The Miracle That Is Red Barn Movers...More Than Strong Guys And A Truck

 After you make the big decision, a lot of little decisions come next. When moving, one of those decisions is whether or not to hire someone else to load up your stuff, haul it to the new location, and unload it for you.

We decided to spend the money and hire a company of movers. The company we chose was Red Barn Movers.

It was the best decision we could have made.

We're new to the whole moving thing, as evidenced by how much stuff we have. Sure, we had a yard sale and sent stuff to the thrift store, but, oh, the sheer amount of stuff we have. It's almost embarrassing. 

I'm glad we picked this particular company. Red Barn Movers is not just a service to help people move. They also help those doing the moving. From their website (you can access their site by clicking: HERE):

Red Barn Movers is a training school at Red Barn Academy. We use hard work, discipline, and integrity to correct unhealthy behaviors. Let Red Barn Movers move your home, and move you. We promise a fast, careful, efficient, and professional move. We always show up prepared and ready for the task at hand. All proceeds go directly to Red Barn Academy (non-profit). The proceeds are used to feed, clothe and house our students who are changing behaviors and rebuilding their lives. The program is free of charge to our students and their families. We do not accept government funding of any kind; we are completely funded by our own hard work. We are not in the business of making money; we are in the business of saving lives. Call 801-419-1945 for any questions and to schedule a free in home estimate.

I've rarely seen men work so hard. They were literally running in our house, up and down stairs, moving those boxes out with incredible speed. And they kept working hard until the last box, the last item was out of their trucks and in our new home.

Amazing.

I would recommend their services for their mission alone, but the fact they gave excellent customer service was a bonus. If you're in the need of movers, consider Red Barn. They'll help you out, but more importantly, you'll be making a difference in other's lives.

Red Barn Movers, more than strong guys and a truck.

Sometimes...You Just Need To Devour A Big Bowl Of Ice Cream

After dinner and dishes, I looked for something to do, as if there's not a million things I could do. I thought I'd watch the presidential debate, but after the first question, I turned it off...I just couldn't do it.

I know--shower.

And yes, that helped, but I needed something more, something both filling and fulfilling.

I walked to the freezer, opened the drawer, dug deep, and retrieved Breyers Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. That definitely hit the spot.

With so much crap going on in the world, I think we would all be better served if we served ourselves ice cream at least five times a week. Some may require more servings, others less. Of course, many can't enjoy Breyers Mint Chocolate Chip ic cream, you know, for health reasons. Truth be told, eating ice cream is probably not all that healthy, but if you count mental health, well...who can argue with science?

Exactly.

I'm sure there are literally millions of people pulling their hair out watching TV tonight. Me...nope. And not just because I don't have hair. I'm trying to not let people have the power to control my emotions. So, as people want to influence me and make me do/feel the way they want me to do/feel, I'd rather eat ice cream. It could probably result in world peace, if we all just gave it a try.

 

It Is Over...We Are Exhausted

 Tonight, we drove back into town to clear out the old house. We moved Saturday, but as we founded the final bend on Main Street and descended toward the city center, it felt like we'd been gone a month. We had to return to do a little cleaning and pick up other things we forgot to take.

We're exhausted.

It's been such a surreal experience, waking up the first time in the new home and realizing this is the new normal. I know I've blogged many times about this change in our lives, and I apologize I haven't been more diverse in my blog post topics, but this move has enveloped us, surrounded us, consumed us and now, after driving away and saying, "Everyone say, 'By house,'" after which we said, "By house," we realized, it's over.

Thank you to all our neighbors. Thank you for those who assisted in the move. Thank you for making our lives and the lives of our children a blessed time. I have no idea what's ahead. Personally, I think that's for the best (it's not good to know too much about your future...). All I know is, I am the person I am because of that town, that street, that house. And that person is tired and ready for bed.

Adventure is out there! Time to go find it.

Location, Location, Location...Works Every Time

 

 Earlier in the week we drove around the neighborhood one last time and stopped to talk to many neighbors. There are some wonderful people living in those streets at the base of the Davis County mountains. 

I had seen the pink Jeep a few days before. It looked like a US Mail Jeep, meaning the driver sat on the opposite side--England Style--than cars in America. The color and the big speaker on top gave it away--someone's planning on selling ice cream. When we spoke to Charity, the owner, my suspicions were confirmed.

Saturday morning was total chaos at our house. We had several burley dudes from Red Barn Movers literally running through our house, upstairs, downstairs, main level--it was exhausting just watching them. Then, I heard the music, soft at first, then it grew. I knew instantly what and who it was.

The pink Jeep came musically rolling down our street.

I know it wasn't a park full of tired, soccer-playing kids and their equally tired parents hungry for a delicious diversion, but I decided to treat the the movers anyway. I bought something for each worker, and one for myself.

Location, location, location.

I don't know if Charity came by because we were moving, or if she just looked down the end of 325 East as she drove by and decided to turn in. Either way, I'm glad she did. I'm glad I could do something for the boys who worked so hard for us.

I'm glad someone had a dream to do something different, something fun and took a chance. And I hope she has many more successful weekends selling treats to the masses.

And I hope that music doesn't drive her crazy.

When You See A McLaren Parked On The Street...You Take A Picture

 As I drove from our street on my way to new adventures, I spotted something orange parked on the hill. Since there was no other cars coming or going, I slowed down to see if I could identify the make.

McLaren.

The fact that I had to slow down reinforced something I already knew...I don't know my supercars. Sure, Ferrari and Lamborghini have distinct looks. I suppose you could say so does McLaren. Back in the day, I used to check out the car magazines at the local drug store. That was about the only way to really catch up on the latest supercar news.

I was never so obsessed that I knew every line, every curve of every car. Sure, I had my favorites, but I never had a poster of a car on my wall growing up (truth be told, I didn't have many posters on my walls growing up...). Part of the reason I didn't go full fan-boy over cars like some of my friends was because I didn't see the point of it. I mean, more than likely, I was never going to be able to afford those cars, anyway. That turned out to be true.

I think part of the reason, or much of the reason in some cases, for buying a car like this is because people look at it. And when they look at it and you're in it, they look at you. It says something about the person in the car and the person looking.

Today, I slowed down, stopped, lowered my window and took a picture. I guess both the owner and the admirer were doing their part.

Good-Bye Street...It's Been An Adventure

 Today, as we grabbed every unboxed thing and shoved it into a box, I took a break and walked to the end of my street and snapped a single picture.

My street...

Soon, it won't be my street anymore.

My family moved to this street when I was four-years old. I remember some things. I remember the road was dirt and where homes and grass grow, there stood cherry and apricot trees. In fact, where I stood to take the picture was about twenty feet underground. There were no homes between the Warnocks to the west and the Kennards to the east. We built, then the Bargers, then the Seeleys, then others. Most have gone, some remain.

That was fifty years ago.

We're about to dismantle our bed so it will be easier for the movers to shove it into a big box on wheels and ship it sixty miles north, our lives, our memories of seventeen years and more in two trucks. We'll leave behind an empty house and a bit of our hearts.

It wasn't always great--both my parents died in the house my father began to build. I miss them. With us going, no Taylors will live on 325 East anymore. I'm sad, but excited. I'm nervous, but calmed in knowing it is time.

Good-bye, Farmington. We've loved you and you've treated us well. On to the next!

What Would We Do...Without Cellphones?

 I was looking through my camera roll and I came across a random photo I took when I was at The Home Depot last week. At first, I did not remember why I took it--I take a lot of pictures for possible blog post topics. So, I wasn't sure about this photo of Dish Packing Kits. Was I going to write about the joys of packing (like I did yesterday), or how it's interesting that they market packing kits in packing kits?

Then, it hit me...I took this picture because I was unsure, unsure of whether or not this was the exact item I had been sent to fetch. Turns out, it was. Then I realized just how important cellphones are in our modern society. Sure, they save lives and record daily events, but they do other important things, too.

Like, help a husband remember what he was supposed to buy.

Using my grandpa voice (I'm not a grandpa, but many my age and younger are...), I remember back in the day when ,if you didn't have a list and things written on that list, you relied solely on memory. And, as we all know, shinny things can be distracting and memory pays the price. I thought back on many a time I forgot what I was supposed to get, bought what I thought I was supposed to get, then returned to the store to purchase what I was supposed to get the first time.

Modern technology comes with a price--more hectic lives, relying on phones for everything, but it also helps out a husband when he's sent to The Home Depot for dish packing kits and he makes sure it's the right thing before he even leaves the parking lot.

OCD...And The Art Of Cardboard Box Assembly

 Why?

I've been asking myself that a lot lately. 

Why?

Why is it I'm so particular about putting a cardboard box together?

If you look at the above picture, you'll see the "how not to put a cardboard box together" example. This is the bottom of the box. Of course, you have to tape the top of the box once it's filled with files, dishes, tape measures, junk drawer contents, etc. In some ways, taping up the top of a box is a little easier than the bottom. When you're putting the bottom together, it's very unstable...edges tend to not come together the way they should.

We haven't packed in almost two decades. And the last time we moved, we only had to cross the street. Now, we've got to put everything we own in boxes that will go in trucks and be moved across the state. When moving, if you like things to be "just so," there's many many things that aren't "just so" that can drive you nuts. There comes a point where you just throw your hands in the air and accept whatever is thrown at you, be it not knowing how you're going to get everything on that truck, or the corners of the underside of a box don't line up correctly.

This is a small thing--almost imperceptible. I know this and I've assembled so many imperfect boxes in the past couple of weeks, and I'll most likely do even more before this whole adventure is over. Such is life...

Sometimes the edges just don't line up.

Twenty-Eight Years...

Twenty-Eight Years...

How things have changed.

Each year I look at this picture and see people no longer with us. My mom, Blain, Pat, the Blacks, Koralee, Zack, Darren. In the past year Beth, too. Both my brother and sister are holding babies that now have children of their own, as well as those adorable kids on the front row...almost all of them parents. 

Of course, Lynda and I have changed, too. We’re older, hopefully wiser. After this picture was taken, we moved six times (the last time in 2003...) and in a couple of days, six will become seven. We’ve had four amazing kids.

Next month, we’ll get dressed up again. Our oldest is getting married. Because of the way things are, we won’t be assembling the way we did in 1992. Many will be joining online, an option not available back then. The purpose will be the same, however. To celebrate a new union, a new family, a new adventure.

Twenty-eight years. It’s been a wild ride! Thank, Lynda for taking it with me.

What I See...When I Look East

I have lived—off and on—on the same street for half a century. When you live in the same place for that long, you get used to the view. What we see looking west is incredible, the sunsets, the storm rolling in, but the mountains to the east are incredible, too—sometimes more so.

Tonight, the mountain displayed its autumn colors, not as brilliant as other years, but beautiful none the less. Ever since I was a little kid, there’s been some rock formations I’ve identified—they look like things to me. Maybe you’ll see them too, maybe not. That’s okay. We all see things differently.

Here’s what I saw tonight, and what I’ve seen so many times in the last five decades.

First...well, there’s Flag Rock. We have an excellent view of the formation. What impresses me most is that for a few miles north or south, if you’re at a certain elevation, Flag Rock rises like a huge stone pimple on the mountain face. It’s something many Farmingtonites know, like a stone lighthouse hundreds of feet above.

The next thing I see is what I think looks like an old football helmet. I call it the Football Helmet Rock Formation (original, I know...). The flat surface must be a shear wall, and big. I can’t see anything else when I look at it.

Then, there’s the rock formation above Patsy’s Mine. I’ve heard from many that the mine’s now sealed up. I’m sure they have their reasons for doing this and to them, the reasons are good. To me, I’m sad to know hundreds—maybe even thousands of kids—will no longer have the thrill of seeing just how deep they can venture into the mine before turning back.

There’s a couple of other things I see. A little south of those three I can spot what looks like an old craggy face. It wasn’t until the Harry Potter films came along that I realized the rock looks like a hat-less Sorting Hat. Still, it’s always had that crooked smile I love.

A little down from the face is another face. This time I see what could be a face—maybe a George Washington face—in the mountain. The eye socket and nose are definitely there.

And last, the hill is covered with huge fields of rocks, places where bigger rocks succumbed to nature and have gathered together. It’s hard to see from this angle, but I always thought this lower rock field looks like a running dog, some sort of terrier.

There’s so much I’m going to miss when we pack up and drive away later this week. This mountain and the things I see is definitely one of them.

Almost A Week W/O My Computer...How Will I Survive?

I think I knew about the recall months ago. I was bored and I searched “MacBook Recalls” on the Apple site. I entered in my laptop’s serial number and, Bingo—we have a match! Turns out my little computer was eligible for a new battery.

Great, because my battery has been showing signs of age lately. However, since there is opposition in all things, getting a new battery means I had to take in my computer and leave it for a few days.

Bummer.

Especially since I need to post a picture daily and post a daily blog.

I wasn’t completely without options. I could use my wife’s computer, or my son’s or daughter’s. That would mean I’d have to log on to my gmail account on their machines. No, I have an iPad and time. Last night I had to write my first post on the old iPad.

Good thing I had the time.

As much as I love my iPad, trying to type on that thing is less than pleasurable. It’s downright difficult. Tonight, I’m using a little Bluetooth keyboard I bought years ago at our local thrift store. And, I must say, even though it’s small, the individual keys work and it’s making this entry much faster.

When I took in my computer, they asked if I wanted it mailed back to me. I asked how long that would take for me to get it back (because we’re moving soon...). They said Tuesday or Wednesday. Since I live only a mile or so from the store, I asked if I could just come in and pick up my computer when it was done. They said, “Sure, but it will take longer.”

That made no sense. They said if I pick it up, it won’t be done until Friday. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for that, but I don’t what it is.

So far, so good. I’m keeping up on the picture posting and blog writing. But, I’ll be glad when I get back my computer.

Look—We’re Distanced, And Back On The Air!

We noticed it first on Wheel of Fortune. The contestants were apart. After seeing the show for years and years, the change was apparent. Of course, they announced that due to COVID, changes had taken place. The host no longer went over to congratulate the winners and console the non-winners. 

Then came Jeopardy. Same thing, though, I believe they were farther apart. And keeping their host away from everyone is literally a matter of life and death. 

Later that night came the next season of Dancing With the Stars. The judges might as well been on each corner of the dance floor. 

 Those three shows played back-to-back. My wife recorded a taping of Hallmark Channel’s morning show, Home and Family. Once again, distanced. To be honest, I was so glad each of these shows were back on the air. It means work for hundreds of people and entertainment for even more. Hopefully, as time goes on, we’ll all be able to come back together...

Literally. 

Not Somebody That I Used To Know...But Some Place That I Used To Live

 We've been doing a lot of driving lately. That happens when you're about to move seventy miles to the north. It's a whole new world up there, a world we don't know very well. For decades I've known about a mountain pass linking Tremonton to Cache Valley, but I've never taken it.

That' changed last week.

We needed to be at the new house for some installations. We had time between appointments so we decided to take a little drive. That upper pass sounded like a perfect trip. It was beautiful. I've been to Logan Utah and Cache Valley numerous times, but I never drove west of the main drag. It's an amazing world out there, one I didn't expect.

Because we were in Logan, I had to drive past my first college apartment, just below campus and Old Main--a tri-plex built probably around the 1950s or 1960s, maybe even earlier. I moved into that apartment (bottom left, under the stairs...) the fall of 1984, a few months after I graduated from high school. I had three roommates who I knew very well--my brother, my brother's best friend, and a mutual friend from St. George and Lagoon.

My first college experience was a lot of fun. I was not a stellar high school student and I carried that reputation over to higher education. The classes were tougher, but I enjoyed them. I loved the purpose of learning, of being educated. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but since I was only going to be there a couple of months, I didn't have to worry about that.

Back then, Utah State University was on the quarter system. My first college experience only lasted about ten weeks, then I left for my LDS mission to Denmark. I hope I never forget that almost broken-down place that didn't have a proper shower (so we made our own...), and where Corn Jelopy was made at least once a week.

I can't imagine how many students have lived in that particular apartment since December, 1984. It's almost a dizzying prospect to think of all the degrees, the broken dreams and hearts, of triumphs over completed courses, of new loves, of degrees earned and goals achieved.

The building still stands...a place I used to live.

Thanks Cousin, For The History Lesson...And The Reminder

My cousin Mark is a wise man.

I saw a post on his Facebook feed earlier today. I hope it's okay I'm sharing part of his message. I'm doing it because I think it's important. It's because we so easily forget what's important. He posted about the U.S. Constitution and he posted it on the document's anniversary.

Fifty-three years ago I delivered an oration to the Minidoka County, Idaho unit of the American Legion. In 1967, the assigned topic was Our Constitution, Worth Having, Worth Defending. Nancy Stallings and Pam Abo were also presenting that night. I focused on the importance of civil society’s involvement in promoting patriotism. At the age of 16, I sensed that defending the constitution was important, but my understanding was still relatively superficial. Today my sensitivity to the active issues is more widely and deeply developed, but the importance of the institutions of civil society: the churches, the schools, and the voluntary organizations is still one of my principle beliefs.

On this anniversary of the signing of the Constitution, I listened to a presentation given at BYU, via ZOOM, by Rabbi Jonathan H. Sacks, Baron Sacks. Although it wasn’t his only, or even primary topic, he discussed the difference between contract and covenant. He said a contract is an agreement between individuals in their self-interest, a quid pro quo, if you will. On the other hand a covenant is a joint pledge of loyalty and fidelity, and he mentioned the founding documents of the United States as a premier example of covenant. He mentioned several documents from our founding: the Mayflower Compact, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution as the basis of our covenant. He quoted these words from the beginning of the Declaration: “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—” Then, there are the words at the end: “And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm Reliance on the Protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.” This encapsulated the founding covenant of 1776.

The very beginning of the Constitution again sounds in covenant: “We the People of the United States” form, establish, insure, provide, promote, and secure the critical objectives of the new government, and then “do ordain and establish this Constitution of the United States of America.” A people covenanting in explicit writing to undertake vigorous action on behalf of a nation.

My thought this Constitution Day is that we should see our individual obligations as covenant obligations to our fellow citizens. Loyalty and fidelity to each other can work; our form of government cannot succeed in an atmosphere of hate and violence.

I've been out of public schools for decades and because we've homeschooled for over twenty years, I don't know what things are being taught in schools today. I could surmise what is being taught from things my friends say, friends who do have kids in school, but that's not fair.

I hope they're teaching about the U.S. Constitution and why it's important. I hope the children learn that without this and other documents, the world would be much different.

I asked my cousin if I could share his story. He agreed. I wanted to wish the Constitution a happy birthday. Thanks, Mark--for the speech back then, and for the reminder today.

Netflix's "The Social Dilemma"...Frighteningly Enlightening

 I heard about this documentary a few days ago. I had time to watch it today.

I wish I had watched it a few days ago.

In fact, I wish I had watched it--or known about this stuff--years ago.

Netflix's The Social Dilemma casts light on how social media works, how it operates, and--as if it's a living breathing life form--how it survives and thrives.

It's terrifying.

I think we all know that we're being tracked. We're being recorded. We're being spied upon. Even the most non-conspiracy theorist acknowledges this. Our technology allows this to happen--only to what degree could be in question. Whistleblowers have proven the government has access to all this data. But, where and how did they get it?

Social media has helped.

The Social Dilemma doesn't necessarily dwell on how the information is gathered, but focuses more on why. And once you know the "why," the rest is human nature and A.I. taking its natural course. The film is a series of interviews from people who helped build Facebook, Google, Instagram, Pinterest, and other sites. They explain how the data is used to increase our addiction to their sights. Even though I've suspected what the site do and how they operate, I learned a lot about other things going on behind the scenes.

My wife pointed out something--she watched it, too. Netflix uses some of the same methods to get us addicted to their site...darn binge-ible shows!

Watch the show. You'll never look at your phone the same again.

Knight (Not Napoleon...), Give Me Some Of Your Tots

 Last week was harvest time at the Taylors. Our massive potato field needed to be gleaned of the golden vegetables. It ended a scientific and culinary experiment. Can we grow potatoes in a home garden?

The answer is yes. It can be done.

These aren't all the potatoes we found--others fulfilled their destiny and became food, but those remaining were cleaned and prepared for yet another meal, or snack, or side dish.

I have many cousins, and many of them grew up in Idaho. Back then, you could get your driver's license at age fourteen. There were restrictions, of course. If I remember correctly, a fourteen-year old could not drive at night. Why did Idaho allow such early driving?

Farmwork.

You got to harvest those potatoes. 

I remember in parts of the state, kids even had school canceled so they could help with the harvest. I waas always a bit envious of my cousins until one fall I happened to be visiting family during the potato harvest season and I saw how much work it took to bring those spuds in. It's a LOT of work. I think days of legal underage driving and time off for the potato harvest are long past. Still, I'm sure many a forty to sixty-year old Idaho native remembers those days.

We didn't know what we were doing when we planted several potato starts in our yard months ago. To be honest, I didn't know what I was doing--my son Knight had researched what to do and his hard work paid off. I've had the fruits of his labors and he did well.

Soon, my son will be leaving the nest to create his own household. I'm not sure where they'll end up--not sure if they exactly know themselves, and that's okay. They'll figure it out. I also wonder if they'll plant potatoes next spring.

Time will tell.

A Touch Of Normalcy...At The Home Depot

 You've seen them, and even though you may think they're gauche, obnoxious, or tacky, you've seen them. They appear before holidays like Christmas and Halloween.

They're those inflatables people have in their front yards.

I can't think of other holidays, other than Halloween and Christmas that have inflatables, but I'm sure you can find them to celebrate Valentine's Day, Independence Day, maybe even Arbor Day (if that's a thing anymore...). Point is, if someone will buy it, someone will make it.

It's the American way.

The problem is, there's not a lot of things that make you feel like celebrating anymore. It seems like we're constantly being beat up by others and by ourselves. It feels like--to me--there are forces out there trying to make us feel this way, to feel defeated, to feel exhausted, to feel down.

So, when my wife and I entered The Home Depot last week to see if they had any generators because our power had been out for several day and we were trying to save two fridges of food (they didn't have any, by the way--we were hours late...), we looked up and saw something that made us feel like celebrating, made us--temporarily--forget all the crap we're getting shoveled upon our heads day after day.

We saw those big inflatables.

And they were fricking cool!

Like everyone else, we have no idea what Halloween will be like this year. I don't think many thought we'd even have to worry about Halloween when all this hit the fan back in March. But, here we are--six weeks out. Sure, the inflatables are expensive, but for us on that day without power, they represented a touch of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal world.

We didn't buy one (or several...). After all, we'd just have to put it on a moving truck and cart it north with everything else, and even if we did want to rush home and blow it up, we'd have had to string an extension cord from our neighbor's house to do it. Still...it might have been worth it, even at that, to feel good about something once again.

Another Kind Soul...Gone Too Soon

 If you're familiar at all with Facebook, you know you can be part of groups. There's a group--one of millions--that's dedicated to the 1984 graduating class of Davis High School.

We're one member smaller now.

But, the loss feels so much bigger.

Sam was not from Davis County originally, but a transplant from another culture, another time. Back in the 1970s children from the Native American reservations were sent to live with host homes along the Wasatch Front. Our own family was chosen to host a student, but he did not get on the bus so we never had the opportunity. In hindsight, I don't know if the program did more good or damage. You'd have to ask those directly involved. But, since it happened and the past cannot be changed, it really has no bearing. Except for the fact that had the program not existed, I would never have met Sam or Travis.

And I'd be the poorer for it.

Like other members of the Facebook Davis High School Class of 1984 group who have left us, Sam made a premature departure. The world could definitely use him more than ever. I knew Sam as a shy, quiet kid in jr. high and high school. In reading his Facebook home page, those who knew him after high school had nothing but wonderful and glowing things to say about him. They spoke of their admiration for him, of his dedication to others, of his kindness, generosity, and authenticity...three pure and important traits. Others credited his example for changing their own lives. Many followed in his footsteps. In short, his life meant so much to so many.

His was a life that made a difference--a difference for good. A better epitaph cannot be written.

I wish I could have hung out with him before he passed. It's too bad I have to keep writing that same sentence whenever someone I know passes away. Such is the craziness of life, I suppose. We barely have time for our immediate family, let alone all the friends of our past. Still, the wish remains the same.

Sam lived in two worlds, two cultures, two lifetimes. He had friends and family in each. Now, both worlds mourn and wish things were different. I'm glad he reached out to me on Facebook years ago. I'm glad he and I shared the experience of growing up in small-ish town Utah. I'm glad he made the lives of those around him better. I'm sad he's passed and I wish he were still with us.

The world is better because of Sam.

The world is less because he's gone.

One Loft Bed W/Desk...To A Good Home

For the past two days, we've held a yard sale at our house. Yesterday was a bust, but this morning...well, it more than made up for it. We've held yard sales in the past--this one was our most successful.

There's a couple of things I've learned from this latest adventure:

1. No matter how much "quality" items one has, some people will look, then drive away.

2. No one needs bookshelves.

3. Things we think no one would want were taken.

4. Things we think would fly off the driveway sometimes don't get sold.

5. A Free Pile is extremely interesting to almost all yard sale patrons...especially to those of the male persuasion.

Let's focus on #4. Because we're moving to a home without tall ceilings, we need to off-load a loft bed. It's from IKEA. It's a full and it comes with a desk. And I thought someone would cart if off to make some kid's day. We started off with a price we felt was reasonable. No takers, no nibbles. For Day 2, we reduced the price of the bed (and everything else...) by half. Still nothing.

Currently, the bed is in our garage waiting to be disassembled and taken to our local thrift store.

Unless, of course, anyone out there wants, or think they can use, it. Let us know, and it's yours. You'll have to come get it--we can't deliver. But hurry, our appointment with the local thrift store is next Friday.

We learned a lot from our little sale. Perhaps the biggest thing we learned is this: don't let the crap accumulate in the first place, then a sale will not be necessary. 

From Boom...To Bust

 With no power at home, I had to dress professionally (collard shirt, no jeans...), get in my car, and drive to the building where I once worked, where I used to dress professionally, get in my car, and drive every work day.

It's been a while.

And, boy--how things have changed.

My first thought, as I turned at the traffic light on my way to the office is, "I'm going to have to park in the far lot." I was several hours late. We hoped the power would come back on, so I waited a few hours in the morning before I decided to drive into work.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I realized I didn't have to park far away. In fact, I could park almost anywhere. The lot was practically empty. And when I went inside, the shock continued. The place was a ghost town.

That particular call center and I have an interesting history. Back in the day, we could work in local offices, so I worked in Woods Cross, the office closest to me. Then, I moved to Clearfield--the office next closest to me. After executive changes were made, we had to choose to work in one of the newly-created call centers, in Ogden, Salt Lake City, or Provo. Since I live equidistant from Ogden and Salt Lake, I chose Ogden. I had visited the Salt Lake Call Center only a few times and the place was a zoo. So many workers were packed in small cubicles--and the noise. It was just so busy.

Those days may be gone forever.

It was so strange to be in a building that only months earlier was active, busy, involved...basically alive. Now, they even had the lights dimmed for most of the floor. There were a few people working there, but row after row of cubicles were empty. The weirdest thing was passing a cubicle where the worker left all their personal items on their desk and on their walls. The only thing missing was their computer and monitors. It was like they just vanished.

Almost like a corporate rapture had taken place.

Part of what I love about telecommuting is the serenity, the quiet, the peacefulness I experience at home. I've got to say, working in an empty building matched most of those qualities. Still, I don't know if I could get used to it.

It was just too weird.

Journal Writing...By Candlelight

All in all, we were extremely...what's the word: fortunate, lucky, blessed? Whatever word you use, our family escaped the Great Wind of '20 with only minor inconveniences.

The lack of power for thirty-six hours was our biggest problem.

It's amazing how a little thing like losing power makes you realize how incredibly unprepared we are if something really big were to happen. Food shortages earlier in the year was a good start to this fact. The country almost stopped functioning due to a shortage of toilet paper.

And so, Tuesday night while hoards of people were scrambling to get power restored to the masses, my family gathered in the front room surrounded by candles and flashlights and I was writing a journal entry by candlelight.

Last night, thankfully, the power was restored. That was heaven-sent. 

When the power was out and we were shuffling food back and forth from our house to my mother-in-law's to try and save as much as possible, my son said that we weren't very prepared. He noted that the lack of power was causing us so much trouble.

My son's very preceptive.

Tonight, after I finish up this post, I'll pull out my journal and under the soft glow of electric light, I'll record my day's activities. Still, writing by candlelight was cool. I just hope I don't have to do it much in the future.