My little sister . . .

A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty

Happy birthday to my beautiful, ambitious, spunky, charming, adventurous, AMAZING sister!

We've had more adventures together than I can count . . .

But even though you're all grown up now, I will always be there to take care of you!

I love you Amers!

What's in a Name?

I never understood how parents could welcome a baby into the world without having a name picked out well in advance. However, with only weeks to go before the arrival of our little guy, I now understand how that is possible. A few months ago, I was almost positive what this kid's name was going to be but now I am having second thoughts and am completely confused and unsure.

Out of pure desperation, yesterday Brian and I decided to ask his Sunbeam class what they thought our little boy's name should be. There was a clear consensus (and they were all quite serious): Bubba.

I have no idea where five 3-year-olds came up with the name Bubba, but Bubba Richman kind of has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Happy Birthday, Dad!

To my dear dad:

Happy Birthday! I wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but I'm thinking of you and I love you!

(My dad grew up in San Francisco and as a result LOVES the Giants! He loves them so much that he takes every opportunity to go to one of their games, even though he now lives in Utah. That means flying out to D.C. and San Francisco multiple times a year just to cheer on his favorite team. This also means that whenever the Giants play the Nationals, we know we'll get to see our dad. I keep meaning to call the MLB to tell them to schedule more games here.)

(My dad and I last January. On our way to the Inauguration we decided to follow one of the many signs we've always been curious about to "Stonewall Jackson's Shrine" and this is where we ended up. Was it worth the drive there to see this tiny house that General Jackson never even lived in? Maybe not. But, it was definitely worth the time spent with my dad!)

U.S. Open

(view of Manhattan from Arthur Ashe tennis stadium)

Ah, New York City. What's there not to love? The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade in November, Times Square on New Year's Eve, and the U.S. Open every August/September. A couple weeks ago we joined Brian's family (as well as the Nielsons) in the Big Apple for the U.S. Open. Thanks in large part to Brian, I have become a major tennis fan over the last few years and this is our 3rd year in a row going. I'm not exaggerating when I say that Brian waits for this weekend all year long -- I'm pretty sure it's better than Christmas in his eyes. It's hard not to get equally excited when you're married to such a tennis fanatic. This was the best tennis weekend we could have asked for and I already can't wait to do it again next year. My only request is that I not be 7 1/2 months pregnant next time. As you can see from the pictures, I look about as worn out and swollen as a pregnant lady can get. I should have taken a picture of my ankles (they looked like golf balls had been implanted in them at the end of every day), but I think my tired looking eyes speak for themselves.

Day #1: The famous globe upon entering into the tennis center:

Here we are watching the Bryan brothers (#1 doubles team) courtside. They were amazing! Watching identical twins play tennis kind of made me wish that Andrea and I had better coordinated our talents to become #1 at something. I'm still thinking about what that something would have been, but I get that same feeling of regret every time I see the Olsen twins and knowing they used their twin-status to capitalize on millions. Andrea, it's not too late!

Day #2 started with Djokovic vs. Whitten. The American played his heart out but Djokovic won in the end:

Here are the Nielsons at their first ever tennis match (but definitely not their last! I think we may have them hooked!):

After amazing matches with Federer, Sharapova (getting her trash kicked by a 17-year-old American), and Andy Roddick vs. John Isner (Roddick also got beaten), our night match was American James Blake. Brian and I miraculously snuck down to the court without being caught for a slight upgrade from our seats in the nose bleed section. Sadly, we weren't down there long, as Blake lost in only 3 sets.


And here we are after about 16 hours of tennis . . . it was a looong day, but definitely worth it.


What a crazy tennis tournament! Roger Federer lost in the final for the first time in 5 years and Serena Williams behaved like a lunatic and as a result didn't even make it to the finals. Such sweet memories!

Welcome to the world . . .

My brother and sister-in-law welcomed this cute little guy into the world on Saturday. I would love nothing more than to see him in person and hold him in my arms for a few hours, but that's kind of hard when his parents decided to move to Sweden right before he was born!

(Michael Robert Candrian; 6 lbs, 6 oz.)

While I inherited some nieces and nephews when I married Brian, this is the first on the Candrian side so it has a somewhat different feeling/meaning to me. Congrats to Rob and Lorena (I hear Lorena did an awesome job, natural birth and all)! Hopefully I can see this little guy before he grows up!

9/11

It's hard to believe it has been 8 years. I have a lot of love in my heart for this great country of mine. I have so much admiration for the men and women who work to protect it. As cheesy as it sounds, the song "Proud to be an American" still gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. I pray that the leaders of our nation keep the policies in place that have kept us safe since that dreadful day 8 years ago.

Last year President Bush invited former White House staffers back to the White House for the remembrance ceremony. I knew it would be my last time at the White House before a new president took over, so I met up with my good friend Millie and we waited on the South Lawn together and reminisced about old times (we've been through a lot of craziness together). Obviously, I was not invited back this year. I'm okay with that.

(Can you see me in this picture? Hint: I'm to the back right of Mrs. Cheney holding a white paper.)

10 Years . . .

10 years. TEN! One whole decade. No matter how you say it, I graduated from high school that many years ago. Last week was my 10-year high school reunion. That sure makes me sound old, but I don't feel the slightest bit old. Even though I happened to be in Utah the same weekend as the reunion, I decided not to go for many reasons. The main one being that I was pretty much over high school the day I graduated, so I had absolutely no desire to go. But other factors also came into play: I just hit my 7th month of pregnancy, my fingers are so swollen that I can no longer wear my wedding ring, and my husband was back in Virginia. Yeah, there was no way I was going to put myself in that situation (sounds like one of those "you might be a redneck if . . . "type situations--no thanks!).

Thank goodness we're not forever our 18-year-old selves. I liked myself back then just fine, but I needed those 10 years to grow up and discover what life is really all about.