Hey, good morning. So, this weekend we were talking, a bunch of us up at my mom and dad's cabin. Well the story went from our Labra-Idiot Maggie, to a dog we'd had about ten years ago. His name was, "Chewy". After I got home from the Navy I'd wanted a dog, and we'd had one for a short spell that was Stacey's named, "Kia" but it was a certified nutcase and would threaten children and take off on a dead sprint as soon as she was unleashed. Then we had, "Houdini" who was sort of a benji looking mutt-face that could dig his way out of a concrete garage given enough time and lack of supervision. It's no wonder he was a shelter dog. I betcha if they had inserted a micro-chip that dog had been, "adopted" not less than ten times within a two year period. Cute dog, just devious beyond compare.
So, I kept my eyes open for a man's dog. You know, a golden retriever or a big yeller lab. So, one day, while surfing this new thing called, "The INTER-net" I found a website for a Golden Retriever Rescue organization on the West side of the Salt Lake Valley. Anyhow, I was working for the County at that time, and one day while I was in the area I stopped in. Well, really it was this older lady and her husband that had fostered a couple of dogs that were brownish yellow. Not really Golden Retrievers per se'. Well, scratch that. There was once a set of half Golden pups that came in and we sincerely looked at that option. However, being a near-newly wed couple with a baby, we opted to hold out for an older dog so Stacey didnt have to train a puppy while trying to hold an infant.
So after a couple of weeks I got a call from the lady, "Mickie" and she said she had a "senior dog" that had come in if I was interested. Well, let me back up here a little. See, Mickie and her husband had been sending out little newsletters every month in the mail about stories of beautiful golden retrievers that went to Heaven and ran in slow motion and let children weave wild-flowers into their collars. So, I'd been sort of primed to accept whatever they had to offer. Looking back Mickie and her husband should have gone into the car-sales business because the pictures they painted with poems and stories about dogs would just plain make you ache for a sweet pup of your very own. Heck, I just about had to watch, "Where the Red Fern Grows" once a month to keep my anticipation levels down.
Where were we? Ah yes. So I get this call about a Senior Dog. Which, I figured in dog years was about..oh say...nine-ish. Well, she shows me this big schweeet puppy named, "Chewy" who has the sadest eyes you've ever seen. Yeah, Chewy was owned by a little old lady that drove a giant gramma car and lived on Social Security and ate dog food and Chewy was her pride and joy but she just couldnt take care of him anymore. Blah blah blah....so I got the under-carriage wash, the clear bra, the mag wheels and the rebate in the deal. (SUCKER!!!).
Anyhow Chewy was aptly named. Dog LOVED to play ball. He'd play ball as though his life depended on it. No seriously, he'd watch that ball in your hand for as long as you could hold it. His legs and face quivering waiting for you to just throw it. If you didnt throw a ball, he'd run over and grab a rock (see also, "smallish boulder") and drop it at your feet and begin a stare-down competition with it right there at your feet. Oh, also important to note, Chewy was in excess of 100 lb. I'd say closer to 110 actually. HUGE head. Bigger than my then waist. Chewy also had what I considered a mild "snot" problem. However Stacey considered it a MAJOR snot problem. Difference of opinion really. Agree to disagree. Oh, and Chewy, (Short for "Jesus"???) was also about 12 when we got him and was beginning to show signs of arthritis in his back legs. So, he'd probably only last a year (Almost three as it turns out).
So if you listen to Stacey you'll hear all sorts of stories about his lack of listening ability (he went deaf about seven months after we got him) and how she had to lift his fat butt into the truck to meet us up and my dad's lot while we started the cabin. Boy she really lays it on thick too. You can almost visualize her, pregnant with Lexi, Josh in a little car seat in the front of our old white pickup (no air conditioning) and backing the truck up to the steps in the garage to get fat-dog into the back of the truck. She hated him, dont let her fool you. He was a giant nusance to a young wife with one and a half kids. I will give her that.
So, one day, I actually grabbed the dog for myself and hefted his largess frame into the back of the truck and went to meet dad up there. We had just had the septic tank hole dug and dad needed to do what's called a, "Perk Test" which has nothing to do with coffee. Anyhow at the time his lot was just sage brush and we were literally breaking ground on a dream of having a cabin and watching deer frolic and bunny rabbits and skunks play in the wildflowers. Anyhow, we've subsequently learned it's a little more work than that. So, I get up there, and dad has a fire going, his trailer was up there, and there's this giant hole. About fifteen feet across and ten feet deep. Straight down. No angled walls, no waist, just down. So, oh, he had my brother Justin's dog up there, "Buddy" or as we all called him, Buddy Ugly. Oh for good reason too. Buddy was...challenged...looks wise. He was a white dog with whispy hair that covered about 1/3 of his body and showed through his pink weak skin and freckles and moles and ...ugly. He was about 10 lb sopping wet and had these bulging eyes that made you almost wince when he looked at you. He had eye-boogers that were dark black that bled down into his mutt-stache and a curly little tail. He also had a severe underbite and one tooth that sorta looked like, "Pumba" from that Lion Movie. Anyhow, suffice it to say, the dog was UGLY. He was so ugly, that your first instance at finding him at your feet was to recoil in horror. Your second instinct was to pet the ugly little thing because you just knew if you didnt pet him someone may just kick him for being as ugly as he was.
So, we're watching this fire, talking about being mountain men and how he's going to have a pot-bellied stove and how we can watch deer out the window and we'll plant pine trees here, and quakies there...and my dad says, "Hey, where's that dog of yours? You better bring him over here before he falls in the hole." Oh, important to note it's pitch black that night with the exception of our 90% sagebrush fire. So, almost on cue, I hear, "fffwhooommmpp!" and I knew instantly fat-dog was in the hole. So, I go get the flashlight, and as I do, I said, "Hey dad, you better grab Buddy...." and in Buddy went after him.
So, I walk over to this hole. As I go I'm contemplating the realities of an aging and decrepit dog, probably with a broken leg, and how I will have to shoot him and just leave him in the hole because we'll never get him out. Morbid reality stuff. So, I get over there, and Chewy is in the bottom of the hole, and next to him, his side-kick Buddy Ugly. I literally recoiled at the reflection of the flashlight in little Buddy's beady eyes. Gosh that dog was ugly! So it turns out, the only ladder we have, is a four-foot a-frame wooden ladder that should have been thrown away three years ago. So, I lower this ladder down in, and grabbing my dad's hand, lower myself onto the, "This is NOT a Step" step on my tippy-toes. Grumbling the whole way, just thinking how much easier this would have been had I just shot the stupid S.O.B. rather than rescue the either of them. So, I grabbed Buddy (from behind) and chucked him up out of there. Of important note, I realized while he was in flight, that if my dog was that ugly, I'd shave his butt and teach him to walk backwards. So then we have the little issue of Chewy. So, I pick him up, like a cowboy picks up a calf and start up the four steps one...rickety..step at a time. We're talking about in excess of three hundred pounds now on each little step. So, I made it to the, "Not a Step" step and in an act of Herculean ffort I attempt my best, "Atlas" pose and lift fat-dog up to dad who pulls him up and out the rest of the way.
It's important to note that neither dog suffered any injuries which would warrant their speedy death. Unfortunately that is. Well Chewy held on another couple of years almost and about the time his legs gave out on him trying to make it two stairs into the house I just couldnt take anymore. I knew it was time.
One bright Saturday with snow on the ground Chewy and I went for a ride out by South Willow Canyon by Grantsville, Utah. Chewy was his lackluster excited self and I was dreading what was coming. I knew it was time, but I wanted to shrink from my responsibilities. You of course know what's coming. You're wondering why I didnt take him to the vet. I just think that's not the way to go. I can't leave a dog with the vet laying there on the table wondering when I'm coming back. I wanted his last moments to be filled with the smell of snow and sage brush and the possibilities of smelling a cottontail rabbit mixed with the pungent smell of juniper trees. I sat there for a long time, looking down at my rifle. This was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. I sat there with him as long as I dared. He was starting to get cold and shiver and I knew this was to be one-way trip for old Chew. I just couldnt bare to take him home because I knew I'd never do it. If I loved this dog I'd let him go. I'd let him go in style, not on some cold examining table frightened and scared that I'd left him.
Well cowboy wisdom is that if you can't shoe your own horse, or shoot your own dog you probably ought not have either a one of them. But I'm just not so sure of that. I've had a lot of dogs, ground up a couple of cats in a truck motor, I've killed deer and elk and just about anything I could justify, but nothing has ever sapped me the way that letting Chewy go that day did. It's bitter sweet letting an animal go. You know it's the right thing for them. Hell that dog couldnt hear, snotted all over himself, couldnt stand up, had no teeth left and still was the sweetest damn dog you'd ever meet. Till the very second I let him go he wanted to do what he considered was his job and fetch rocks or a ball. It was all he lived for. The day I realized he couldnt even do that I knew it was time.
I want you to know I said goodbye to him first. It wasn't without a great deal of tears that I put him down. I pretty much searched my entire soul for a way that I didnt have to let him go. I wanted to be selfish and keep him around, one more day, one more week, one more year. But I knew that letting him go any longer wasn't right for either of us.
Anyhow, enough of the melodrama. I loved that old dog. I hated him too, dont get me wrong. I know this is a story you've all heard before and you maybe even have your own old pup that you know you're missing. I dont understand this whole world as it goes around. But I do know a few things. We're made to love. We're made to hurt. We're made for joy, and we're made for heartaches and disappointment. Part of our learning while we're here is to suffer these tremendous losses so that we can understand the cooresponding joys.
Anyhow I gotta run. It's time for me to put some pants on and maybe mow a lawn or two. If the weather doesnt hold I'll head to the Home Depot and pick out a nice little garbage disposal and swap one out. I'm ready for Spring I tell you. This, "Sprinter" crap is for the birds. So, I have no words of comfort, just a smile to start your day. All this isn't for naught. There's a reason behind it all. Get out of your house, it's Memorial Day. Put your flag out, grill some brautworst and meet the new neighbors. No more of this doom and gloom. It's time to plant some flowers in the front of the house and get ready for Summer.
Hope you have a great day and maybe we'll talk at ya in a week or so if I dont get the chance sooner.
J
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
...Just fishin'.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O328z4F7WlM
You thought I forgot didnt you? Nah, I didnt. I've been busy kids. Had a nice little half-weekend lined out. We went to up to the lot. So, we had a pretty good time. We threw everything in the back of the truck (dog included) and headed out Thursday night. I pulled the little aluminum boat up. See, I didn't even take it out last year. As far as I remember I'd had some trouble with the motor going into reverse. It's not a bad little setup really. 14' aluminum jobby with a 9 horse driver and a 28 lb thrust electric trolling motor that goes from 0 to 3 knots almost instantly. Which, if you're keeping track is some serious ground you could cover (if you had a few hours to spare). But I digress.
So, we arrived at the trailer and I did all the requisite turning on of the propane, worked my magic on the batteries (New by the way. But you knew that if you're a regular subscriber) oh, I also lit the hot-water heater and blah blah blah. Apparently hot water is deathly important if you're going to have women-folk along. Which, of course we're heavy on. Women I mean. Not that they...oh crap, that's not good. Anyhow, betwixt Stacey, Lexi, Isabelle, Olivia (and Maggie) we're repleat with estrogen. We've checked that block ya'll. Oh, also toilet paper and napkins. Oh, and apparently soap. All those thing you need about five times the average male quantities of per chica.
Where were we??? Oh, so yeah, Rod (a good neighbor/friend/fellow bacon-eater) had talked about coming up on Saturday. So I was anxious to get this boat thing operational. In my haste I realized that the boat wasn't registered, or at least didnt have a sticker on it that said, "2011" which, is important. Because you're "2010" sticker, although still valid until June draws attention from the local fish-cops. Oh, additionally, a cursory, secondary, and tertiary inspection of my wallet yielded zero evidence of my fishing license. Which, I KNOW I bought because I put in for some special elk and moose hunts this year. (Of which, I failed to draw btw). So...additionally, I realized when my dad arrived, that the base to my fish finder was locked ever-so-carefully away down here in the valley in the shed. So the fish-finder (which only gets your hopes up and doesnt actually yield one pound more of fish) was also non-existant. Good news in all this, was that we had a new trolling battery. Deep-cycle type which coincidentally was the third battery in the trifecta that dad went and picked up in an earlier rant you may have ignored.
What time is it? Oh, anyhow, so after making some plans and doing some things, consulting the Farmer's Almanac and gauging the skies with my trained Naval skills, I determined I really didnt care about all those negatives. We're going fishing. Pile in kids. So, Josh, Lex, and Biz piled into Big Green and we headed down the road. I was eyeing the storm that loomed over-head but knew that since I paid my tithing and took that call as a Sunbeam teacher on Sunday all would be well. Oh, additionally I failed to locate a life vest for your's truly. (But the kids all had one). So, about two miles down the highway toward Starvation Reservoir, I decided instead to cut a U-ey and head back to Fruitland and North to the little reservoir of Red Creek. Mostly I surmised that no fishcop in his right mind would be up there to give me trash over my seeming indescretions and it was a small enough lake to row across should things go awry with one adult and three kidlin's.
So, when we arrived there was little evidence of the road which used to go "down" to the lake, as the lake had come "up" to the road. Oh, it's also devoid of a boat ramp, so you sorta have to back down the bank and launch your stuff by hand. Manhandling it as it were. So, about this time, the wind kicks up, the storm clouds move and threaten, Isabelle has fits with her life jacket, Lexi commences to chattering about Sonny With a Chance and this one time and this one episode, I'm trying to engage Josh with helping me take the straps off the boat and the wind starts trying to rip the doors off my pickup. Determined not to be thwarted by the nay-saying of others, ("nayyyyyyy") I deftly and almost expertly backed the truck about halfway to the bed of the truck in and kept the front wheels dry just in case that red mud so famous for Red Creek grabbed hold of the back wheels. Well of course I put Josh in the bow of the boat, and Lexi in the back of the truck with the rope and we went to gettin'.
So, blah blah blah. Boat goes in. I drive up, park the truck, quite satisfied with my efforts and abilities to brave the elements and still provide valuable and lasting memories for my children, grandchildren, and your mom's children. (Tell your ma I said, "hey" *eyebrows up and down* btw). Anyhow, get the boat in, and Josh and Lexi start getting that not-so-certain look on their faces. I toss Isabelle in, almost quite literally and we push off from the bank. Oh, of important note is the fact that the wind is pushing us constantly sideways and almost up onto the bank at this point. So I get the oar out (bloody 'oar!) and push us off long enough to get the big motor down. Then I proceed to attempt to tug on the lanyard. To no avail. Thing wont even budge. Locked tighter than the Vestal Virgin(ian)s' front gate. Just not gonna move. So, again, not being one to accept immediate defeat, I lowered the aforementioned trolling motor, and commence to fighting the wind. Well after about 37 minutes of trying and untangling floating willow limbs from the motor and pushing off with both bloody 'oars, we got out upwards of twenty feet from shore.
I had Josh rig up the girl's trolling poles and we made it just about three hundred yards from shore. The little trolling motor ramped up to "Warp Factor Five" and givin' her all she's got Captain! Yeah, just not happenin' today kids. So, I shut her down, and let the kids drift fish back almost to the truck before we got to shore. I had Lexi jump out and hold the rope which was ludicrous because she couldnt have moved that boat and us in it if she'd wanted to. So, we all disembarked, a little defeated and slightly humbled. Oh, also there was a couple and their son and a cow dog watching this whole thing from about two hundred yards away. The cowboy got up and put his hands on his hips and just sorta stood there wondering how this citified idiot was going to get that boat out of the water in the mud with three kids going on and on. Well, I'll have you know, not only did I do it, but I did it in style. I dang near went azz over tea kettle twice by stepping on the rope on my way walking down the very slickery boat trailer to grab hold of the boat. I'd say I was only in about 3 feet of water, but it sure looked uncomfortable to be all wet after slipping in with the old cowboy and his dog a watchin' us.
Anyhow, just like I told you it went down slicker than snot and we got the thing up and out of there. I can't believe you doubted me. Not so much as the tips of my boots got wet in the process either. Anyhow, the kids said they had a great time and we all learned a very valuable lesson. I'm not really sure what that is, but I bet you can derive your own life's lessons from it.
Anyhow kids, I'll leave you with the above URL and the lyrics below to sorta solidify it all in your heart of hearts. I miss you, but not as much as you miss me.
Are you still reading? I gotta go, my Sunbeams need me. Peace out, pats on the head and a nice little slap on the rump for those of you that had a good game.
Good Game,
J
"I’m lost in her there holdin’ that pink rod and reel
She’s doin’ almost everything but sittin’ still
Talkin’ ‘bout her ballet shoes and training wheels
And her kittens
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
I say, “Daddy loves you, baby” one more time
She says, “I know. I think I got a bite.”
And all this laughin’, cryin, smilin’ dyin’ here inside’s
What I call, livin’
And she thinks we’re just fishin’ on the riverside
Throwin’ back what we could fry
Drownin’ worms and killin’ time
Nothin’ too ambitious
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
She’s already pretty, like her mama is
Gonna drive the boys all crazy
Give her daddy fits
And I better do this every chance I get
‘Cause time is tickin’
(Yeah it is)
And she thinks we’re just fishin’ on the riverside
Throwin’ back what we could fry
Drownin’ worms and killin’ time
Nothin’ too ambitious
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
Yeah, aww, she thinks we’re just fishin’
We ain’t only fishin’
(This ain’t about fishin’)"
You thought I forgot didnt you? Nah, I didnt. I've been busy kids. Had a nice little half-weekend lined out. We went to up to the lot. So, we had a pretty good time. We threw everything in the back of the truck (dog included) and headed out Thursday night. I pulled the little aluminum boat up. See, I didn't even take it out last year. As far as I remember I'd had some trouble with the motor going into reverse. It's not a bad little setup really. 14' aluminum jobby with a 9 horse driver and a 28 lb thrust electric trolling motor that goes from 0 to 3 knots almost instantly. Which, if you're keeping track is some serious ground you could cover (if you had a few hours to spare). But I digress.
So, we arrived at the trailer and I did all the requisite turning on of the propane, worked my magic on the batteries (New by the way. But you knew that if you're a regular subscriber) oh, I also lit the hot-water heater and blah blah blah. Apparently hot water is deathly important if you're going to have women-folk along. Which, of course we're heavy on. Women I mean. Not that they...oh crap, that's not good. Anyhow, betwixt Stacey, Lexi, Isabelle, Olivia (and Maggie) we're repleat with estrogen. We've checked that block ya'll. Oh, also toilet paper and napkins. Oh, and apparently soap. All those thing you need about five times the average male quantities of per chica.
Where were we??? Oh, so yeah, Rod (a good neighbor/friend/fellow bacon-eater) had talked about coming up on Saturday. So I was anxious to get this boat thing operational. In my haste I realized that the boat wasn't registered, or at least didnt have a sticker on it that said, "2011" which, is important. Because you're "2010" sticker, although still valid until June draws attention from the local fish-cops. Oh, additionally, a cursory, secondary, and tertiary inspection of my wallet yielded zero evidence of my fishing license. Which, I KNOW I bought because I put in for some special elk and moose hunts this year. (Of which, I failed to draw btw). So...additionally, I realized when my dad arrived, that the base to my fish finder was locked ever-so-carefully away down here in the valley in the shed. So the fish-finder (which only gets your hopes up and doesnt actually yield one pound more of fish) was also non-existant. Good news in all this, was that we had a new trolling battery. Deep-cycle type which coincidentally was the third battery in the trifecta that dad went and picked up in an earlier rant you may have ignored.
What time is it? Oh, anyhow, so after making some plans and doing some things, consulting the Farmer's Almanac and gauging the skies with my trained Naval skills, I determined I really didnt care about all those negatives. We're going fishing. Pile in kids. So, Josh, Lex, and Biz piled into Big Green and we headed down the road. I was eyeing the storm that loomed over-head but knew that since I paid my tithing and took that call as a Sunbeam teacher on Sunday all would be well. Oh, additionally I failed to locate a life vest for your's truly. (But the kids all had one). So, about two miles down the highway toward Starvation Reservoir, I decided instead to cut a U-ey and head back to Fruitland and North to the little reservoir of Red Creek. Mostly I surmised that no fishcop in his right mind would be up there to give me trash over my seeming indescretions and it was a small enough lake to row across should things go awry with one adult and three kidlin's.
So, when we arrived there was little evidence of the road which used to go "down" to the lake, as the lake had come "up" to the road. Oh, it's also devoid of a boat ramp, so you sorta have to back down the bank and launch your stuff by hand. Manhandling it as it were. So, about this time, the wind kicks up, the storm clouds move and threaten, Isabelle has fits with her life jacket, Lexi commences to chattering about Sonny With a Chance and this one time and this one episode, I'm trying to engage Josh with helping me take the straps off the boat and the wind starts trying to rip the doors off my pickup. Determined not to be thwarted by the nay-saying of others, ("nayyyyyyy") I deftly and almost expertly backed the truck about halfway to the bed of the truck in and kept the front wheels dry just in case that red mud so famous for Red Creek grabbed hold of the back wheels. Well of course I put Josh in the bow of the boat, and Lexi in the back of the truck with the rope and we went to gettin'.
So, blah blah blah. Boat goes in. I drive up, park the truck, quite satisfied with my efforts and abilities to brave the elements and still provide valuable and lasting memories for my children, grandchildren, and your mom's children. (Tell your ma I said, "hey" *eyebrows up and down* btw). Anyhow, get the boat in, and Josh and Lexi start getting that not-so-certain look on their faces. I toss Isabelle in, almost quite literally and we push off from the bank. Oh, of important note is the fact that the wind is pushing us constantly sideways and almost up onto the bank at this point. So I get the oar out (bloody 'oar!) and push us off long enough to get the big motor down. Then I proceed to attempt to tug on the lanyard. To no avail. Thing wont even budge. Locked tighter than the Vestal Virgin(ian)s' front gate. Just not gonna move. So, again, not being one to accept immediate defeat, I lowered the aforementioned trolling motor, and commence to fighting the wind. Well after about 37 minutes of trying and untangling floating willow limbs from the motor and pushing off with both bloody 'oars, we got out upwards of twenty feet from shore.
I had Josh rig up the girl's trolling poles and we made it just about three hundred yards from shore. The little trolling motor ramped up to "Warp Factor Five" and givin' her all she's got Captain! Yeah, just not happenin' today kids. So, I shut her down, and let the kids drift fish back almost to the truck before we got to shore. I had Lexi jump out and hold the rope which was ludicrous because she couldnt have moved that boat and us in it if she'd wanted to. So, we all disembarked, a little defeated and slightly humbled. Oh, also there was a couple and their son and a cow dog watching this whole thing from about two hundred yards away. The cowboy got up and put his hands on his hips and just sorta stood there wondering how this citified idiot was going to get that boat out of the water in the mud with three kids going on and on. Well, I'll have you know, not only did I do it, but I did it in style. I dang near went azz over tea kettle twice by stepping on the rope on my way walking down the very slickery boat trailer to grab hold of the boat. I'd say I was only in about 3 feet of water, but it sure looked uncomfortable to be all wet after slipping in with the old cowboy and his dog a watchin' us.
Anyhow, just like I told you it went down slicker than snot and we got the thing up and out of there. I can't believe you doubted me. Not so much as the tips of my boots got wet in the process either. Anyhow, the kids said they had a great time and we all learned a very valuable lesson. I'm not really sure what that is, but I bet you can derive your own life's lessons from it.
Anyhow kids, I'll leave you with the above URL and the lyrics below to sorta solidify it all in your heart of hearts. I miss you, but not as much as you miss me.
Are you still reading? I gotta go, my Sunbeams need me. Peace out, pats on the head and a nice little slap on the rump for those of you that had a good game.
Good Game,
J
"I’m lost in her there holdin’ that pink rod and reel
She’s doin’ almost everything but sittin’ still
Talkin’ ‘bout her ballet shoes and training wheels
And her kittens
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
I say, “Daddy loves you, baby” one more time
She says, “I know. I think I got a bite.”
And all this laughin’, cryin, smilin’ dyin’ here inside’s
What I call, livin’
And she thinks we’re just fishin’ on the riverside
Throwin’ back what we could fry
Drownin’ worms and killin’ time
Nothin’ too ambitious
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
She’s already pretty, like her mama is
Gonna drive the boys all crazy
Give her daddy fits
And I better do this every chance I get
‘Cause time is tickin’
(Yeah it is)
And she thinks we’re just fishin’ on the riverside
Throwin’ back what we could fry
Drownin’ worms and killin’ time
Nothin’ too ambitious
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
She ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout
What’s really goin’ on right now
But I guarantee this memory’s a big’in
And she thinks we’re just fishin’
Yeah, aww, she thinks we’re just fishin’
We ain’t only fishin’
(This ain’t about fishin’)"
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A Rose by Any Other Name...
OK, so as you're aware, everyone is free game here. You included. See, Army guys show their love by making fun of you and pointing out your faults. It's the way we bond. For example, if I tell you that you have a funny-shaped head, you're buck-toothed, pigeon toed and knock-kneed with a case of halitosis that makes sewer rats green with envy, chances are we're best buds. If I remind you constantly about how I love your mom, and believe me I LOVE your mom...well you're right up there too. Savvy?
So, my mom (whom is a SAINT by the way!) is named Rosalinda. Yeah, beautiful rose en espanol. I've seen pictures when she fit that very description too. In fact while I was growing up she was always in some young women's leadership capacity and they were CONSTANTLY going on and on about how great she was. Of course I was a rebellious young lad and I thought she was the devil incarnate. Oh man, she used to devote ALL day on Saturday to cleaning a bedroom, a bathroom, one of the major rooms to inspection ready quality or we couldnt go out and play. We fought pretty much the majority of my life from 11-18 until I finally joined the Navy where I'd never have to clean against my will again. Unless...of course...you count twice a day EVERY day, shining brightwork (brass), knee-knockers (the bottom of a portal), waxing the floor, and a whole slug of other insanely ridiculous areas like the inside of a drain in a shower. Yeah, Navy people are fanatical when it comes to clean. So the irony hasn't escaped me that in my efforts to leave home, strike out on my own and never devote a Saturday to cleaning again, I actually signed myself up for four years of it. Oh, it's important to note that after surviving life on a ship, whenever I'm ticked off at my family or having a bad day, I naturally pick up a broom, a rag, bleach and whatever else I can to scrub away the frustrations. Sometimes I wonder if Stacey doesnt actually try and make me mad so she ends up with a clean kitchen. Anyhow, if I get nervous or there's a lot going on, like a bunch of ladies talking loudly about piano lessons or singing, or other chick stuff I go into survival mode. It's not to show off, it's just because I can't handle the additional imported insanity.
Oh, so back to mom. Anyhow my mom is a really good woman. She's always impressed me with her testimony of the Gospel. She really is a spiritual woman and I hope I got a little of that from her as well. So, the past few years, she's sorta gone off the deep end. Money is of no consequence when it comes to her grandchildren. She'll dump 350.00 in one afternoon on the girls at what I call the Pit of Dispair, "Justice for Girls". I've seen my girls bring home alarm clocks, calculators, pinwheels, stuffed animals, heck even clothes. Oh, and by the way, the level of quality versus price paid is almost comical. I think I could pick up the same crap at the Dollar Store for 1/15th the cost and have it last twice as long. Years ago I asked my mom and dad to stop flushing that money down the drain on sugar and spice, and instead put it in the 529 plan I started for the kids college. Yeah, not happening. My mom says something to the tune of, "Honey...I'm going to die soon, I want to see them enjoy it. I didnt get to do this with you guys and now I can." Except my dad just shakes his head because he retired last year and put her on a budgetary diet which she continually refuses to even acknowledge.
Oh, so my mom also tells the same ten stories, almost verbadem on a constant loop. Our favorite one is, "I love salad. I've always loved salad, dont you remember? Even when you were little I loved salad." Other's include fights she's had in the past 10 months with coworkers over trying to set up her obviously bitchy coworker with some successful dude from the former Eastern Block who's an engineer and loves florescent lighting and Jedi toys. Oh, others include the less often told, "Son, you remind me of that guy, from that show, 'Walks in the Clouds'? He's so noble. You'd do that." So, of course the hackles on my neck stand up because I know she means, "A Walk in the Clouds" and she's talking about that surfer idiot douche Kianu Reeves. Yeah, I spelled his name wrong, so what of it? I love him in that movie...where he plays that guy...Kianno Reeves? You know the one? Where he's like, "Whooaaaa!". That's a good one. Anyhow I just nod my head and look over at the kids, or Stacey and smile because I've heard this not less than ten thousand times.
She really is a sweet woman. But dont let that fool you. She's as manipulative as they come. She intentionally waits until the most insane part of the afternoon, where the T.V. is blaring, the kids are fighting, Stacey is teaching piano lessons and the phone is ringing and the Farmer's Insurance idiot is standing on the porch to ask. She'll ask you things like, "Son...can Lexi go with me to run some errands? I'm only going to go for about an hour?" So of course she says this so Isabelle can hear. So Isabelle starts into a tirade, and my mom says, "No honey, your dad will only let me take one of you at a time because he thinks I can't keep track of you and I'm not a very good driver." So of course I look over in total disbelief. Mostly because she IS a horrible driver, but because she uses the whole, unspoken, "Your father, whom I raised to be a great man, still thinks I can't do the simplest tasks."
Well let me tell you why I think so. The other day, she called Stacey in a panic. Because she'd parked her car..wait for it...in the parking lot of the liquor store on 90th South. Wait, it gets better, she was late for a baby shower, up in Odgen, and was meeting someone to ride up with, whom she had never met. Oh, it gets better. She parked in the 30 minute parking and left her car running. With the lights on signalling to all ne'r do-wells to just come get the car already. So, she actually LEAVES the car unattended, and calls Stacey, because she cant REMEMBER my dad's number! So my wife calls my dad, whom had Josh at the gun show (no really) and they drive over. What they find, is that the car is in fact running, the lights are in fact on, and yes, the PASSENGER door is locked, but if one were to walk say...around to the DRIVER'S side? Yeah, unlocked. I've got a million of these stories.
I love her of course, but I know anytime she wants to go to one of the kids soccer or football game, that I will give up my chair (she wont bring one of her own) she'll show up 28 minutes late, and she'll be lost and try to walk across two fields regardless of games in play in ridiculously tall sandals that just plain suck in grass. Oh, then after she gets there, PROBABLY carrying my brother's idiot squash-faced dog, she'll say, "Honey? Jon, do you have any cash? I need a drink and all I have is my card." Which by the way is in her bra just to unnerve any clerk that she hands it to nonchalantly. I of course look at her, in total disbelief, for the 567th time, that she even ask if I had cash. I've been married for 14 years now. WHY in heaven's name, would you ASSUME I had even a dollar in cash? If I had eleven bucks my wife and kids would smell it the moment we got near a vendor and it would be gone instantly. (Case in point).
But I do love her, she is my mom. She's sweet and about as blonde as a mexican lady can get. She hates being in the sun, because somehow she wants to fool the world into believing she's a very dark-skinned Italian and not a Mexican which she doesnt seem overly proud of.
So here's the good part. She's incredibly giving. To a fault at times. She'll turn the other cheek over and over and over and allow herself to be walked over, and used and be genuinely surprised when it turns out exactly like you warned her it would. She's a good lady, she's genuine, and she's giving to my children. She drives my dad insane, but he seems to love her not just inspite of, but even because of her idiosyncresies. (Spell check that).
Anyhow, I kid around because I love my mom. She is a challenge at times and she loves to turn my house upside down and then leave once the eye of the storm is upon us. She loves drama, and she loves kinetic energy. I think that growing up with 12 brothers and sisters in a 3 bedroom home would do that to you. She's most at home with an entire house full of people talking and noone listening.
Alright kids, I gotta thing in the morning that pays for all these lavish furnishings so I better close.
All the best to you and I hope you have a fantastic night and day. Hug your ma next time you see her or I will. (Your ma, not mine. ;) ) Do what you can the best you can and warmest regards your general direction.
Always,
J
So, my mom (whom is a SAINT by the way!) is named Rosalinda. Yeah, beautiful rose en espanol. I've seen pictures when she fit that very description too. In fact while I was growing up she was always in some young women's leadership capacity and they were CONSTANTLY going on and on about how great she was. Of course I was a rebellious young lad and I thought she was the devil incarnate. Oh man, she used to devote ALL day on Saturday to cleaning a bedroom, a bathroom, one of the major rooms to inspection ready quality or we couldnt go out and play. We fought pretty much the majority of my life from 11-18 until I finally joined the Navy where I'd never have to clean against my will again. Unless...of course...you count twice a day EVERY day, shining brightwork (brass), knee-knockers (the bottom of a portal), waxing the floor, and a whole slug of other insanely ridiculous areas like the inside of a drain in a shower. Yeah, Navy people are fanatical when it comes to clean. So the irony hasn't escaped me that in my efforts to leave home, strike out on my own and never devote a Saturday to cleaning again, I actually signed myself up for four years of it. Oh, it's important to note that after surviving life on a ship, whenever I'm ticked off at my family or having a bad day, I naturally pick up a broom, a rag, bleach and whatever else I can to scrub away the frustrations. Sometimes I wonder if Stacey doesnt actually try and make me mad so she ends up with a clean kitchen. Anyhow, if I get nervous or there's a lot going on, like a bunch of ladies talking loudly about piano lessons or singing, or other chick stuff I go into survival mode. It's not to show off, it's just because I can't handle the additional imported insanity.
Oh, so back to mom. Anyhow my mom is a really good woman. She's always impressed me with her testimony of the Gospel. She really is a spiritual woman and I hope I got a little of that from her as well. So, the past few years, she's sorta gone off the deep end. Money is of no consequence when it comes to her grandchildren. She'll dump 350.00 in one afternoon on the girls at what I call the Pit of Dispair, "Justice for Girls". I've seen my girls bring home alarm clocks, calculators, pinwheels, stuffed animals, heck even clothes. Oh, and by the way, the level of quality versus price paid is almost comical. I think I could pick up the same crap at the Dollar Store for 1/15th the cost and have it last twice as long. Years ago I asked my mom and dad to stop flushing that money down the drain on sugar and spice, and instead put it in the 529 plan I started for the kids college. Yeah, not happening. My mom says something to the tune of, "Honey...I'm going to die soon, I want to see them enjoy it. I didnt get to do this with you guys and now I can." Except my dad just shakes his head because he retired last year and put her on a budgetary diet which she continually refuses to even acknowledge.
Oh, so my mom also tells the same ten stories, almost verbadem on a constant loop. Our favorite one is, "I love salad. I've always loved salad, dont you remember? Even when you were little I loved salad." Other's include fights she's had in the past 10 months with coworkers over trying to set up her obviously bitchy coworker with some successful dude from the former Eastern Block who's an engineer and loves florescent lighting and Jedi toys. Oh, others include the less often told, "Son, you remind me of that guy, from that show, 'Walks in the Clouds'? He's so noble. You'd do that." So, of course the hackles on my neck stand up because I know she means, "A Walk in the Clouds" and she's talking about that surfer idiot douche Kianu Reeves. Yeah, I spelled his name wrong, so what of it? I love him in that movie...where he plays that guy...Kianno Reeves? You know the one? Where he's like, "Whooaaaa!". That's a good one. Anyhow I just nod my head and look over at the kids, or Stacey and smile because I've heard this not less than ten thousand times.
She really is a sweet woman. But dont let that fool you. She's as manipulative as they come. She intentionally waits until the most insane part of the afternoon, where the T.V. is blaring, the kids are fighting, Stacey is teaching piano lessons and the phone is ringing and the Farmer's Insurance idiot is standing on the porch to ask. She'll ask you things like, "Son...can Lexi go with me to run some errands? I'm only going to go for about an hour?" So of course she says this so Isabelle can hear. So Isabelle starts into a tirade, and my mom says, "No honey, your dad will only let me take one of you at a time because he thinks I can't keep track of you and I'm not a very good driver." So of course I look over in total disbelief. Mostly because she IS a horrible driver, but because she uses the whole, unspoken, "Your father, whom I raised to be a great man, still thinks I can't do the simplest tasks."
Well let me tell you why I think so. The other day, she called Stacey in a panic. Because she'd parked her car..wait for it...in the parking lot of the liquor store on 90th South. Wait, it gets better, she was late for a baby shower, up in Odgen, and was meeting someone to ride up with, whom she had never met. Oh, it gets better. She parked in the 30 minute parking and left her car running. With the lights on signalling to all ne'r do-wells to just come get the car already. So, she actually LEAVES the car unattended, and calls Stacey, because she cant REMEMBER my dad's number! So my wife calls my dad, whom had Josh at the gun show (no really) and they drive over. What they find, is that the car is in fact running, the lights are in fact on, and yes, the PASSENGER door is locked, but if one were to walk say...around to the DRIVER'S side? Yeah, unlocked. I've got a million of these stories.
I love her of course, but I know anytime she wants to go to one of the kids soccer or football game, that I will give up my chair (she wont bring one of her own) she'll show up 28 minutes late, and she'll be lost and try to walk across two fields regardless of games in play in ridiculously tall sandals that just plain suck in grass. Oh, then after she gets there, PROBABLY carrying my brother's idiot squash-faced dog, she'll say, "Honey? Jon, do you have any cash? I need a drink and all I have is my card." Which by the way is in her bra just to unnerve any clerk that she hands it to nonchalantly. I of course look at her, in total disbelief, for the 567th time, that she even ask if I had cash. I've been married for 14 years now. WHY in heaven's name, would you ASSUME I had even a dollar in cash? If I had eleven bucks my wife and kids would smell it the moment we got near a vendor and it would be gone instantly. (Case in point).
But I do love her, she is my mom. She's sweet and about as blonde as a mexican lady can get. She hates being in the sun, because somehow she wants to fool the world into believing she's a very dark-skinned Italian and not a Mexican which she doesnt seem overly proud of.
So here's the good part. She's incredibly giving. To a fault at times. She'll turn the other cheek over and over and over and allow herself to be walked over, and used and be genuinely surprised when it turns out exactly like you warned her it would. She's a good lady, she's genuine, and she's giving to my children. She drives my dad insane, but he seems to love her not just inspite of, but even because of her idiosyncresies. (Spell check that).
Anyhow, I kid around because I love my mom. She is a challenge at times and she loves to turn my house upside down and then leave once the eye of the storm is upon us. She loves drama, and she loves kinetic energy. I think that growing up with 12 brothers and sisters in a 3 bedroom home would do that to you. She's most at home with an entire house full of people talking and noone listening.
Alright kids, I gotta thing in the morning that pays for all these lavish furnishings so I better close.
All the best to you and I hope you have a fantastic night and day. Hug your ma next time you see her or I will. (Your ma, not mine. ;) ) Do what you can the best you can and warmest regards your general direction.
Always,
J
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sh!z My Dad Says....Vol. 1 of ? (warning adult content)
So, Stacey and I were talking the other day, mostly we try to talk once a week from the hours of 1:30 a.m. to 1:39 a.m. See, that's about the time that everything finally settles down at our house. Just about an hour ago Stacey and I were trying to have an actual day-time conversation and were interupted not less than fifty-two times in about a thirteen minute period. It's plain out insane at my house I tell you. When you're trying to have a serious conversation about things the kids seem to hone in on it. That's when they open the garage door, the sliding glass door, and front door, and fail to close a one of them. This is also about the time that both cell phones ring, I get a work email, and the house phone rings. Oh, additionally, the dog is frightening the neighbor kid and nobody will respond to the call to put her in the kennel. Additionally the Farmer's Insurance Guy that has difficulty reading the, "NO Soliciting Sign" wants to talk on the porch about how his cousin's brother's uncle was in the Army and it's best to stay with USAA Insurance rather than Farmers. No shiz dude. I get a call from you yahoo's once a month and the first thing out of my mouth is. "Stop, wait. You're wasting both of our time, I'm with USAA and I bet you my next paycheck you can't beat their rates." They politely agree and shuffle off with their pants around their ankles and that, "Just pumped the neighbor's cat" look on their face.
Oh yeah, nice segue. So, stuff my dad says. Well Saturday we were out in the garden at dad's place over in, "Old Riverton". Anyhow, so I'm all hunched over, my back is hurting and Stacey's making me help her de-weed the strawberries and something I said made her laugh. So, she said I ought to blog about stuff my dad says. Once in a while I'll say something and actually hear my father's voice. It's a little unnerving actually. See we dont look a thing a like my dad and I. I look like my mom but act like my dad. Anyhow, it started me thinking of stuff he says. I may have to break this up into byte-size morsels, because most of you can't handle what he says in just one volume.
I guess my favorite is, "Pee, piddle, piss, pass and urinate!" It's kind of an old-school way to swear or express your displeasure at what just transpired. Nothing's really a bad word, it's just the comedic combination of them all rolled together that takes you back a little.
Once when dad was driving somewhere and I was a kid, he let out what I consider the queen mother of expletives. No, it's not the one you're thinking of from, "A Christmas Story". No, this is potentially the most derogatory word you can use about a woman. I know some of my friends that read this are still scratching their heads in wonder. Lemme spell it out for you, "C- You-Next-Tuesday". Yeah, THAT one! So, to put it in context, we were down on 12600 South, trying to turn left out of the Peterson's, and my dad was driving. I was probably anywhere from 8 to 11 and some lady just kept missing her left turn opportunity. So my dad finally let's out with, "Hurry it up you C___!" So, yeah, I was a little surprised to say the least. Later on in the throws of my first military service hitch I learned that it's pretty much the worst thing you can call a woman and will pretty much shut down all operations in your favor.
One thing I got from my dad is an ability to go on a tirade like Clark W. Griswold in Vacation. You get me started about Social Security, those idiots in Washington, Mortgage Payments or the Division of Wildlife Mismanagement and you'll hear it someday too. Anyhow, this delectable spewing of vulgarity is not always appreciated by the casual on-looker so I've learned to control (for the most part) my little tirades.
So, my dad also says some pretty racist things too. I think he had a bad go-round during his Naval Service in the 60's because he's come away with some pretty salty things that I'm just not sure you can say in private to your dog let alone your next door neighbor. But my dad doesnt care. I think my favorite guilty-pleasure is, "That sonsa-b!tchin' dirty b_____ b____". Dont get me wrong, I'm not condoning it. It just sets me back about sixty years every time he busts out with it.
My dad also has no qualms with commenting on the physical attributes of any woman regardless of proximity. Favorites include: "Nice pockets"; "mmmm hmmm!"; "Helloooo Darlin'!", among others. I bet if you asked him he'd say his theme song is either, "If I Said You Have a Beautiful Body Would You Hold It Against Me?" or "Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On". Oh and by the way, he doesnt think they can hear him. It gets a little embarassing. It usually happens in the grocery store and I'm busy carrying his case of beer while he's craning his neck at some cougar half his age plus seven. Speaking of beer, he has a method of disposing of cans by throwing it up over the cab and magically landing in the bed of the truck. All at forty miles per hour. Root beer cans of course. In fact, he once rear-ended a guy driving his GMC Jimmy. It ticked him off because during a cursory search of the vehicle, in a case of irony, the guy he rear-ended had a case of empties in the back of the vehicle and was taken in on a D.U.I. They gave dad the ticket and of course he argued that he had done society a service by taking the guy off the road preemptively. The argument didnt hold much agua, (or Old Milwaukee) because the Draper cop still sited him for following too close. You know what else is funny? He gets away with those comments to the ladies too. He just flashes his blue eyes and when they do hear him they take it as a compliment. I thought he was going to leave me at the Albertson's one day when he kept hinting around to a busty young (mid-forties) lass who was loading her own cases of beer into her car that she looked like she was having a party and he'd like to come along. I think she thought he was kidding.
Oh, and in the boat. My little 14' aluminum boat, when the fish aren't biting on the pop gear, he'll let out with a, "Loooooga loooga looooga loooga looooga!" which he learned from his old Navy buddy John Pronold would somehow anger the fish into biting. Oh, I also learned once I got old enough that peeing in a coffee can and throwing it over-board doesnt make them bite either. "Piss in their eyes!! ha ha ha" is what he says and he gets this demonic look of real sadistic satisfaction at the idea that they really give two ships that he peed a processed Natural Light into a bazillion gallons of Strawberry Reservoir.
Oh, so back to the garden. So my mom, knocks on the back window. My mom, God love her. (Bless her little heart) She gets home and bangs on the window, then she waves this giant fanning single handed kid wave like we've not seen each other in ages. It's like the kind of wave you might give at the airport to notify the baggage handler than he has your bag and you just wanted to say goodbye to it for the next three hours. She's like Marie from Everybody Loves Raymond by the way. Same hairdo and so sweet and innocently manipulative. Oh, so anyhow she waves her hand and flags my dad to start the grill. So my dad says, "GEEEEEEZE you'd think that every time she swallows her butt-hole says, 'Thank You'!" Too funny. He also says, "Ya ate YESTERDAY!" anytime any of the kids remind grandpa that it's been nine hours since last he fed them.
Speaking of dad, he's on the phone right now with Josh. I can literally hear my dad on the other end of the phone when he says hello, "Haaaa lo!?"
Just get him started about gun control. You'll unavoidably hear, "those suns-a-bitches!" somewhere in the conversation. He packs, "Heat" by the way constantly. He has a .38 Special with, "Plus P's" in it in the front of his belt. Mowing the lawn, watering the grass, buying toothpicks. He doesn't care. I've seen him carry both the .38 AND a 9mm at the same time. Like we're going to be involved in some bank heist and we'll need to shoot our way out. I personally carry a 9mm but I figure if I can't kill you in seven shots you'll get a free ride at least to the hospital. By the way, I shot, "Expert" the other day with my service pistol 29 out of 30 and would have killed the first pop-up target but he looked like a civilian so I let him go. Anyhow, dad is a voracious reader and will often bring over Supreme Court Rulings on gun control and gun rights in the form of 72 pages of printed report and then want a book report on it next time I see him. I've had to ask him to print the Executive Summary for me so that I can just hit the highlights.
Oh, and when you stay too long at his house, he'll casually mention it's time for you to leave by offering, "WELL! I know you wanna go home, so I'll go to bed!" Regardless if you came to visit from Idaho, next door, or if you're his Home Teacher. Speaking of Home Teachers and Sundays, dad goes to church about thrice a year. Once is Easter, then maybe Mother's Day and potentially Christmas. But heaven forbid it's Fast and Testimony meeting or, "Crying Sunday" because he'll literally roll his eyes when sister Fatty McGee gets up to wax on and on about her gout and rose bushes and how excited she's been that Touched by an Angel is now in syndication.
Oh, another favorite, "HUH!?" which is really your first response at ANYTHING you ask him when he's not looking directly at you or you aren't enunciating clearly enough. But I've noticed if you're young and pretty, he'll call you, "Doll" or "Darlin'" and give you a second chance with a smile.
Anyhow, I know you kids wanna leave so I'll go to bed. I know you've been touched and you want to send fan mail, but believe me, I dont give out my address to just anyone. Last thing we need around here are a bunch of Cougars sniffing the place over looking for table-scraps. Anyhow, take care, be good but not too good and we'll see you at some Crying Sunday near you.
J
Oh yeah, nice segue. So, stuff my dad says. Well Saturday we were out in the garden at dad's place over in, "Old Riverton". Anyhow, so I'm all hunched over, my back is hurting and Stacey's making me help her de-weed the strawberries and something I said made her laugh. So, she said I ought to blog about stuff my dad says. Once in a while I'll say something and actually hear my father's voice. It's a little unnerving actually. See we dont look a thing a like my dad and I. I look like my mom but act like my dad. Anyhow, it started me thinking of stuff he says. I may have to break this up into byte-size morsels, because most of you can't handle what he says in just one volume.
I guess my favorite is, "Pee, piddle, piss, pass and urinate!" It's kind of an old-school way to swear or express your displeasure at what just transpired. Nothing's really a bad word, it's just the comedic combination of them all rolled together that takes you back a little.
Once when dad was driving somewhere and I was a kid, he let out what I consider the queen mother of expletives. No, it's not the one you're thinking of from, "A Christmas Story". No, this is potentially the most derogatory word you can use about a woman. I know some of my friends that read this are still scratching their heads in wonder. Lemme spell it out for you, "C- You-Next-Tuesday". Yeah, THAT one! So, to put it in context, we were down on 12600 South, trying to turn left out of the Peterson's, and my dad was driving. I was probably anywhere from 8 to 11 and some lady just kept missing her left turn opportunity. So my dad finally let's out with, "Hurry it up you C___!" So, yeah, I was a little surprised to say the least. Later on in the throws of my first military service hitch I learned that it's pretty much the worst thing you can call a woman and will pretty much shut down all operations in your favor.
One thing I got from my dad is an ability to go on a tirade like Clark W. Griswold in Vacation. You get me started about Social Security, those idiots in Washington, Mortgage Payments or the Division of Wildlife Mismanagement and you'll hear it someday too. Anyhow, this delectable spewing of vulgarity is not always appreciated by the casual on-looker so I've learned to control (for the most part) my little tirades.
So, my dad also says some pretty racist things too. I think he had a bad go-round during his Naval Service in the 60's because he's come away with some pretty salty things that I'm just not sure you can say in private to your dog let alone your next door neighbor. But my dad doesnt care. I think my favorite guilty-pleasure is, "That sonsa-b!tchin' dirty b_____ b____". Dont get me wrong, I'm not condoning it. It just sets me back about sixty years every time he busts out with it.
My dad also has no qualms with commenting on the physical attributes of any woman regardless of proximity. Favorites include: "Nice pockets"; "mmmm hmmm!"; "Helloooo Darlin'!", among others. I bet if you asked him he'd say his theme song is either, "If I Said You Have a Beautiful Body Would You Hold It Against Me?" or "Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On". Oh and by the way, he doesnt think they can hear him. It gets a little embarassing. It usually happens in the grocery store and I'm busy carrying his case of beer while he's craning his neck at some cougar half his age plus seven. Speaking of beer, he has a method of disposing of cans by throwing it up over the cab and magically landing in the bed of the truck. All at forty miles per hour. Root beer cans of course. In fact, he once rear-ended a guy driving his GMC Jimmy. It ticked him off because during a cursory search of the vehicle, in a case of irony, the guy he rear-ended had a case of empties in the back of the vehicle and was taken in on a D.U.I. They gave dad the ticket and of course he argued that he had done society a service by taking the guy off the road preemptively. The argument didnt hold much agua, (or Old Milwaukee) because the Draper cop still sited him for following too close. You know what else is funny? He gets away with those comments to the ladies too. He just flashes his blue eyes and when they do hear him they take it as a compliment. I thought he was going to leave me at the Albertson's one day when he kept hinting around to a busty young (mid-forties) lass who was loading her own cases of beer into her car that she looked like she was having a party and he'd like to come along. I think she thought he was kidding.
Oh, and in the boat. My little 14' aluminum boat, when the fish aren't biting on the pop gear, he'll let out with a, "Loooooga loooga looooga loooga looooga!" which he learned from his old Navy buddy John Pronold would somehow anger the fish into biting. Oh, I also learned once I got old enough that peeing in a coffee can and throwing it over-board doesnt make them bite either. "Piss in their eyes!! ha ha ha" is what he says and he gets this demonic look of real sadistic satisfaction at the idea that they really give two ships that he peed a processed Natural Light into a bazillion gallons of Strawberry Reservoir.
Oh, so back to the garden. So my mom, knocks on the back window. My mom, God love her. (Bless her little heart) She gets home and bangs on the window, then she waves this giant fanning single handed kid wave like we've not seen each other in ages. It's like the kind of wave you might give at the airport to notify the baggage handler than he has your bag and you just wanted to say goodbye to it for the next three hours. She's like Marie from Everybody Loves Raymond by the way. Same hairdo and so sweet and innocently manipulative. Oh, so anyhow she waves her hand and flags my dad to start the grill. So my dad says, "GEEEEEEZE you'd think that every time she swallows her butt-hole says, 'Thank You'!" Too funny. He also says, "Ya ate YESTERDAY!" anytime any of the kids remind grandpa that it's been nine hours since last he fed them.
Speaking of dad, he's on the phone right now with Josh. I can literally hear my dad on the other end of the phone when he says hello, "Haaaa lo!?"
Just get him started about gun control. You'll unavoidably hear, "those suns-a-bitches!" somewhere in the conversation. He packs, "Heat" by the way constantly. He has a .38 Special with, "Plus P's" in it in the front of his belt. Mowing the lawn, watering the grass, buying toothpicks. He doesn't care. I've seen him carry both the .38 AND a 9mm at the same time. Like we're going to be involved in some bank heist and we'll need to shoot our way out. I personally carry a 9mm but I figure if I can't kill you in seven shots you'll get a free ride at least to the hospital. By the way, I shot, "Expert" the other day with my service pistol 29 out of 30 and would have killed the first pop-up target but he looked like a civilian so I let him go. Anyhow, dad is a voracious reader and will often bring over Supreme Court Rulings on gun control and gun rights in the form of 72 pages of printed report and then want a book report on it next time I see him. I've had to ask him to print the Executive Summary for me so that I can just hit the highlights.
Oh, and when you stay too long at his house, he'll casually mention it's time for you to leave by offering, "WELL! I know you wanna go home, so I'll go to bed!" Regardless if you came to visit from Idaho, next door, or if you're his Home Teacher. Speaking of Home Teachers and Sundays, dad goes to church about thrice a year. Once is Easter, then maybe Mother's Day and potentially Christmas. But heaven forbid it's Fast and Testimony meeting or, "Crying Sunday" because he'll literally roll his eyes when sister Fatty McGee gets up to wax on and on about her gout and rose bushes and how excited she's been that Touched by an Angel is now in syndication.
Oh, another favorite, "HUH!?" which is really your first response at ANYTHING you ask him when he's not looking directly at you or you aren't enunciating clearly enough. But I've noticed if you're young and pretty, he'll call you, "Doll" or "Darlin'" and give you a second chance with a smile.
Anyhow, I know you kids wanna leave so I'll go to bed. I know you've been touched and you want to send fan mail, but believe me, I dont give out my address to just anyone. Last thing we need around here are a bunch of Cougars sniffing the place over looking for table-scraps. Anyhow, take care, be good but not too good and we'll see you at some Crying Sunday near you.
J
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFro05ieV5c
So, two days ago...*looks at his imaginary watch*... Friday, I went with Josh on his first official Boy Scout campout. I mean, AS a Boy Scout. Him not me. Anyhow, now that he's the epitome of boyhood at 11, he was invited to go with the "older" scouts (at all of 12-14) and pull a little over-nighter. So, Matt Searl, the scout leader, asked me in a moment of emotional weakness if I wanted to attend. So, this was right immediately following Josh's Arrow of Light as alluded to in an earlier rant. Sorry, Stacey keeps asking me questions, I lost my train of thought...bottle, baby...blankey....
Oh yeah, so anyhow, Friday, I sort of got up late. I lay in the rack a little longer than usual. Stacey and I were going to get up and hit a OMG it's early class at the gym but (luckily) the baby was up again ALL friggin' night. So we had a pretty good excuse for laying there a little later than normal. So, about ten a.m. I realized I had to mow the lawn, head to the credit union, edge the lawn..(bed bath and beyond, home depot...look at some flooring, not sure if we'd have enough time...Actually a nice little Friday planned out.-Old School). So, I didnt get to have the big breakfast Friday we've become accustomed to. Oh yeah, some kids went to school in there and I yelled a little to keep them quiet to avoid waking their mother and sister Olivia.
So anyhow, I went with Dad to the bank and the credit union and then got home around 1:00. Then I a(x)sked Stacey to lunch at the Astro Burger up in the big city of South Jordan. Sort of a Friday hold-over from when we started the tradition after meeting with our ...uh..friend..for 50 minutes every week. Stop a(x)in', it's none of your bidness. Anyhow, we decided that is the good part of the tradition and try to do it on Fridays at least once a quarter. (Lunch that is). Oh, its important to note that I had to leave at 4:00 with Josh to head to our camping reindezvous. So, about 2:00 or 2:30 we headed back to the ranch to find all my gear and Josh's as well. I like to be prepared whenever I'm going into the woods with a boatload of teenage boys and their leaders so I was feeling a little behind the power-curve.
Anyhow, after ransacking the garage, basement, and pantry, we had enough of the essentials to pull an overnighter. So, we get to the scout leader's house, and I realize in fact we'd probably OVER packed. Most boys had that slack-jawed, mouth-breather look and had about a liter (quart) of water for a five mile hike in, and a five mile hike out. Some of them were debating as to whether they had, or in fact had NOT packed a tent. Looking at the impending rain clouds, I'd opted for knowing that for a fact. Suffice it to say, we jumped into a couple of the trucks and headed to the Five-Mile Pass area out by Cedar Fort, Utah. Literally it's about five miles as the crow flies from the pad here.
We arrived out there, donned our gear and started down the trail. I'd saddled Josh with an adult sized back-pack and about thirty lb of gear. I took my own back-pack and about fifty lb of gear. I'll give it to him, he made it about three miles with that thing about tipping him backward on the bigger hills. So, as I said, we went in FIVE miles. So, I ended up, packing MY pack AND Josh's pack on the front of me. Oh, it should also be pointed out that the last mile was about forty-five degrees incline. Sahhhweeet I thought. So, after sweating all over myself like a draft horse, we made it to the camp site.
Josh and I broke open our mess kits and some MRE packets and started to cook a little din din. So, I gave him first choice and he chose the beef stew, where as I was left with the chilli. He even asked me, "Dad, what's in the beef stew?" So, of course, quixotically I replied, "Beef...and....stew???" Thinking it maybe a trick question. So, oh, of important note, we have these knife, fork, spoon combos. I got them at Recreation Outlet before our Guy Trip a few years ago for five bucks each (See the common denominator of five woven throughout?) Anyhow, I grabbed Josh's and he got the spoon option out and proceeded to heat his MRE in his mess kit. We added a little water and then a half of a package of ramen noodles. Anyhow, he kept stirring and I continued to tear apart both backpacks looking for my spork thingy. So, I looked and looked through each pack not less than...you guessed it...five times. To no avail. So I asked Josh if we could share and he said fine, but then took his sweet time enjoying the languishing flavors of his concoction. So, nigh on about the time mine was ready, I picked up his spork, and gave it a flip to knock off the larger peices and remnants of stew before wiping it on my sanitary pants. As I flipped it, the little spoon attachment took flight into the local fauna. Kurt Eades was there and he and I looked for ten minutes while my dinner was cooling to about 40 degrees to finally find it. So, I powered down my fine fine Army chow. About that same time, we started cleaning up and I went to look in my back pocket for the flashlight. As I began caressing my left buttock looking, I noticed something in there...I placed my hand in, and immediately recognized it as my foldable Spork Thing. Irony I tell you.
Well about that time Josh and I and settled in for the night. Josh said to me not less than three times with a huge genuine smile, "Dad, I love you, thanks for coming." I completely forgot all about the previous five miles of trail. I tell you what, when that kid wants to be thankful he really lays it on thick. After the third time he told me all I could say was, "I love you son, thanks for letting me come." So, I had this inflatable mattress which I laid out under my mummy bag. I swear I tossed and turned all night. That ground was hard! I had told myself that this was just because I'd grown so accustomed to camping in trailers, and that I was sort of being a big woosey. Well about six a.m. when I finally couldnt lay there with a full bladder any longer, I rustled around to find a completely flattened mattress pad. Where it was supposed to be almost an inch thick, it was instead about 1/10th of an inch thick and totally devoid of air. Disgusted I picked it up and moved around with all of the 3 1/2 feet of headroom and noticed a little valve on the bottom corner. Twisting it I realized almost immediately, you guessed it, I'd never closed it tight the night before. Nothing wrong with the pad, just total operator error. So, my shoulder, hips back, head and everything ached for little or no reason at this point. Oh, it's important also to note, that we dont pack in pillows. Pillows are for sissies. I'm a cowboy dangit, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted. (WAAAAAAAAAANTED) Dead or alive...so, I literally had an old coat for a pillow, and the earth was last night's bed.
So, we packed up the next morning, and enjoyed mixed left-overs in our mess kits. Something involving either beef stew or chilli and oatmeal. Oh, Josh also added some chocolate milk mix to his and made it chocolately oatmeal ...mix...mix.
So, I guess the rest of the story is of course the reverse of what you'd already heard. We really enjoyed it, and we stopped at the Maverik on the way in to town. Oh, of important note, I went to get a much deserved diet coke, only to find that the Maverik which I choose to patronize was in fact..out of ice. I cant win I tell you.
Anyhow, I better close, Shaun the Sheep is on and I've only seen this episode five times. I gotta roll out now.
You be good. Hugs and kisses on all your pink parts. (I'm going to put together a rant on "Stuff my Dad Says", it should be fun, but that's one of them)
Anyhow, go on now, you bother me.
Jon Out.
So, two days ago...*looks at his imaginary watch*... Friday, I went with Josh on his first official Boy Scout campout. I mean, AS a Boy Scout. Him not me. Anyhow, now that he's the epitome of boyhood at 11, he was invited to go with the "older" scouts (at all of 12-14) and pull a little over-nighter. So, Matt Searl, the scout leader, asked me in a moment of emotional weakness if I wanted to attend. So, this was right immediately following Josh's Arrow of Light as alluded to in an earlier rant. Sorry, Stacey keeps asking me questions, I lost my train of thought...bottle, baby...blankey....
Oh yeah, so anyhow, Friday, I sort of got up late. I lay in the rack a little longer than usual. Stacey and I were going to get up and hit a OMG it's early class at the gym but (luckily) the baby was up again ALL friggin' night. So we had a pretty good excuse for laying there a little later than normal. So, about ten a.m. I realized I had to mow the lawn, head to the credit union, edge the lawn..(bed bath and beyond, home depot...look at some flooring, not sure if we'd have enough time...Actually a nice little Friday planned out.-Old School). So, I didnt get to have the big breakfast Friday we've become accustomed to. Oh yeah, some kids went to school in there and I yelled a little to keep them quiet to avoid waking their mother and sister Olivia.
So anyhow, I went with Dad to the bank and the credit union and then got home around 1:00. Then I a(x)sked Stacey to lunch at the Astro Burger up in the big city of South Jordan. Sort of a Friday hold-over from when we started the tradition after meeting with our ...uh..friend..for 50 minutes every week. Stop a(x)in', it's none of your bidness. Anyhow, we decided that is the good part of the tradition and try to do it on Fridays at least once a quarter. (Lunch that is). Oh, its important to note that I had to leave at 4:00 with Josh to head to our camping reindezvous. So, about 2:00 or 2:30 we headed back to the ranch to find all my gear and Josh's as well. I like to be prepared whenever I'm going into the woods with a boatload of teenage boys and their leaders so I was feeling a little behind the power-curve.
Anyhow, after ransacking the garage, basement, and pantry, we had enough of the essentials to pull an overnighter. So, we get to the scout leader's house, and I realize in fact we'd probably OVER packed. Most boys had that slack-jawed, mouth-breather look and had about a liter (quart) of water for a five mile hike in, and a five mile hike out. Some of them were debating as to whether they had, or in fact had NOT packed a tent. Looking at the impending rain clouds, I'd opted for knowing that for a fact. Suffice it to say, we jumped into a couple of the trucks and headed to the Five-Mile Pass area out by Cedar Fort, Utah. Literally it's about five miles as the crow flies from the pad here.
We arrived out there, donned our gear and started down the trail. I'd saddled Josh with an adult sized back-pack and about thirty lb of gear. I took my own back-pack and about fifty lb of gear. I'll give it to him, he made it about three miles with that thing about tipping him backward on the bigger hills. So, as I said, we went in FIVE miles. So, I ended up, packing MY pack AND Josh's pack on the front of me. Oh, it should also be pointed out that the last mile was about forty-five degrees incline. Sahhhweeet I thought. So, after sweating all over myself like a draft horse, we made it to the camp site.
Josh and I broke open our mess kits and some MRE packets and started to cook a little din din. So, I gave him first choice and he chose the beef stew, where as I was left with the chilli. He even asked me, "Dad, what's in the beef stew?" So, of course, quixotically I replied, "Beef...and....stew???" Thinking it maybe a trick question. So, oh, of important note, we have these knife, fork, spoon combos. I got them at Recreation Outlet before our Guy Trip a few years ago for five bucks each (See the common denominator of five woven throughout?) Anyhow, I grabbed Josh's and he got the spoon option out and proceeded to heat his MRE in his mess kit. We added a little water and then a half of a package of ramen noodles. Anyhow, he kept stirring and I continued to tear apart both backpacks looking for my spork thingy. So, I looked and looked through each pack not less than...you guessed it...five times. To no avail. So I asked Josh if we could share and he said fine, but then took his sweet time enjoying the languishing flavors of his concoction. So, nigh on about the time mine was ready, I picked up his spork, and gave it a flip to knock off the larger peices and remnants of stew before wiping it on my sanitary pants. As I flipped it, the little spoon attachment took flight into the local fauna. Kurt Eades was there and he and I looked for ten minutes while my dinner was cooling to about 40 degrees to finally find it. So, I powered down my fine fine Army chow. About that same time, we started cleaning up and I went to look in my back pocket for the flashlight. As I began caressing my left buttock looking, I noticed something in there...I placed my hand in, and immediately recognized it as my foldable Spork Thing. Irony I tell you.
Well about that time Josh and I and settled in for the night. Josh said to me not less than three times with a huge genuine smile, "Dad, I love you, thanks for coming." I completely forgot all about the previous five miles of trail. I tell you what, when that kid wants to be thankful he really lays it on thick. After the third time he told me all I could say was, "I love you son, thanks for letting me come." So, I had this inflatable mattress which I laid out under my mummy bag. I swear I tossed and turned all night. That ground was hard! I had told myself that this was just because I'd grown so accustomed to camping in trailers, and that I was sort of being a big woosey. Well about six a.m. when I finally couldnt lay there with a full bladder any longer, I rustled around to find a completely flattened mattress pad. Where it was supposed to be almost an inch thick, it was instead about 1/10th of an inch thick and totally devoid of air. Disgusted I picked it up and moved around with all of the 3 1/2 feet of headroom and noticed a little valve on the bottom corner. Twisting it I realized almost immediately, you guessed it, I'd never closed it tight the night before. Nothing wrong with the pad, just total operator error. So, my shoulder, hips back, head and everything ached for little or no reason at this point. Oh, it's important also to note, that we dont pack in pillows. Pillows are for sissies. I'm a cowboy dangit, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted. (WAAAAAAAAAANTED) Dead or alive...so, I literally had an old coat for a pillow, and the earth was last night's bed.
So, we packed up the next morning, and enjoyed mixed left-overs in our mess kits. Something involving either beef stew or chilli and oatmeal. Oh, Josh also added some chocolate milk mix to his and made it chocolately oatmeal ...mix...mix.
So, I guess the rest of the story is of course the reverse of what you'd already heard. We really enjoyed it, and we stopped at the Maverik on the way in to town. Oh, of important note, I went to get a much deserved diet coke, only to find that the Maverik which I choose to patronize was in fact..out of ice. I cant win I tell you.
Anyhow, I better close, Shaun the Sheep is on and I've only seen this episode five times. I gotta roll out now.
You be good. Hugs and kisses on all your pink parts. (I'm going to put together a rant on "Stuff my Dad Says", it should be fun, but that's one of them)
Anyhow, go on now, you bother me.
Jon Out.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Remember When...Thirty sounded so old?
So yesterday I received this video on an email with some kid asking his sweetie-pie to marry him. The amount of effort he put in I tell you. Anyhow, he coordinated this elaborate setup for her to be in the movie theater, and the trailers started with him talking to her dad. Then they secretly filmed her face as she soon discovered it was her finance' that was doing the askin'. So, anyhow, this kid runs into the theater, lights come up, he bends down on one knee...tears were shed, (not by me damnit, I'm a warrior!) and "Matt and Gina" began their life together in total bliss without any challenges or setbacks and lived happily ever-after.
I tell you, it sort of set the rest of us guys up for failure. When I asked Stacey I was home on leave from the Navy. I'd flown seven thouuuuusand miles home and spent hundreds of dollars a month of my money, her money, and yes, my parent's money talking to her on the phone. I betcha we spent not less than five hundred bucks a month in some form or fashion to connect and keep our faith together. I even have a couple of boxes of letters in the basement back and forth and we've often talked about putting them all in order and making binders out of them. That way we could relive the way I used to be a die-hard romantic. Thank goodness those days are gone.
Anyhow, it got me thinking about how I had asked Stacey. See, I didnt go to a whole lot of effort, unless you count buying a $700 ring at the P.X. (mini Wal Mart for Squids and Jarheads). It's still the one she wears too. It's kind of shaped like a ..well a diamond duh. Anyhow it's a "solitaire" not because that used to be romantic, but because I used to make about 1100 bucks a month is why.
Anyhow, I asked Stacey about three nights after getting home on leave. I'd say it was probably 1995. What I did was switch out Stacey's promise ring with a wedding ring just playing with her hand in my dad's back yard. We were sitting on the grass, watching the stars (ahem *sniff*) and I pulled it off and secretly replaced it with this HUGE sparkly, like 1/15th Karat ROCK. Then I said some lame-azz blubbering idiocy and sorta twisted around almost on one knee and sorta said, "Wouldja?" See it never occured to me she wouldn't. I mean, I'm KIND of a big deal here. I was a Third Class Petty Officer in the U.S. Navy and pullin' down some SERIOUS cash and spending half of it on phone bills here.
Oh, and in the Jordan River Temple, when we were sealed, the old man
(Sealer) was going ON and ON and ON about my duties and
responsibilities each time I thought he was coming to the question he didn't. It happened like five times in his soliloquy. But I
sorta zoned out, but when I came to, he said, "Well? Do you?" So I
look across the altar, and Stacey has this worried look on her
face, and I looked at the audience types, and they were all
waiting on me, so I said, "Yeah sure". Then he says, "you have to say,
'Yes' or 'No'." So I sarcastically and very slowly and with great emphasis say, "YESSSSSS" and smiled. Personally I thought my shenanigans
adorable, but apparently that's not the place to get everyone
worried. I swear I wasjust sorta soaking it in and enjoying
the moment. Lost in it if you will. I mean seriously, this is the culimination of efforts in chasing this woman for the last four or five years! We're about to live happily ever after for crying out loud!
Anyhow, we get out of the sealing room, and I go back to the locker
room. I get changed into my suit. I had a tux, because we were
going to take pictures, but someone set me up for failure and had me
put on my suit because it was raining and we were going to hold
off on the pictures. So I'm sitting there, in the lobby for-EVEEEEER, whilst Stacey gets into her wedding dress. She comes out, sees me and immediately sucks in and with an audible, "uuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" almost faints because
I'm not in my tux. Apparently we are still in the hazy moments of the dream sequence of the perfect romantic moment. Thank goodness I'd been invited. Anyhow seeing just such a level of concern and sensing immediate melt-down, I bolt to my feet, and say, "I'll be right back" and run in and re-tuxed. The pictures turned out nice. I was a little flushed in them though I think. No reason.
Anyhow, fast forward a decade and a half. I still love her. In fact, I love her more today than I have ever before. I mean that. We've been through some incredible things. We now have four children and another coming. A boy by the way. Perhaps his name is, "Samuel". I'm not entirely sold as yet. We haven't slept for about six months straight. The baby is up constantly at night. She used to get up three times a night. Last week we had tubes put in, and now she literally never sleeps the whole night through. She has caught a cold and starts coughing and coughing and sounds horrible. She gets mad and we invite her into our room between us after the second or third attempt at a bottle. It's exhausting. The other day, I thought she was showing signs of getting better. But somewhere around one a.m. our 85 lb labra-idiot somehow got the runs. Yeah, so she starts whining, and Stacey wakes me from my coma. I was FINALLY sleeping. Anyhow, apparently I'm "Better" with the dog. Like, I say she's "Better" with the baby because she has mammary glands. Anyhow, instead of fighting it, I quickly surmise it's my turn and get up to investigate. The smell inside the room in Josh's kennel was one I recognized instantly. Through the dim haze of his night light I see her in there, cowering. So, I try to be just as nice as I can, quietly open the kennel and she bursts past me. Something from her hind end past my left leg leaves a very distinct...."wet" feeling. Not a good way to start out. So I grab her by the collar and start down the stairs. She gets loose and hits every one of the thirteen stairs with all four feet. Oh, smacked the banister and sidewall with her head and tail alternating and then on to the linoleum where her claws rounded the corner. From thence into the closed blinds at the sliding door and her head and tail banging the blinds over and over and over noisily. So by now my rage is up to 9.995 and I'm just about to hit her in the head with a shovel, but I can't find one. Anyhow, out the door she goes and I'm upstairs to clean it out. Picture this, me in underwear, groggy, sleep in my eyes, looking for a rag, ANY rag. An old towel, maybe even paper towels. ANY THING! So in the kids' bathroom closet I find an old blue pillow case. Close enough. So I go in, on my hands and knees, face to face with three heaping ....well I would say piles, but more like "puddles" of dog-squeeze. I reach as far back as I can but am literally almost face-to-face with this ...task. So I fan out the pillow case and pull it forward hoping it acts like Bounty, the Quicker Picker-Uppper. Yeah, not so much. It just sorta spreads it out like warm peanut butter. I was non-plussed to say the least. Anyhow, I throw the pillowcase in the garbage can, haul the whole thing downstairs and into the garage. Then I find some Lysol, or some no-name blue stuff and head back up with a handful of paper towels and this Lysol Pistol. So, the rest of the story is uneventful. Suffice it to say, Maggie stayed the rest of the night in the garage and my one chance at sleeping this past three months was gone.
Why did I go into this? Well, I think for me I've figured it out. It aint all grand at times. This is life baby. The good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly. This is what you sign up for when you slip that ring on. You're young, attractive, in the prime of your life and you think you're going to live happily ever after. You know what? All these experiences and thousands of others like them are what make up our memories. I know that this story will get funnier and funnier the next few times I tell it. Sure I was ticked that night. This wasn't in the brochure?!?! Are you kidding me?! Really? REAAAAALLY???? is this necessary? Well, yeah, it is. I love my life. I am so proud of my wife and my children. Most times I want to strangle them. Not so much Stacey, but definately the kids. I still want to hit that stupid dog in the head with a shovel, but I dont. Why dont I? This is it baby. This is the dream. This IS happily ever after.
I think I look at these young couples that just get married. About three years later you see the reality set in. Seven years after they are realizing that this may not have been what they had anticipated. They start to ask some very tough questions. Fourteen years after you get married...well it aint any easier. But I will say, unequivocally and uncoerced, that it's the greatest opportunity and adventure I've ever embarked on. I am so proud of my loving spouse. I have learned that she is far better a person than I really deserve at times. Her challenges are not my challenges, but we compliment each other. She is strong where I am weak and vice versa. But more importantly, when I see her finally holding that child that has screamed ALL night and she's still patient where I can't handle more than ten minutes, I'm in awe. She's an amazing woman. I feel so lucky to have met her. I knew that day I saw her in the grocery store that she would be special in my life. I had no way to know exactly how much. That she would be my best friend. I had no idea that we would suffer huge challenges and seemingly triumph over them. I had no idea that she was so strong. I had no idea how truly beautiful she really was until recently when I've seen her poise and convinction when it comes to her husband and family.
So, I guess my wife doesnt ever ask for a new ring. I know she could use one. We're taking our first trip away from the kids to someplace nice in a couple of months. She never asks for more than I can provide. She works side by side with me to figure out our challenges and needs. She is invested 1000% in our family and whatever it takes to make it as a family. I am really so very proud of her. I've learned so much about her since I bumbled through an attempt at asking her to marry me. This past couple of years have shown me what incredible reservoirs of love and patience this woman has for me and for our children. I am truly in awe of her almost daily. I have seen the challenges for her, the tears, the setbacks, the heartache and the joy. I wouldnt change a single thing.
Anyhow, I gotta get the kids kicked out the door. It's bus time.
I hope you guys have a great day. I'll see you next time we have something of little import but comedic value.
All the best,
J
I tell you, it sort of set the rest of us guys up for failure. When I asked Stacey I was home on leave from the Navy. I'd flown seven thouuuuusand miles home and spent hundreds of dollars a month of my money, her money, and yes, my parent's money talking to her on the phone. I betcha we spent not less than five hundred bucks a month in some form or fashion to connect and keep our faith together. I even have a couple of boxes of letters in the basement back and forth and we've often talked about putting them all in order and making binders out of them. That way we could relive the way I used to be a die-hard romantic. Thank goodness those days are gone.
Anyhow, it got me thinking about how I had asked Stacey. See, I didnt go to a whole lot of effort, unless you count buying a $700 ring at the P.X. (mini Wal Mart for Squids and Jarheads). It's still the one she wears too. It's kind of shaped like a ..well a diamond duh. Anyhow it's a "solitaire" not because that used to be romantic, but because I used to make about 1100 bucks a month is why.
Anyhow, I asked Stacey about three nights after getting home on leave. I'd say it was probably 1995. What I did was switch out Stacey's promise ring with a wedding ring just playing with her hand in my dad's back yard. We were sitting on the grass, watching the stars (ahem *sniff*) and I pulled it off and secretly replaced it with this HUGE sparkly, like 1/15th Karat ROCK. Then I said some lame-azz blubbering idiocy and sorta twisted around almost on one knee and sorta said, "Wouldja?" See it never occured to me she wouldn't. I mean, I'm KIND of a big deal here. I was a Third Class Petty Officer in the U.S. Navy and pullin' down some SERIOUS cash and spending half of it on phone bills here.
Oh, and in the Jordan River Temple, when we were sealed, the old man
(Sealer) was going ON and ON and ON about my duties and
responsibilities each time I thought he was coming to the question he didn't. It happened like five times in his soliloquy. But I
sorta zoned out, but when I came to, he said, "Well? Do you?" So I
look across the altar, and Stacey has this worried look on her
face, and I looked at the audience types, and they were all
waiting on me, so I said, "Yeah sure". Then he says, "you have to say,
'Yes' or 'No'." So I sarcastically and very slowly and with great emphasis say, "YESSSSSS" and smiled. Personally I thought my shenanigans
adorable, but apparently that's not the place to get everyone
worried. I swear I wasjust sorta soaking it in and enjoying
the moment. Lost in it if you will. I mean seriously, this is the culimination of efforts in chasing this woman for the last four or five years! We're about to live happily ever after for crying out loud!
Anyhow, we get out of the sealing room, and I go back to the locker
room. I get changed into my suit. I had a tux, because we were
going to take pictures, but someone set me up for failure and had me
put on my suit because it was raining and we were going to hold
off on the pictures. So I'm sitting there, in the lobby for-EVEEEEER, whilst Stacey gets into her wedding dress. She comes out, sees me and immediately sucks in and with an audible, "uuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" almost faints because
I'm not in my tux. Apparently we are still in the hazy moments of the dream sequence of the perfect romantic moment. Thank goodness I'd been invited. Anyhow seeing just such a level of concern and sensing immediate melt-down, I bolt to my feet, and say, "I'll be right back" and run in and re-tuxed. The pictures turned out nice. I was a little flushed in them though I think. No reason.
Anyhow, fast forward a decade and a half. I still love her. In fact, I love her more today than I have ever before. I mean that. We've been through some incredible things. We now have four children and another coming. A boy by the way. Perhaps his name is, "Samuel". I'm not entirely sold as yet. We haven't slept for about six months straight. The baby is up constantly at night. She used to get up three times a night. Last week we had tubes put in, and now she literally never sleeps the whole night through. She has caught a cold and starts coughing and coughing and sounds horrible. She gets mad and we invite her into our room between us after the second or third attempt at a bottle. It's exhausting. The other day, I thought she was showing signs of getting better. But somewhere around one a.m. our 85 lb labra-idiot somehow got the runs. Yeah, so she starts whining, and Stacey wakes me from my coma. I was FINALLY sleeping. Anyhow, apparently I'm "Better" with the dog. Like, I say she's "Better" with the baby because she has mammary glands. Anyhow, instead of fighting it, I quickly surmise it's my turn and get up to investigate. The smell inside the room in Josh's kennel was one I recognized instantly. Through the dim haze of his night light I see her in there, cowering. So, I try to be just as nice as I can, quietly open the kennel and she bursts past me. Something from her hind end past my left leg leaves a very distinct...."wet" feeling. Not a good way to start out. So I grab her by the collar and start down the stairs. She gets loose and hits every one of the thirteen stairs with all four feet. Oh, smacked the banister and sidewall with her head and tail alternating and then on to the linoleum where her claws rounded the corner. From thence into the closed blinds at the sliding door and her head and tail banging the blinds over and over and over noisily. So by now my rage is up to 9.995 and I'm just about to hit her in the head with a shovel, but I can't find one. Anyhow, out the door she goes and I'm upstairs to clean it out. Picture this, me in underwear, groggy, sleep in my eyes, looking for a rag, ANY rag. An old towel, maybe even paper towels. ANY THING! So in the kids' bathroom closet I find an old blue pillow case. Close enough. So I go in, on my hands and knees, face to face with three heaping ....well I would say piles, but more like "puddles" of dog-squeeze. I reach as far back as I can but am literally almost face-to-face with this ...task. So I fan out the pillow case and pull it forward hoping it acts like Bounty, the Quicker Picker-Uppper. Yeah, not so much. It just sorta spreads it out like warm peanut butter. I was non-plussed to say the least. Anyhow, I throw the pillowcase in the garbage can, haul the whole thing downstairs and into the garage. Then I find some Lysol, or some no-name blue stuff and head back up with a handful of paper towels and this Lysol Pistol. So, the rest of the story is uneventful. Suffice it to say, Maggie stayed the rest of the night in the garage and my one chance at sleeping this past three months was gone.
Why did I go into this? Well, I think for me I've figured it out. It aint all grand at times. This is life baby. The good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly. This is what you sign up for when you slip that ring on. You're young, attractive, in the prime of your life and you think you're going to live happily ever after. You know what? All these experiences and thousands of others like them are what make up our memories. I know that this story will get funnier and funnier the next few times I tell it. Sure I was ticked that night. This wasn't in the brochure?!?! Are you kidding me?! Really? REAAAAALLY???? is this necessary? Well, yeah, it is. I love my life. I am so proud of my wife and my children. Most times I want to strangle them. Not so much Stacey, but definately the kids. I still want to hit that stupid dog in the head with a shovel, but I dont. Why dont I? This is it baby. This is the dream. This IS happily ever after.
I think I look at these young couples that just get married. About three years later you see the reality set in. Seven years after they are realizing that this may not have been what they had anticipated. They start to ask some very tough questions. Fourteen years after you get married...well it aint any easier. But I will say, unequivocally and uncoerced, that it's the greatest opportunity and adventure I've ever embarked on. I am so proud of my loving spouse. I have learned that she is far better a person than I really deserve at times. Her challenges are not my challenges, but we compliment each other. She is strong where I am weak and vice versa. But more importantly, when I see her finally holding that child that has screamed ALL night and she's still patient where I can't handle more than ten minutes, I'm in awe. She's an amazing woman. I feel so lucky to have met her. I knew that day I saw her in the grocery store that she would be special in my life. I had no way to know exactly how much. That she would be my best friend. I had no idea that we would suffer huge challenges and seemingly triumph over them. I had no idea that she was so strong. I had no idea how truly beautiful she really was until recently when I've seen her poise and convinction when it comes to her husband and family.
So, I guess my wife doesnt ever ask for a new ring. I know she could use one. We're taking our first trip away from the kids to someplace nice in a couple of months. She never asks for more than I can provide. She works side by side with me to figure out our challenges and needs. She is invested 1000% in our family and whatever it takes to make it as a family. I am really so very proud of her. I've learned so much about her since I bumbled through an attempt at asking her to marry me. This past couple of years have shown me what incredible reservoirs of love and patience this woman has for me and for our children. I am truly in awe of her almost daily. I have seen the challenges for her, the tears, the setbacks, the heartache and the joy. I wouldnt change a single thing.
Anyhow, I gotta get the kids kicked out the door. It's bus time.
I hope you guys have a great day. I'll see you next time we have something of little import but comedic value.
All the best,
J
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Hello World...
Hello World lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=al2DFQEZl4M
"Traffic cars, cell phone calls, top video screams at me
Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands
And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little hole in the little girl
Well, hello world
Every day I drive by a little white church
It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard
Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer
Maybe talk to God like he is there
Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl
Well, hello world
Sometimes I forget what living's for
And I hear my life through my front door
And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again
I see my wife, little boy, little girl
Hello world, hello world
Oh, the empty disappears
I remember why I'm here
To surrender and believe
I fall down on my knees
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world"
So this morning almost like clockwork as I pulled out of my drive this song came on. I gotta be honest with you. It gets me each and every time I hear it. So eloquently put. Everything I am as a father, as a husband. Everything that really matters to me in this world. It really is an amazing song. Even now as I type I'm listening to it on Youtube.
"I listen and believe. I fall down on my knees. Hello world, hello world." All my failings as a man, all my challenges as a husband, all my desires and hopes and aspirations for my kids, all right there. I just love it. What a great way to prepare for the day really.
You know sometimes I wonder just what I'm doing. You know, you try as hard as you can to do what you're supposed to do. Be the person you're supposed to be. You work just as hard as you can to live up to your own expectations. I've really learned lately I can't do it all on my own. I guess this song really brings that home for me.
I've got three daughters. So the initial opening of the song, "Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me.." get's me right from the get-go. I guess I picture either Olivia or Isabelle. Both have been known to be covered in chocolate. Today Olivia even spilled an entire bottle of purple fingernail polish on the carpet on the stairs. So, Easter chocolate or any other variety isn't really that far from a possibility.
The next stanza, "Every day I drive by a little white church It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer Maybe talk to God like he is there Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there", I have no way to appropriately capture this. Oh how readily aware I am of my short-comings and challenges as a man. I think the mental image, of a little white church, a place I should really be, a place I've avoided at times. It's the place where I could commune with my Creator. I could talk with him, and pour out my heart to talk about all the things I need His help in. Yet, everyday I drive past, fully knowing I should stop, and trying to make it through to another Sunday before I go in again. I think that's very personal and I'll keep it mostly to myself. But I am so thankful for a God who understands my heart and my intent. I know He loves me. I know I should stop in a little more often and talk to Him, like, He is there.
"Well, hello world, how've you been? Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl Well, hello world", this is the part where I again focus on the things around me. I'm out of myself again. I'm driving into the rising sun, I'm looking at the crisp morning and the dew on the alfalfa as I come up onto the highway. I'm looking out over a couple of the last remaining fields in the valley. The big pole barn with the giant motorhome under it. The pedestrian over-pass, with the morning runners on their personal quest. I take it all in, it's really a quiet confirmation that the world goes on, and it's all in hand. That our same Creator has not just a plan for me, but those I share the highway with and the pedestrians, the starlings in the trees and the deer in the field. He's even with those in the Wal Mart parking lot, just going into work for another day, just like me, away from home.
Here's the next one, "Sometimes I forget what living's for And I hear my life through my front door And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again", I think of my beautiful home. For the beautiful way that my loving wife has put it together. The rug, the piano, the picture of the Savior. All representative of a life I'm just not sure I've earned. Hoe lucky I feel. Blessed at how wonderful He's been to me. I literally walk through my front door, and I'm greeted by the rich accomodations of a life that I'm surprised I live each and every day. All made possible by a loving Father that I have no way to repay for His bestowing of them. I see them each and everyday. I'm in awe, and I am humbled beyond words.
"I see my wife, little boy, little girl Hello world, hello world"
"Oh, the empty disappears (my heart is full again)
I remember why I'm here (on Earth)
To surrender and believe (on His loving word)
I fall down on my knees (Is this for me???)
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world" (Thank you God, I am so very blessed. Thank you so much. Thank you for seeing beyond my faults, thank you for seeing beyond my Earthly potential. Thank you for my second chances. Thank you for my babies. Thank you so much for my wife. Thank you for all that she is, thank you for all she's become to me. Thank you so much for her sacrifices, her understanding. Thank you for these incredible children. Thank you God for the mercy you continually show my rebellious heart. Thank you for loving me. Thank you God. Thank you God. I know you're there. I know you're there. Thank you for this world. Thank you for all it comprises. Thank you for all that we have opportunity to be and do and know. Thank you so much. I am beyond my own ability to appreciate it all and take it in.
I surrender and believe, and get down on my knees and hello world...hello world...thank you so much Father for this world. For my little piece of ths world. I get down on my knees. I'm doing everything I can. All that I am short you complete. You bless me with these children, this family, this wife, this home, this Nation. It's too much for me. Thank you God. Thank you for the trust, for this chance, for all that I have opportunity to be in your eyes.
I hope you take a moment and see this world. See all that it is, all that it testifies of. I hope you see that little boy, or little girl, that you see your life through your front door. That the empty disappears, and you get down on your knees.
I better go, I've got only so much time in the day to soak it all in. I hope you have a great night. So I guess instead of saying, "goodbye", I'll just say, "Hello World".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=al2DFQEZl4M
"Traffic cars, cell phone calls, top video screams at me
Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands
And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little hole in the little girl
Well, hello world
Every day I drive by a little white church
It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard
Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer
Maybe talk to God like he is there
Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl
Well, hello world
Sometimes I forget what living's for
And I hear my life through my front door
And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again
I see my wife, little boy, little girl
Hello world, hello world
Oh, the empty disappears
I remember why I'm here
To surrender and believe
I fall down on my knees
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world"
So this morning almost like clockwork as I pulled out of my drive this song came on. I gotta be honest with you. It gets me each and every time I hear it. So eloquently put. Everything I am as a father, as a husband. Everything that really matters to me in this world. It really is an amazing song. Even now as I type I'm listening to it on Youtube.
"I listen and believe. I fall down on my knees. Hello world, hello world." All my failings as a man, all my challenges as a husband, all my desires and hopes and aspirations for my kids, all right there. I just love it. What a great way to prepare for the day really.
You know sometimes I wonder just what I'm doing. You know, you try as hard as you can to do what you're supposed to do. Be the person you're supposed to be. You work just as hard as you can to live up to your own expectations. I've really learned lately I can't do it all on my own. I guess this song really brings that home for me.
I've got three daughters. So the initial opening of the song, "Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me.." get's me right from the get-go. I guess I picture either Olivia or Isabelle. Both have been known to be covered in chocolate. Today Olivia even spilled an entire bottle of purple fingernail polish on the carpet on the stairs. So, Easter chocolate or any other variety isn't really that far from a possibility.
The next stanza, "Every day I drive by a little white church It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer Maybe talk to God like he is there Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there", I have no way to appropriately capture this. Oh how readily aware I am of my short-comings and challenges as a man. I think the mental image, of a little white church, a place I should really be, a place I've avoided at times. It's the place where I could commune with my Creator. I could talk with him, and pour out my heart to talk about all the things I need His help in. Yet, everyday I drive past, fully knowing I should stop, and trying to make it through to another Sunday before I go in again. I think that's very personal and I'll keep it mostly to myself. But I am so thankful for a God who understands my heart and my intent. I know He loves me. I know I should stop in a little more often and talk to Him, like, He is there.
"Well, hello world, how've you been? Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl Well, hello world", this is the part where I again focus on the things around me. I'm out of myself again. I'm driving into the rising sun, I'm looking at the crisp morning and the dew on the alfalfa as I come up onto the highway. I'm looking out over a couple of the last remaining fields in the valley. The big pole barn with the giant motorhome under it. The pedestrian over-pass, with the morning runners on their personal quest. I take it all in, it's really a quiet confirmation that the world goes on, and it's all in hand. That our same Creator has not just a plan for me, but those I share the highway with and the pedestrians, the starlings in the trees and the deer in the field. He's even with those in the Wal Mart parking lot, just going into work for another day, just like me, away from home.
Here's the next one, "Sometimes I forget what living's for And I hear my life through my front door And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again", I think of my beautiful home. For the beautiful way that my loving wife has put it together. The rug, the piano, the picture of the Savior. All representative of a life I'm just not sure I've earned. Hoe lucky I feel. Blessed at how wonderful He's been to me. I literally walk through my front door, and I'm greeted by the rich accomodations of a life that I'm surprised I live each and every day. All made possible by a loving Father that I have no way to repay for His bestowing of them. I see them each and everyday. I'm in awe, and I am humbled beyond words.
"I see my wife, little boy, little girl Hello world, hello world"
"Oh, the empty disappears (my heart is full again)
I remember why I'm here (on Earth)
To surrender and believe (on His loving word)
I fall down on my knees (Is this for me???)
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world" (Thank you God, I am so very blessed. Thank you so much. Thank you for seeing beyond my faults, thank you for seeing beyond my Earthly potential. Thank you for my second chances. Thank you for my babies. Thank you so much for my wife. Thank you for all that she is, thank you for all she's become to me. Thank you so much for her sacrifices, her understanding. Thank you for these incredible children. Thank you God for the mercy you continually show my rebellious heart. Thank you for loving me. Thank you God. Thank you God. I know you're there. I know you're there. Thank you for this world. Thank you for all it comprises. Thank you for all that we have opportunity to be and do and know. Thank you so much. I am beyond my own ability to appreciate it all and take it in.
I surrender and believe, and get down on my knees and hello world...hello world...thank you so much Father for this world. For my little piece of ths world. I get down on my knees. I'm doing everything I can. All that I am short you complete. You bless me with these children, this family, this wife, this home, this Nation. It's too much for me. Thank you God. Thank you for the trust, for this chance, for all that I have opportunity to be in your eyes.
I hope you take a moment and see this world. See all that it is, all that it testifies of. I hope you see that little boy, or little girl, that you see your life through your front door. That the empty disappears, and you get down on your knees.
I better go, I've got only so much time in the day to soak it all in. I hope you have a great night. So I guess instead of saying, "goodbye", I'll just say, "Hello World".
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Lord I Hope this Day is Good...
"Lord, I hope this day is good,
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good.
Lord have you forgotten me I've been prayin' to you faithfully
I'm not saying I am a righteous man
But Lord I know you understand.
I don't need fortune and I don't need fame,
Send down the thunder, Lord, send down the rain.
But when you're planning just how it will be,
Plan a good day for me.
Lord, I hope this day is good,
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good.
[ mandolin ]
You've been the King since the dawn of time,
All that I'm asking is a little less cryin'.
It might be hard for the devil to do,
But it would be easy for you...
Lord, I hope this day is good,
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good."
You know this morning I was driving to drill and that song came on. Nothing like a little Don Williams on the drive in. I love Sunday mornings. Sunday mornings at 6 am are even better. I think I saw maybe a half-dozen cars within the first six blocks or so to work. Wide open lanes and the sun coming up. Just me and little Rebekah my red pickup. She's kind of growing on me the little truck. No air conditioning and my seatbelt is busted. It's pretty white trash (off-white to you there Pilgrim), on account of I have to actually buckle my driver's side into the passenger's side receiver because I accidentally jammed a small cough drop wrapper into it. I actually tried to receive it with a basketball pump needle but succeeded in jamming it into there even deeper. Anyhow, the seatbelt doesnt retract and I commented to Stacey just yesterday how much of a, "Mexican Truck" it is parked in the driveway. I actually left a rake in the back of it for a few weeks and a couple of coolers. It really looks like a work-truck that way. So I took them all out. I may even wash it some day. The day before I sell it most likely.
Well anyhow, we had a decent day at drill. No animals, vegatables or minerals were hurt during it's filming. Oh, also I had a Beto's burrito this morning to celebrate my passing of the Army Physical Fitness Test yesterday. What better way to celebrate maxing your pushups, minimizing your situps, and actually impressing six people with your run that eating about six thousand calories of Machaca? Oh, and now that I know that the "verde" sauce is actually, "Tomatillo" I can dress the part a little more effectively (enter stage right the little Red Toyota, "Rebekah").
Anyhow, I gotta run. Break-fust fer dinner tonight. I've sneaked about seven peices of bacon thus far and my over-easies are getting colder.
Gotta run kids.
You guys enjoy the rest of your night and we'll touch-base with you sometime next week. I hope this day was good.
Talk at ya later,
J
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good.
Lord have you forgotten me I've been prayin' to you faithfully
I'm not saying I am a righteous man
But Lord I know you understand.
I don't need fortune and I don't need fame,
Send down the thunder, Lord, send down the rain.
But when you're planning just how it will be,
Plan a good day for me.
Lord, I hope this day is good,
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good.
[ mandolin ]
You've been the King since the dawn of time,
All that I'm asking is a little less cryin'.
It might be hard for the devil to do,
But it would be easy for you...
Lord, I hope this day is good,
I'm feeling empty and misunderstood.
I should be thankful Lord I know I should,
But, Lord, I hope this day is good."
You know this morning I was driving to drill and that song came on. Nothing like a little Don Williams on the drive in. I love Sunday mornings. Sunday mornings at 6 am are even better. I think I saw maybe a half-dozen cars within the first six blocks or so to work. Wide open lanes and the sun coming up. Just me and little Rebekah my red pickup. She's kind of growing on me the little truck. No air conditioning and my seatbelt is busted. It's pretty white trash (off-white to you there Pilgrim), on account of I have to actually buckle my driver's side into the passenger's side receiver because I accidentally jammed a small cough drop wrapper into it. I actually tried to receive it with a basketball pump needle but succeeded in jamming it into there even deeper. Anyhow, the seatbelt doesnt retract and I commented to Stacey just yesterday how much of a, "Mexican Truck" it is parked in the driveway. I actually left a rake in the back of it for a few weeks and a couple of coolers. It really looks like a work-truck that way. So I took them all out. I may even wash it some day. The day before I sell it most likely.
Well anyhow, we had a decent day at drill. No animals, vegatables or minerals were hurt during it's filming. Oh, also I had a Beto's burrito this morning to celebrate my passing of the Army Physical Fitness Test yesterday. What better way to celebrate maxing your pushups, minimizing your situps, and actually impressing six people with your run that eating about six thousand calories of Machaca? Oh, and now that I know that the "verde" sauce is actually, "Tomatillo" I can dress the part a little more effectively (enter stage right the little Red Toyota, "Rebekah").
Anyhow, I gotta run. Break-fust fer dinner tonight. I've sneaked about seven peices of bacon thus far and my over-easies are getting colder.
Gotta run kids.
You guys enjoy the rest of your night and we'll touch-base with you sometime next week. I hope this day was good.
Talk at ya later,
J
Friday, May 13, 2011
Just a Political Rant
So this morning I was on the elliptical machine at work. Sorta goin’ round and round in place. I was watching the news for about forty-five minutes. They started talking about how Congress is contemplating removing the subsidies for oil companies. Mostly because the companies make bucket-loads of money as is. Billions and billions they say, almost sounding like Carl Sagan. Billions and billions and billions. Well it turns out that these aggressive, self-centered yahoos actually make 7 cents per GALLON! On this stuff. That’s per gallon. Not per barrel. So you know they are RAKING it in. So, they’re going to have some talks and discussions up in the Belt-Way about how we can curb this rampant capitalism.
Oh, I just forgot the best part. It turns out that the Federal Government makes a paltry 40 cents per gallon in taxes whereas the local city and State Governments have to divide another 20 cents per gallon up to make ends meet. You know, build highways, bridges, pay teachers, that sort of thing. Well, it occurred to me, (‘Cause I’m quick like that) that old Uncle Sam, doesn’t exactly provide value-add services along the way. See, Uncle Sam (you and me) just tack on our fee at the pump, to avoid all the necessary regulations and challenges associated with actually producing a real-live product and getting it to market. No, THESE sleeze bags, with their corporate jets and their $2000 dollar suits and their staffs of unnecessary people are just raking it in. Oh, and that’s just Congress, don’t even get me started on the oil exec’s!
So, I was thinking to myself, WHY is it that these fat-cat oil (Carbon Emission Fiends!) produce such HUGE profits on the backs of the poor and needy (and ill-informed)? Well, they’d probably actually have to charge less for oil/gas/plastics if there was a larger supply. See, the problem in America isn’t that we’re sitting atop the largest potential reserves in the world, no, the problem is our refinery capacity. See, Uncle Sam is highly regulating the oil industry here in America. They’re tying their hands because oil is dirty, because it provides a way for you and me to drive pickup trucks and tow trailers and take our families water skiing. Oh, but I’m totally down with Michelle Obama taking her entire staff and friends in private jets to Italy to do some shopping so we can have the perfect arms for her book reading or whatever the hell she’s in charge of these days.
I think what’s going on here is a whole lot of, “do as I say, not as I do”. These sons-a-beaches are more than happy to tell you and I to cut back on our footprint, but they are in a protected class. See, they make policy, not follow it. Now, imagine, if we went with the whole, drill in our own back-yard idea(r). Let’s say we had all sorts of reserves off our very own coasts in California, Texas, Louisiana, or even land-locked parcels like Alaska or say…Utah? What if, and I do mean WHAT IF, instead of allowing the Italians, Chinese, and Russians to drill 13 nautical miles off our very own coasts, what if, say…WE drilled our own damned oil??? Novel I know. Then, say, what if we increased our capacity to actually refine that same oil? OK, stick with me now, here we are going to jump to Light Speed… what if….Supply and Demand actually dictated the price of commodities? WHAT IF that same evil speculative commodities market was flooded with increased supply??? What if….we could tell those crazy idiots over in the third world to keep their oil? What if…we put a moratorium on the purchase of all middle-eastern oil from places such as, oh say, Lybia, Syria, Yemen, Egypt, Bahrain and other places that are just having a difficult time playing well with others? What if, say, for a ten year period we told them to pack sand, and brought our fighting men and women home a while to make babies and pay taxes (we don’t pay taxes deployed in war zones btw).
So, here’s what I would do if I was John D. Rockefeller and this was the 1920’s-1930’s or if someone in the oil “industry” had any balls to speak of at all. Me? I’d shut down all production for about a month. Then I’d let the American Public know that I wasn’t going to pump another gat-damned gallon into their “evil” SUV/Cross-Over until they wrote their Congressman and told him to shut his face and allow us to build more refineries. I’m serious, I’d do it. Last time I checked, the oil companies don’t work for the Federal Government. Boy but you’d sure think so now wouldn’t you? So, we’re demonizing BIG OIL because they aren’t paying their “fair” share huh? Oh, but somehow Uncle Sam has “EARNED” sixty cents for that same gallon? HORSE SH!T as my grandpa would say. I’d tell them to put THAT in their ethanol-bio-fuel subsidized tail-pipe and smoke it!
You wanna know why we’re in this mess? Because idiots who get sent to Washington mean well, but are ill-informed. And people at home vote with their heart and not their heads. See, if we had increased supply, the cost would go down. The way to increase supply would be build more refineries here at home and pump our own danged oil. But see, Uncle Sam can’t allow that. Because it’s dirty. Because it’s disgusting. No, somehow the guilt doesn’t get on us if it’s FOREIGN oil. Oh, and about your little hybrid car? It’s not going to tow my four kids and dog and trailer up to the mountains to enjoy the weekend like you hoped it would from your ivory tower back East.
See, I’m a little sick of this demonizing, period. The reason we’re in a recession, is because we were TALKED into a recession. Because some people with bucket-loads of charisma, told you that your life sucked, but they can make it better. Then they figgered that same logic would work with Big Business. “Well, I’ll just TELL them that they Hope it will Change, and it will!” uh…guess what fellah? Hope and change don’t pay the bills. Money talks and bullshiz walks. See we’re in a bad way right now, NOT because BIG Business isn’t paying their fair share, no, it’s because you keep listening to a government that promises you something for nothing. It just don’t work that way kids. See, I think when Jerry McGuire and “Rod” were having their discussions in the movie of the same name, Rod said to Jerry, “SHOW ME THE MONEY!” and guess what? He did.
So where does that leave us? Well, it leaves you and I with some choices now doesn’t it? We have to get educated. See, instead of building a strawman to burn at the stake for his 7 cents/gallon…why don’t we ask his big brother where the hell the other 40-60 cents/gallon is going. See, we had the TARP funds right? Oh, and that equates to about $200,000 USD per U.S. household in the cost by the way. Now, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get any $200K in the mail. Besides, I’d just waste it by paying off my over-priced market declined house anyhow. I’m selfish like that. No, I wouldn’t go out and “infuse” the economy the way the bond, and insurance market did….no..wait…maybe I got that wrong. Oh, and by the way, that’s imaginary money. See, everytime we print money we don’t have, the existing money goes down in value. Where gold goes up to $1500/ounce where three years prior it was $900/ounce, well guess what. Oh, and when we buy that oil on the open world market now, they don’t use dollars as the baseline anymore kids, they use foreign currencies.
So, what does the rest of the world know that we don’t? Hmmm pretty words don’t create jobs kids. Market growth does. Market growth doesn’t happen with uncertainty in Federal tax policies, uncertain and unspecified impending health care costs, and other sundries that Congress things are “good ideas”. See, that money comes from somewhere. If you raise the minimum wage, that’s X amount of people that now don’t get hired. Because in the private sector, they can’t just print more imaginary money, it comes from somewhere.
Oh, and lastly, those “Big Companies” that aren’t PAYING THEIR FAIR SHARE!! (cry baby) They employ and utilize small business. Small business creates the majority of jobs in this country. If you create uncertainty, I just plain don’t hire new people, because I’m unsure what you’re going to promise them that I owe them next week. Oh, I almost forgot. Do you have a 401K? (devalued or otherwise) Do you have a mutual fund? Do you own a 457? A Roth IRA..oh wait, do you belong to a Union that provides retirement? Oh wait…see YOU are the problem. See, you’re little $50,000 dollar nest-egg is invested in G.E. and Energy Funds, and …and…and…and… so, you’re pretty much cutting off your nose to spite your face.
See, really it comes down to this. We have to create fear and panic, so that America will re-elect us. It’s the creation of a bourgeois class of aristocrats to think for us. I just cant be bothered with thinking for myself, American Idol is on! I can’t concern myself with holding my elected leaders accountable, The “Situation” has his shirt open! Please, you imbecils. YOU are the problem. I am the problem. We have seen the enemy and it is us.
So I guess I’m asking you to not drink the Kool-Aide. Don’t buy into it. The only thing wrong with America today is this desire to somehow apologize for good ideas and industry. We feel guilty that our grandparents worked their asses off after WWII and built a country that leads the world in industry and innovation. No, we feel guilty now because backward illiterates in Yemen can't figure it out. So, instead of expecting more of them, we expect less of ourselves. I’m tired of apologizing. I’m tired of creating economic disincentives for growth. I’m tired of blaming everyone but those that are continuing the downward spiral. We need consumer confidence. We need an educated populace. We need to step back and ask just what the hell is really going on here. We have a Federal Government ENCOURAGING the use of corn in our gas tanks, while we’re simultaneously paying farmers subsidies NOT to grow corn, while the commodities market for that same corn that is necessary to feed hungry Africans (and Americans alike) now costs more than a day’s wages. What the HELL are we doing? Do you REALLY think that God created food for us to BURN in our Crossover while we sit atop miles and miles of fossil fuels? Do you think he wants his children in third world countries to starve so we can feel less dirty about our Carbon Footprint? (insert a trip to Italy to shop for that perfect dress for select aristocrats who are smarter and prettier than you and I). I don’t really think that’s his design.
Now, all that said, is there room for increased capacity for alternative fuels? Absolutely. Is that a reason to create 14 TRILLION dollars in debt to saddle my grandkids with so we don’t feel guilty? No, I don’t think so. I really don’t. I think we work smarter. We utilize those gifts and resources that God provided us with. We live providently and without extreme excesses (like flying 40 friends to Italy to shop for example). I’m just saying, look at these policies. I don’t care if they are Republican, Democrat whatever. Do they pass the common-sense litmus test? Most don’t. Just remember to make your decisions principally based. Does it feel right to reward those who default and penalize those who are good stewards? No, I don’t think so. Oh all that said? yeah, I think we should remove oil subsidies. Along with ethanol growing subsidies and others. Now, I think we should pursue other technological shifts, (i.e. photo cells, windpower etc.) I think we should look at tax credits for homeowners to install these systems to defray the costs. But you also need to realize how credits work. Take for example the $8,000 dollar First Time Home Buyers' Credit. What happened to the market? Well there was a spike in purchases during that time period. You know what else happened? The cost of a new home went up...wait for it....8,000 bucks. Oh, and here's the beauty, the government made you claim that as, "income" the following year in taxes. My other personal favorite? The "Cash for Clunkers" program. Wherein you give me a perfectly good running car, and I'll give you four grand. Then, I'm going to 1099 you at the end of the year and claim it as income, even though you'd already paid first your income taxes to buy the damned thing, and then the registrative taxes (annually) and then I call it, "Income"? Are you smoking crack? That's double taxing me dipshit. I already OWNED that car. If I hadn't sold it to the dealership, I'd keep my 25% you're going to ding me with on my taxes, AND I could have sold it to a private individual, or lower income family to use. My grandpa must be rollling in his grave right now. The whole, "use it up, wear it out, make it last" idea is just plain out the window. Disposable cars, disposable money and disposable effort. I love how Uncle Sam gives you these smoke and mirror efforts to "Jump-Start" the economy, and then just slams you on the other side for taking advantage. Man, I used to hate Ford, but I am SO proud of them for not taking bailout money. I really am. Where was I? My phone just received a text and I lost my train of thought...
OH, yeah, the Gov-a-ment. Anyhow, I just want someone to tell me the truth. Just tell me how it is. Stop sugar coating it. I'm a big boy now, I can handle it. Dont pander to me, and dont blow smoke, I know you're full of crap and so do my neighbors. Anyhow, just pay attention. YOu dont have to vote the same way I do. Just get involved. Just hold them accountable, and if it smells like B.S.? It is. I dont care if they are Republican or Democrat, just make sure you call them on the carpet when they try to play the smoke and mirror routine.
Anyhow, I gotta go. I am smart enough to realize this isn't going to change over night. I get it. But I just can't STAND the duplicity and double-speak that these guys pipe out. I have no problem making big business pay their share, that's not the issue. What's at issue is the timing and the complete disregard for how economic policy affects the big picture.
Anyhow I gotta go. Olivia had her tubes put in her ears and I promised her we'd go watch, "Cheers" or "24" or..heck, even "Dora" together while we wait for the DeWalt battery to charge.
You kids have a great day. Hugs and kisses on all your cheeks.
Now get out there and have a great second half!
TTYL,
J
J
Oh, I just forgot the best part. It turns out that the Federal Government makes a paltry 40 cents per gallon in taxes whereas the local city and State Governments have to divide another 20 cents per gallon up to make ends meet. You know, build highways, bridges, pay teachers, that sort of thing. Well, it occurred to me, (‘Cause I’m quick like that) that old Uncle Sam, doesn’t exactly provide value-add services along the way. See, Uncle Sam (you and me) just tack on our fee at the pump, to avoid all the necessary regulations and challenges associated with actually producing a real-live product and getting it to market. No, THESE sleeze bags, with their corporate jets and their $2000 dollar suits and their staffs of unnecessary people are just raking it in. Oh, and that’s just Congress, don’t even get me started on the oil exec’s!
So, I was thinking to myself, WHY is it that these fat-cat oil (Carbon Emission Fiends!) produce such HUGE profits on the backs of the poor and needy (and ill-informed)? Well, they’d probably actually have to charge less for oil/gas/plastics if there was a larger supply. See, the problem in America isn’t that we’re sitting atop the largest potential reserves in the world, no, the problem is our refinery capacity. See, Uncle Sam is highly regulating the oil industry here in America. They’re tying their hands because oil is dirty, because it provides a way for you and me to drive pickup trucks and tow trailers and take our families water skiing. Oh, but I’m totally down with Michelle Obama taking her entire staff and friends in private jets to Italy to do some shopping so we can have the perfect arms for her book reading or whatever the hell she’s in charge of these days.
I think what’s going on here is a whole lot of, “do as I say, not as I do”. These sons-a-beaches are more than happy to tell you and I to cut back on our footprint, but they are in a protected class. See, they make policy, not follow it. Now, imagine, if we went with the whole, drill in our own back-yard idea(r). Let’s say we had all sorts of reserves off our very own coasts in California, Texas, Louisiana, or even land-locked parcels like Alaska or say…Utah? What if, and I do mean WHAT IF, instead of allowing the Italians, Chinese, and Russians to drill 13 nautical miles off our very own coasts, what if, say…WE drilled our own damned oil??? Novel I know. Then, say, what if we increased our capacity to actually refine that same oil? OK, stick with me now, here we are going to jump to Light Speed… what if….Supply and Demand actually dictated the price of commodities? WHAT IF that same evil speculative commodities market was flooded with increased supply??? What if….we could tell those crazy idiots over in the third world to keep their oil? What if…we put a moratorium on the purchase of all middle-eastern oil from places such as, oh say, Lybia, Syria, Yemen, Egypt, Bahrain and other places that are just having a difficult time playing well with others? What if, say, for a ten year period we told them to pack sand, and brought our fighting men and women home a while to make babies and pay taxes (we don’t pay taxes deployed in war zones btw).
So, here’s what I would do if I was John D. Rockefeller and this was the 1920’s-1930’s or if someone in the oil “industry” had any balls to speak of at all. Me? I’d shut down all production for about a month. Then I’d let the American Public know that I wasn’t going to pump another gat-damned gallon into their “evil” SUV/Cross-Over until they wrote their Congressman and told him to shut his face and allow us to build more refineries. I’m serious, I’d do it. Last time I checked, the oil companies don’t work for the Federal Government. Boy but you’d sure think so now wouldn’t you? So, we’re demonizing BIG OIL because they aren’t paying their “fair” share huh? Oh, but somehow Uncle Sam has “EARNED” sixty cents for that same gallon? HORSE SH!T as my grandpa would say. I’d tell them to put THAT in their ethanol-bio-fuel subsidized tail-pipe and smoke it!
You wanna know why we’re in this mess? Because idiots who get sent to Washington mean well, but are ill-informed. And people at home vote with their heart and not their heads. See, if we had increased supply, the cost would go down. The way to increase supply would be build more refineries here at home and pump our own danged oil. But see, Uncle Sam can’t allow that. Because it’s dirty. Because it’s disgusting. No, somehow the guilt doesn’t get on us if it’s FOREIGN oil. Oh, and about your little hybrid car? It’s not going to tow my four kids and dog and trailer up to the mountains to enjoy the weekend like you hoped it would from your ivory tower back East.
See, I’m a little sick of this demonizing, period. The reason we’re in a recession, is because we were TALKED into a recession. Because some people with bucket-loads of charisma, told you that your life sucked, but they can make it better. Then they figgered that same logic would work with Big Business. “Well, I’ll just TELL them that they Hope it will Change, and it will!” uh…guess what fellah? Hope and change don’t pay the bills. Money talks and bullshiz walks. See we’re in a bad way right now, NOT because BIG Business isn’t paying their fair share, no, it’s because you keep listening to a government that promises you something for nothing. It just don’t work that way kids. See, I think when Jerry McGuire and “Rod” were having their discussions in the movie of the same name, Rod said to Jerry, “SHOW ME THE MONEY!” and guess what? He did.
So where does that leave us? Well, it leaves you and I with some choices now doesn’t it? We have to get educated. See, instead of building a strawman to burn at the stake for his 7 cents/gallon…why don’t we ask his big brother where the hell the other 40-60 cents/gallon is going. See, we had the TARP funds right? Oh, and that equates to about $200,000 USD per U.S. household in the cost by the way. Now, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get any $200K in the mail. Besides, I’d just waste it by paying off my over-priced market declined house anyhow. I’m selfish like that. No, I wouldn’t go out and “infuse” the economy the way the bond, and insurance market did….no..wait…maybe I got that wrong. Oh, and by the way, that’s imaginary money. See, everytime we print money we don’t have, the existing money goes down in value. Where gold goes up to $1500/ounce where three years prior it was $900/ounce, well guess what. Oh, and when we buy that oil on the open world market now, they don’t use dollars as the baseline anymore kids, they use foreign currencies.
So, what does the rest of the world know that we don’t? Hmmm pretty words don’t create jobs kids. Market growth does. Market growth doesn’t happen with uncertainty in Federal tax policies, uncertain and unspecified impending health care costs, and other sundries that Congress things are “good ideas”. See, that money comes from somewhere. If you raise the minimum wage, that’s X amount of people that now don’t get hired. Because in the private sector, they can’t just print more imaginary money, it comes from somewhere.
Oh, and lastly, those “Big Companies” that aren’t PAYING THEIR FAIR SHARE!! (cry baby) They employ and utilize small business. Small business creates the majority of jobs in this country. If you create uncertainty, I just plain don’t hire new people, because I’m unsure what you’re going to promise them that I owe them next week. Oh, I almost forgot. Do you have a 401K? (devalued or otherwise) Do you have a mutual fund? Do you own a 457? A Roth IRA..oh wait, do you belong to a Union that provides retirement? Oh wait…see YOU are the problem. See, you’re little $50,000 dollar nest-egg is invested in G.E. and Energy Funds, and …and…and…and… so, you’re pretty much cutting off your nose to spite your face.
See, really it comes down to this. We have to create fear and panic, so that America will re-elect us. It’s the creation of a bourgeois class of aristocrats to think for us. I just cant be bothered with thinking for myself, American Idol is on! I can’t concern myself with holding my elected leaders accountable, The “Situation” has his shirt open! Please, you imbecils. YOU are the problem. I am the problem. We have seen the enemy and it is us.
So I guess I’m asking you to not drink the Kool-Aide. Don’t buy into it. The only thing wrong with America today is this desire to somehow apologize for good ideas and industry. We feel guilty that our grandparents worked their asses off after WWII and built a country that leads the world in industry and innovation. No, we feel guilty now because backward illiterates in Yemen can't figure it out. So, instead of expecting more of them, we expect less of ourselves. I’m tired of apologizing. I’m tired of creating economic disincentives for growth. I’m tired of blaming everyone but those that are continuing the downward spiral. We need consumer confidence. We need an educated populace. We need to step back and ask just what the hell is really going on here. We have a Federal Government ENCOURAGING the use of corn in our gas tanks, while we’re simultaneously paying farmers subsidies NOT to grow corn, while the commodities market for that same corn that is necessary to feed hungry Africans (and Americans alike) now costs more than a day’s wages. What the HELL are we doing? Do you REALLY think that God created food for us to BURN in our Crossover while we sit atop miles and miles of fossil fuels? Do you think he wants his children in third world countries to starve so we can feel less dirty about our Carbon Footprint? (insert a trip to Italy to shop for that perfect dress for select aristocrats who are smarter and prettier than you and I). I don’t really think that’s his design.
Now, all that said, is there room for increased capacity for alternative fuels? Absolutely. Is that a reason to create 14 TRILLION dollars in debt to saddle my grandkids with so we don’t feel guilty? No, I don’t think so. I really don’t. I think we work smarter. We utilize those gifts and resources that God provided us with. We live providently and without extreme excesses (like flying 40 friends to Italy to shop for example). I’m just saying, look at these policies. I don’t care if they are Republican, Democrat whatever. Do they pass the common-sense litmus test? Most don’t. Just remember to make your decisions principally based. Does it feel right to reward those who default and penalize those who are good stewards? No, I don’t think so. Oh all that said? yeah, I think we should remove oil subsidies. Along with ethanol growing subsidies and others. Now, I think we should pursue other technological shifts, (i.e. photo cells, windpower etc.) I think we should look at tax credits for homeowners to install these systems to defray the costs. But you also need to realize how credits work. Take for example the $8,000 dollar First Time Home Buyers' Credit. What happened to the market? Well there was a spike in purchases during that time period. You know what else happened? The cost of a new home went up...wait for it....8,000 bucks. Oh, and here's the beauty, the government made you claim that as, "income" the following year in taxes. My other personal favorite? The "Cash for Clunkers" program. Wherein you give me a perfectly good running car, and I'll give you four grand. Then, I'm going to 1099 you at the end of the year and claim it as income, even though you'd already paid first your income taxes to buy the damned thing, and then the registrative taxes (annually) and then I call it, "Income"? Are you smoking crack? That's double taxing me dipshit. I already OWNED that car. If I hadn't sold it to the dealership, I'd keep my 25% you're going to ding me with on my taxes, AND I could have sold it to a private individual, or lower income family to use. My grandpa must be rollling in his grave right now. The whole, "use it up, wear it out, make it last" idea is just plain out the window. Disposable cars, disposable money and disposable effort. I love how Uncle Sam gives you these smoke and mirror efforts to "Jump-Start" the economy, and then just slams you on the other side for taking advantage. Man, I used to hate Ford, but I am SO proud of them for not taking bailout money. I really am. Where was I? My phone just received a text and I lost my train of thought...
OH, yeah, the Gov-a-ment. Anyhow, I just want someone to tell me the truth. Just tell me how it is. Stop sugar coating it. I'm a big boy now, I can handle it. Dont pander to me, and dont blow smoke, I know you're full of crap and so do my neighbors. Anyhow, just pay attention. YOu dont have to vote the same way I do. Just get involved. Just hold them accountable, and if it smells like B.S.? It is. I dont care if they are Republican or Democrat, just make sure you call them on the carpet when they try to play the smoke and mirror routine.
Anyhow, I gotta go. I am smart enough to realize this isn't going to change over night. I get it. But I just can't STAND the duplicity and double-speak that these guys pipe out. I have no problem making big business pay their share, that's not the issue. What's at issue is the timing and the complete disregard for how economic policy affects the big picture.
Anyhow I gotta go. Olivia had her tubes put in her ears and I promised her we'd go watch, "Cheers" or "24" or..heck, even "Dora" together while we wait for the DeWalt battery to charge.
You kids have a great day. Hugs and kisses on all your cheeks.
Now get out there and have a great second half!
TTYL,
J
J
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Ocho de Mayo
So every year for the past four years we've run a little party out in our circle. Oh, we live in a cul-de-sac. Yeah, I forgot to tell you. Yup, an off-white picket fence, a big yeller dog, a two story house and a cul-de-sac. I'm a regular Ward Cleaver I tell ya. Only, I'm not all that fun. Father Knows Best I'm not. See, I grew up watching those Disney movies. With that guy who makes Flubber? Not the new one with Robin Williams, the old guy with the slicked back hair and the Model T? Anyhow, not important. I think the point is, that I kind of anticipated that when I walk in the door the kids will all be lines up with their hair combed and we'd all load into the car and head down for a malt or something. Well, anyhow, we try our best, but as close as we come is to having parties with the local riff-raff we associate with.
So, this particular year, there was some sort of conflict with the actual, "Cinco de Mayo". By the way, it's really just an excuse to get people out of their houses and grill in our driveway. Some time back someone showed up with a pinata, we started playing mexican music and it just sorta grew from there. It's like the unofficial kick-off for Summer in our neck of the woods. Anyhow, so we normally bring out a couple of grills, cordon off our drive way with tables and chairs and what not. Anyhow, so this year the Stroups brought not one, but two genuine paid-for pinatas. Stacey took a mess of pictures and if you care to see them just go to her sight. I myself try to pen a thousand words for each mental image I shot.
So where were we? Oh, anyhow, pretty good turn-out yesterday. See every year someone makes the mistake of wishing me a happy Mexican Independence day. Which is a total falsehood. First off, I'm Mexican back two generations. I'm a half Mexican. But see even my mom isn't full mexican because someone made naughties with an Irishman behind the woodpile. So, I'm not even sure I could really say with any real clarity how much Mexican I have in me. Oh, on my dad's side there's English, Swedish, I think a Frenchman nobody talks about too. So, I'm more of a Heinze 57 really. Anyhow, so the actual Cinco de Mayo is nothing more than the Mexicans whipping up on the French one time. Which, really if you had to tout your prowess as a global power, isn't really a lot to talk about. I mean, who CANT beat the French??? Well aside from England when the French came to save our bacon that time. Which, we paid them back handsomely by purchasing Louisianna. But that still doesnt beat how dumb Russia must feel at having given Seward Alaska back in the day. I mean, it's repleat with oil..they..cant...get...to. Bad example.
Anyhow, so we had a great time. We rigged up a ladder with a 14' 2x4 to hoist the pinata. Candy spilt everywhere. Then someone started the second-annual waterfight. I blame Josh Stroup. Anyhow, it really devolved from there and I now get to replace a few of my flowers immediately beneath the faucet outside and one of our daffodils will probably never recover from the blunt-force trauma. Oh, also a couple of kids kept targeting the adults, so betwixt Greg Olsen and I, we pretty well soaked them silly using his hose at his house.
So, grand total, there were probably six or seven families. Some folks that had never come out before and some that just couldnt make it due to familial and frankly more attractive obligations. Anyhow, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, it was in the mid to high seventies and just the perfect day. We missed those that couldnt make it but realize life goes on and we're not the only game in town.
OK, well I better close out, everyone is dressed and watching a movie about a big Golden Retriever so it must be about time to head to the "Choi-che" as Isabelle would say. By the way, it's Mother's Day today. You should see my girls. Isabelle has a red dress with a black sweater and a red flower in her hair. She looks like the quintessential Mexican peasant girl just about to bust out a pair of castenettes and dance around a fountain. Lexi is dressed a little more casual and business-like but still heart-stopping. Josh is wearing a peach shirt that makes him look accidentally handsome. Dont worry though, he's chowing down on bbq chips and they'll be all over his shirt and pants post-haste. Which brings me to Olivia, who's taking her pre-Sacramental nap so she can stand all over the benches and throw things at the people behind/in front of us.
Stacey looks gorgeous as always. We made her a big Mother's Day breakfast. Well the second one. Lexi made her breakfast in bed of light yogurt, bananas with whipped cream, some peanutbutter crackers, two peices of un-toasted bread, and a Diet Dr. Pepper. Anyhow, Stacey's making me feel guilty by cleaning up all the dishes we made with Second Breakfast of bacon, eggs, tortillas, and I'm told, "tomatillo" salsa. (Not Jicama). I apparently just called it, "Verde Sauce" for years and was just plain wrong.
Anyhow, we gotta roll now. You kids make sure to call your moms. Tell them you love them and you're sorry they live all the way across country and you cant be there in person. You and I both know the truth, but at least tell her on her special day you miss her. If you're a mother, or a mother lover, well, happy Mother Lover's Day.
I gotta go. Just...do something non-productive today ok?
Anyhow, I'll see you kids later.
Out Here,
Jon
So, this particular year, there was some sort of conflict with the actual, "Cinco de Mayo". By the way, it's really just an excuse to get people out of their houses and grill in our driveway. Some time back someone showed up with a pinata, we started playing mexican music and it just sorta grew from there. It's like the unofficial kick-off for Summer in our neck of the woods. Anyhow, so we normally bring out a couple of grills, cordon off our drive way with tables and chairs and what not. Anyhow, so this year the Stroups brought not one, but two genuine paid-for pinatas. Stacey took a mess of pictures and if you care to see them just go to her sight. I myself try to pen a thousand words for each mental image I shot.
So where were we? Oh, anyhow, pretty good turn-out yesterday. See every year someone makes the mistake of wishing me a happy Mexican Independence day. Which is a total falsehood. First off, I'm Mexican back two generations. I'm a half Mexican. But see even my mom isn't full mexican because someone made naughties with an Irishman behind the woodpile. So, I'm not even sure I could really say with any real clarity how much Mexican I have in me. Oh, on my dad's side there's English, Swedish, I think a Frenchman nobody talks about too. So, I'm more of a Heinze 57 really. Anyhow, so the actual Cinco de Mayo is nothing more than the Mexicans whipping up on the French one time. Which, really if you had to tout your prowess as a global power, isn't really a lot to talk about. I mean, who CANT beat the French??? Well aside from England when the French came to save our bacon that time. Which, we paid them back handsomely by purchasing Louisianna. But that still doesnt beat how dumb Russia must feel at having given Seward Alaska back in the day. I mean, it's repleat with oil..they..cant...get...to. Bad example.
Anyhow, so we had a great time. We rigged up a ladder with a 14' 2x4 to hoist the pinata. Candy spilt everywhere. Then someone started the second-annual waterfight. I blame Josh Stroup. Anyhow, it really devolved from there and I now get to replace a few of my flowers immediately beneath the faucet outside and one of our daffodils will probably never recover from the blunt-force trauma. Oh, also a couple of kids kept targeting the adults, so betwixt Greg Olsen and I, we pretty well soaked them silly using his hose at his house.
So, grand total, there were probably six or seven families. Some folks that had never come out before and some that just couldnt make it due to familial and frankly more attractive obligations. Anyhow, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, it was in the mid to high seventies and just the perfect day. We missed those that couldnt make it but realize life goes on and we're not the only game in town.
OK, well I better close out, everyone is dressed and watching a movie about a big Golden Retriever so it must be about time to head to the "Choi-che" as Isabelle would say. By the way, it's Mother's Day today. You should see my girls. Isabelle has a red dress with a black sweater and a red flower in her hair. She looks like the quintessential Mexican peasant girl just about to bust out a pair of castenettes and dance around a fountain. Lexi is dressed a little more casual and business-like but still heart-stopping. Josh is wearing a peach shirt that makes him look accidentally handsome. Dont worry though, he's chowing down on bbq chips and they'll be all over his shirt and pants post-haste. Which brings me to Olivia, who's taking her pre-Sacramental nap so she can stand all over the benches and throw things at the people behind/in front of us.
Stacey looks gorgeous as always. We made her a big Mother's Day breakfast. Well the second one. Lexi made her breakfast in bed of light yogurt, bananas with whipped cream, some peanutbutter crackers, two peices of un-toasted bread, and a Diet Dr. Pepper. Anyhow, Stacey's making me feel guilty by cleaning up all the dishes we made with Second Breakfast of bacon, eggs, tortillas, and I'm told, "tomatillo" salsa. (Not Jicama). I apparently just called it, "Verde Sauce" for years and was just plain wrong.
Anyhow, we gotta roll now. You kids make sure to call your moms. Tell them you love them and you're sorry they live all the way across country and you cant be there in person. You and I both know the truth, but at least tell her on her special day you miss her. If you're a mother, or a mother lover, well, happy Mother Lover's Day.
I gotta go. Just...do something non-productive today ok?
Anyhow, I'll see you kids later.
Out Here,
Jon
Saturday, May 7, 2011
It's Like This, and like That and Like This and Uh?...
Wow. You guys ready for a weekend? Me too. I have had a busy little week I must say. I worked all of one day this week. Regular people in the business world call it, "Monday". But see I've stacked up 50 days of leave and I've protracted out this year and it's going to be insane. There'll be business trips to Hawaii (ouch, you're hurting my arm!!) there'll be two trips to Arkansas, Little Rock, there's a baby coming in November. There is a family vacation in June/July. There's the lot...
Speaking of the lot, which is what I really wanted to talk about, let me update you on my little slice of Heaven. My five-acre slice. By the way, if my lot were pie, it would be pecan. I can't afford New York Cheese Cake, but I could swing pecan. See, most people dont have an affinity for pecan. Which is precisely why it fits me. See, pecan pie you sort of have to have a love for. The first time you try it, you love it, or you hate it. There's no equivocating when it comes to pie. Sure, some of your lesser Lemon Merengue's you can be iffy on, but not pecan. So anyhow, this past week I took off Tuesday through Thursday of my normal week. That gave me a bonus Friday, Saturday and Sunday to waste on important things like, family, yardwork, and the upcoming "Cinco de Mayo" party. Which, as it turns out, is actually taking place on "Siete de Mayo".
To deconflict with the, "Stake Relief Society Birthday of the Relief Society Relief Society Social, Dinner, Talk Thing."
Where were we? Ah yes, so I went to pick up the trailer from Camp Williams (I store it there) and when I got there, my valve stem had been kicked off one of my tires. Lucky for me, I have a spare like that. Oh, so, anyhow it's important to note I now check for the keys to the trailer BEFORE I make the trip. Learnt that little one the hard way. So, I took dad with me. He's great help that guy. He's so kinetic you can just point and shoot. Anyhow, I was busy looking at the macro-view whilst dad was checking the micro. We make a great team that way. So, we loaded up and headed down the road. Redwood Road for that matter. Wherein we passed the True Value Hardware store. Only, the ex-owner, "Bob" was there, so he talked to my dad like it was Old Home week and put us a little behind. Oh, so it's important to note I dropped 40 bucks on propane in the three miles we'd traveled. From thence we missed the left turn twice on 12600 South and then pulled into David Early Tire. Dropped the aforementioned tire, saddled up, and away we went.
So, here at the house, we ran around like the proverbial head-less chickens and threw everything we thought we needed into the trailer. Oh, I put 75 bucks in gas in just to top off mind you. So, from thence Stacey asked if we wanted to eat while we were there, so she made us a little pick-a-nick basket with some breakfasts/lunches/dinner. Oh, at that point I had to pick up the little red truck, "Rebeka" for the catalytic-converter/flux-capacitor she was missing. So again we traveled over hill and dale BACK to Redwood Road to Randy's Tire/Muffler/And Other Shiz. So, I dropped dad off, we parted ways, and he went to pick up two new deep-cycle batteries. (we'd had four batteries tested at Randy's) So, I went East and he went West. He went towards Wal Mart and I to Lexi's singing thingy. So, I again parked Big Green and her haul and jumped in with Stacey and headed to the School.
It is important to pause here and note that Lexi did a phenominal job. I'm not just making that up. She really is a fantastic little stage presence. Wonderful sweet voice. I guess listening to all that Selena Gomez at an unacceptable volume is really paying off.
So, back at the ranch, I reimbursed my pops for the THREE batteries he purchased (because I gave him three old ones he assumed...) Anyhow, 176 bucks later we were ALMOST ready to go. So I looked through my drawers and picked out two of my most favoritist pairs of undies and socks, a pair of pantalones, two spare shirts and away we whisked to the magical land of Fruitland, Utah.
We interupt this regular scheduled programming with my most recent directive to, "Start some bacon, we have a busy day ahead of us". See I'm coaching today for Isabelle's soccer game. Then I'm going shotgun shooting with dad, THEN it's the Siete de Mayo Party, and THEN...well, *wink* busy day. OK, hold that thought, I'll be back tomorrow morning.
Just...hold that thought. I gotta go be Super Dad a while. You just....run in circles or something until I get back. TTFN, CU Later...LOL, LMAO,OMG...Buh and the Bye for now...
***********THREE SHORT HOURS LATER*******************
Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice....Captain Kenworthy has again returned to pen the completion of our little story. So where were we??? Ah yes, so I elected not to go shotgun shooting. Instead I'm going to blog while Stacey makes me feel guilty in the kitchen. She's making two different kinds of salsa. There's the regular salsa, then there's something called, "Jicama" which she got in her, "Bountiful Basket". She's been burning up the airwaves in a quest for jicama recipes. I guess the Bountiful Baskets also come in a, "Mexican Basket". Something which I just naturally figgerred she'd had a bushel-full of the past forteen years. Anyhow, so I'm back.
So, back to the story. So, dad and I went up to the lot. It's about an hour forty-five from the house up to our lot. There was about four feet of snow still at Strawberry as we cruised past. Well, anyhow, we got there, and set up the trailer. Our trailer, is I think a 1999. But I got it from some fellah out of California. From the looks of things, he may have used it about ten times. There were still stickers from the manufacturer on the mirror in the bathroom. So it's been either well taken care of, or just not used. It's 28' from tip to tail. Two bunks in the back, a kitchen in the middle along with a couch and then a separate room with a queen bed. No slide-outs, nothing fancy. But it suits us just fine. I paid $6500 for it a year or so ago with our taxes. Anyhow, we got it leveled out for the night. I had a little trouble getting the water to work at first and the hot water heater. Turns out there was just air in the lines from when I winterized it last Fall.
So we got it set up around seven p.m. then had nothing to do but play cards. I'd forgotten my Ipod so listening to the radio was reduced to whatever is on my P.O.S. phone which has a few songs by Brad Paisley, Patty Loveless, Big and Rich and Beyonce' (meow meow kitty meow meow!). Anyhow, knowing that dad wouldnt appreciate the grand curvature of Beyonce's urban tone, I elected for some Patty. So we each played our own separate versions of a couple of games of Solitaire. Then nigh on about nine-ish, with our bellaye's full of fried shhicken, we turned in for the night. It's important to note, that running two lights, the radio, and the heater all night, I was still pleased to awaken to two full batteries charged and ready in the morning. Something which we'd not previously enjoyed.
So the next morning, we took a walk around the mountain (cowboy boots are NOT made for walking, I dont care WHAT Nancy Sinatra says!). Then Bert, or Vern, or Brett or whatever his name that delivers gravel called. We hoofed it back to the lot and then saddled up Big Green to meet him at the highway. Oh, of important note is that on the first night we went and met the neighbors the Bud N_______ Klan. So, if you've ever heard that song about Marie La Voux, well I met her at Bud's place. Poor kid was maybe in her early thirties but had this witchy woman hair that was all ratted out. Wearing a black robe and I am relatively sure missing at least five of her main toothens in the frontal region. Anyhow, Maggie, our dog wouldnt get close to her. To be honest, I kept my distance a little too. I dont care if she offered me a million dollars that'll make me rich...all I could think was, "OOOOooooohhhhh WEEEEE! Another man done gone!"
So, we filled up around 100 gallons of fresh water betwixt my 55 gallon barrel and the two 25 gallon barrels in the back of the truck. Bud is a great guy, about 75 years old and just like an old farmer. Every word out of him you have to pry out. He's not exactly forth-coming or spewing-forth and effervescent stream of mental conciousness. I think he plans each and every word out as though he was being interviewed by the State Police over some missing teenagers or something. Anyhow, as another side-note, not ONE person I've met out there as my neighbors are in anyway right in the head. There's a guy across the street, "Kerry". He's a fanatic when it comes to kids riding their ATV's too fast up the road. He'll call the cops on you and everything. He lives there full-time and has a premanufactured home and a tidy yard. Seems nice, but I imagine him to be a Vietnam Vet who's now hiding from his past and the world.
Then there's the people above me that own the giant rocks. They are like two hippies that finally went sober and realized it was 1980, only it's now 2011. The man looks like Santa in the off-season. He builds high-end furniture for famous people in Park City, and she, "Mrs. Claus" just talks and talks and talks. I finally zoned her out but she's very nice. Oh, lest I forget Mr. W_____. He lives across the way above Kerry. He and Kerry dont get along on account of Mr. W's son is a ne'er do-well and still lives at home in his thirties. He has parties and some get out of control probably listening to Motley Crue or maybe even Poison. Some real heavy metal devil worshipper stuff I'm sure. Anyhow, Mr. W apparently watched us from his deck using high-power binoculars which sorta..weirds you out.
So, last Fall while I was up there, we cut in (well Bud's brother Bill did) about an 80'x80' patch out of the sage to park the trailer. It became readily apparent after the first bought of wind and the second bought of rain that leaving it as a patch of dirt was a non-starter. So the whole quest for the day was to lay down about five loads of gravel and or roadbase. I expected about 150/truck, but it turned out to be 200/truck. I elected to go with 1 1/2" minus road base. Which, you dont care, but it's easier to drive on and doesnt migrate into the soil we alluded to earlier. (There's a test on this so dont fall asleep here).
Anyhow, I could only afford five loads this trip. We spread it out, well, the guy dropped it as best he could and we chained Bud's "Skid" behind Big Green and cut various patterns and circles trying to level it out. Well after about two hours of making ever-and-ever different patterns in it, I ran low focus and told dad we're headed to Duchesne to get some chocolate cookies or something. So it's about twenty minutes into Duchesne. I knew they roll up the sidewalks about eight p.m. so we hustled on down to, "Al's Foodtown".
Well we went up and down all six isles in Al's and picked up all the stuff in the trailer we'd identified shortages of. I dont wanna brag, but I bought some cutlery, some oil, some pancake/waffle/biscuit mix and some bacon eggs, and some of those cookies that look like oreos but have a lighter cookie on the one side. I dont know what the name of them are, but they really suck. I should have spent the extra buck and grabbed the name brand Oreo's. Anyhow, I dropped 96 bucks there at Al's. The teller looked bored at our jokes and after the third attempt at making her laugh I realized that she just might be related to Mr. W so the joking best be kept to a minimum.
The next day, we got up, emptied the re...oh wait. So dad rigged a twelve-volt pump to get the water out of our mobile tanks and into the trailer. However, the lines that he bought kept collapsing so we made a run back to Duchesne to their Ace Hardware Store. It's a pretty sweet setup, and they have rows and rows of stuff you dont need, and none of the stuff you do. So we trucked on over to the IFA (yes, an IFA!) and looked for some new Carhardt gear for dad. See, I'd made the mistake of letting him know his azz was hanging out of his current set. So after the third store looking for name-brand Carhardt, we elected to have the "Buffet" at the local greasy-spoon.
So in Maggies, or Marges, or Rosie's or whoever's diner, I had the Navajo Taco, and dad had the Kung PAO! Chicken. I told him that's what George Costanza always gets and he was sold. So we sat at the bar and joked with Maggie, or Marge, or..Rosie and choked down some of the local cuisine. So I dropped twenty bucks on lunch. Then we stopped at the gas station and I put anothe 99.66 in the tank and headed back to the lot. Oh, dad came too. (wearing the same ass-less Carhardts you once heard about).
Anyhow, after a day and a half of not being with Stacey, I was getting lonely. I mean, dad was there, but I realized I really like sharing that place with my lover girl. I mean I seriously missed her. That queen sized bed was nice, and I slept all night uninterupted, but...I sorta missed the "ugghhh...ouch" of a pregnant lady getting up for the third time to check the teething baby, or more likely empty her two-ouce bladder.
So, I guess if I had to be honest, I had a decent time. I really enjoyed time with my dad. But, our lot has really become a place that I can share with Stacey the things I like to do. I like to putter around and make stuff for the kids. I like knocking down sage brush. I like building play-houses for the kids. I guess the lot represents a new start for Stacey and I. It's kind of like...a new canvas on which to paint. It's really been a God-send for us this past year. When things down here in the flats were so oppressive, we could always escape there and just be together as a family. In fact, right now, there's a song on the radio, "I dont have to be me till Monday". Sort of fits the mood of what I'm trying to get across. When we head out the the lot, it can be a huge pain in the butt. Just getting four kids, a dog, a wive, six bags of clothing, 150.00 in groceries, three bikes, and whatever else we can stuff in the truck is huge pain. But once we're there, none of this other stuff matters.
I guess I like having a place like that. I love getting up Saturday morning and making bacon and listening to the radio. I love running the generator that afternoon. I love yelling at that stupid dog so she doesnt chase the errant horse, or the deer. I love that the kids can climb all over those rocks and see the glint in Josh's eye when he asks me when we're going to finish his play house. Speaking of which, right now, as I type, Grandpa Clint is working on welding a swingset for me to affix to the play house. Right now there's an elevated platform, a 4x4 play house atop it and a semi-finished deck. By this Fall we'll have a three place swing set and if I can...ahem..."swing" it, a teeter-totter. Big dreams I tell ya.
Anyhow, I have to go help Stacey get ready for the party now. I haven't really said anything of any real import anyhow. I hope you have a great day. I hope that your Saturday is a fantastic, bright and blue-sky type Saturday. I hope you grill up some brautworst. I hope you push your kids in a swing, I hope you smile and laugh and enjoy this day. I gotta run now, but try to be good kids and live a little at the same time.
I'm off to pull the grill around the house and straighten up the garage. Make sure you call your mom tomorrow and lay it on real thick how great she is. Oh, just a side note, Josh just called from shooting clay pigeons with my dad. He won a turkey. I told you that kid can shoot. I'm so dang proud of him. Maybe I'll make him a swing set or a climbing wall for that play house to reward him.
OK, gotta run guys. All the best.
Yer Bud,
J
Speaking of the lot, which is what I really wanted to talk about, let me update you on my little slice of Heaven. My five-acre slice. By the way, if my lot were pie, it would be pecan. I can't afford New York Cheese Cake, but I could swing pecan. See, most people dont have an affinity for pecan. Which is precisely why it fits me. See, pecan pie you sort of have to have a love for. The first time you try it, you love it, or you hate it. There's no equivocating when it comes to pie. Sure, some of your lesser Lemon Merengue's you can be iffy on, but not pecan. So anyhow, this past week I took off Tuesday through Thursday of my normal week. That gave me a bonus Friday, Saturday and Sunday to waste on important things like, family, yardwork, and the upcoming "Cinco de Mayo" party. Which, as it turns out, is actually taking place on "Siete de Mayo".
To deconflict with the, "Stake Relief Society Birthday of the Relief Society Relief Society Social, Dinner, Talk Thing."
Where were we? Ah yes, so I went to pick up the trailer from Camp Williams (I store it there) and when I got there, my valve stem had been kicked off one of my tires. Lucky for me, I have a spare like that. Oh, so, anyhow it's important to note I now check for the keys to the trailer BEFORE I make the trip. Learnt that little one the hard way. So, I took dad with me. He's great help that guy. He's so kinetic you can just point and shoot. Anyhow, I was busy looking at the macro-view whilst dad was checking the micro. We make a great team that way. So, we loaded up and headed down the road. Redwood Road for that matter. Wherein we passed the True Value Hardware store. Only, the ex-owner, "Bob" was there, so he talked to my dad like it was Old Home week and put us a little behind. Oh, so it's important to note I dropped 40 bucks on propane in the three miles we'd traveled. From thence we missed the left turn twice on 12600 South and then pulled into David Early Tire. Dropped the aforementioned tire, saddled up, and away we went.
So, here at the house, we ran around like the proverbial head-less chickens and threw everything we thought we needed into the trailer. Oh, I put 75 bucks in gas in just to top off mind you. So, from thence Stacey asked if we wanted to eat while we were there, so she made us a little pick-a-nick basket with some breakfasts/lunches/dinner. Oh, at that point I had to pick up the little red truck, "Rebeka" for the catalytic-converter/flux-capacitor she was missing. So again we traveled over hill and dale BACK to Redwood Road to Randy's Tire/Muffler/And Other Shiz. So, I dropped dad off, we parted ways, and he went to pick up two new deep-cycle batteries. (we'd had four batteries tested at Randy's) So, I went East and he went West. He went towards Wal Mart and I to Lexi's singing thingy. So, I again parked Big Green and her haul and jumped in with Stacey and headed to the School.
It is important to pause here and note that Lexi did a phenominal job. I'm not just making that up. She really is a fantastic little stage presence. Wonderful sweet voice. I guess listening to all that Selena Gomez at an unacceptable volume is really paying off.
So, back at the ranch, I reimbursed my pops for the THREE batteries he purchased (because I gave him three old ones he assumed...) Anyhow, 176 bucks later we were ALMOST ready to go. So I looked through my drawers and picked out two of my most favoritist pairs of undies and socks, a pair of pantalones, two spare shirts and away we whisked to the magical land of Fruitland, Utah.
We interupt this regular scheduled programming with my most recent directive to, "Start some bacon, we have a busy day ahead of us". See I'm coaching today for Isabelle's soccer game. Then I'm going shotgun shooting with dad, THEN it's the Siete de Mayo Party, and THEN...well, *wink* busy day. OK, hold that thought, I'll be back tomorrow morning.
Just...hold that thought. I gotta go be Super Dad a while. You just....run in circles or something until I get back. TTFN, CU Later...LOL, LMAO,OMG...Buh and the Bye for now...
***********THREE SHORT HOURS LATER*******************
Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice....Captain Kenworthy has again returned to pen the completion of our little story. So where were we??? Ah yes, so I elected not to go shotgun shooting. Instead I'm going to blog while Stacey makes me feel guilty in the kitchen. She's making two different kinds of salsa. There's the regular salsa, then there's something called, "Jicama" which she got in her, "Bountiful Basket". She's been burning up the airwaves in a quest for jicama recipes. I guess the Bountiful Baskets also come in a, "Mexican Basket". Something which I just naturally figgerred she'd had a bushel-full of the past forteen years. Anyhow, so I'm back.
So, back to the story. So, dad and I went up to the lot. It's about an hour forty-five from the house up to our lot. There was about four feet of snow still at Strawberry as we cruised past. Well, anyhow, we got there, and set up the trailer. Our trailer, is I think a 1999. But I got it from some fellah out of California. From the looks of things, he may have used it about ten times. There were still stickers from the manufacturer on the mirror in the bathroom. So it's been either well taken care of, or just not used. It's 28' from tip to tail. Two bunks in the back, a kitchen in the middle along with a couch and then a separate room with a queen bed. No slide-outs, nothing fancy. But it suits us just fine. I paid $6500 for it a year or so ago with our taxes. Anyhow, we got it leveled out for the night. I had a little trouble getting the water to work at first and the hot water heater. Turns out there was just air in the lines from when I winterized it last Fall.
So we got it set up around seven p.m. then had nothing to do but play cards. I'd forgotten my Ipod so listening to the radio was reduced to whatever is on my P.O.S. phone which has a few songs by Brad Paisley, Patty Loveless, Big and Rich and Beyonce' (meow meow kitty meow meow!). Anyhow, knowing that dad wouldnt appreciate the grand curvature of Beyonce's urban tone, I elected for some Patty. So we each played our own separate versions of a couple of games of Solitaire. Then nigh on about nine-ish, with our bellaye's full of fried shhicken, we turned in for the night. It's important to note, that running two lights, the radio, and the heater all night, I was still pleased to awaken to two full batteries charged and ready in the morning. Something which we'd not previously enjoyed.
So the next morning, we took a walk around the mountain (cowboy boots are NOT made for walking, I dont care WHAT Nancy Sinatra says!). Then Bert, or Vern, or Brett or whatever his name that delivers gravel called. We hoofed it back to the lot and then saddled up Big Green to meet him at the highway. Oh, of important note is that on the first night we went and met the neighbors the Bud N_______ Klan. So, if you've ever heard that song about Marie La Voux, well I met her at Bud's place. Poor kid was maybe in her early thirties but had this witchy woman hair that was all ratted out. Wearing a black robe and I am relatively sure missing at least five of her main toothens in the frontal region. Anyhow, Maggie, our dog wouldnt get close to her. To be honest, I kept my distance a little too. I dont care if she offered me a million dollars that'll make me rich...all I could think was, "OOOOooooohhhhh WEEEEE! Another man done gone!"
So, we filled up around 100 gallons of fresh water betwixt my 55 gallon barrel and the two 25 gallon barrels in the back of the truck. Bud is a great guy, about 75 years old and just like an old farmer. Every word out of him you have to pry out. He's not exactly forth-coming or spewing-forth and effervescent stream of mental conciousness. I think he plans each and every word out as though he was being interviewed by the State Police over some missing teenagers or something. Anyhow, as another side-note, not ONE person I've met out there as my neighbors are in anyway right in the head. There's a guy across the street, "Kerry". He's a fanatic when it comes to kids riding their ATV's too fast up the road. He'll call the cops on you and everything. He lives there full-time and has a premanufactured home and a tidy yard. Seems nice, but I imagine him to be a Vietnam Vet who's now hiding from his past and the world.
Then there's the people above me that own the giant rocks. They are like two hippies that finally went sober and realized it was 1980, only it's now 2011. The man looks like Santa in the off-season. He builds high-end furniture for famous people in Park City, and she, "Mrs. Claus" just talks and talks and talks. I finally zoned her out but she's very nice. Oh, lest I forget Mr. W_____. He lives across the way above Kerry. He and Kerry dont get along on account of Mr. W's son is a ne'er do-well and still lives at home in his thirties. He has parties and some get out of control probably listening to Motley Crue or maybe even Poison. Some real heavy metal devil worshipper stuff I'm sure. Anyhow, Mr. W apparently watched us from his deck using high-power binoculars which sorta..weirds you out.
So, last Fall while I was up there, we cut in (well Bud's brother Bill did) about an 80'x80' patch out of the sage to park the trailer. It became readily apparent after the first bought of wind and the second bought of rain that leaving it as a patch of dirt was a non-starter. So the whole quest for the day was to lay down about five loads of gravel and or roadbase. I expected about 150/truck, but it turned out to be 200/truck. I elected to go with 1 1/2" minus road base. Which, you dont care, but it's easier to drive on and doesnt migrate into the soil we alluded to earlier. (There's a test on this so dont fall asleep here).
Anyhow, I could only afford five loads this trip. We spread it out, well, the guy dropped it as best he could and we chained Bud's "Skid" behind Big Green and cut various patterns and circles trying to level it out. Well after about two hours of making ever-and-ever different patterns in it, I ran low focus and told dad we're headed to Duchesne to get some chocolate cookies or something. So it's about twenty minutes into Duchesne. I knew they roll up the sidewalks about eight p.m. so we hustled on down to, "Al's Foodtown".
Well we went up and down all six isles in Al's and picked up all the stuff in the trailer we'd identified shortages of. I dont wanna brag, but I bought some cutlery, some oil, some pancake/waffle/biscuit mix and some bacon eggs, and some of those cookies that look like oreos but have a lighter cookie on the one side. I dont know what the name of them are, but they really suck. I should have spent the extra buck and grabbed the name brand Oreo's. Anyhow, I dropped 96 bucks there at Al's. The teller looked bored at our jokes and after the third attempt at making her laugh I realized that she just might be related to Mr. W so the joking best be kept to a minimum.
The next day, we got up, emptied the re...oh wait. So dad rigged a twelve-volt pump to get the water out of our mobile tanks and into the trailer. However, the lines that he bought kept collapsing so we made a run back to Duchesne to their Ace Hardware Store. It's a pretty sweet setup, and they have rows and rows of stuff you dont need, and none of the stuff you do. So we trucked on over to the IFA (yes, an IFA!) and looked for some new Carhardt gear for dad. See, I'd made the mistake of letting him know his azz was hanging out of his current set. So after the third store looking for name-brand Carhardt, we elected to have the "Buffet" at the local greasy-spoon.
So in Maggies, or Marges, or Rosie's or whoever's diner, I had the Navajo Taco, and dad had the Kung PAO! Chicken. I told him that's what George Costanza always gets and he was sold. So we sat at the bar and joked with Maggie, or Marge, or..Rosie and choked down some of the local cuisine. So I dropped twenty bucks on lunch. Then we stopped at the gas station and I put anothe 99.66 in the tank and headed back to the lot. Oh, dad came too. (wearing the same ass-less Carhardts you once heard about).
Anyhow, after a day and a half of not being with Stacey, I was getting lonely. I mean, dad was there, but I realized I really like sharing that place with my lover girl. I mean I seriously missed her. That queen sized bed was nice, and I slept all night uninterupted, but...I sorta missed the "ugghhh...ouch" of a pregnant lady getting up for the third time to check the teething baby, or more likely empty her two-ouce bladder.
So, I guess if I had to be honest, I had a decent time. I really enjoyed time with my dad. But, our lot has really become a place that I can share with Stacey the things I like to do. I like to putter around and make stuff for the kids. I like knocking down sage brush. I like building play-houses for the kids. I guess the lot represents a new start for Stacey and I. It's kind of like...a new canvas on which to paint. It's really been a God-send for us this past year. When things down here in the flats were so oppressive, we could always escape there and just be together as a family. In fact, right now, there's a song on the radio, "I dont have to be me till Monday". Sort of fits the mood of what I'm trying to get across. When we head out the the lot, it can be a huge pain in the butt. Just getting four kids, a dog, a wive, six bags of clothing, 150.00 in groceries, three bikes, and whatever else we can stuff in the truck is huge pain. But once we're there, none of this other stuff matters.
I guess I like having a place like that. I love getting up Saturday morning and making bacon and listening to the radio. I love running the generator that afternoon. I love yelling at that stupid dog so she doesnt chase the errant horse, or the deer. I love that the kids can climb all over those rocks and see the glint in Josh's eye when he asks me when we're going to finish his play house. Speaking of which, right now, as I type, Grandpa Clint is working on welding a swingset for me to affix to the play house. Right now there's an elevated platform, a 4x4 play house atop it and a semi-finished deck. By this Fall we'll have a three place swing set and if I can...ahem..."swing" it, a teeter-totter. Big dreams I tell ya.
Anyhow, I have to go help Stacey get ready for the party now. I haven't really said anything of any real import anyhow. I hope you have a great day. I hope that your Saturday is a fantastic, bright and blue-sky type Saturday. I hope you grill up some brautworst. I hope you push your kids in a swing, I hope you smile and laugh and enjoy this day. I gotta run now, but try to be good kids and live a little at the same time.
I'm off to pull the grill around the house and straighten up the garage. Make sure you call your mom tomorrow and lay it on real thick how great she is. Oh, just a side note, Josh just called from shooting clay pigeons with my dad. He won a turkey. I told you that kid can shoot. I'm so dang proud of him. Maybe I'll make him a swing set or a climbing wall for that play house to reward him.
OK, gotta run guys. All the best.
Yer Bud,
J
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