ITS A BOY!!!

Well, we went to the doctors office on February 25th about to explode with exitement. I was sure that I was going to have a girl, but on the drive over it occured to us that there is no way that we will break the long gene pool of the Boehm boy! We were so exited we arrived 15 minutes early only to wait until 15 minutes late to go back to the ultrasound room. The nurse was so sweet, measured the head, the abdomnen and finally, i said; are you going to wait until the end to determine the sex. She laughed and said, no, we can look now. There it was, easily spotted, a penis!!! It was just as plain as could be and we were so happy. So, unless we change our mind, which we may, Jack Halligan Boehm is on the way!

ps. this entry written by Leslie

A Visit to Uncle George Bailey's

One of the best things about the clan Boehm is our respect for history and tradition. Leslie and I got a dose of both recently when we met up with Janet, Ned, Paul, and Dad at Uncle George Bailey's house in Augusta. Not only did Uncle George regale us with family stories from the past - he also told them to us over a round of his world-famous martinis. For those of you who have never experienced the tradition of sipping on one of Uncle George's mandatory martinis in Augusta, all I can say is that you're missing out. For one thing, you can't beat the company. For another, you'd be hard pressed to find a more potent concoction this side of the Mississippi. Just ask Uncle Bill: he'll tell you that krispy kremes just don't taste as sweet unless you've had a couple of Uncle George's martinis!

It had been about five years since I'd been to Augusta for a visit, and of course things weren't quite the same without Aunt Ellen around. But otherwise, the house was largely as I remembered it - from the wooded front yard to the the shag carpet in the den. Here we all are in the kitchen, about to sit down for a feast of lamb chops and miniature twice-baked potatoes (thanks Claire!).

Aunt Ellen, of course, was never far from anyone's mind, especially from Uncle George's. When I asked if it would be alright to make a video so that the rest of the family could see and hear from him, this is what he had to say:



We capped the night off with some of Janet's cheesecake and a round of Laphraig, Uncle George's finest single malt scotch. Wowzers. Stuff was so strong it almost cinged the hairs on Dad's newly grown beard. Needless to say, it was a truly enjoyable evening. Counting the unborn babe, there were four generations sitting around that dinner table.

Leslie and I live only an hour from Uncle George, and we're already talking about the next time we can get back. It's about a four hour drive from Chattanooga... We'd love it if some of you wanted to meet up with us there. If nothing else, think of Uncle George - and call him if possible - on his ninetieth birthday, February 22nd!

Here's to you Uncle George!

The Griswolds Ski Sun Valley!

That's right: Clark, Ellen, and the rest of the gang (AKA the Boehms) graced the friendly locals of Sun Valley, ID with out presence for our 2008 family vacation. And, of course, they were pleased as punch to have us - just ask the staff at Casino!

We flew out on January 3, 2008. Check out the Wasatch Mountain range right outside Salt Lake City. When Leslie saw these snow-capped behemoths, which reminded her of her lovely three month stint in Denver, Colorado, she got a little confused. Apparently, she was convinced that Idaho was not that far west, that it was "near Ohio or Michigan or something like that." All I can say is thank God she's pretty!

When we arrived in Sun Valley, Leslie and I went straight to Grumpy's, where we caught up with Mom, Dad, Brian, and Chris for some burgers and some big ol' beers! Later that night, after we had settled in at the pad, we all went to eat an inaugural vacation dinner at a pizza joint where Brian had flipped pies for a summer back in '03. It had been a long day traveling, so we went to bed early, mentally preparing ourselves to "shred pow-pow" early the next morning.

Here we all are on the bus to the slopes. It's always a little uncomfortable putting on your ski suit for the first time in several years. The socks itch, the boots hurt, and the extra layer of longjohns makes your back sweat. I think that may explain the somewhat strained look of excitement on our faces as we made our way to the first lift. Of course, the fact that none of us had skied in over six years may have had something to do with it. For Brian it had been twelve... that's why he looks especially sheepish. We might have grinned a little bigger if we had known that, over the next few days, we'd get about thirty inches of fresh pow-pow. (That's powder for you squares out there!)

Mom, as always, was as graceful as a gazelle when she hit the slopes. Here she is standing outside the lift line, ready to carve up some snow. Looks like a natural, don't she?! But Leslie was the most accomplished skier of us all. She didn't let a little thing like being three months pregnant stop her from rippin' snow at maximum capacity. Check her out diving in to this badass slope! BANZAI!!!
OK, let's cut to the chase: check out this video of the Boehm's skiing for the first time in years. We start with Brian (Leslie apologizes for the shaky camera work), move on to Christopher and the infamous "pizza plow," and end with the graceful, impressive ski-work of one M. Halligan Boehm. What can I say... I'm straight up Extreme!

Somebody's coming!

Wow. Still reeling. You can hope and pray for something, but getting it's a whole different ballgame. It was Saturday morning, November 17th. We had been out with friends the night before (oops) and needed some, what shall we call it, convalescing time. Les threw in a pan of biscuits, I brewed a pot of coffee and we settled under the blanket to watch Knocked Up. No, I'm not kidding, and yes, I recognize the irony. Not three hours later, Leslie's peeing on a stick and I'm going weak at the knees.

Movie quote: "Somebody's coming! Somebody's coming!"
Bill Murray, Ghostbusters

The question then becomes, well, what to do now? Pace around the house for a little while, obviously, that much is certain. But what then? Can't tell the parent's yet... Thanksgiving's only a few days away - an around the dinner table announcement would be priceless. Can't call friends in Birmingham - they might accidentally let the parents know. Can't toast the moment with champagne - Leslie particularly unhappy as the reality of that fact sets in. Can't sit still..

Buy more sticks?

Buy more sticks.

Yep. It's official.

Somehow each stick hit home a little more: a little babe was on the way. Not easy to hold on to such a big secret, even for five days.

But the celebration was worth the wait. We told everyone at the Lantrip Family Thanksgiving dinner. Earlier that week, Leslie had bought a handful of "onesies" -- I'm learning these terms as I go, so bear with me -- and painted names on each: World's Best Grandparents, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Mandy, Uncle Michael and Aunt Leigh Anne... even one for Granny. That night at, around the dinner table, everyone received the bag with his or her painted onesie. There was some hemming and hawing going on in that room, I'll tell you what. Lotta happy faces! Cheers, cheers, and a piece of pie for everyone... we're gonna be parents!