where weed is now legal, so obtaining and using weed is not a legal problem. The challenge is obviously a moral dilemma for me. I am an officer of the court and have a reputation to uphold. Furthermore (and most importantly), there is the likelihood I would not pass my next temple recommend interview. So, what to do? Place myself in mortal danger by exposure to Psycho African Bees, or reduce the anxiety in both my bees and myself by smoking a little weed in the back yard? So, if you notice a glassy look in my eyes the next time you see me, you'll know how I resolved this dilemma.
Don't worry. In the end, I'm certain my confidence will grow with each bee encounter, and that the extreme anxiety which is producing the fear my bees are smelling will eventually evaporate.Until then please send soothing thoughts my way.
My first hive.
I know they look calm here, but trust me these bees are totally psycho!
Novice Bee Keeper.
My Greenhouse.
I am keeping the bees in my greenhouse for now because of the cold spring weather we are having.
Part of our European search for the perfect hot chocolate involved many chocolate detours, such as this: Chocolate waffles in Belgium.
In 1999 I sent my wife and her best friend, Julie Turner to Chicago to see a taping of the Oprah show. (I'm pretty sure I was nominated for Spouse of the Year that year.) I might have one-upped myself with this past trip to Europe. Following Chelsea's graduation in London, we toured around Europe in search of the perfect hot chocolate. We visited beautiful cities and small, quaint villages in search of the Best European Hot Chocolate. Along the way we tasted chocolates of every shape and variety. While in Cologne, Germany (one of the most beautiful cities that I have ever visited) I took my wife to the Shokolade (Chocolate) Museum. She was giddy to be sure. These are actual words spoken by her while in the museum:
I think I have made a career choice. Do you think they would hire someone who doesn't speak German, but who really loves chocolate? I'm in heaven. Ooh! Aah! Oh my gosh! Come see this! This is amazing!
The following are actual chocolate related quotes by my wife at various other locations in Belgium, England, the Czech Republic and Germany:
I love you! (Presumably directed towards me, but she was looking into her hot chocolate cup as she spoke these words.) That's tragic! (When a man next to us in The Old Chocolate House ordered simple tea.) I've heard that chocolate is an aphrodisiac. (My response to which was to double every bit of chocolate that she ordered.)
And although, Sheila didn't say it, she didn't need to; the look on her face spoke volumes: I think I might love Chocolate more than you! Now, I am not threatened this by this for two obvious reasons. First, chocolate enhances our relationship. Second, I know that my wife loves chocolate so much it helps me appreciate how much she actually loves me. Based upon her love for chocolate, I'm pretty sure our marriage sits upon a rock solid foundation.
Below are pictures from Our European Quest for the Holy Grail of Hot Chocolate:
We searched in many chocolate shops.
We negotiated narrow and treacherous European roadways.
We looked high...
and we looked low.
We looked here...
and there...
and everywhere.
And finally, the best hot chocolate we found was at The Old Hot Chocolate House in Brugges, Belgium.
It was the ambiance, the aromas, and yes, the chocolate that made all the difference.
Finally, I am including our much discussed and debated list of top hot chocolates in the world:
1. Angelina's in Paris, France. Hands down this is it. Angelina's is located on Rue de Rivoli, across from the Tuileries Garden. The chocolate is rich and dark and sweet. It is so thick that it coats your tongue in a weird but amazing way.
2. The Hot Chocolate House in Brugges, Belgium. The chocolate is divine and the ambiance is fun.
3. Mt. Hood'sTimberline Lodge specialty hot chocolate. We have debated it's inclusion in our list because of what's included (bits of toffee--the dregs of this hot chocolate become an amazing sludge of fudgy, toffee flavors.) It tastes pretty much like a hot liquid Heath bar, but with superior chocolate. The ambiance is unique for me as a climber. I am not sure if this hot chocolate taste so amazing because whenever I drink it I have just exhausted myself climbing Mt. Hood.
4. The 40th Avenue Espresso in Yakima, Washington. We're sorry but we had to include something close to home. To make the list for me, you have to pay extra and then ask the barista to use the Ghirardelli chocolate. I order it with 3 pumps of caramel syrup, whipped cream and caramel and chocolate sauce drizzled on the top. Yummo!
5. Finally, The Chocolate Pot at the Salish Lodge near Seattle. We hesitated including this in our list because the Lodge changed ownership several years ago and the facility is a shadow of what it used to be. The hot chocolate is no longer prepared table side, although the hot chocolate is still pretty darn good. It's inclusion on this list is the original Chocolate Pot, which is technically no longer available. This hot chocolate was so much more than the wild, table side whipping and explanation of what makes an intense chocolate flavor; the hot chocolate was the closest thing to Angelina's that we have tasted.
Finally, I must include in my personal list the She-Wolf's 806-North-67th-Avenue Hot Chocolate lovingly made for me upon demand. She uses bitter chocolate chips, whole milk and half-n-half in her preparation. She laces it with caramel and home-made whipping cream. It's to die for. Really, I mean it--I might take a bullet for her hot chocolate. Well, at a minimum, it would be something to include in my last earthly meal!
A corner where Jane Austen dodged a horse and buggy. Actually, just a picture of a cool street in Bath that Shea and were standing on.
The street corner where Jane Austen bought fresh flowers. Pretty sure there's a plaque somewhere in the picture commemorating that.
The river where Jane Austen was proposed to and declined. Actually, just a spot where I made out with my girlfriend.
The cathedral where Jane Austen worshipped. Actually, just a picture of Posh Spice in Bath.
The Circle--the resort residents of whose who in England, including Jane Austen when she lived here I'm sure.
Diner that Jane Austen frequented. Actually our family dining at Sally Lunn's Bunns--a very fun restaurant in Bath where we quite enjoyed the "bunns."
House where Jane Austen lived. Actually, it's the Cranley, a most wonderful Bed and Breakfast.
Did Jane Austen bathe here? Maybe. But it's now a UNESCO world heritage site.
The Roman baths and someone who dares to speak the truth about Jane Austen.
Two intrepid seekers of all things Jane Austen related.
One of the coolest cities in England is most definitely Bath. Aquae Sulis was established by the Romans in A.D 60 as both a spa and a temple. This is a combination that we should investigate--worship and recreation. The Romans built Aquae Sulis on a natural hot spring and established a plumbing system to supply the baths that were so durable that it is still functioning today. Bath is historic and beautiful.
It went through a renaissance during the Georgian period (1700-1830). This was smack dab in the middle of when Jane Austen was writing her beloved romance novels with biting social commentaries. She worked and lived in Bath for a period of time (1800-1809). What is significant about Austen's life is that she produced nothing of literary significance during the nearly 10 years that she lived in Bath. I could have predicted that--too many distractions. Regardless, on every street corner someone is hawking something related to Jane Austen. There are plaques and statuary commemorating everything from where she enjoyed tea to where her she stubbed her big toe.
People (and by this I mean women) are crazy about Jane Austen. Sure, she is a talented writer, but as a man I struggle to enjoy her works. This is because nothing big happens in her novels. Everyone sits in a parlor and is anxious about things they cannot change. I read Pride and Prejudice and found it so frustrating. I was angry and entirely dissatisfied at the end. Comparing her stories to manly tales where heroes change the worlds in which they live are so much more satisfying to me. Stories such as Lord of the Rings, Endurance and The Odyssey (just to name a few) are tales that inspire and uplift, and where something actually happens.
Now don't get my wrong, I'm interested in literary history. I just don't really care if Jane Austen had a cat and where that cat's litter box was located. And when it comes to selecting novels or historical accounts, I choose to read stories where good has a chance to triumph over evil.
Admiring the amazing Cathedral at Aachen where Charlemagne was crowned.
Heidelberg Castle
In Luxembourg listening to a concert by a wonderful brass band from the UK.
Castles at every turn on the Rhine River.
St. Goar.
I like to think of myself as a polyglot even though I only speak English and Japanese and a little bit of Spanish. I say this only because I like to study languages and try to speak foreign languages whenever we travel, regardless of the embarrassment that it causes. When we went to France several years ago, I diligently l studied French everyday and was convinced that French was a very sexy language. Believing that French was a very sexy language was the inspiration I needed to immerse myself. Having studied (albeit unsuccessfully) a number of different languages I feel entirely qualified to comment on the virtues and shortcomings of various languages.
I authoritatively can declare that the sexiest languages are (and in this order): French, Spanish (except when women who are angry are yelling--then it just seems really scary), and finally Italian. The ugliest languages are: German, Dutch and Vietnamese, again in that order. In ranking these languages as ugly languages I mean no disrespect to Germany, the Netherlands, nor Vietnam. In particularly, I include German with a most sincere apology to Heidi Klum. She single handed has almost made German a sexy language. When she says, Auf Wiedersehen on Project Runway, every man's heart melts. That notwithstanding, German is clearly an ugly language. Despite my inclusion of German in the ugly language category, German is nevertheless a very fun language. The following conversation between the She-wolf and I illustrate this point:
"I love German. It's so much fun!"
"I thought you said it was ugly? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"It's fun to speak. You get to say things you could never say in English and sound really German while doing so."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well take the word fart for example. Don't you like to say fart? In German you get to say fart all the time. This is so much fun!"
"Not everyone likes to say fart--Just adolescent boys!"
My wife is totally wrong on this point. Fart is a funny word. In Germany, every time I exit the Autobahn, I get to say Ausfarht! which apparently means exit and laugh enthusiastically. There are also numerous words that I cannot (and would never say in English), but which seem so German, and frankly, very funny. Many of these start with "sh" and sound so similar to certain inappropriate words that I sometimes want to shout out, but cannot. Consider the following:
"Ratskeller" --I'm told this is a famous restaurant, but I'm not eating there regardless.
"Schlittenfahrt"--a sleighride (apparently a very stinky, messy sleighride)
"Wirtshaus"--a saloon or pub
"Rathaus"-- city or town hall
"haarschmuckfachgeschaft"--I have no idea what this means, but it's so much fun to say. Also I'm pretty sure I sound very German when I say this in a low, angry voice.
I'm having so much fun learning German and saying things that I would never be allowed to say in English. After I get home if you hear me saying entirely inappropriate things, like Schlittenfahrt please assume that I am just honing up on my German.
