Tastes Kinda Minty

Why I Design

2009-10-27T11:32:00.007-06:00

I've always harbored a secret desire to be an artist. This goes way back to when I was a child. Besides the fact that I never actually took steps to learn how to be an artist, i.e. taking a serious art class (Mr. White's 7th grade art class doesn't count. And it was really Jamie Kendall's fault I got thrown out and told to never come back.) I can't draw.

Years ago I discovered that with the help of sophisticated computer programs loaded with precision tools, I could actually create some rudimentary graphics. So in an attempt to satisfy my instincts for creative expression I spent free time learning how to "master" ( I use the term loosely) Adobe Illustrator instead of playing video games. Over time, a lot of time, I developed some design "talent" (I use the term loosely). I then got a lucky break, thanks to my Son-in-Law, that allowed me to practice on real live clients.

Over time my confidence has increased and my skill level is now "adequate" (I use the term loosely). I also discovered that people are hungry for good design. Sometimes a client will like your work and ask you if you can design a website, package or other challenging project. My answer is usually "Sure, I can do that". I always like when they ask if I've ever done something like that before and I'll usually reply "No, but I'm sure I can do it".

This requires some courage, because after all, I don't really like looking like an idiot. Not that I don't have plenty of practice doing so. But I discovered that overcoming fear not only forces us to grow, it often exposes new levels of "talent" (I use the term loosely). Trying to achieve new, unknown challenges, often opens unexpected doors of opportunity that are exciting and rewarding. Sometimes facing unknown challenges makes you look like an idiot too.

I recently saw this insightful graphic (that some unknown artist designed, not me) and I finally realized that my lifelong passion for creative expression was not actually rooted in altruism but something much more powerful and honest. But now I feel like an idiot because I didn't think of doing it first.

Something Insightful

2009-10-27T11:26:00.005-06:00

Ok, ok! I know, why have a blog if you aren't actually going to post to it occasionally. It's almost time for lunch and I thought, what the heck, "Let's post something insightful just for the heck of it". I've always enjoyed trying to understand simplicity because most people make a living of making simple things complex. There are some obvious reasons for this quest for simplicity. .."Don't go there". Anywho, I hope you enjoy what I consider to be profoundly wise simplicity.

Don't Be Deceived

2009-04-03T13:40:00.006-06:00

The philosophies of men surround us. The face of sin today often wears the mask of tolerance. Do not be deceived; behind that facade is heartache, unhappiness, and pain. You know what is right and what is wrong, and no disguise, however appealing, can change that. The character of transgression remains the same. If your so-called friends urge you to do anything you know to be wrong, you be the one to make a stand for right, even if you stand alone. Have the moral courage to be a light for others to follow. There is no friendship more valuable than your own clear conscience, your own moral cleanliness—and what a glorious feeling it is to know that you stand in your appointed place clean and with the confidence that you are worthy to do so.

Thomas S. Monson, “Examples of Righteousness,” Ensign, May 2008, 65–68

The old man, the teenagers and the midget

2009-04-03T13:26:00.003-06:00

Sister Reva Brooks took this picture of Heidi (Sister Hope), companion and two other Sisters at the Sao Paulo, Brazil Temple on Wednesday.

Following is an excerpt from Sister Roper's last email:

Last friday was my last day going street contacting in São Paulo. A few hours before we were to leave I got really tired and wasn't really feeling like spending time in São Paulo. But I got tired of not feeling up to it because I am a missionary, this is what I am going to be doing for the next 16 months so I told myself that I just needed to have fun and enjoy the moment and enjoy São Paulo because I may never be in this crazy city again.

So before I left I told Sister Lundstom that we were going to just have fun while we were tracting. So before we left we decided to contact 3 specific types of people. We decided to look for an older to contact because the are always really mean :). Then we decided to contact a teenage girl because for some reason they are really intimidating to contact.. Probably because they think we look like nuns and talk like 3 year-olds. And Third I told sister Lundstrom that we were going to contact a Midget. So we are driving in the van to our contacting area. We were each given three book of Mormon's to place. We didn't get any pass along cards this time, and Irmã Fillao told us that if our whole district got rid of all out our BOM's she would buy us sorvete (ice cream).

So we got to our area which is the frist area we contacted at where all the J.W.'s were (a few weeks ago) and where Sister. Lundstrom got stoned. Yeah it wasn't my favorite place to go but I just decided to have fun with it and was looking forward to the challenge. So we got to the park plaza place and start working. It was a little less busy then the first time we went, the J.W.'s were there which was awesome...but we actually didn't talk to them. There was a lovely cool breeze so life was good! Right when we started walking down the plaza we saw these two teenage girls sitting on some steps and before I knew what was happening I started talking to them. Once girl had a bunch of piercings but seemed nice enough and the other girl had a really nice friendly countenance. They both listened to us and were really friendly. We asked them if they wanted a book and the friendlier girl took one. It was really interesting because I could tell that she was interested in it even though the other girl wasn't. Anyway....

We were excited after that contact. So the rest of the day went fine. We actually had a lot of laughs and we were passing out our book of Mormon's. We talked to one guy forever trying to understand what he was saying and could pick out little bits and pieces but he was just kind of rambling and we felt prompted to just move on and stop listening to him. So finally after probably 10 or 15 minutes I asked the guy in Portugués if he wanted to learn about the Book of Mormon or not, he said no and so I was said "Taobóm. Obrigada por seu tempo. Boa Tarde!" (okay, thanks for your time see ya) It was crazy because the spirit can really help me identify who to teach and what to do. We contacted one guy and the whole thing was so quick, but I could tell he was truly interested in the book. I am grateful for the gift of the spirit because he definitely directs me and helps me be bold and unafraid. I am so blessed.

So we only had about 20 minutes left of our contacting and we still had one book of Mormon left. Luckily for us Sister Lundstrom spotted out our very last contact....Our Midget! Haha I couldn't believe it. At first I thought she was just pointing to some short man but when I looked again I saw a midget across the park from where we were. He was so accommodating too because he was in a bright orange outfit. Sister Lundstrom slowly walked his way figuring out if we should go over there. Duh..of course we should go over there. We are missionaries. We spare no one :). So we walk over to the Midget and he is actually a city worker and he was with two other coworkers. We started talking and the MIdget wasn't interested but one of the other workers was....especially when he found out the Book was free. haha it was good way to end the day. Even better is that our whole district passed out all of our BOM's in about 2 hours. We passed out 31 BOM's total. I felt so proud of all the elders and Sis. Lundstrom. All of us went out and had fun and relied on the Lord and overcame our fears. That was probably my favorite day here in the CTM. It's so important to remember to have fun while work hard because if you don't life will just be miserable.

...I am so excited to get to Rio (de Janerio) because I know there is a ton of work for me to do. I know that modesty and morality is a huge problem in Rio and Women have a skewed image there. So I am dying to get there and help God's daughters know who they are and who they can be. I want them to feel the purity and strength that I feel daily as a result of my knowledge of the Gospel and usage of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. We are so so blessed to have this gospel. I am learning so much. I love studying so much. I love this gospel and know it is important to remember that we don't have to go on a mission to feel close to God and feel the power of atonement. All we have to do is show God that we want to be closer to him, that we need his help, that we need a friend, that we need some comfort, that we need direction. For anything we need God is waiting to help us with. All we have to do is let him in. I know that as we make a process of daily diligent scripture study and prayer, our lives will literally be filled with peace and love and happiness. That doesn't mean that every day will be perfect and we won't make mistakes and that we won't have struggles, but there is a definite added strength to our lives. I am starting to become grateful for my challenges because I can see how they are slowly molding me into who the Lord knows I can become...I just feel so blessed and am excited to go teach the gospel for real.

Sister Roper in Sao Paulo

2009-04-03T10:40:00.011-06:00

After being set apart by the Stake President Charles Rudd Sister Heidi Roper began serving her mission by entering the MTC in Provo on Wednesday, February 4, 2009. Sister Roper has been called to serve in the Brazil Rio De Janeiro Mission and was supposed to fly directly to Sao Paulo to learn Portuguese there. About thirty five missionaries called to serve in Brazil, did not receive their visas in time so a class was started in Provo. There they began to learn the Portugal style of the language.

Two weeks later she received her visa along with everyone except one lone Elder. Arrangements were made and that group began their journey by the leaving the Salt Lake City Airport on Feb. 17^th.

Her family received a few letters from her and she reports to being very happy. She reports that she already loves Brazil and noted the following: “Being in the Brasil airport was interesting. There were so many people and some of their lines and stuff weren't very efficient but it was fun to feel immersed with the Brazilian people, despite the fact that I don’t speak the language yet.

Once we got through security and customs and there was a cute little Brazilian man who picked us up and got us on the right van. Driving to the CTM was awesome! I don’t think there are any traffic laws except one; no road rage. Everyone just goes, and swerves in and out of each other. They just plow their own way down the highway. People get cut off all the time but they are totally chill with each other and no one gets frustrated our mad. It really is incredible because in America people are much more intense.

It was crazy too because tons of people ride motorbikes and they don’t have to stay in any of the lanes. They just zoom by the traffic even if it is at a stand still. They will just honk their horn for a few seconds before they zoom by so no one will run them over. Ha ha, it was pretty sweet.

It was interesting driving through Sao Paulo because it didn’t seem real, but then it did all at the same time. I just know that this is where I am supposed to be. They have some pretty big canals in the city by the highways. I understand why I won’t be able to drink water from the tap now; yeah that water is pretty nasty. The city is crazy because there is a huge contrast of nice and ghetto right next to each other. There are many hills that have little cement houses built on top of each other. We are so blessed.

The CTM is way more chill than the MTC. Some rules at the MTC in Provo don’t even apply here. I love the food here too. I literally eat beans and rice almost every meal every day. They have other stuff too but the beans and rice are my favorite! It is sooo good. Every meal is a treat.

No one ever told me about Brazil’s amazing BBQ sauce! I think I have already eaten a whole bottle by now. Sis. Lundstrom, my companion thinks I am crazy but this stuff tastes so good on their meat, the rice and beans, the bread...everything, I love it.

The rooms here are 100 times nicer than Provo and a lot cleaner too. There are four Sisters in our room. We have two Brazilian roommates and I love them. They don’t speak much English and whenever I try to speak Portuguese they always respond in Portuguese and it sounds like this "adasdlkfjbelak aldflakljadf cbabe alkdabceladlfka" they speak so fast and I still really have no idea how to differentiate between different words. But it sounds good though, right?

Their names are Sister Da Silva and Sister Santos. I love them a lot even though we can hardly communicate. We have apartment prayer together, and sometimes and we will all laugh about random things. I want to be able to communicate with them so bad but so far the language is coming slowly. I am going street contacting on Friday! I am so excited. I know that it will be hard for me but I am really excited. I am sure I will have some good stories to tell you all next week. I know the language will come. Some days I am better at having faith than others, but I made a pact with myself to never say again that I won’t learn the language. Instead I will learn the language!

Most of the missionaries here are Brazilian and so we eat a lot of our meals with them and just talk to them a lot. Everyone is so nice; even when they laugh at my attempts to speak.” (In Portuguese the R’s are often pronounced with an H sound) Many of the missionaries here call me Sister Hope when they read my name tag and I absolutely love it when they do.

We went to the Campinas Templo today and I loved it. It had some of the prettiest art work and the whole interior was gorgeous. It was such a comfort to hear the covenants that I have made and feel recommitted to this great work that I am privileged to be a part of.

Attending the temple was a major highlight of my week. I love my Savior Jesus Cristo and am so grateful for the atonement and his gospel on the earth today. What a blessing in my life!”

Eu amo voces muito!

I love you all a lot!

Sister Roper - Sister Hope!

The Light of Providence

2008-11-28T22:58:00.007-07:00

As the light of providence and the shadow of darkness continue to be cast on the chasm of good and evil, I feel compelled to share some poignant words from a modern prophet. Recently we have seen fulfillment of prophecy in our modern time. Recent attention to California’s Proposition 8 illustrates how it has been fulfilled. This amendment serves as a specific canvass for the general promotion of secularism in society and the attack on church and family today.

The radical homosexual community aggressively and tirelessly demanded that society afford it protected class status because of predisposition for same sex attraction. The notion that behavioral predisposition should be protected is illogical. It is arguably a misinterpretation of constitutional protection.

Many individuals have genetic, environmental or psychic predispositions for destructive behavior. Predispositions including heterosexual promiscuity, pedophilia, abuse, pornography, adultery, chemical addictions, greed, power, etc., have always been manifest in human societies.
The destructive consequences of acting out on predispositions is well documented. The numberless concourses of victims left in the wake of selfish indulgences includes self, family, community and nation. Even casual students of history, not blinded by their own lusts, have clearly observed the consequences of unbridled restraint from individual predisposition.
Other organized groups continue to fight to lower standards of decency so that their predispositions can be satisfied. Sound-bytes which resonate from their camps include slogans like “drug abuse is a victimless crime”, or “any behavior is appropriate between consenting adults.” The dark path of these lies is paved with broken homes, sorrow, remorse, divorce, disease, neglect, abuse, murder and other heinous outcomes.

In reality predisposition is really just a verbose word that is usually used to describe selfish and unchecked destructive behavior. With remarkable effectiveness the Gay community has glamorized, popularized and packaged it with slick slogans designed to desensitize the masses. Perhaps never before have we ever seen such a well organized and wealthy movement silence so many with it’s blatant fear mongering.

The radical element of the homosexual community has always had a hidden agenda. What is that agenda?

The homosexual community is incapable of producing progeny naturally. It relies solely on recruitment or conversion. It’s collective indulgence depends upon it’s ability to network and socialize like minded individuals. The perpetuation and very survival of it’s cause depends upon self promotion.

Ironically angry, radical, “gay” voices are the most verbose in shouting “hate” speech. These voices seek to silence any who oppose their deviant definition of marriage. Their campaign of vitriol, social protest, and ugly harassment exposes the desperation of their minions and the selfish emptiness of their cause. This powerful, wealthy and well-organized lobby has validated the myth of their supposed victim status. They have clearly illustrated they oppose free speech and constitutional processes for any who dare stand against them. Their tactics are outrageous and brutal. One simple example of their egregious tactics is the website Californians Against Hate. http://californiansagainsthate.com/ This site specifically targets those who donated funds in favor of passing Proposition 8.

Can you visualize the firestorm of publicity that would be raised if someone was to post a similar site on the web that highlighted any individuals that donated to defeat Prop 8?

Can you imagine the backlash of outrage the media and judiciary, infiltrated by gay activists, would raise if anyone were to target individuals in the gay community with the same tactics they have deployed against those who supported Prop 8?

Can you comprehend the outcry that would be made if individuals were to target and picket the homes and businesses of homosexuals?

Documentation to illustrate a radical pattern of harassment and hate speech against religious minorities and the “silent majority” is available in exponential detail.

It is astonishing how outrageous their organized behavior has become. It is intriguing to see their rhetoric of phobia exposed. It is notable to see how quickly these forces of radicalism that claimed that religious rights wouldn’t and couldn’t be restricted, now hypocritically are demanding that those rights do be restricted, including tax exempt status for churches. It is significant to note how a religious minority has been specifically targeted. It is perhaps nor really surprising that they have advocated that temples be burned, opposing proposition donors be identified and harassed, and hate labels be applied to decent citizens whom apposed the amendment.

Their are those who might accuse me targeting the Gay community unfairly by my assertions is without merit. I decry the indulgence of all unbridled, destructive, behavior in all it’s forms. I will continue to treat individuals to whom I do not agree with respect and decorum. But I feel compelled to stand firm against what is clearly an organized attack on freedom of speech, the institution of marriage and the free exercise of religion afforded in the constitution of this great land.

Perhaps those who seek to attack the LDS church would be well advised to study the depth and breadth of persecution heaped upon it’s membership historically and even today by those whom are ignorant of it’s advocation of decency. The Gay community has never been the recipient of an extermination order by the government.

It is noteworthy to comprehend the specific targeting of The Church is Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The fact that this specific focus was directed at the Church despite the fact that a broad inter-religious and interracial coalition worked together is both gratifying and positive. This, once again holds up the living Church of Christ as a banner of truth and good, an ensign to the nations and a light unto the world. The pure in heart of the earth will look with curiosity to us collectively and individually. Glorious is our opportunity to help them see the unwavering nature of God’s church and of the sweet peace the gospel brings. Great is our responsibility to bring many to the knowledge of the truth because the good and honorable people of the earth will recognize, as in all times past, the power and glory of the Lord.

We with great satisfaction should be grateful for our opportunity to play a role in bringing God’s purposes to pass. I am grateful that we are being attack for we now see how our collective efforts, under the direction of the prophet can “bring about much good” and move other good people to action.

While the radical voices of this powerful “protected class” continue their quest to silence the voice of the diverse majority, with fervor, anger and manipulation, the quiet, calm and sure word of God resonates to mind and spirit of the pure in heart. For they seek after that which is virtuous, lovely or of good report.

My thesis above was presented to help illustrate how prophecy has been fulfilled today. I have quoted portions of the words of Neal A. Maxwell below that were delivered prophetically 30 years ago. I have added italics on portions I find especially poignant. I testify that his words portray the mind of the Lord and the will of the Lord. I admonish all who read them to strengthen their personal resolve to stand against evil and to increase their personal commitment to follow the Prophets counsel today. For as Isaiah confidently asserted in viewing our day: Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded…No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper.” (Isaiah 54)

A More Determined Discipleship
By Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Presidency of the First Quorum of the Seventy
An address delivered at Brigham Young University, 10 October 1978, Ensign, Feb 1979, 69–73

Discipleship includes good citizenship. In this connection, if you are a careful student of the statements of the modern prophets, you will have noticed that with rare exceptions—especially when the First Presidency has spoken out—the concerns expressed have been over moral issues, not issues between political parties. The declarations are about principles, not people; and causes, not candidates. On occasions, at other levels in the Church, a few have not been so discreet, so wise, or so inspired.

Make no mistake about it, brothers and sisters, in the months and years ahead, events are likely to require each member to decide whether or not he will follow the First Presidency. Members will find it more difficult to halt longer between two opinions. (See 1 Kgs. 18:21.)
President Marion G. Romney said, many years ago, that he had “never hesitated to follow the counsel of the Authorities of the Church even though it crossed my social, professional or political life” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1941, p. 123). This is a hard doctrine, but it is a particularly vital doctrine in a society which is becoming more wicked. In short, brothers and sisters, not being ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ includes not being ashamed of the prophets of Jesus Christ!

We are now entering a time of incredible ironies. Let us cite but one of these ironies which is yet in its subtle stages: We will see a maximum, if indirect, effort made to establish irreligion as the state religion. It is actually a new form of paganism which uses the carefully preserved and cultivated freedoms of western civilization to shrink freedom, even as it rejects the value essence of our rich Judeo-Christian heritage.

M. J. Sobran wrote recently:
“The Framers of the Constitution … forbade the Congress to make any law ‘respecting’ the establishment of religion, thus leaving the states free to do so (as several of them did); and they explicitly forbade the Congress to abridge ‘the free exercise’ of religion, thus giving actual religious observance a rhetorical emphasis that fully accords with the special concern we know they had for religion. It takes a special ingenuity to wring out of this a governmental indifference to religion, let alone an aggressive secularism. Yet there are those who insist that the First Amendment actually proscribes governmental partiality not only to any single religion, but to religion as such; so that tax exemption for churches is now thought to be unconstitutional. It is startling to consider that a clause clearly protecting religion can be construed as requiring that it be denied a status routinely granted to educational and charitable enterprises, which have no overt constitutional protection. Far from equalizing unbelief, secularism has succeeded in virtually establishing it. …

“What the secularists are increasingly demanding, in their disingenuous way, is that religious people, when they act politically, act only on secularist grounds. They are trying to equate acting on religion with establishing religion. And—I repeat—the consequence of such logic is really to establish secularism. It is in fact, to force the religious to internalize the major premise of secularism: that religion has no proper bearing on public affairs.” (Human Life Review, Summer 1978, pp. 51–52, 60–61.)

Brothers and sisters, irreligion as the state religion would be the worst of all combinations. Its orthodoxy would be insistent and its inquisitors inevitable. Its paid ministry would be numerous beyond belief. Its Caesars would be insufferably condescending. Its majorities—when faced with clear alternatives—will make the Barabbas choice, as did a mob centuries ago when Pilate confronted them with the need to decide.

Your discipleship may see the time when such religious convictions are discounted. M. J. Sobran also said, “A religious conviction is now a second-class conviction, expected to step deferentially to the back of the secular bus, and not to get uppity about it” (Human Life Review, Summer 1978, pp. 58–59).

This new irreligious imperialism seeks to disallow certain opinions simply because those opinions grow out of religious convictions. Resistance to abortion will be seen as primitive. Concern over the institution of the family will be viewed as untrendy and unenlightened.

In its mildest form, irreligion will merely be condescending toward those who hold to traditional Judeo-Christian values. In its more harsh forms, as is always the case with those whose dogmatism is blinding, the secular church will do what it can to reduce the influence of those who still worry over standards such as those in the Ten Commandments. It is always such an easy step from dogmatism to unfair play—especially so when the dogmatists believe themselves to be dealing with primitive people who do not know what is best for them—the secular bureaucrats’ burden, you see.

Am I saying that the voting rights of people of religion are in danger? Of course not! Am I saying, “It’s back to the catacombs?” No! But there is occurring a discounting of religiously based opinions. There may even be a covert and subtle disqualification of some for certain offices in some situations, in an ironic irreligious test for office.

If people, however, are not permitted to advocate, to assert, and to bring to bear, in every legitimate way, the opinions and views they hold which grow out of their religious convictions, what manner of men and women would we be?

Our founding fathers did not wish to have a state church established nor to have a particular religion favored by government. They wanted religion to be free to make its own way. But neither did they intend to have irreligion made into a favored state church.

Notice the terrible irony if this trend were to continue. When the secular church goes after its heretics, where are the sanctuaries? To what landfalls and Plymouth Rocks can future pilgrims go?

If we let come into being a secular church which is shorn of traditional and divine values, where shall we go for inspiration in the crises of tomorrow? Can we appeal to the rightness of a specific regulation to sustain us in our hour of need? Will we be able to seek shelter under a First Amendment which by then may have been twisted to favor irreligion? Will we be able to rely for counterforce on value education aided in school systems which are increasingly secularized? And if our governments and schools were to fail us, would we be able to fall back upon and rely upon the institution of the family, when so many secular movements seek to shred it?

It may well be that as our time comes to “suffer shame for his name” (Acts 5:41), some of that special stress will grow out of that portion of discipleship which involves citizenship. Remember, as Nephi and Jacob said, we must learn to endure “the crosses of the world” and yet to despise “the shame of it” (2 Ne. 9: 18; Jacob 1:8). To go on clinging to the iron rod in spite of the mockery and scorn that flow at us from the multitudes in that great and spacious building seen by Father Lehi, which is the “pride of the world” (1 Ne. 11:36)—is to disregard the shame of the world. Parenthetically, why, really why, do the disbelievers who line that spacious building watch so intently what the believers are doing? (See 1 Ne. 8:33.) Surely there must be other things for the scorners to do. Unless deep within their seeming disinterest. … Unless. … If the challenge of the secular church becomes very real, let us, as in all other relationships, be principled but pleasant. Let us be perceptive without being pompous. Let us have integrity and not write checks with our tongues which our conduct cannot cash.

Before the ultimate victory of the forces of righteousness, some skirmishes will be lost. Even in these, however, let us leave a record so that the choices are clear, letting others do as they will in the face of prophetic counsel.

There will also be times, happily, when a minor defeat seems probable, but others will step forward, having been rallied to rightness by what we do. We will know the joy, on occasion, of having awakened a slumbering majority of the decent people of all races and creeds which was, till then, unconscious of itself.

Jesus said that when the fig trees put forth their leaves, “summer is nigh” (Matt. 24:32). Thus warned that summer is upon us, let us not then complain of the heat!

Have I come today, however, only to add one more to the already long list of special challenges faced by you and me? Not really. I have also come to say to you that God, who foresaw all challenges, has given to us a precious doctrine which can encourage us in meeting this and all other challenges.

Properly humbled and instructed concerning the great privileges that are ours, we can cope with what seem to be very dark days, and with true perspective about “things as they really are,” we can see in them a great chance to contribute. Churchill, in trying to rally his countrymen in an address at Harrow School on 29 October 1941, said to them:

“Do not let us speak of darker days; let us speak rather of sterner days. These are not dark days: these are great days—the greatest days our country has ever lived; and we must all thank God that we have been allowed, each of us according to our stations, to play a part in making these days memorable in the history of our race.” (Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, p. 923.)

So should we regard the dispensation of the fulness of time—even when we face stern challenges and circumstances. “These are great days”! Our hearts need not fail us. We can be equal to our challenges, including the aforementioned challenge of the secular church!

The full text of Elder Maxwell’s address can be found at: http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?locale=0&sourceId=1846d0640b96b010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD

What we learned from Hurricane Ike

2008-11-28T19:44:00.005-07:00

In September Hurricane Ike ripped through Texas with a vengeance. My Sister Marva, husband Steve and kids, though they resided hundreds of miles north of hardest hit Galveston, still lived through a exciting adventure. They were well prepared with food and provisions but learned many things through their experiences.

After talking with her on the phone after the ordeal I discovered that they had been without power for over 10 days. I asked her about what they had learned and she told me some very interesting things. I also asked if she would write her insights down so they could be shared with others. I have, with her permission included the text of her email below and hope you will ponder and prepare as you may in you own situations.

"I wrote many thoughts I had down about our experience with "Ike" the other night. My thoughts are jumbled, figured it would be better to send you this jumbled than not at all.

Generator: would have been nice for a fan and the fridge.
Next storm, I will put all the frozen food into the fridge to help keep the food cold longer.

I was amazed at how quickly fatigue set in. (Laundry in the tub, carrying water & not sleeping well because of the heat, but more because of the smoke from burning wood.)

When I plug in my freezer in the garage, I will be freezing large blocks of ice to keep on hand. I heard people here did that after "Rita" and had them ready when "Ike" came.

I would have had many more paper towels on hand. I was amazed at all the kitchen and bath towels we went through. (We did go in the back yard when it rained the following day, to cool off and collect water.) I think I washed my kitchen towels three or four times. I was always worried about cross contamination.

Luckily I had screws, rope and clothespins to make a clothes line between the fence posts in the corner of the yard, initially it was in the garage. I wish I would have had more clothespins. There were no where to be purchased.

It would have been nice if the cordless drill battery had of worked (we need a replacement), next time I will recharged the battery the day before. I made the clothes line with a screw driver and had to take down the plywood off the first and second windows with regular screw driver.

I would like to purchase a siphon for the gas tank. So that we don't have to worry about having multiple gas cans for our new generator. We keep our large van gassed up.

It would have been nice to have 2 or 4 electric or stand up lamps. Our kitchen does not have a window close to the stove, we felt like we were always cooking in the dark. We did realize after a few days that we had a hurricane lamp and oil. We were in heaven!

I was surprised at how many matches we used. Between the candles, gas stove and lamp we went through a lot.

Remember, the early bird gets the ice from stores, but waiting in line for FEMA is not worth 4 miles of gasoline and 4 hours of frustration. We chose to go with out rather than stand in long lines. We did discover that gas stations out of the way were stocked with ice. Who would have thought?

Heavy duty paper plates, bowls, silverware and cups would have come in handy. We had the good bowls, but found our plates wilted in the humidity of the air before the food. SO we decided to use real plates. Which gave us the opportunity to wash many dishes by hand. We used the dishwasher as a drying rack. I was surprised at the amount of water it took to do dishes.

We were always worrying about cross contamination of food and counter tops, because we cooked so much raw meat. We ended up going and getting 3 container of Clorox wipes after using what we had in the house, just so we wouldn't worry as much.

We found it helpful to use a small tub to wash dishes in, and rinse them in the sink that did not have the disposal. We did not want to have a foul smell from food in the disposal. We then flushed the dish water down the toilet.

Remember, if its yellow, let it mellow. If it is brown flush it down. At first I had the kids just pour water into the toilet. Then I realized that was counterproductive and we took the lids off all the toilets and kept the tanks full.

We always keep candy in our 72 hour kit. The Jolly Ranchers became one big piece of candy-even in the unopened original bag. Star Bursts and individually wrapped Life Savers were awesome!

What surprised us the most was that we never ate the food in our 72 hour kit. Except for the granola bars, they were nearing their expiration date, and there were kids always looking for a snack. We ate whatever was in the fridge and freezer. We had a unusually large bag of flour tortillas and ended up eating chicken casadillas more often than I would like to admit. They were easy to customize and make. We boiled the chicken, chopped it up. We even made homemade tortillas, none were to be had in the stores. We did have to Google the recipe though.

We have always meant to get a water bladder for the tub. Here is the link:

http://www.redcrossstore.org/Shopper/Product.aspx?UniqueItemId=197&Page=1&StartAtPage=1&SId=353714&LocationId=0

http://www.redcrossstore.org/shopper/ProdList.aspx?LocationId=1

Water became more of a luxury than electricity did. The night it started raining after the storm passed I got up, maybe I was a little fanatical, but with 90 degree weather and 90 humidity can you blame me. I woke some of the kids to help me empty plastic bins to collect rain water. I dumped out Christmas containers, sewing supplies etc. I did not want to be without water. It was refreshing to be out in the rain, we even took some soap and kind of had a shower. We ended up boiling some of the water to use for dishes and to warm up water from the tub to take a shower with a small bucket.

The storm brought unseasonably cooler weather. What a blessing this was!!!!!!
Texans are hard working people. Before the rain from "Ike" had completely stopped, many were out with chainsaws cutting trees that had fallen on roads. When we took a ride to see the damage, it was amazing to see what people were already doing.

When we finish repacking our 72 hour kit, I will not worry so much about mobility. Living here, there is no where to go. I would rather be in my home than on a freeway stuck in traffic. I think that I will also label and make a master list of the contents. When the kids and I helped a couple a street over, I was eaten by fire ants and discovered we did not have any Benedryl. We went out at 9 p.m. and discovered that nothing was open due to the curfew, not even a CVS by the hospital. While we were gone, the kids discovered that we had Benedryl in the 72 hour kit. It had not even occurred to me to look.

It was a good experience for us. Some of the other comments the family made were:
They were amazed at the number of hours of darkness.

It was nice to have a UPS for the Internet. A few days when the phone worked we were able to see pictures of what had happened. We would have liked to have seen more pictures. We saw very little of the destruction.

It was nice to have work gloves. I would like to get more for when they get wet(sweaty) or muddy.

We had a portable radio which was wonderful to be able to hear the news.
We had charged our batteries and mp3 players.

We did the laundry before the storm. We ended up wearing clothes that would survive being washed in the tub and bleach int he sun.

Chinese checkers is fun to play with six players. Although, as the sun goes down it is hard to distinguish the marble colors.

We gassed all the vehicles 2 days before the storm, lines were short. Lines were extremely long the day before the storm.

We boarded up the back of the house, we did not worry about what the neighbors think. It seen kind of weird putting up boards 2 days before the storm in 90 degree weather. We knew that it would be breezy the next day. We did see another neighbor doing a few windows. We tied rope around the boards, used the ladder as a pulley to hoist them up to the second story. We could have used more rope and kept the ropes on some of the higher boards. (A previous storm, many in the neighbor hood had taken down sections of fence and covered their windows.)
We had about 12 sheets of plywood in the garage. Did not have to go stand in line at Lowes. It took longer and hard work to put the boards up on the windows. Although, I must confess that we have many windows.
The nice thing about boarding up the windows was that Steve and I slept through the night. I know that I would have worried all night it I had not put the boards up. We heard stories of how loud the storm was. Danny came down stairs because it was so loud.

My last piece of advice is: take care of you and those around you. For days we saw the lines at grocery stores, gas stations, donut shops, FEMA, Subway, etc. and were glad that we did not have to wait in line. I was at the grocery store Thursday Oct 2, the store finally looked fully stocked. I was surprised at how long it took for things like eggs, milk, bread, Miracle Whip to be stocked in the stores. It had never really occurred to me that not only was there a run on the stores before the storm, but that after power was restored people needed to restock all the foods they had lost.

I do miss the simplicity that we enjoyed. It was good to take time to stop and reevaluate what is important. Replacing the annoying washing machine that I have is not even a priority anymore. I was surprised at how I reacted some of the time. I do not think I realized the amount of stress and fatigue we were all under. We did not even have any damaged. I cannot even comprehend what others are going through. I will confess that I was getting a little whiny that last day.

The last observation I have is that not having power was the toughest on Steve. I wish I would have realized it sooner.

But life is good. We were watched over and had opportunities to serve others. Sometime I need to tell you the story of going to help one of the members of our ward, but ended up helping someone else that needed assistance.

I think I have a better perspective of life and challenges. There are so many good things that come from tough times. The future looks way more challenging than this hurricane was.

Hard work, faith and service goes a long way.

Gotta Go.
Love Marva"

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

2008-06-18T23:04:00.006-06:00

We took these photos of Jake after he played in the pool the other day.

Rub-A-Dub from Doug Roper on Vimeo.">

Father's Day Splendor

2008-06-18T20:54:00.009-06:00

Father's Day was a blast. Jake enjoyed his very first romp in a swimming pool and seemed to enjoy it. Brad kept pouring cold water on Jake's shoulder and back so he could watch him gasp. The square foot garden is doing well and we enjoyed spinach, radishes and a variety of gourmet lettuce greens freshly picked that morning. Brad and Heidi frolic in the hammock while the adults converse and enjoy Jake's amusing adventures. Dad enjoys 20 seconds of shut-eye. All in all it was a very fine day.

Smart Driving / Smart Money

2008-06-12T13:24:00.007-06:00

Often we get so addicted to convenience that we sometimes forget that our habits have enormous impact on our pocket books. Becky often packs me a delicious and nutritious lunch that includes tasty tidbits from all the major food groups. Not only are her lunches yummy, but they always come included with a special love note written on the napkin. I keep a special supply of napkins in my credenza which I actually use to wipe morsels from my cranium. This allows me to archive the love-note-napkins for future reference. I've got a tidy stack of them about a foot and a half high now.

Not only do these lunches provide sufficient blood sugar to my brain, but they also save me hundreds of dollars in expensive lunches when looked at over a period of time. On average lunch out costs between 6 or 7 dollars. If I eat the brown bag lunch I save 100 bucks in just three business weeks. That number has a substantial comma in it when computed annually.

Frankly these days money is tight for all of us. We work hard for the money. (I know you are humming the tune in your mind right now.) I thought it would be a good thing for all of us to do two things. 1. Evaluate our spending habits and 2. Modify our spending habits.

Someone once said happiness is learning to delay getting what we want now for what we want most. This applies to to many things in life including our moral choices. It also applies to using our money wisely.

The first 10% of our money we should give to the Lord. The second 10%-20% is ours to keep. I.e., we should save it and let our money work for us and to use for a raining day (and when the radiator on the car blows). A big chunk goes to Uncle Sam and there's not much left. Inflation is skyrocketing and is not likely going to ease soon. So we need to use the remainder wisely.

So I offer some patriarchal suggestions. Take time, now, pronto, today to assess you spending habits, and then make some changes. Consider your convenience store purchases and stop making them. I refill water bottles at work. Make a list before going to the store. Grow vegetables in your garden. Get up 15 minutes earlier and take the bus. Use the time to blog, read and ponder. When you drive, list all of the errands you have to make and then route your course. If you owned a taxi company you'd do this.

The family economy depends on everyone doing their part, so go green (I can't believe I just said that). We are all stewards of God's blessings and need to be wise in our stewardship's. So if saving money motivates you to change, hooray. If you are more convicted to save the world and is saves money, then hoorah.

One man's logo may be another man's plasma. Yippee. Mom and I appreciate every contribution. Remember, often in life our biggest sacrifices often become our most cherished memories.

As Petrol costs are outrageous and only getting worse, I built a handy little calculator to help you see how much gasoline really costs. It also illustrates the real costs of driving. I encourage you to click the link below and plug in your numbers. Please share your thoughts and ideas in the comments section.

http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=purqER_hqmrQvly7DfyjdQw&t=4989408294833487731&guest

I feel so secure

2008-06-11T12:19:00.009-06:00

I went to Wikipedia.com today for understanding.

"Control-Alt-Delete" it says", "(often abbreviated to Ctrl-Alt-Del) is a computer keyboard command on PC compatible systems that can be used to reboot the computer, and summon the task manager or provide Windows Security in more recent versions of the Microsoft Windows operating system.

It is invoked by pressing the Delete key while holding the Control and Alt keys. These keys are sometimes referred to in computer manuals as interrupt keys, since they are often used to interrupt the operation of a malfunctioning program. (Hmmm. I think I’ll just avoid any commentary regarding a malfunctioning Windows program here. It’s just too easy.)

This keyboard combination was implemented by David Bradley, a designer of the original IBM PC. Bradley designed Control-Alt-Escape to trigger a soft reboot, but he found it was too easy to bump the left side of the keyboard and reboot the computer accidentally. (Really…are you kidding me?)

He switched the key combination to Control-Alt-Delete, because it was a combination that was virtually impossible to press with just one hand. Regarding his brilliant innovation Bradley is quoted as saying. 'I may have invented Control-Alt-Delete, but Bill Gates made it famous'. "

Every morning and several times during the day I enjoy the pleasure of hunting for these three random keys. I then have the wonderful opportunity to regularly execute an arthritis defying maneuver.

The fact that Mr. Bradley felt compelled to design a device of such contortional (yes, I made this word up) significance is frankly awe inspiring. I mean after all, if bumping the side of the computer usually resulted in an accidental reboot then hey, logic and intuition would dictate that the problem must reside with the user. Heaven forbid that any consideration should be made to re-engineer the hardware or the operating system. Rather, (picture a light bulb to the side of his head) doesn’t it make more sense to create some kind of random keystroke pattern for the user to execute, that requires advanced simultaneous visual and digital acuity?

Well the answer is obvious. In fact it is so obvious the one of the smartest men in the world, Bill gates decided to take it a step further. “Let’s write our Windows OS systems to require the user to perform this little gem of a maneuver every time the user tries to log on and every time the screen saver kicks in” He said. (I’m pretty sure I read that on the internet somewhere.)

It took me a while to figure this out, but once again I realize the brilliance is in the complexity. For a long time I was actually frustrated and judgmental about the control-alt-delete requirement, but now I feel liberated by it. I'm mean after all Microsoft made billions by apply complexity to solve relatively simple problems. Liberal socialists use the same kind of thinking all the time to solve our problems.

For more on this see: http://esaanerud.blogspot.com/2008/06/erics-rant.html

You may think I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not, I tell you. Now that I’m firmly entrenched in my fifties, I realize this actually simple-yet-oh-so-beautifully-complex keystroke helps keep the joints of my fingers limber. If I could just figure out how to design a mouse that would require the same kind of arduous physical requirement, I’m confident that age related incapacitation could be effectively avoided. I was looking around my office today pondering this. Think of the possibilities; this could lead to a whole industry of reverse ergonomics.

I should really give up my Mac. I may be contributing to my own demise.

What's in a name?

2008-06-04T20:21:00.011-06:00

When I was a kid my then kid brother Trevor thought it would be clever to call me Dog. The great thing about being a kid is that we were all one at some point. Since Trevor thought it was clever to call me Dog, he thought he would be constantly clever if he called me Dog incessantly. So that is what he did. I of course didn't want Trevor to have a corner on being clever so I decided it would be even more clever to call him Retriever. So from then on when he would call me Dog I would call him Retriever. I'm sure you'll agree that this was even more clever than him calling me Dog.

Well the net result of all this cleverness was a cleverness impasse, a sort of detente if you will.

As kids, most of us were tagged with various nicknames. I learned very young a sort of nickname paradox. It goes something like this: The probability that a nickname will stick is directly proportionate to the degree that you dislike it or the degree to which you protest it. If you really, really detest a nickname you should at the moment of inception embrace it, and passionately; convincingly declare how much you like it. I've been tagged with some really good nicknames over the years, most of which didn't stick for very long. The one's I hated the most didn't stick because I loved them the most. Don't ask me which one's I really hate because I will likely tell you I love them. You'll never really know for sure because I'll say I love some nicknames that I really do love and vice versa.

Have you ever noticed that when you go to restaurants they will usually ask something like, "May I have a name?". I don't think anyone has ever asked me "What is your name?". Ok, I get it, they just want a name. They don't really care if your name is an alias or not. One time Amy, Brad and I were at a hamburger joint in Orem called Fuddruckers, and the girl asked "May I have a name". I said, "Sure...Diego". My kids immediately started giggling like I had just said the funniest thing they had ever heard. Their laughter reached a crescendo after the burgers were cooked and "Diego" was called out over the intercom. I thought they were going to blow chunks, but I realized all they had to eat so far were their milkshakes and there weren't any chunks in them.

A few years ago I went to another restaurant and the cashier ask me, "May I have a name". I told them "Doug". The cashier took my money, made a note on my reciept and handed it back to me. I was amused to see the person had spelled my name "Dug". This really cracked me up. Of course I shared this story as seemed appropriate, but imagine my surprise when it happened again at another restaurant. I love it when illiterate restaurant employees have a sense of humor.

Recently we decided to order some chinese food for take-out. Becky and I negotiated that Heidi and I would drive to pick up the food if she would order it. So Becky called Ming Gardens, placed the order and soon Heidi and I were off to pick it up. As we walked into the restaurant no one was at the counter, but there was a box of food sitting there with a handwritten receipt. I glanced at it and told Heidi it was our order. She asked, "How do you know". I replied, "simple the name on the receipt is Dough".

Name that head

2008-05-26T13:15:00.004-06:00

Hi loyal readers of Tastes Kinda Minty. There is a special prize to the first person that can name that head. Post your comments for your chance to win.

Captcha Heaven

2008-05-22T16:52:00.002-06:00

Well no one commented on my recent serious post. Bummer. Oh well here are my most recent favorite Captcha's. See my post Word Verification (Feb. 08) if you missed my affinity for them. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. Please share your interpretive annunciations.

What is truth?

2008-05-21T12:09:00.007-06:00

John Jaques (1803-89), born in Moraket Bosworth, Leicestershire, England, became a Latter-day Saint in 1845. He immigrated with his family to America in 1856 and crossed the plains with the fated Martin Handcart Company. His daughter was among those who died. He returned to England as a missionary (1869-71), and there, at Stratford-upon-Avon (of Shakespear fame), he penned the Mormon hymn, "O Say, What Is Truth." After his return from England he worked for the Deseret News and in the Church Historian's Office. (Mormon Literature and Sacred Arts)

I have sung this hymn many times in my life, at times with vigor and earnestness, but until today I had not really allowed it's robust message of truth to wash over me. I have included the full text for your review, with a few observations and hope you will ponder the verses carefully, and consider the importance of embracing truth in your respective lives.

Oh Say, What Is Truth?
John Jaques

Oh say, what is truth? 'Tis the fairest gem
That the riches of worlds can produce,
And priceless the value of truth will be when
The proud monarch's costliest diadem
Is counted but dross and refuse.

(The arrogant ruler with costly diadem or crown is discarded as worthless or useless.)

Yes, say, what is truth? 'Tis the brightest prize
To which mortals or Gods can aspire;
Go search in the depths where it glittering lies
Or ascend in pursuit to the loftiest skies.
'Tis an aim for the noblest desire.

(Truth indeed should be our most prized aspiration and no obstacle transcends it's worth.)

The sceptre may fall from the despot's grasp
When with winds of stern justice he copes,
But the pillar of truth will endure to the last,
And its firm-rooted bulwarks outstand the rude blast,
And the wreck of the fell tyrant's hopes.

(Truth is the bulwark or protection against external danger or injury. It outlasts tyranny or injustice.)

Then say, what is truth? 'Tis the last and the first,
For the limits of time it steps o'er.
Though the heavens depart and the earth's fountains burst,
Truth, the sum of existence, will weather the worst,
Eternal, unchanged, evermore.

( Truth the enduring principles ordained of God that he, and we are subject to, outlast the sands of time and eternity. To learn them and embrace them is indeed the brightest prize that Mortals or Gods aspire. Like two parallel lines our happiness and peace, not as the world giveth, is perfectly correlated to the degree to which we are aligned to truth.)

Random Race Photos by request from Dave

2008-05-10T16:57:00.009-06:00

I discovered that it is politically correct at the Race for the cure for people to use other wise inappropriate nomenclature for the female mammary. If you want to know the one's I heard you'll have to ask me. That way in case they make me an apostle I won't have to worry about being quoted in print.

Some fun shots including the guy with the man-boobs, the ask me guy, the puppies "fee-fee" and "brutus", beauty queens stalking Brad and Monica Bruin our friend from the ward.

A beautiful spring day at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains

2008-05-10T16:18:00.003-06:00

After the race we worked in the yard. It is amazing how a little sun and water can make things more beautiful. Here is a shot of the backyard and a few of the garden. The master gardener is planting a few spinach seeds. We peas, radishes, green bunching onions, sweet onions, red onions and various varieties of lettuce all sprouting. Fun, fun, fun.

Race for the Cure Fun

2008-05-10T16:08:00.008-06:00

The kids all ran at the race for the cure today. Over 17,000 people participated. Free Bananas and Great harvest bread awaited the runners. Jake had a blast too. Thanks everyone for a great time.

Heidi's Big Race

2008-05-04T21:19:00.017-06:00

Two weeks ago was a great time for the family as we all enjoyed the festivities of the 2008 Salt Lake City Marathon. Heidi spent many weeks of rigorous training while meeting the demands of collegiate curriculum including a russian language and literature class.

None of us had been involved in a marathon before and the mood was electric. Even as spectators the air was full of infectious enthusiasm and excitement. We all got up early to share in the fruits of her labors.

We were intrigued to discover that there were multiple races including Marathon, Half Marathon (Heidi's Featured Event) Bicycle event and 5K. We discovered that over 16,000 people participated in some way. There were 2,000 people running the full marathon and an additional 5,000 people in Heidi's event.

The early morning air was chilly but it was arguably the most beautiful day of the year as we drank in the beauty of the Wasatch mountains. A soulfull choir shouted infectious gospel tunes while gyrating above the Olympic Legacy Bridge atop the campus of the University of Utah.

The runners for the full and half marathon were called to their places together. Soon Salt Lake County Mayor Peter Caroon shouted, пять, четыре, три, два, каждый, идет, and they were off. There were so many people in this race that those in the front of the race were long gone while hundreds of runners waited in line for the porta-potty's.

After Heidi passed us at the starting line, GPS sensor tag firmly secured to her running shoe, we navigated via trax train and auto to liberty park to observe the fray. Heidi passed us there with confident stride and continued the final 3 mile leg. Amy, David, Jake and Brad were dispersed near the finish line to join us in the excitement of watching her complete the race.

We were all excited to learn that her average mile pace was faster than she had trained for at about 9:13. It was exhilarating to see the frenzy of excitement of the crowd as thousands cheered their favorite contests to their individual victories.

Thanks Heidi for sharing your big day with us.

Our Almost Square Foot Garden

2008-05-04T20:52:00.005-06:00

Enjoy some photos of our almost square foot garden. Our boxes in length are odd amounts and in width are within a few inches of a foot. But Becky loves the odd sizes, they remind her of me. We've got radishes and lettuce sprouting. It's amazing what can grow with a little sun and water.

We did some minor terracing and installed stepping stones, and bark in the paths for esthetics. We used mule-tape for space dividers and also ran horizontal support lines, indented slightly,from the fence for snow-peas and such to run up. We're excited to watch our garden grow. We've had some great inspiration and guidance from Grandpa and siblings. As you can see we built our boxes in the same garden plot as we had before. We do think it looks a little more interesting and are confident we'll get a lot more yield in the same garden space.

Notable quotes from quotable folks

2008-04-01T19:15:00.014-06:00

You can't top Angela Lansbury. – Heidi

I like frosting and I like to contribute to the igloo. – Heidi

That's very cute, but like a kitten we have no use for it. – David

I'm related to cyber-bullies. – Doug

A minimalist is just a lazy pessimist. – Doug (Copy-write violation on Twitter by Hugh)

I feel bad for them. If they weren't communists, I'd feel more bad. — Becky

I'm easily forgettable. — Becky

If I didn't have you I'd have a Dog. — Becky

Did you know that Heidi was a closet Barney watcher? — Brad

If I were a dinosaur I'd eat that tree. – Heidi

Sales Associate at Phantom Fireworks in Evanston: What are you looking for?

Customer with wife beater shirt: Big, Loud, Boom!

I'm glad I'm not married, so I don't have to deal with awkward people. – Heidi

Hey, you put russian words in my post. (See Heidi's Big Run) (Pause) Wait a minute, I can read russian! – Heidi

Why would you want to hold hands? Who knows where that hand's been! – Heidi

Mom, Is today Fast Sunday or Slow Sunday? — Avery

Oh Yea, Tell that to Johnny Marchant in ninth grade choir class! — Doug

Midgets get mean don't they? — Heidi

Hurry up and kiss me before it stinks! — Amy

I thought you went to state? — David

I was on the swim team and I didn't know how to swim. — Heidi

Do something...even if its wrong! — Marv

No matter what they throw at you, take it a step further. — Doug

Fools mock, but they shall mourn. — Ben

I'm taking out my GFI tracking so they can't find me. — Kevan

Respect yourself and respect the property of others. — Mesa County, Two Rules of Ditch Safety

By the way....I have said several very quotable things...am I on your darn (explictive modified) blog thing? — Duane

What really interests me is whether God had any choice in the creation of the world. — Einstein

Did you get any on you? Just the green stuff, but it will wash off. — Marv

Wow! — Doug, regading David passing emissions

I'm official. I passed emissions and went to the DMV this morning. Good for another 11 months. — David

I would vote, but I'm not 14! — Kennerly

It tasted kinda minty. — Doug

I was riding shot gun....i remember feeling the icy blast of muddy water and gasping for breath. — Brad

The Journey is the destination. — Doug

I want to live long enough to be a burden to my children. — Marv

It's like air, I can take it or leave it. — Randy

Well Dear, Let's go to bed so these good folks can go home. — Doug

Somebody wiped us out of toilet paper. — Becky

Did you set that clock fast on purpose, or is it just running slow? — Doug

Hey, Do you have any chocolate in your pocket? — Amy

Mom, If you'd said naked you would have made the quote board. — Heidi

Do you guys ever hit your bones? — Heidi

Heidi's holding out for a stripping warrior. — Amy

I try to battle back with stubbornness and it doesn't work. — Dave

That's between you and the Lord, Babe. — Amy

If you put that on your blog I'll sue you. — Brad

Hey, you da man! — Doug
No I'm not, I'm Quinan! — Quinan

Would you order the liver again? — Waiter
I would if I liked it! — Heidi

Did that just bark at me? — David

Why do we have to live in a clean house? — Heidi

When I was a kid, we lived so far out in the country that when we went hunting we walked towards town. — Marv

When Amy came back from college, Sparkie wouldn't speak to her for over a month. — Becky

I'd rather look at someone than touch them. — Heidi

On quantum theory I use up more brain grease than on relativity. — Albert Einstein

I know...let's build flying buttresses...six of them. We'll put them on both sides. I know how to do it. — Brad

You're obsessed with the David's Quote Board. Why don't you build your own. — Heidi

What I'm doing right now.

2008-04-01T18:28:00.001-06:00

Not using Twitter.

Walking Chinese

2008-03-22T18:28:00.005-06:00

Years ago when Brad was just a toddler we were at the airport waiting for a flight to arrive. The airport wasn't very busy that day and the terminal gate that we were at was almost vacant. As Amy and Brad were both pretty young this allowed them to be less restricted while we waited. I don't remember why we were at the airport. It seems like we were there to pick someone up. We were enjoying the moment being together, talking with each other and enjoying a beautiful day.

After a while the kids started to get a little more restless so we let them wander a little bit. Brad was very young. He was walking with relative confidence but was too young to leave unattended. His hair was extremely blonde and by our judgement he was very cute.

As I remember the long and wide corridor that spanned the terminal and led to the various gates, was covered with shining floor tile. This spacious area proved to be quite appealing to Brad and he decided to navigate it solo. Since there were very few people around, we decided to let him run. He walked to the corridor and began an exploratory tour on his own. There were many interesting things to see. Television monitors, endless banks of chairs, flight boards, endless windows, airplanes and people.

Of course we initially watched him like a hawk. We would occasionally walk to where he was when he started to stray too far and we would herd him back to an appropriately observable vantage point. How long we were at the airport I don't exactly recall, but it was probably at least "2 Cosby shows". That was one of our families common time measurement devices, often used when we were in the car traveling.

After one of these minor herding episodes, Brad quickly, small legs and all immediately began another exploratory journal down the expansive terminal.

It seemed like only seconds had passed when I looked up toward the corridor to determine Brad's exact location. I immediately spied a sage and wise looking older Chinese man walking slowly down the middle of the pathway. I instantly estimated his age to be late seventies or early eighties. His kindly face projected a sense of calm and wisdom, a countenance that was probably earned through decades of tempered experiences. The stride of his steps were quite short, but relatively fast paced. Indicative that he was anxious to meet some long separated loved one. He walked purposefully but, I suspect with some pain. This was evidenced by the obvious and prominent hunch of this back and the confident supportive use of a well weathered cane. He held his left hand backward to provide some to his presumable painful back. His height probably spanned less then five feet.

I have always enjoyed people watching. Airports are a great place to observe total strangers, to consider their choice of attire and grooming, and to deduce their life's story. It is intriguing to me how quickly judgements can be formed, that further analysis would probably verify. Such was my split second deduction this day.

My field of vision had been slightly obscured by a pillar or something, but I immediately noticed motion directly behind this iconic figure. The speed to which my mind had completed analyzing the oriental gentleman's persona, pales in comparison to my immediate comprehension of the slight figure that moved in unison behind him.

It has been said that miming is one of the more difficult of the performance arts. It's has also be reported that imitation is the greatest form or flattery. Somewhere between mimic and impersonator stood my son less than three paces behind the old man. In less amount of time than it would take to successfully blink my eyes, my brain had comprehended that Brad had assimilated a majority of the physical features in unison with the old man. The shortness of his stride; the crook of his back; the left hand placed strategically on his back suggesting pain; the right hand mocking holding a cane; and the expression of an old man were all perfectly matched in detail and scope to the that of the old man whom he was mimicking and closely following.

Never has a parent been so proud of the detail of this performance and yet simultaneously so mortified of the potential for repercussions. Michelangelo would have been envious of Brad's mastery of detail. It was artistry in motion. In my minds eye I saw my son's name demonstrably emblazoned on a Broadway marquee.

I instinctively arose in ovation and like O.J. Simpson in a Hertz commercial sprinted to embrace him. I called upon all of my powers of discipline to repress even a hint of smile and pride and whisked him off the stage of his masterful performance. Like the formidable rotating virtual reality cameras of a Google local mobile, my eyes scanned the perimeter of the terminal to assess the size of his audience and we quickly retreated to the relative obscurity of the vinyl chairs of gate C23 at the Salt Lake International Airport . Only then and after expiring a formidable volume of carbon-dioxide did I smile the proud grin of a startled but adoring parent.

Hugh Tell Me

2008-02-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

...about the "zip-lock" bag sometime.

Earthquake

2008-02-21T14:25:00.002-07:00

No I didn't feel it. I was half asleep. I did hear some noise but didn't care. But yes there was a 6.3 earthquake centered near Wells, Nevada this morning.

This reminds me of the time that we were having family dinner on Jaquette Street in Grand Junction. At some point the table started bouncing up and down. I (being the wonderfully patient father that I was back then) said "Brad, Stop moving the table up and down" or something like that. He immediately lifted his hands up, moved back from the table and said "It's not me".

That's when I looked up and noticed that the hanging light above the kitchen table was swinging back and forth virogously. I wonder if there is a coorelation between earthquakes and false accusations?

Verifonics Update

2008-02-16T10:07:00.002-07:00

I was trying to post a comment on Liv Simpl today. I decided to play VERIFONICS (see Word Verification post Jan 2008) and I got the best one ever. It was mdrwx. Go ahead and try it.

If you pronounced it MURDERWAX you are correct. I shouted my interpretation out and David made a great observation. Using Captcha's would be a great way to find names for rock bands.

More information for really bored people: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captcha

Grandma Smoked us in Bowling

2008-02-15T16:02:00.008-07:00

Over the holidays we played Wii bowling. We thought we were pretty good. My high game was 148 and I was excited. Grandma kept watching us with an amused expression. We invited her to participate to no avail. Finally we coerced her into playing. After reluctantly agreeing to try, we showed her how to use the control, which buttons to use and how to perform the appropriate arm maneuvers. She of course demonstrated a hesitancy because of her age and because she doesn't engage in video amusement often.

The game started. We all took turns. Grandma bowled a strike. Then she bowled another and another. Her amused grin turned into a smirk and when the dust settled, she smoked us with a score of 180. Eager to redeem ourselves we egged her on for a rematch, after all she is 79 you know. We did, she did and this time her performance was not as good. She only beat us soundly with a score of 178.

We're more careful of what games we challenge her on now. We did the same thing once when playing a card game called scum. After feigning ignorance she cleaned us all out. You'd think we would learn.

Mrs. McDonald

2008-02-10T11:02:00.000-07:00

On the other side of the tracks, on the far side (northwest I think) of Azusa, California, there was a Lucky Lager brewery. I remember it because it was a majestic building in an industrial sort of way. In the vicinity there was also a park with lots of grass.

At the far end end of the park there was a swampy area with murky stagnant water. I think there were some trees at one end of the park, but most of it was just grass. We went to play at this park a number of times as a family.

One time we had brought a glass mason jar with us. Dad took the jar and scooped up some of the icky water and showed us the contents. There were these very small and funny looking creatures that Dad called pollywogs. They had what looked like a big head and long skinny tail and that was about all. At first glance I wasn't very impressed with these slimy creatures, but he explained that pollywogs would grow into frogs.

Now he had my interest. I thought frogs were about the coolest thing, well that is next to monkeys. We harvested pollywogs a number of times and would take them home. I was excited when a few of these grew into actual frogs.

Our back yard was actually a pretty conducive frog habit. The little tiny frogs were pretty fun. Although very small they could really jump and were hard to catch. I loved it when they got bigger. It was always a good day when we would find one to play with. I was always afraid I was going to get warts when they would pee on me though. I don't really believe that malarky.

Dad worked managing the company store for Aerojet General for a while and would bring home lp records. We enjoyed it when he would play his records on his turntable. It was fascinating how the little needle could pick up the sound from the grooves on the record.

I'm pretty sure that we fouled up his turntable and scratched his records numerous times. Camelot, Messiah, South Pacific and the comedian Stan Freberg were some of his favorites. He also had a reel to reel magnetic tape recorder/player. I still remember some comedic routines from Frebeg and Alan Sherman. Freberg had some moments in history routines that were hilarious and Sherman put funny lyrics to popular songs. Won't you come home Disraeli and One Ton Tomato were two notables.

Dad brought some junk records to the park and we threw them like frisbees. Of course no one tried to catch them. It was fun but seemed unsafe at the time. After I saw the James Bond classic Goldfinger I was pretty sure it was dangerous and avoided playing record frisbee. Harold Sakata who played Oddjob in the movie, threw his hat and decapitated someone. I was pretty confident that we could have a similar outcome if not careful.

Close to the park the was a small and modest little house. An old lady lived there named Mrs. McDonald. My Mom demonstrated great love and service to her. She would often load us boys into the car and take us over there to visit her. These visits were not the most exciting thing for a young boy to engage in. In fact they pretty much pegged the boring-meter, but we understood that Mrs. McDonald was old and lonely and that the visits meant a lot to her. I know Mom was very interested in her welfare and really cared about her. Her example served me well as I grew older for learned to see older people, as people, and learned to enjoyed getting to know them. Most have great wisdom, knowledge and humor to share.

At that time the most significant part of the visit for me was when she would take the lid off of the crystal candy dish and offer us a piece of candy. At those moments I thought I truly understood the meaning of charity.

Mom would often get us ready for church early and drive us all-the-way-out-there to pick her up for church. I don't know how far all-the-way-out-there was, but it seemed like a major inconvenience to me. Besides I thought she was a little crazy. She demonstrated her zaniness to me several times when she would stand up at church in the middle of a meeting and start giving an incoherent speech. It may have been that she only did this during testimony meeting at the appropriate time, but I could swear there were some spontaneous outbursts at inopportune times.

Either way, my Mother taught me some great lessons about patience and love and empathy. I cherish how she taught me by example how to show compassion and unselfish service to others. Examples of the wonderful charity that my Mom and Dad have shown throughout their lives is legion.

As I reflect upon my life I remember that I, and that we, should all find some Mrs. McDonalds to visit and listen to, and to care for.

Life's simple pleasures are the best

2008-02-08T19:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes with the rhythms of life we become consumed with the mundane and forget to look for things that give us joy. Today was one of those days. As I left for work Becky was standing by the front window waving goodbye and blowing me a kiss. As I drove to work I was grateful that it wasn't snowing. After arriving to my office I looked out the window and noticed that the sun was shining and the sky was blue. I realized that sunny days had been few and far between in the past months. I was flooded with the richness of color and warmth I felt in viewing the vista.

Soon I noticed an enormous flag waving in the illumination of the early sunlight. At that moment I also spotted movement and to my delight a flock of geese were in flight heading to the southwest valley. Then I noticed the beautiful caps of the majestic Wasatch mountains generously frosted with fluffy layers of powdery snow.

It was nice to begin the day with joyful observations and I realized that amidst a week of stress I was blessed to be alive. I then pondered the the richness of life I enjoy because of my family.

What simple joys have you enjoyed lately? I'd love to hear of your observations.

The Family - A Proclamation

2008-02-04T15:34:00.000-07:00

I was recently pondering the great and profound words of this inspired document. May all in our family and to whom I associate with, know that I sustain these principles to be true. I have seen the peace that comes from embracing these truths, and the sorrow, disappointment and regret that comes when one strays from them. If you have not read it lately I charge you to do so.

We, the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, solemnly proclaim that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God and that the family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children.

All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.
In the premortal realm, spirit sons and daughters knew and worshiped God as their Eternal Father and accepted His plan by which His children could obtain a physical body and gain earthly experience to progress toward perfection and ultimately realize his or her divine destiny as an heir of eternal life. The divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to be perpetuated beyond the grave. Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.

The first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.

We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of its importance in God’s eternal plan.

Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalms 127:3). Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, to teach them to love and serve one another, to observe the commandments of God and to be law-abiding citizens wherever they live. Husbands and wives—mothers and fathers—will be held accountable before God for the discharge of these obligations.

The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities. By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners. Disability, death, or other circumstances may necessitate individual adaptation. Extended families should lend support when needed.
We warn that individuals who violate covenants of chastity, who abuse spouse or offspring, or who fail to fulfill family responsibilities will one day stand accountable before God. Further, we warn that the disintegration of the family will bring upon individuals, communities, and nations the calamities foretold by ancient and modern prophets.

We call upon responsible citizens and officers of government everywhere to promote those measures designed to maintain and strengthen the family as the fundamental unit of society.
This proclamation was read by President Gordon B. Hinckley as part of his message at the General Relief Society Meeting held September 23, 1995, in Salt Lake City, Utah.

President Hinckley Speaks to Our Family

2008-02-04T15:25:00.000-07:00

I love this quote and feel him speaking to me, and to all in our family.

“You are good. But it is not enough just to be good. You must be good for something. You must contribute good to the world. The world must be a better place for your presence. And the good that is in you must be spread to others. …
“In this world so filled with problems, so constantly threatened by dark and evil challenges, you can and must rise above mediocrity, above indifference. You can become involved and speak with a strong voice for that which is right” (Brigham Young University devotional, Marriott Center, 17 Sept. 1996).

Word Verification

2008-02-01T12:17:00.000-07:00

On many blogs, readers are required to type in a word verification if they want to comment on a post. I'm told that the purpose of word verification is to prevent spammers from stuffing blogs with junk postings.

How can I be sure that is the real reason?

What if word verification is really some kind of code or cipher?

How do I know it's not from Obama Bin Laden?

Where do the word verification combinations come from?

Is there some word verification generator that resides at Hoover Dam or Area 51?

Please comment if you know the real reason, as I am flummoxed.

I love the letter combinations that are generated with word verifications.

Here's one I saw today: upkue

I love the sound of this one. Is that what you do when you have to step vertically to get in a line for tickets at a ballgame?

Other favorite’s word verifications include: zfwsw, ecuxl, tmscd and frxjq.

Randy and I used to play a game when we would go to lunch. We would look at the alpha characters on the license plate of the car in front. We would then try to verbalize the sounds phonetically. It was hard at first, since there were rarely any vowels, but we would make some great sounds. There were rules to the game and everything. Like you have to say it audibly.

People who didn't know what we were doing thought we were insane. People who know us know we are insane. We called the game PLATONICS. It was great fun. Ask me...I'll teach you how to play.

It just occurred to me that I could use word verifications to play a similar game. Take tmscd for example. It would be pronounced as "tomscud". Ecuxl would be "eckucxal". The consonants need to be pronounced very sharply with exaggerated tones and guttural emphasis. But it really is fun to play. Frxjq is harder, it would be more like "Frixjuhk" but you have to hang on to the j sound longer, then quickly dump the q (or k) sound a the end, while simultaneously adding an brief but airy "a" sound. Get it? Fun Huh? I think we could call this game VERIFONICS.

Next time you have to do a word verification when adding a blog post comment, try playing Verifonics.

Please let me know how it goes. For you advanced Verifonics users, try doing it while a coworker or roommate is around, and watch their reaction.

Well got to go. Ptypbq, oh, I mean Pitybobq(a). :)

Nothing? Fine!

2008-02-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

That's what I have to say because nobody commented on my post "The Smoking Chevy".

Venting

2008-01-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

On June 5, 1976 the walls of the Teton Dam in southeast Idaho burst, sending a maelstrom of muddy, churning water toward Rexburg, and other adjacent communities. Miraculously only 11 people perished as the tidal wave of destruction pummeled the valley. Eight hours after the initial break the dam had completely vented it's entire contents.

Toward the end of the summer, anxious to return to Ricks College, my father approached me with an epiphany. Having followed the story, he elaborated on the extent of the destruction and recognized a great opportunity. He explained that thousands of homes had been destroyed and that there would probably be a demand for plumbers.

My Dad has always had a keen mind and sharp intellect. He had obviously been thinking three-dimensionally. Me on the other hand, well I was pre-occupied with other important things, like how to improve the structural stability to the motor connector, for the 10" aluminum wind up key fastened to the rear of my 1962 Volkswagen Bug. I was also concerned with how I was going to reattach the hose to my water pressure fire extinguisher, a device crucial to my academic success.

Dad, a Master Plumber by credential, took me aside and gave me with a shiny new red toolbox. He also gave me a new set of important plumbing tools. Supply tubing cutters, adjustable end wrench, waste tube cutters, channel lock pliers, screw drivers, sink wrench, etc., you get the drift. He told me how to land a job with a Rexburg plumbing company, and how to do get double, the then, minimum wage of about $2.50 an hour. I was initially reluctant to execute his instructions largely due to fear, but after generous amounts of assurance and encouragement, I caught the vision, embarked on my 12 hour journey to college and sought employment.

I had spent hours working with my Dad in high school and was pretty confident in my ability to “set” plumbing fixtures; sinks, toilets, dishwashers, disposals and such. But there were many things I didn't understand, mainly because I was a lazy idiot whom didn't pay attention. I didn't pay attention because I hated doing the work. Much of my motivation for completing college was so I wouldn't have to: climb in hot attics with itch producing fiberglass, crawl through freezing spider infested crawl spaces, and engage in contortion rituals under someone's midget sized lavatory cabinet. Dad also taught me that there are only three things you need to know to be a plumber. 1. Stuff runs downhill, payday is on Tuesday and the boss is a dirty SOB (whatever that means).

After arriving, unpacking my belongings in my room at the Cedars apartments, I drove through the streets of Rexburg anxious to be noticed for the spinning spectacle attached to the back of my car.

I drove to the first plumbing company I conveniently found in the US West Direct yellow pages directory, practiced my speech and confronted the proprietor. I explained a proposition, told him I wouldn't work for less than $5.50 cents an hour. He offered me $5.00, I said no and he showed me the door with a very demeaning look.

I reassessed my speech and my strategy, and soon sauntered into Hill's Plumbing. Here I met the owner Ted Hill. I rehashed the obvious events of the flood, explained my belief that his plumbers were probably swamped and outlined my formidable experience. I suggested that it might be a better use of his resources to let them do the rough plumbing and let me go behind and set the fixtures. I told him I had my own tools and transportation and could work on Tuesday's, Thursday's and Saturday's. I offered to complete job for free and that he could check my work before giving me permanent employment. I also told him by paying me $5.50 an hour this would be a great bargain for him because he would be paying much less than for a licensed plumber. He offered my 5 bucks. I took it.

Well the arrangement worked out great. Within two weeks he gave me a company truck so I could haul my own stuff told me I could use it for personal trips on his dime if I wanted. Wow. I was in starving-college-student-heaven. My Dad had once again proved his genius and I was able to keep flush on cash. Ted would constantly try to talk me into quitting college and work full time for him, but the job just served to remind me daily of why I was going to school. He was a great boss and I felt blessed to have the employment.

One day he was short handed and started sending me on service calls, something I hated because of my lack of experience. One time he told me that an old lady’s furnace was not working and that I had to go fix it. I protested that I didn't know anything about electricity, but he just smiled, handed me an Electronic Tester and told me she was a very important customer and to "just act like you know what you're doing". “Great”, I thought!

When I got there she quickly sized me up, saw that I looked maybe 17 (I was actually 22) and showed me where the furnace was located in the basement. She then established a solid foot stance suitable for enduring the millennium, clinched her jaw like a Rock-&-Sock Robot, and proceed to watch my every move. "Great!!! I don't know what I'm doing, she doesn’t think I know what I’m doing, and she's going to watch me like a hawk to prove herself right", I muttered to myself.

I was desperately afraid of killing myself and more importantly, being embarrassed. Then, a miracle happened. The wonderful words my father had spoken to me so many times before came to me like a freight train bearing down in the black of the night. "Do something, even if it's wrong". I had heard these words so many times before, but this time the words had meaning, they had depth and alacrity. It was as if the windows of plumbing heaven had been opened unto me. Grateful for the revelation, I did what any buffoon with a half a brain would do, and the only thing I could do, I faked it.

Inspired my the echos of my father's words, what happened next was frankly brilliant on my part. I became a mechanical thespian. The grace and confidence by which I carefully, slowly and confidently unsnapped the cover to the tester was inspirational. The precision by which I inserted the leads of the test wires into the tester was sensual. After carefully selecting the AC setting on the tester (to insure that it wouldn't explode if I accidently touched some high voltage) I smiled an assured grin and placed the tips of the wires across two random terminals on the furnace controls. I had absolutely no clue as to what I was doing and was praying that if sparks erupted that I would be able to close my eyes before my retinas were burned through. I didn’t know what Checking Continuity was, but I did know that that was what I was faking.

I also knew that I was faking it brilliantly. I had seen my Dad, Terry and Trevor do it a dozen times and for my performance I knew I could be nominated for a furnace Oscar. After repeating this protocol about eight times, I swear I could hear a squeak as the hinges of her jaw started to release. “Perfect”, I thought, my ruse is working. I was certain she knew less about electricity than I did. I was also pretty confident that she hadn't stuck a butter knife in an electrical socket like I had when I was five years old.

Soon the locks restricting movement to her knees we're released, her feet shuffled a few steps and she disappeared to the tunnel of light cascading from the top of the stairwell. "Alone at last", I laughed to myself as I shook my head in haughty celebration, for I had won the battle of wits. I had conquered my formidable and skeptical adversary. Sure she was probably 90 years old. Sure she was probably in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease but I, yes I, sat on the cold, porous floor, tall and proud and victorious. I was now alone, I was completely ignorant, but I was alone.

Still not, however, having any clue as to how to get the heat back on, I sought desperately for another sign. (I know the scripture about a wicked and adulterous generous generation seeking for a sign, but cut me some slack) Imagine my glorious delight when I found it. It was in the form of a small red button about the size of my index finger. Strategically hidden from the ready view of ignorant home owners, it sat, innocuous and yet so promise filled, on the dark upper portion of the cavernous mechanical monolith. I prayed. If I had been Catholic I would have genuflected and rubbed my rosary, but I only prayed. I shined the rays of hope from my flashlight onto the button, willing the light to somehow give the button magical powers. Then with the care of a Swiss watchmaker I gently, slowly, held my breath and depressed the button with my chilly finger until it would move no further, and then, I waited.

The 5 seconds that actually transpired seemed like an eon, but imagine the rapture that filled my heart when I saw the glorious amber glow of the igniter. It projected a warm and beautiful gleaming light like the sun does over a mountain crest at dawn. The vent fan started whirring like the spokes of a bicycle on a whisper quiet day. Soon the snakelike hiss of natural gas joined the chorus as the gas valve opened.

3-2-1 Ignition. I could hear a voice in my head, "Houston, we have ignition". I had done it, I had mastered the metal beast, I had outwitted the old lady, "Fire, I made fire". A comforting heat seemed to engulf the room immediately. I was ecstatic but my glee was not surpassed by the joy Tom Hanks had replicated in the movie Castaway. I celebrated deeply, fully, but briefly. As the house warmed in temperature, the emissions vented through the double walled duct work, past the roof and disapated into the sky. Yes, I contributed to global warming that day, my carbon footprint forever etched in the atmosphere, but I was few and I was proud.

Sprinting to the to the top of the stairs having already written a work order for the obligatory 1 hour minimum service charge, I approached the sinister and skeptical woman that had doubted me before. Teeth gleaming in smile, I muttered an implausible explanation, which included the words franistan, escutcheon and zimmer pin, and bid her adieu, hoping the heat would stay on at least until I had successfully escaped to my next job.

The boss later reported the woman had called to report her satisfaction, that her heat was working beautifully and to express her appreciation to him for sending help so quickly.

The years passed, gently like the subtle shifting of mercury in a thermostat switch, and I am grateful for the wonderful lessons of life. My ability to learn new things and overcome fears was instilled by my father. That suggestion and toolbox that he gave me that day wonderful day so many years ago provided a catalyst for insight that has served me well in myriad ways.

Epilogue

Yesterday I received email notification of my 4th Quarter Bonus Payout. This is the Big One. This is the bonus with the greatest payout potential for the year. This is the bonus with ¾ of your potential earnings for the year.

We close our big Salt Lake City book in July and then we get to wait until February to get it paid out. It’s a brilliant corporate strategy. Its part of an inspired rewards program to make you feel good for a job well done. It has something to do with Pavlov's Dog and Flashing lights. But not being a lead team member, I'm not smart enough to understand all of the subtle nuances and philosophy.

Anyway, I opened the email and I got a big surprise.
Several years ago, Brad, who is six years older than Heidi decided it, would be clever to give her a really small Christmas present, but wrap it in mega-layers of paper, encapsulated inside an enormous box. (I'm sure he must have learned this cleverness from me) This is kind of the opposite of the way Becky wrapped Amy's birthday present in a blanket (When you care enough to wrap the very best).

So, Heidi is pretty excited to get a present from her brother, ‘cause as you all know, girls just adore their older brothers. Brothers usually are not deserving of this adoration, but little sisters insist on giving it. My sisters were the same to me. So Heidi figuratively turns on pomp and circumstance while un-wrapping the box. She spends a good couple of minutes getting to the heart of the package and soon all of the newspaper in on the floor and the box is empty, no present.

I'm no psychologist, but we could all see the wheels of her brain spinning in unison. There was this healthy pause, like the pause you experience after a baby bumps its head really hard, prior to the screaming.

Heidi then stood up, and with her highest level voice, indignantly shouted to Brad these immortal words. "Nothing? Fine!" and she stormed off.

We of course were just cracking up internally because we knew there really was a gift inside that relative ream of paper scattered across the carpet. Soon Heidi discovered her mistaken assumption, and got all lovey dovey with Brad again. This was a fond and precious moment for all of us.

So yesterday was a precious moment like that for me. I opened my bonus email for work I did in July. Did I mention that already? I quickly scanned to the total bonus field and spied the rewards for months of vigorous and emotionally draining labor.

"Congratulations Doug, your bonus is $0."

I did what any self respecting management professional in the corporate world would do. I stood up, shouted "Nothing?...Fine!", and I stormed out of my office.

I'm feeling much better today. Venting is so therapeutic.

Trevor Rescues Doug

2008-01-25T18:14:00.004-07:00

When I was in college, I wasn't very mechanically inclined. Every time I would come home from school Trevor and Dad were always there to help me out. It was just like taking your car to the dealer, but they always did the work for free. They rebuilt a couple of Volkswagen engines and beetles for me, and spent hours helping me keep my transportation going. This photo is of Trevor replacing the wheel bearings on my 1968 Ford Galaxy 500 - named Ernest. This is only one example of hundreds. Of all the kids in the Family, Trevor has always been the most giving. Siblings, don't be offended it's just a fact. Following the example of Mom and Dad, he is always there to help others.

He really is a mechanical genius. When he was a kid he'd find screw drivers, butter knifes and pliers and would take apart anything he could find, clocks and radios, anything.

He always loved to drive. Even when he could barely walk. He'd open the door to the car, climb in and put the car in reverse. Some how he figured out how, released the emergency brake and push the starter button, (I think Terry probably taught him) and that would roll the car out in the street. He did this more than once. He was never good about getting it back into the driveway, but then again he was only about two.

He has always had a gift to see anything mechanical or electrical and know what it looks like under the case and understand how it works. He studied and worked hard to develop his skills and expand his knowledge. He's basically our own little in-house walking wikipedia.

Whenever the furnace, washer, dryer or other goes out, we call him and he is always able to listen to my explanation of what is wrong and then diagnose how to fix it. Did I mention he's a genius. He spent hundreds of hours helping us when we built our house in Grand Junction. He also wore out our couch sleeping on it.

Anyway we love Trevor and I truly appreciate his countless hours of service in our behalf.

The Smoking Chevy

2008-01-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

Dad had a 1953 Chevy Bellaire that was also a pretty cool car. It was not as cool as a '57 but still cool. Our driveway had a slight incline that sloped up toward the garage door. Dad would always park that car on the left side of the driveway. In southern California the weather is nice much of the time, so we had loads of time to play outdoors. We went barefoot a lot of the time.

You probably know by now that I loved, love, playing in the water. The ocean wasn't too far away and I loved to go there. When we would get close enough to the ocean we would always sing "We're almost to the beach, we're almost to the beach, high ho the merry o, we're almost to the beach.

It's funny what you remember over the years, and I can vividly see the Coppertone billboard with the dog pulling down the little girls’ swimsuit bottom enough to show her tan. We usually went to Huntington Beach. We would spend hours watching the waves come in, spot little bubbles in the sand and then dig furiously to catch these little sand crabs that would ride in an disappear into the sand. We would race the waves and always be amazed at how far down the coast we would end up away from our beach blankets.

When the sky was overcast we wouldn't pay attention to the amount of sun we we're getting and would end up with these killer sunburns, especially on our backs. I can still remember how sore my back would feel.

We would spend hours burying each other in the sand, building rudimentary sand castles and eating wonderful meals Mom had prepared for us. Sometimes we would stay after dark and have a fire and roast corn on the cob in the fire.

The tides intrigued me. It was and still is difficult for me to understand how the position of the moon could affect how far or close from the shore the waves would come in. Sometimes there would be undercurrents that were very dangerous and could pull you down and carry you away if not really careful. We would body surf a lot and when the waves were especially rough, we would get spun, twisted, dragged against the sand and thrown mercilessly to the ground. But we never seem to be deterred for long.

I remember the day Dad told us to go with him into the deeper water. I was kind of scared, but he took us by the hand, and I know we would be safe. Pretty soon my feet weren't touching the ground anymore and I was getting anxious. I soon realized that the buoyancy of the ocean water was much greater than that in a swimming pool. That was the day I learned how to tread water. It was very fun, but I still had some anxiety about sharks, big fish or other unknown creatures from the deep.

The sand would get so hot on our feet sometimes that we would run as fast as we could to get to our towels, a veritable Island of refuge. There were lots of couples that would lie on their towels, many who seemed to really enjoy kissing. I tried not to stare too much. When the day was done, we would got to the public showers and rinse off as much as we could, but it was amazing how much was left to make us uncomfortable on the ride home and still on us when we'd bathe at home. The rides home we're always a little too cool and I would sometimes shiver. Having sunburn probably didn't help. I still miss the beach and wish I could be closer to the ocean. But the fond memories with my family will always last.

We'll back to the Chevy. One summer day we we're playing with the hose. I'm sure we must have made some muddy mess somewhere already, as we usually did.

For some reason on this particular day, my eye spotted the exhaust pipe on Dad's car. I had always been a pretty impulsive boy. It wasn't like I was looking to create mischief and grief, but rather, I just enjoyed discovering things. This day was no different and after spotting that exhaust pipe my nature just took over. So I did what any 8 or 9 year old moron would do and stuck the hose into it. Soon I pulled it out and watched the water spill out.

I was surprised by what I saw next. As the water poured out onto the concrete, I noticed that the water was colored. It was a kaleidoscope of colors: reds, blues, greens, yellows. The colors reminded me of the vibrant rainbow colors you would see with blowing bubbles from the plastic jar. They were similar colors we would make when spraying the sprinkler just right into the sun, when we would make our own rainbows.

Wow, what a discovery this was. Soon the water dispersed and the colors were gone. I reasoned that it must have been created by oil built up in the exhaust pipe. This was a brilliant deduction on my part no doubt. Soon the hose was back into its logical residence inside the exhaust pipe. More colorful water cascaded out creating a childlike euphoria only to be matched by awe one would experience at great falls named Niagara or Victoria. We watched with fascination once again as the swirling, vibrant, oily fluid filled the gutter.

Being the naturally brilliant provocateur that I was, it'd also seemed logical for me to instruct my brother to turn the hose on full blast, which of course he was anxious to do. This time as the hose entered the black tunnel of smoke, I felt compelled to hold my hand over the hold to insure the filthy chamber would retain as much water as possible. I reasoned that the discharge would be much more spectacular for my willing audience. Sure enough the display was even more gratifying in terms of volume, but less abundant was the illumination of greasy color.

As I rack the recesses of my memory it seems like I may have enjoyed a prompting that what I was doing may have been harmful to the engine in some way, but I dismissed with pediatric logic. Exhaust smoke only exits the car when the engine is on, therefore if the engine is off, there must surely be some mechanical barrier that would prevent any kind of damage. Besides the water, quickly and readily voided it self. Being somewhat ignorant as to the process of oxidation, I felt safe and exonerated from any long term consequences. The out come could never be as uncomfortable as when we reached substrata when drilling the ground before.

Of course we soon became bored with this whole routine and dispersed like the wind to wreak havoc elsewhere.

It is said that ignorance is bliss. Over the months and years this process was repeated too many times. I of course was totally and completely unconscious to the fact that the reason Dad spent so many hours working on that car, replacing rings on the pistons and trying to imagine why the engine valves would be rusted.

I do remember being annoyed that our car always burned oil and stunk like crazy, similar to the stench of Trevor’s gaseous discharges. Why did we have to have a car that stunk?

Dad didn't know the truth regarding his mechanical frustrations for decades. Neither did I for that matter either, but by the time I did and finally confessed the statute of limitations had run out. How my Dad could laugh about this boneheaded thing I never know, but he did and I suppose he forgave me.

For years I had nightmares that my children would repeat this calamity on my BMW, at the coaching of my father or through innocent experimentation. But he took the high road and let me worry about, always careful not to step out of line.

Dad I am truly sorry and hope you will forgive me. Thank you for not killing or dismembering me.

Secure Arrival

2008-01-23T17:27:00.000-07:00

As the fluffy, gently falling flakes of snow quietly towered upward, I slept peacefully under my down comforter. I awoke hours early to insure enough time for a leisurely commute to the Salt Lake International Airport. A quick glance outside persuaded me to quickly modify my plans. After a monthly series of snowstorms, this new eight inches of the soft and fluffy flakes and single digit temperature convinced me of the effects of Global Warming. It also became acutely apparent that the the '92 Bimmer, with intermittent heater blower and high performance tires, was destined to remain tucked snugly in the garage, blooming salt crystals and all.

Becky who also needed transportation for the week quickly ascertained that driving me to the airport was unwise and devised a plan to carpool with a neighbor so I could enjoy the benefits of warmth and visibility as I started my journey to Phoenix.

The easy one and 1/2 hour commute was accomplished after making an amused and judgmental observations at a few unaccomplished drivers. It seemed logical to a few drivers, that although their vehicles we're slowly slipping out of control, to exit the interstate and allow the other hundreds of vehicles behind them to pass, at a more efficient speed, would have been inconvenient for them personally. Although the drive would normally take 30 minutes to accomplish, this delay afforded me the opportunity to reflect upon the many ways my fellow travelers were trying to accelerate their arrival to that final destination in the sky.

After parking in the aptly named economy lot, I was able to check my bag filled with containers containing slightly more than three ounces of liquids, with the Sky Cap. I wonder why they are called sky caps. I suppose it must have something to do with those snappy caps they wear. Boarding pass in hand I quickly made my way to the TSA security check.

I quickly discovered that I would have at least twenty minutes to meander a Disney Style serpentine line. I, an experienced traveler conducted a five point security check of my own person. I searched for pens and pennies, watches and rings, electronic devices and belt buckles. I explored my carry-on for liquids and weapons, quarantined fruit and computers. Finding no weapons was easy as seven of my customer provided mini pocket knife keychains had already been confiscated on previous journeys. I snickered, slightly audibly, as I realized I had patted my self down three times to insure I could pass through "the machine" without delay.

Thanks to the people mover I was able to insure a speedy passage to my gate, a good forty minutes early. I glanced to the big brother style arrival/departure boards and to my delight saw my flight was still 'on time'.

At the gate I noticed no attendant occupied the gate desk and the red L.E.D. was not illuminated, so I consulted at an adjacent gate to inquire regarding my flight. She smiled, checked and informed me that my flight had been cancelled. It was so gratifying when she explained that if I had been there 10 minutes earlier, I would have been boarded on the 8:25 flight which had just left the gate for de-icing.

Choosing to be helpful she changed my ticket to standby for the next flight. She also assured me that because my bag was already checked I would be the recipient of special security screening on the next leg of my trip.

To my wife's delight, my standby number was something like 369, so I elected to go home and remove the remainder of the 24" of snow that had now accumulated in the driveway. We enjoyed a nice lunch together at Iggy's, finished the snow removal and relished a quiet evening at home.

The next day I had the fortune to arise early and repeat the same process, this time sans fresh snowfall. At the beginning of the security line I completed my self-frisking ritual complete with a now even more audible and amused laugh. I approached the smartly dressed and identical TSA agents as the day before, however I noticed a subtle, yet discernible hand signal.

Soon a smiling, but clearly sinister looking woman beaconed me to follow her to the furthest checking station—yes the one with the PUFFER machine. If you've never been through the Puffer machine you've really missed out. It's easy to describe though. You know how when you go to the optometrist and he smirks, tells you to put your chin in that special holster, cranks a spherical object millimeters from your eyeball, and then blows 80 lbs of compressed air right on it. Do you remember how you jumped and then the guy that went to eight years of schooling so he'd be allowed to do it to you, cranks it over to your left eye and does it again? Do you remember that? Well that is basically what the Puffer Machine does, except, it gives you a full body experience.

I'm pretty sure that the senior TSA agent, the one with the most seniority gets to watch you through a hidden camera. He reads all you vital stats, respiration rate and pulse. When he is pretty sure you are the most suceptible, he hits the button and laughs.

They take videos of all the people nationwide, that go through the Puffer and look for the most dramatic reactions. The very best ones are judged by a panel of TSA executives, in the central office located in an annex at Langley, and then they are posted on YouTube. The State Patrol likes to make similar videos with tasers.

I forgot to mention something. Before I got to the Puffer, I was escorted to a long line of stainless steel tables. I have it on good authority that the TSA got a great deal on them when the county coroner's office was moved to their new location. At every other security line the tubs are grey. At the autopsy tables I was now standing, the tubs were RED. What's up with that? Generally, I'm not all that paranoid, but I put all my stuff in the red tubs and glanced around. I swear that two thirds of the 800 people standing in the Disney line were then staring at me.

You know how you can read lips at sporting events when a player or coach launches a profanity? Well, I could swear I saw a dark skinned man with loads of facial hair and a turbine, turn to his companion and lip the words, "look at the tall, skinny white guy. I'll bet he has a one inch pocket knife attached to his car keys." He saw me look at him and quickly averted his eyes. I thought to myself, maybe they should just turn on some flashing marquee that says LOSER.

I was anxious to take my medicine and get through the puffer. I figured less people could see me then. I stepped in and tried my best not to flinch and practically threw my back out when it went off. I'm pretty sure they up the pressure to 120 psi when you're in the red tub line. I passed through, and then another nefarious looking agent, escorted me into a long glass booth with a locked glass door on the other end. Talk about deja vu, I had this full color rewind of the man in the glass house joke. Feeling conspicuous I peered over the top of the transparent hallway and giggle to myself, while holding me pants up. I am a tall, skinny, white guy with no belt after all. Since everyone else was laughing at me, I figured giggling at myself was the best thing to do.

After about 15 minutes they finally let me out, so to speak, took me to the swab station (don't get me started) and eventually let me pass into the terminal. Poised, I step into my shoes, sauntered off and dropped my cell phone on the floor. I picked it up, dropped my boarding pass, laughed again and proceeded to my flight.

The Orange Desoto

2008-01-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

1005 E. Galatea Street was our second house in Azusa. One day Dad came home with a 1949 Desoto (I think that was the model year). It was faded grey in color and the upholstery on the ceiling was pretty battered. Well actually I should say it was torn and battered by the time we got done with it.

This car quickly became my favorite. It was very roomy and I loved going for rides in it.

Dad and mom took us for automobile rides quite often. It seems like we would often go for rides on Sunday afternoons. There were a lot beautiful places to see in southern California. Orange groves, avocado trees and beautiful subdivisions, were some of the sights we would see.

I loved sitting in the large and tall backed seat. There was a great space above the seat where the back window was, that was the perfect size for lying down on. I don't think it had seat belts, but that was before I had heard of Ralph Nader and OSHA. I remember hot smoggy days when the pollution seemed really thick. It must have been really bad because my eyes would water and sting.

Before we would go for the rides, Dad would ask us if we needed to go to the bathroom. Then we were off for another adventure. I'm not sure what kind of teasing nonsense that the three of us older kids were up to, but it seemed like it was pretty often that Dad would tell us to "knock it off". We of course would totally ignore his counsel and continue our nefarious behavior. I suppose we were touching each other in some annoying manner and simultaneously yelling at each other "stop touching me".

At some point Dad would get fed up and start yelling in earnest. After continuing to disregard his instructions he would then execute a multitasking maneuver which included: steering the car with his left hand, swinging his knuckle clad fist at out legs, and swivel his head to the front of the car and then back to our wildly flailing lower limbs, as we tried to avoid his violent assault.

In our family the most dangerous seat in the car was the middle part of the back, bench seat. Of course we fought to sit by the door, especially the one behind the drivers seat, as it was rare that he could inflict much pain to the person sitting directly behind him. I'm pretty sure Trevor sat in the middle the most of the time.

Speaking of Trevor, I'm not sure but I think he may have been the most strategic of the brothers when it came car ride theatrics. After he was certain that we were a significantly safe distance from home he would quietly but efficiently launch one of his infamous SBD stink bombs. I'm not talking about your basic garden-variety flatulence. These were world class, somebody died, eye stinging, nausea invoking, stinkers. Now that I think about it, the eye stinging pollution may have come from him.

If you think my Dad would get mad when we would fight, you should have seen how the fast the fuse would burn when Trevor would launch one of these scud missiles. The first words out of my Dad's mouth were always the same; "I thought I told you to go to the bathroom before we left!" I'm no doctor, but I swear a stench this bad could only be produced by dead people or by holding it for at least a week. Wow! Did I mention Terry and I always fought for the window seats? Wow!

Anyway, I loved the Desoto. Honestly, and I can say this without any reservation, my parents are the most giving people I know. Throughout my entire life they have always been extremely generous with their possessions. No matter what their situation was, they always thought others first.

One day I noticed the Desoto was gone! I asked my parents where it was. They explained that they had given it to someone else that needed it more. I remember being disappointed. There was a family of Samoans that lived in the ward and I found out they had given it to them. I remember this made an important impression on me as a young boy. I was impressed with my parent’s compassion and generosity.

Another day I was at church and I saw the Desoto and the recipient family. I must admit I was surprised. Instead of seeing the dingy grey car I missed it was now a shiny bright orange color.

On Sunday afternoons there wasn't much on TV. Most days there would be stock car races and the advertising sponsor was often Earl Scheib. "We'll paint any car for $49.00" they would brag. I remember doing the math and being very judgmental in my assessment of this good family. "We gave you the car. We couldn't afford to get it painted. How can you afford to paint it?" Such were my immature thoughts. I'm pretty sure I even mentioned this to my parents. I remember their reply to me was kind and compassionate.

I will always be grateful to my kind, generous and humble parents and for the wonderful example they have set for me for over half a century. But I still miss that old grey Desoto and the wonderful memories we made in that car.

Breaking News

2008-01-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

So is it just me, or am I the only moron in the world that gets nauseous with broadcast news. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy some classic forms of torture. When I was in 6th grade, in Mr. Oldroyd's class, I knew this guy who would occasionally scratch his fingers down the blackboard. I don't think he really enjoyed doing it, but it created such a strong reaction with the girls he just couldn't stop. I only did it...uh I mean, he only did it several times.

I may be wrong but I always thought the purpose of the news was to, like report the news. Isn't news like stuff and things that have already happened? It's not like I majored in Journalism or anything. Oh wait, I just remembered, I majored in communications. Just because I don't know how or where to use commas, don't mean I don't know how.

Ok, so here's my point, generally speaking news is the reporting of events that have already happened. If you agree read on. If you don't you're an idiot.

So why then does the media insist on reporting news in the present tense? If it's already happened it's in the past. Hello—It should be reported as past tense. The present tense reporting of past tense events happens every day. It's really bad on TV, but it's even worse on the radio.

You know what I talking about. "Man robs bank and leads police on high speed chase. Details at ten." I could give you a dozen examples but I won't waste your time.

There was a time when the report would have been. "A man robbed the bank and led the police on a high speed chase". Sergeant Friday obviously went to J school. He understood the concept of "just the facts Ma'am". Come on, report the news. It's happened already. Stop trying to make it sound more exciting than it really is. Stop trying to make it sound like it is happening right now. I know you are tying to boost your ratings. I know you can't help yourself. I understand that impulse control thing. But c'mon average citizens aren't complete imbeciles. Oh wait, scratch that.

Before I quit, why do they insist on blaming the weather for accidents. "Snow storm causes dozens of accidents". Now really—did the snow storm really cause the accidents? I'm sorry but I've seen the way people in Utah drive. A snow storm has never caused me to have an accident.

Being a moron has. Saying "Hey, watch this" has caused me to have an accident. But a snowstorm, nope! Is it just a coincidence or do snow storms only cause morons to crash. Well, either way I'm sure the newscasters know better than me.

No Soup For You!

2008-01-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

Our house on Factor Street was cool in both senses of the word. Dad had installed a swamp cooler in the master bedroom window that was right over their bed. I used to enjoy going into my parents room because Mom had painted this beautiful mural that spanned an entire wall. I'm pretty sure it was of a Cherry Tree that was in full blossom. It was a kaleidoscope of pinks and whites and I love looking at it. I was amazed at how talented my Mom was.

I also like to stand on the bed next to the swamp cooler and feel the cool breeze waft over me. Dad used to get pneumonia on occasion and I remember them speculating it may have had something to do with sleeping under that swamp cooler. I vividly remember him taking great swabs of Vicks Vapor Rub on his finger and sticking it down his throat and swallowing.

Mufasa.

When I was a little lad of about 5 or 6 years old, I was playing in my bedroom one day and I heard Mom call Terry and I to lunch. We went into the kitchen and I asked what we were having. Mom said toasted cheese sandwiches.

I must have been a little brat because I started whining and told her I didn't want that. I asked what else I could have and she firmly told me that was my choice. I obviously thought if I pushed the issue I could get my way. Mom kindly but firmly told me that was my only choice. I kept pushing and she finally said "OK if you don't want that, you can have nothing".

I was shocked and felt foolish because I was really hungry. But she stood her ground. I know I was pretty stubborn as a kid. I don't remember if I apologized or not, but I do remember I didn't get lunch. I fantasized most of the day about how good that sandwich would have tasted. When dinner came around though I was really hungry and was not going to say anything stupid that would prevent me from consuming it.

I learned a great lesson that day that I never forgot and was always to Mom for teaching me limits in my life.

Ironically toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup is one of my favorite meals.

Come Here Doug

2008-01-16T21:33:00.001-07:00

My Mom is awesome. I learned so much from her and awe at her wisdom and insight. I suspect most of her lessons were deliberate, but some like the one I learned this day, I suspect were unintentional.

I was pretty small when we lived on Factor Street. One day I was playing in the backyard. There was a ton of vegetation and a banana tree. I loved that backyard. I have no idea what I was doing but I remember hearing my Mom call. "Doug...Doug".

I know some of our character traits develop quickly. Obvious my character was flawed because I totally ignored her. I really didn't want my important activities to be interrupted, especially if I was going to be required to complete a chore.

It was probably 5 minutes later when I heard her call again. "Doug, Doug, Come Here." Once again I ignored the request. This time I did feel a considerable measure of guilt and fear.

Soon, the inevitable petition came again and this time with more urgency but kindness in her voice. "DOUG, COME HERE". I reluctantly complied.

Imagine the surprise, delight and guilt I enjoyed when I realized the summons was simply to delight me with some freshly baked Chocalate Chip Toll House cookies and a tall glass of milk.

It was a lesson well learned and a precious moment with my precious Mother.

Hey, Watch This!

2008-01-16T21:21:00.001-07:00

The freeway took our house on Factor Street in Azusa in the early 1960's. This photo shows the family at that house in 1957. We moved to 1005 E. Galatea Street, which wasn't all that far from the previous house. Dad was the Bishop of the Azusa ward.
It was a great time to be alive. The war was over, the economy was booming and we had a 1953 Chevrolet Bel Air.

The ward had a plot of land to raise strawberries. It was a southern California version of a church farm. It was great fun to go as a family to pick strawberries. Eating our fill was part of the assignment as I recall. At some point a portion of the farm, which was adjacent to a shopping area was converted to a trampoline center. People could come, pay a fee and jump on the trampolines. I think a drunk driver drove his car through the fence and that was pretty much the end of that. I'm not sure if the details are accurate, but that is my memory.

One of the consequences of the drunk driver was that we acquired a trampoline for our family. Dad dug a great pit in the northwest corner of the back yard. Soon the day for the installation came and we had a ground level trampoline.

We spent hours jumping on the trampoline. I remember having seat wars that lasted forever. We got pretty good at back drops, swivels, knee flips and jumping high. For some reason the thought of doing a standing flip was scary for me. But after a period of time I summoned up the courage to make the attempt.

This was forty some years ago and I have to confess I'm not sure if I said the words but I'm pretty sure I did think "Hey, Watch This!" Having an audience is critical for stunts of this proportion. I wasn't sure exactly what kind of body action was required to complete the flip but I went for it. Somewhere between the vertical axis and a complete rotation, my head made contact with the springs of the trampoline. Clearly my arial acrobatics had been miscalculated.

After the bleeding stopped and the healing was completed I was the proud owner of a perfectly positioned scar in the middle of my forehead. Certainly a badge of honor for someone my age. I remember being enamored with the flexibility and skill-sets of monkeys. I always loved speed.

Some time later on Christmas Eve my Dad spent the good part of a Saturday working on fixing up this mondo-clunker bike for me. I couldn't wait to ride this steel steed that was slightly smaller than the german motorcycle Steve McQueen rode in the The Great Escape. Soon the time for the maiden flight arrived. I remember mounting the bike and thinking "Hey, Watch This!" I pedaled with all my might as I left the driveway and drove strait into the front wheel of the older paper boy whom lived next door. It completely ruined his wheel and jacked-up the my newly restored bike. Bummer. (This created a sort of road rage with the paper boy and the catalyst for a future story involving a bicycle built for two.)

Well the years passed and as I got older, I became convinced of my immortality. Under the careful tutelage of my Father I learned how to spin donuts on snowy roads. I won't mention that I was only 14.

One day when I was in College in Rexburg, Idaho I discovered this really sweet dip in the road by Becky's apartment. I learned, by trial, that if you got your speed up just right you could get some pretty awesome 4 wheel air. One day my roommate "foul" Al Wynn was with me and I said "Hey, Watch This!". I successfully competed the maneuver to the delight and thrill of my friend. Little did I know that I had inspired him to his own acts of stupidity.

One evening I was riding with him in his father's pickup truck about dusk. As we were approaching the dip, I noticed that a car was approaching in the opposite direction. I start to say this is probably not a good time to execute the move. But Al decided at the same exact time to shift down and punch the accelerator. As we hit the dip the approaching car signaled for a left turn —in front of us.

Now airborne the only thing I can think to say is "we're going to die!" Of course the driver of the opposing car saw us and then hesitated. This insured there was just enough time for us to make contact with the pavement at the precise instant necessary to insure a spectacular skid, before we impaled the side of their car. I couldn't help but feel responsibility for the whole affair. But I did my best to feign ignorance.

We were working with Dad one time in Denver. Blair and I took Trevor's chopped VW Beetle to run an errand. Now the truth is, Trevor basically drove like a complete maniac back then. I'd like to have a dollar for each time he had his car on two wheels. So he is primarily responsible for my actions.

Blair seemed to be pretty bored and inattentive as we approached the business park on the way back from the errand. I remember thinking, here's a great opportunity to wake Blair up. So I said, "Hey, Watch This!" and immediately cranked the wheel very hard to the left to enter the business park.

My intent was to get a slight amount of air on two wheels to increase his heart rate. There was only one problem, after I had started my maneuver, to my horror I realized that I hadn't paid attention to the position of the curb-cut. I instantly realized that I had to make a split second decision. Either continue the path directly into the curb, which I knew would insure the need for a complete front end overhaul, or over rotate even farther.

I chose the later. This insured completion of my two wheel acrobatics plus 2 more wheels. Soon we were sliding on the pavement inches from Blair's head. We came to a stop. I quickly jumped out, primarily to see who had seen us. I peered back in the car and yelled to my brother who was clearly in shock and said, "don't just sit there get out and help me push the car back over".

It was only after he exited the car that I realized the engine was still running, the transmission in gear, and the back wheel was rotating at a high rate of speed. Well, our adrenaline must have been really pumping because we went to the roof side of the car, lifted with all our might and push the car back over. We drove to Trevor, confessed our sins and took our medicine.

I'm not sure if Trevor ever really forgave me for that.

You'd think by now I would have learned the "Hey, Watch this!" was sure to result in undesirable outcomes.

Audible or not saying the words causes certain doom. I think the experience that finally taught me to remove the words from my vernacular was when I rolled the go-cart in front of the family, in the school parking lot, after saying those infamous words to my self.

I would never have believed it would have been possible to do so, but I'm convinced "Hey, Watch this!" is inexplicably tied to Newton's laws of physics.

I am happy to report that now years later and with the help of my family and a competent therapist, I am almost completely cured of this syndrome. The words come to me on occasion but my impulse control prevents me from uttering it audibly or otherwise.

Confessions of a Computer Liberal

2008-01-15T09:27:00.001-07:00

My attitude of the past:

Political hoopla has invaded us lately much as Japanese beetles in a fruit tree orchard. Speaking of orchards, is it just me or does seeing Hilary Clinton's hideous images strike fear in your heart too.

I've seen some photos of her that paralyze me. Like in that dream I had when a peach orchard boar was charging at me and my legs felt like they were made out of Swedish memory foam.

I guess what frustrates me in the political arena the most is the lack of courage and leadership that most candidates demonstrate. "Tell me what the polls say, and I'll tell you what I believe. And I won't change my mind until I address the next special interests group".

I thought about this for a few nanoseconds once and came to the conclusion that I may actually have more respect for politicians who are clearly liberal-socialist-commies or scary right-wing-radicals more than the minions of so called moderates. When I say respect, don't misunderstand me. Respect does not equal agreement. But I reserve the right to disagree agreeably.

Moderates on the other hand in my book are basically cowardly liars who are really liberals, but don't have the courage to take, and stand by a position, any position. It's always easy to tell when they are lying because they always begin their sound bites by saying: "The American People want...".

Moderates are both democrat and republican, but they are all liberals. They have mastered intellectual laziness. The depth of their thinking is limited to buying votes by selling dependency. Their mantra is peaches and cream, world peace, free health care, money for nothing and the sky is falling. They are usually wealthy elites, addicted to power, whom work tirelessly to convince you that your money is really the government’s money and rely upon creating gallons of fear so you will go along.

It occurred to me a long time ago that computer operating systems are kind of like politics.

You basically have two kinds of people: Thinking people and Computer Liberals.

I remember becoming enamored by the Mac OS in the prior millennium. There were some brilliant nit wits out there that were plotting to overthrow the world economically while I was focused on atomic wedgies and engineering a wind up key for my '62 VW bug.

I thought it was so cool that I could sit down at my Mac and build a word processing document, create a spreadsheet, or design a logo without having to read a 400 page Windows thesis. I spent 15 minutes trying to get through one once. It reminded of me trying to master the definitions of FIFO and LIFO in my 8:00 a.m. accounting class after swabbing toilets in the auto-cad building at 4:00 a.m. My comprehension would have probably been ok if there had been more color photos. (Wow, I just had a major flashback.)

Any who, seriously, you practically had to have a masters in nerdology to understand what these geekdorks were talking about. All I know is that I could sit down and whip out some pretty impressive stuff. My kids got some pretty good grades on my projects too.

As these Mac Attacks would be launched, I would laugh when these factotums around me would espouse the virtues of Windows. While I was building complex graphics for the BugZapper Invitational, these guys would be giddy because they had just set a new endurance record for the amount of time it took to calculate a time-phase analysis for a system crash/update contingency schedule for an entire decade.

Now it wasn't the fact that they were wasting mega-time trying to keep their PC's working, it was the apparent addictive glee they seem to derive because of the sheer complexity involved in completing the most simple of tasks. I remember seeing the steely smirks when these guys were running a stack of punch cards through the univac in the 50's.

I remember taking all sorts of grief from these Computer Liberals. "Mac's aren't real computers, they’re more like toys" they would say. "I hear they're pretty good for the 300 people in the country that do graphics." "You can't get any real software for them." Meanwhile I learned how to do some pretty cool stuff without ever reading a manual. They were also curiously arrogant about their superiority, spending hours reading about how to do essentially nothing. Don't even get me started on Vista, Wow.

Why, you may ask, am I wasting my time writing this blog then? (Why are you wasting your time reading it?) Simply put, because my company decided they could save 500$ on a piece of hardware, they made the brilliant decision to force us to use Windows PC’s. I guess the justification was that the pen tabs we got were much slower, and there was an exponential increase in time wasted in figuring out how to use them, multiplied by about 3000 employees. The brilliant bean counters have a formula that actually shows an increased cost/benefit analysis.

My Conversion:

So the other night I was at home, on my MacBook Pro, and needed to print a PDF. I wanted to print it at 150%. Easy. File, Page Set up, type 150, click ok. Command P, ok. Done.

The next day. at work, using my snappy but clunky brand new Dell laptop with Windows, I open the same PDF. I go to File, Print Setup. No scaling option. So I intuitively think I'll look in the Print dialogue box. Nothing. So I do what any respectable Windows user would do with the most simple of tasks, I start looking around to try to figure it out.

Eventually I stumble upon an obscure button back in the Print Setup, located where you would choose the printer you want to use called PROPERTIES. Aha, say I, "It's like monopoly". In Properties I have 5 choices: layout, paper quality, output options, tec color and troubleshooting. I choose Layout and see several choices, but no scaling option. So I move on to output options, again no scaling. I repeat the process with the other three tabs. Nothing (but I did discover 2 to the 3 power number of options I could but, never in a million years would use).

So I go back to the Print dialogue box and search through again. Nothing. I try Print Set up again, repeat steps above for each tab. This in the tab I find another obscure button called "ADVANCED". Before clicking it I shout audibly, "Of course, scaling a document is a very sophisticated and complex process. How could I have been so stupid as to have not looked for the Advanced Button to start with. I'm an idiot".

Now I click the Advanced button and wonder of wonders, nestled in the middle of 14 additional, but very advanced choices is the Scaling option. I type 150, print and look at the clock to see it only took me 1/2 hour to perform this ADVANCED task.

I am giddy, I have mastered the complexity of simplicity. It if because I had to stuggle so hard to understand the complextity of simpicity, I finally understand what I have been missing all these years. I feel like I have had an epiphany equal to any spiritual manifestation rendered to man in the last 100 years. I can't resist from singing Handel's Amen chorus.

After pondering this for another hour I finally began to understand the enlightenment that my Windows nemeses were trying to sharing with me all these many decades. Euphoria set in. I swear I actually had an adrenalin rush. I felt ashamed for judging harshly, for I was blind and now I have come to the light. The sensation I felt was much like the rush I get in Dr. Reber’s office as he slides the lever to maximum on the Nitrous Oxide tank. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have been misled all of these years? How could I have been so harsh and judgmental of my PC brethren? I felt so ashamed.

I still use my Mac mind you. When I am forced to be productive and deadlines loom, I will close the curtains, dim the lights and complete my tasks. But my days are only truly complete when I can luxuriate is the security of the light and bask in the euphoria of complexity. “Simplicity manifest as complexity”. It is so obvious now. I only wish I had known sooner.

No longer will I weld the sword of scorn and spout harsh monikers. Proudly and with justified elitism I declare. I tuly am a computer moderate. I have pangs to let this new found insight flood over my political persuasions as well, for I perceive I am blinded by the obvious simplicity and consequences of social conservatism. The truth must really lie in the velocity of the inconsistency of political liberalism.

I am happy to confess that in order to write this blog today I had to replicate the Print Scaling process again. It was incredible frustrating. It was so incredibly fulfilling. After completely forgetting the process from last week, and replicating it again today, the tingles of joy flooded my senses with complete ecstatic fervor.

Undefeated!

2008-01-07T21:20:00.000-07:00

Wii be Boxing from Doug Roper on Vimeo.

We got a Wii for Christmas. It really does burn more energy than traditional video games and it's great fun. Everyone enjoyed playing various virtual games including golf, bowling, tennis, baseball and boxing. Carnival games, racing and Mario Party 8 were also favorites.

Grandma Aanerud was content to watch us all participate in our newfound adventures. Before she departed for home we convinced her to join us in bowling. After explaining the buttons and control action needed to serve the ball she got her first strike. Imagine her delight and our admiration when she hit 3 strikes in a row for a "turkey". Soon the game was over and she finished with a 180, a family record. Well of course we had to challenge her to a rematch. We did and she smoked us again with a 178.

Today, Heidi beat me soundly in boxing. Boxing is clearly the most vigorous of all the games we've played. After knocking me out twice in rapid succession she quickly reminded me of her UNDEFEATED record for boxing.

I convinced Becky to challenge the champ. Did the champion reign supreme? Oh the drama. Oh the stamina. Oh the outcome.

the iron rod

2007-12-31T15:29:00.000-07:00

Yea, we see that whosoever will may lay hold upon the word of God, which is quick and powerful, which shall divide asunder all the cunning and the snares and the wiles of the devil, and lead the man of Christ in a strait and narrow course across that everlasting gulf of misery which is prepared to engulf the wicked — Helaman 3:29

I've spent a lot of time pondering this scripture lately. Often when we read scriptures we may understand the basic concepts of the verse. The implications often seem logical and the consequence of long term value. The more I ponder this verse however, I recognize by the spirit and from my own observations that the promises are very specific and very literal.

When we embrace the scriptures and really lay hold upon them, our ability to resist Satan's snares and cunning comes almost immediately—swiftly—promptly. We very quickly gain the literal power to divide apart or to separate ourselves from temptation. Our power to swiftly turn away from sin becomes real and acute.

I have seen specific evidence of this in our family and as an individual when entrenched in the scriptures. When I have been casual in my scripture study the companionship of the Holy Ghost has been weak. When I have demonstrated diligence and consistency, my ability to resist temptation, enticement to sin, and even the frequency of temptation is greatly reduced, almost immediately.

My most urgent desire is for all whom are dear to me, to lay hold of the word of God so that we all may swiftly and safely navigate across the gulf of misery. No matter what our challenges, weaknesses, habits, cravings or sorrows may be, we all have a quick and powerful way to peace and true happiness.

Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me. — D & C 19:23

More Thoughts on Christmas decor

2007-12-31T12:18:00.000-07:00

An open letter to Dave, Publisher of The other Drummer

I was going to post another comment on your blog. http://theotherdrummer.com/
I was very disappointed that you don't allow visitors to post photos with their comments. I took the opportunity to enlarge the Christmas inflatable image and was shocked, but not surprised with what I found. I have been a big fan of the "The Other Drummer". Maybe you should change it to "Drumb and drumber". In the future I suggest you be less disingenuous in your postings. Doug

Jake's Big Rollover

2007-12-28T19:32:00.000-07:00

So...Grandma and I went down to Costco to hang out with the other old folks down there. Is it my imagination or is Costco like a super-sized senior citizen magnet? Anyway, our mission was to get a Jordan Commons Discount Entertainment Card and some All Bran. One of these items would be a great shopping tip for Liv Simpl ($39.00 buys you $50.00 worth of fun) .

This; so we could send the kids to the movie (National Treasure: Book of Secrets) and so we could watch, as in, baby sit the big Jake (Our first born grandson).

We had previously showered Christmas gifts on Jake with the predestined intent to enhance his mobility skill set.

Once the kids (I love how you can call full grown adult parent-people, kids when you are a grandparent) were gone, we set the wheels in motion and proceeded to over-stimulate the little guy with pediatric entertainment implements. Imagine our delight when Jake rewarded our grand parental indulgences by rolling over multiple times, including front to back and back to front. Did I mention that he did this multiple times?

Of course Mom is jealous and mad at us but, "Hey timing is everything" and this is one of a grandparents rights of passage. We hope you enjoy the premier and Happy New Year. My attorney advised me that I should note that Jake has rolled over a number of times before in the presence of the kids.

p.s. Blogs are great, especially when you preempt your own kid's post. Did I mention "the kids" asked me to email the movie to them so they can put it on their own blog? (Evil Laugh)

To see the actual video you need to go to Jake's Page at http://www.rathbuns.org (only authorized individuals may access).

Christmas Advent-tures

2007-12-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

My wife loves Christmas traditions. She started one tradition the first year we were married.

That was to buy a new Christmas tree ornament each year. It sounded like a good idea to me so we went to the Hallmark store and bought "Our First Christmas, 1978". The next year we purchased one for her and one for me. The following year our first daughter Amy was born and we ended up getting three, which included "Babies First Christmas".

Now I'm no expert on exponential acceleration, nor am I a rocket scientist, but it didn't take me long to figure out the the increasing expenditure for Christmas Ornaments was going to be something akin to my annual cost of living pay increase.

It's now 29 years later, and our Christmas tree is beautifully adorned with individualized ornaments that number in the hundreds. I'm not going to even tell you what happens when the kids get married and grandkids start showing up. I checked with my banker and he said I'd be better off to amortise a new BMW. I suggested a family council to broach the idea, and after 29 wonderful years of marriage learned that traditions are 3 pegs higher on Mazlo's Hierarchy of Needs than food, clothing and shelter. I researched this a little further and found out you can get some pretty good rates on 2nd mortgages.

Another tradition was started after my wife completed sewing the beautiful felt advent calendar. This one has a Christmas tree with negative Velcro. On the bottom of the calendar are neatly crafted pockets that hold special felt emblems of yuletide. You know— like Santa, a star, an angel, a dove and a gingerbread man with a missing eye. Each of these festive characters has positive Velcro sewn on the backside. You get the idea.

Each year the kids have the opportunity to fight, yell and argue about who's turn it is to stick the Velcro-backed daily-decoration on the advent Christmas tree.

This year was no different. As I walked into the kitchen to graze on some German chocolate, mixed nuts and a Clementine. It was was so comforting to know that the advent calendar tradition lives on.

I had holiday dejavu as I heard the kids Amy 27, Brad 25 and Heidi 20, argue about who's turn it was. Circumstantial evidence suggests the firstborn may have taken two turns in a row.

Happy Holidays and may the joys of Christmas traditions never end.

"The Hose" — A reflection from my youth.

2007-12-17T18:24:00.000-07:00

In retrospect, the blue sky I remember was probably more of a hazy brownish gray. Whether there were clouds in the sky wasn't important because it was a beautiful summer day in Azusa, California in the 1960’s. The weather was mostly beautiful and conducive to my explorations and mischief where we lived in a small track home an hour or so from the beach.

Summer was my favorite time as a young boy and we were allowed to play for hours, often left to our own devices. I was probably eight or nine at the time and loved the many adventures available to us daily.

Some time before, we (my brothers Terry and Trevor and I) had discovered that there was sand under the topsoil. We had a trampoline that was dug into the ground, which we jumped on by the hours. I get tired of thinking how many hours we jumped and had seat wars and tried flips (scars to prove it). We also spent many hours underneath the trampoline making great excavations with matchbox tractors, and graders, and caterpillars, and cars, and trucks. Soon we discovered there was sand.

We had hit pay dirt. Sand and more sand; there was a never-ending supply. Sand was great for highways, roads, and experiments and fabulous with magnets (we sifted great quantities of iron ore from it with our magnets).

Dad seemed annoyed that our excavations were so intrusive that the trampoline structure was potentially unstable (which in fact we knew it was). But back to the story:
One day, after Dad had gone to work and Mom was out of sight we started building great highways in the planters of flowers in the beautiful front yard. The front yard that my Father worked endless hours to make beautiful. The details of the yard were intricate down the exotic dichondra grass.

This road building however was important stuff. We understood this as our little house had been consumed by a new superhighway months before.

Well everyone knows that to build highways one needs mortar and nothing builds mortar like soil and WATER. Soon the garden hose was turned on and water was carefully obtained for our ambitious project. But as is the case with boys—it wasn't long before we became bored with the construction project and moved on to better things...in this case HIGH PRESSURE WATER DRILLING.

Now I had done some drilling before on the side of the house where less important landscaping took place. But this was front yard central. It is still amazing to me how if one takes a hose, turns it on to full blast and inserts it into the ground how easily it will drill into the ground.
On this particular day some uncontrollable impulse overtook me. And before I knew it the I was able to push the hose, running full bore into the ground great distances. Each time I pulled it out, I measured how far it had disappeared into the ground with my hand. Like a driller adding a new length of pipe each time I continued while a bubbling cascade of water oozed out of the hole.

I remember the very distinct thought “I wonder how deep I can get it down into the ground”. I also remember my brother helping me feed the hose farther, and further into the ground...This was GREAT FUN!

Then it happened. It seemed odd that the water ceased to bubble up from the ground. I could feel the water running through the hose. But what seemed even odder was that the hose didn't seem to want to come back up. Not to worry I thought, I'll just pull harder. But as I pulled with all my might my mind began to fill with panic. What if I can't get it out?

Time is an interesting thing especially when you are trying to remember years ago...but it seemed like hours passed and my brother and I pulled and pulled. It became clear this we were going to lose this tug-o-war with the earth. Finally we got the shovel out and started digging. Our hole seemed pretty deep to us but it was not deep enough.
By now my panic was replaced by fear. Oh, Man am I gonna get it. What am I going to do? I don't remember what my brother said, but I want to believe it was probably something like. "You're in trouble now!"

I wanted everything to be all right but soon realized it wasn't going be. I was in a real fix. So I started thinking. Soon I had devised and implemented a plan. You know, I knew if wouldn't work, but in my own mind I fantasized ‘well...maybe Dad won't notice or maybe he won't know it was me”. Deep down, so to speak, I was wrong. What I did know for sure was that I didn't want to be around when Dad came home.

I was hiding somewhere when I first heard him call and wanted to believe all was well...but I knew better. As I think back I can't help but laugh, but I wasn't laughing then. Too this day I can only imagine the look on my Fathers face as he grabbed the end of the neatly coiled hose, (which I had carefully removed from the faucet and carefully coiled on the ground, surrounding the 3/8” drill hole – so he wouldn't notice). I envisioned him pulling it until it stopped with a jerk.

It was kinda hard to explain how the hose got there and got there so securely...but I tried my best. He sternly asked me how deep it was. This was a difficult question. I wasn't sure if I would be in more trouble if I said it was really deep (probably about six or more feet) or if I said just a little.

I chose the later, which proved to be a mistake, as the carefully and recently washed shovel was out again. This time my Dad was doing the digging. I remember the looks on his face and the sound of his frustrated muttering. As the hole got to about four feet, I felt panic again and was given further interrogation. My answer was not convincing and it facilitated the last straw.

Soon I saw the shovel spiraling through the air like a boomerang and watched in shock as my Father stormed to the garage. Storming is kinda like marching. I think he learned it in the army. But in a flash he was back quickly, this time with a knife. How I know that I’m not sure, because I’m sure I was staring at my frayed shoelaces.

I still remember how that hose looked sticking up freshly cut from that deep damp hole. Dad didn't say too much more so I laid low for a while. But I forgot to tell you. That was the day I discovered there was sand under the top soil and water didn't bubble back up from sand like dirt.

The sand, it was everywhere, lots of it. We lived on an old river bed. The question was how to get to it?