Truckless In A Truck-Filled World

 I've been posting a daily picture on social media for over thirteen years. Every once in a while, a photo will generate some conversation on the interwebs. I like it when that happens...it means something I did caused others to take action, even if it's only posting a simple comment.

A few weeks ago I left church and noticed something funny...my little Subaru dwarfed by large pickup trucks, in a row, in the church parking lot. I should admit something here. I actually set up the picture--not completely--but subtly. When I pulled up to park, there were three trucks already backed in and waiting for their drivers to return after the meetings were over. There was one spot in between two of the trucks, so I backed in. I laughed when I came out...several other trucks had lined up.

I snapped a picture...

And posted it.

It was funny, but the photo also shows something about where we now live. I joke that we're "truckless in a truck-filled world." It's not completely true--not everyone owns a truck--but it certainly feels that way sometimes. Trucks are incredible machines. They serve an important function in our society, especially up here. I don't bemoan anyone who has a truck. Heck, I'd like to be numbered in their ranks, but for now, I love seeing Donk, my little Subaru parked wheel-to-wheel with the big boys. Now, Donk can't tow a travel trailer, or pull other trucks out of a ditch, but it'll get me home on snowy roads and do it using less gasoline.

Yes, my little car looks strange among the giants, but for me, I believe it belongs.

Gliding You Hand Over A Finished Puzzle...Why Is It So Satisfying?

 We finished the last of a four-puzzle set yesterday. They were good puzzles...challenging, deceptive. We saved the one we thought would be the easiest for last. It turned out to be the most difficult. Through trial and error, we persevered and got it done.

Finished.

Why is gliding your hand over a finished puzzle so satisfying?

Maybe it's the tactile feeling fingers finding the ridges between the individual pieces, the bumps and dips created by the interlocking puzzle. Then again, maybe it's because after spending all that time of trying to manipulate the pieces until they find their home, there's a sense of accomplishment that comes through when you slide your hands over the finished product.

I don't know what it is, but it's real.

We're not the biggest puzzlers in the world, but when we finish one, we join others who are. I wonder if others like gliding their hands over a finished puzzle, too...

I'm guessing, they do.

Give Thanks--I Thought We Were Done With These...Nope

 Last week my wife and I sat on uncomfortable bleachers and watched teams of teenagers complete in a dance competition...

We thought we were done with all that.

We were wrong.

That's not necessarily a bad thing.

My daughter's been involved in ballroom dance for almost a decade. She's graduated from student to teacher and last week we watched, not her dancing talents, but her teaching skills. She and her boyfriend teach a group of students from Central Utah and it was the dance troupe's first competition.

The kids did great.

When I say "we support our kid's activities," parents know exactly what I'm talking about. If they do sports, the parents/grandparents have spent time on either hard bleachers or uncomfortable lawn chairs. If they play music, you've sat for hours and hours on folding chairs or church pews, theater parents...theater chairs. We've sat and watched as our children/grandchildren hopefully improve their talents.

My daughter stopped competing years ago. People turned to her and her boyfriend to teach their children. Saturday was a start. I'm thinking we'll be attending more competitions in the future (we really should invest in those amazing stadium chairs that make everything better...). 

We're grateful we're able to still support our children in their endeavors. Sure, it's a different type of support, but support just the same. We thought we were done. Silly us.

Censorship...It's The New Black

 Why do we want to stop others from seeing things we ourselves don't want to see?

That's the question.

I suppose it's because we don't want people to think a certain way, to act a certain way, to speak a certain way. We want them to think the way we do, to act the way we do, to speak the way we do. How do we get others to obey, to conform?

We limit the information...

And everybody does it.

Do an internet search and enter the word, "Censor" and (depending on the search engine you use...), you'll see thousands of examples of censorship. The latest high-profile example is found in the literary world...the changing of author Roald Dahl's classic works. The political cartoon is from Jeff Stahler and it appeared in Logan Utah's Harold Journal.

I'm not an attorney. I'm not a psychologist. I'm not a historian. Others with more knowledge and experience will point out that changing Mr. Dahl's words is completely different from a company editing DVDs, and legally, they may be correct. However, the end result is the same. We're good and because we're good we need to change things to spread our goodness to others.

Of course, you can either approach censorship from a position of altruism or selfishness. It doesn't matter...the end result is the same. Both instances believe the receiver cannot--or should not--make decisions on their own. They need help. They need guidance. They need a manipulated message.

Whether or not those changing classic literature have the legal right to do what they're doing, they don't have the moral right to do it. They think they're helping. 

They're wrong.

My 10-Year Old Self Would Be Laughing So Much...

 During the great T.P. shortage of '20, some turned to alternative cleaning methods. Fortunately, we survived the paper dearth, as did so many others. One thing people used to survive the apocalypse was to install a sanitary item called a bidet.

We're now Bidet-ers.

And boy, my 10-year old self would be laughing his...butt off.

Actually, when I was 10, I had no idea what a bidet was. I think the first time I ever saw one was when I was in Europe...Denmark, specifically. I remember wondering what it was--the thing I was looking at. I had to ask someone what it was. The answer, admittedly, made me giggle a little inside.

A few months ago we did a little shopping in that particular department and we saw these bidets you can attach to a regular toilet. Our interests were piqued. The cost of the items at the hardware store caused us to search for other options.

Enter, Amazon.

We ordered one for a third of the cost. It arrived, we installed it, we use it.

And when I think about it, it still makes me giggle a little inside...

And outside.

Remembering Lagoon's Mini Golf Courses...Good Times

 I found an Instagram post while surfing the other day. It's from a good account, if you're a fan of Lagoon Amusement Park in Northern Utah. It's called Lagoon History, and you can access the Instagram account: HERE.

The posts takes me back. Lagoon was so much a part of my childhood. The latest post centered around a feature I loved, something I thought would last forever...the miniature golf course. The old timers (me, included...) remember the first course, but I spent more time on the second course.

If you go to the Instagram account, you can link to an incredible page of history, photos, and memories. You can access that webpage: HERE. They have pictures of the original course. I had forgotten most of those features.

The photo at the top of this post was taken from that website (it's the 8th hole, by the way...). Many of my friends and I would go to Lagoon and golf a round. We were very competitive in those days (my friends were all sports people who liked to win, myself included...). I filled out many a score card from that course.

If you remember the course, check out the sites. You'll be transported back in time as well.

A Follow Up...This Seems To Be Working

 A few days ago I posted a blog about bugs, more specifically, pesky gnats. We have been inundated with them, so much so, my wife and I would constantly try to kill them by clapping. We were, for the most part, unsuccessful. I wrote about the problem and several offered suggestions on how to win the tiny war.

While we were at the hardware store, I ventured over to the "How to Kill Small Bugs" section of the store and I spotted something I thought might work...sticky tape. It wasn't the things you hang down to catch flies (flies aren't due for several months...). No, this is tape you can hang and it will trap the buggers. 

I thought I'd give it a try.

Turns out, it's quite effective.

The proof is on the tape.

All those little specks on the photo are gnat corpses. And this is not the only tape we hung in our windows. Each of the three strips we set out contain dozens and dozens of expired bugs. Though I'm not a fan of death, I have to say seeing the evidence pleases me.

There are other things we still need to try (pennies, for example...), but as my wife and I sit in our main room tonight, there's a lot less applause...

And that's a good thing.

Watched Some Jai Alai The Other Day...A Bit Disappointing

 The other day, I was doing some channel surfing. I happened upon a sport I've only heard about, a sport that mildly fascinated me as a child, only because I used to love to read The Guinness Book of World Records.

Yes...the book of records.

These were pre-internet days, you understand. We had to take whatever interesting entertainment that came our way. The book of records transported youngsters to far away places full of interesting record-setting people. I distinctly remember pictures of sports figures playing Jai Alai. It was the big scoop attached to the player's arms that made it cool. Under the picture was the world record associated with the sport...

Jai Alai...the world's fastest sport.

It made sense. Basic physic tells you that an arm extension will increase the speed of whatever the arm is throwing. 

That was the extent of my knowledge of Jai Alai...

Until last week, when I finally saw the game in action. I've got to say, I was...underwhelmed.

For years I imagined a sport with lightning-speed objects flying all over the place in some Tron-like spectacle. The equipment almost guaranteed it. Plus, there's no place I knew of that even had a Jai Alai court--another reason there was a mysterious aspect to it all. The reality...it was more like handball, racketball, or squash but in a bigger room. After a few moments, I was bored.

Bummer.

Of course, my observations are from a novice. I'm sure those familiar with the sport find it enjoyable. I had built it up in my mind to be something it wasn't--not really the sport's fault. I should probably give it another chance. Who knows...maybe I'll like it.

War Of The (Tiny...) Worlds

 We thought they were fruit flies. They acted like fruit flies, looked like them, too. For the longest time we searched and searched for the source, but couldn't find it...we don't have a lot of fruit laying about. Then, we figured they're gnats.

Gnats.

Little buggers.

With fruit flies if you don't have fruit out, they can come from kitchen drains. Well, we can clean those and eliminate the problem. The problem with gnats is we don't know where they're coming from. I did a little research and found gnats can breed in damp soil. We have several indoor plants and I like to keep them well watered. The plants are thriving so I keep watering them. 

That is, until I read up about the gnats. I've reduced the water so there's not a lot of damp dirt...still got the gnats. We dug up an outdoor bug zapper and moved that inside...still got gnats. I even got packing tape and put it inside the potted plants around the roots...still got gnats.

There are other options out there. A good friend found an electronic indoor pest remover. We might get one, not sure yet. I saw another product at our local hardware store so we're trying that. I keep hoping things will get better. 

Maybe some Venus Fly Traps...

Or a lizard.

We've got to do something...we're losing the war.

Give Thanks...For The Differences Between Us

 Years ago, my good friend Bob and I had lunch together. It's something we've done many times. I enjoy our culinary get-togethers (and not just because he usually pays...). It's because I'm spending time with a person who has known me through most of the major milestones in my life...as a teenager, a co-worker (several times...), a university student, a newlywed, a new and old father. 

On one particular outing as we jibbered and jabbered, he asked if I has seen the film, Slumbdog Millionaire. I hadn't. Bob went on to tell me how impressed he was with the film. 

This past week I finally watched it.

I can see why it generated so much buzz at the time.

The film is one that remains with you--I can understand why my friend brought it up. It's one you think about, ponder. Of course, there's the obvious storyline with the game show, India's version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? As the game proceeds, so does the narrative. We learn about two brothers, Jamal and Salim. We learn of their life growing up in India and how they became the men they ultimately turned out to be.

Needless to say, the brothers's lives were horrendous. 

In the film, I watched these children be exploited, used, abused. I thought of my childhood, only a few years earlier. Nothing in my life came close to the hardships they endured. I know it's a fictional story, but I believe the conditions seen in the film existed and were perhaps worse than what we saw. Children are resilient, but we all have our limits.

Even though my childhood was nothing like those in the film, we experience the pains, the joys, the good, and the bad. I am grateful for the differences...they make us who we are and who we will ultimately become. 

Did Something I Never Do...Wrote Down A Dream

 I'm guessing you've heard the old adage before...if you want to remember your dreams, have a pad of paper (or a digital equivalent...) on your nightstand and jot down whatever it is you want to remember, be it a dream or a million-dollar idea, or basically anything you don't want to forget.

With me and dreams, they are usually so vivid that when I wake up, I'm almost always sure I'll remember them. Of course, this is when I've just woken up from slumber so my judgement is definitely impaired. When I want to go back and remember the dream or thought, for either my own enjoyment or to relate my dream(s) to others, inevitably, I've forgotten it which surprises me because I was sure those dreams were unforgettable.

This morning, at exactly 5:51am, I rolled over and grabbed my phone. After activating the Note App, I jotted down the basics of my latest dream. Basically, it went like this:

My boss from work and I had to do site visits. We traveled south (for me, north for him...), to Farmington. Davis County was so overrun with homes in my dream, as it is in real life, so much so that people were putting homes everywhere, even a mansion built of wood in the shape of a huge sailing vessel suspended under a bridge. The house was so magnificent that I had to stop and see if I could see what was inside. Climbing along the side of the suspended boat/house, I looked inside the kitchen then the pet room. 

About this time, my boss somehow disappeared and I was by myself.

Soon after, I got an invitation to attend a social event at another friend's house. This particular friend is someone I know from both my writing community and LDS mission community. He and I did not serve together (I'm probably a decade older than him, give or take...), but we both went to Denmark. His wife is a professional editor and owns a company that works with many of my writer friends.

The event was a party at his home, a huge sprawling estate on the hill overlooking the city. I thought it odd that he could afford such an amazing home on a high school principle's salary, but such things happens in dreams--it doesn't have to make sense.

I was in the home, enjoying the view of the evening valley when I heard singing. I noticed a group of men had entered from a different part of the home and were entertaining the guests. I immediately spotted one of my best friends in the men's chorus. It made me excited to hear and see my friend, but I was also bummed because I was not allowed to sing with him. In a non-dream life, my friend has begun practicing with the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square. I've never really wanted to sing in that choir, but I'd love a chance to again sing with my friends.

That dream was so real, I could touch it. I smelled the dog food in the hanging home's pet room. I felt the heat of the fireplace at my other friend's event. Still, even after jotting down an outline of what happened, I couldn't remember when I tried recalling the dream a few hours ago, before I read my note.

Yes, they say if you want to remember a dream or other things that enter your brain at night, you should have a pad of paper (or a digital equivalent...) on a nightstand beside the bed.

Last night, I did.

Though I Didn't Grow Up Eating Here...I Know What My Friend Is Talking About

 The first time we dined at El Toro Viejo, it wasn't in Logan, Utah, but Brigham City. We did not know it at the time, that the Brigham City location was not the original, but a satellite restaurant. We didn't get a chance to eat there often...it closed shortly after we found the place.

When we discovered another El Toro Viejo, this time in Logan, Utah, we rejoiced. We learned from our past mistakes and have eaten there many times.

The last time I took a picture of the name over the front door and posted it to social media. I thought I'd hear from a good friend who grew up in Cache Valley after posting the picture. I thought this because I'd discussed the restaurant in the past and he commented on it then.

The place remind him of his youth, so much so he commented even on the decor that once graced its walls.

Even though I never ate at that particular restaurant growing up, I knew exactly what he was talking about.

The same thing happened to me and my friends, though about ninety miles south of Logan.

For us, it was Robintinos. Even the name conjures memories--wonderful, incredible memories.

When I attended high school and later college, the eatery of choice for my friends and I was Robintinos on Fifth South in Bountiful. I must have eaten there hundreds of times. Only the home my dad built for our family and my family's first home have I eaten at more than Robintinos. Robintinos serves mostly Italian food, pizzas, pasta, soups, salads. I tried almost the entire menu at one point or another.

The restaurant moved from its Fifth South location years ago. Now it can be found a few blocks away on Fifth West where Brattens Fish Grotto once stood. I've been back a few times after the move and they have some of the original artwork hanging on the walls, paintings I recognized immediately, pictures that transported me back in time to those high school/college/Lagoon days...

Wonderful days.

My friend from Logan commented about his memories at El Toro Viejo and I knew exactly what he was talking about. I'll bet others have similar stories of their youth. Funny, how we're alike in so many ways.

"The Horror At Pooh Corner"...Not Your Average Kickstarter Project

 I learned of the project only recently, but I've been intrigued ever since. A kickstarter for a collection of horror tales inspired by A.A. Milne's classic hundred-acre wood.

The Horror at Pooh Corner

Yes, it's true.

Here's the description from the kickstarter webpage:

The Horror at Pooh Corner is a Lovecraftian Winnie-the-Pooh anthology project bringing together the community of writers and artists—both well-known and emerging—and an up-and-coming publisher to produce a collection of stories that will make you both laugh at the humor and cry out in indescribable terror as you slowly go mad while reading it. Learn the true stories behind the Hundred Acre Wood and its seemingly innocuous denizens, told here for the first time.

You can access the webpage: HERE. 

I personally know many of the authors in this collection and even though I've not read the book, I can attest to the quality of their writings, especially those who specialize in horror. Plus, who wouldn't want to read stories about one of the most beloved places and characters in history?

Check out the page and consider supporting. It can not only lead to reading enjoyment for you, but for future projects in the future. The Horror at Pooh Corner...I'm still thinking about it.

Can't Afford A Whole Truck...So We Got Half Of One

 Last spring, we did some landscaping...not as much as some, more than others. We had to bring in rocks to use as ground cover where do not want plants to go as well as top soil to use as ground cover where we want plants to grow.

Oh, how we envied our neighbors who own trucks.

Which feels like everyone.

We live in a rural town. People--many people up here--make a living in agriculture. They live off the land and because of their hard work, they allow others to literally live as well. When you're a farmer or rancher, you own a truck--not something you'd like, but something you need. And as we put in our yard, we saw truck after truck go up and down the street.

If you own a truck or have purchased a truck lately, you know they don't come cheap. Even a beat-up, piece of...stuff will set you back. We've just gone through a ton of car issues and to say our "Auto Maintenance Fund" jar is empty is accurate. When I put in a new transmission in Donk, the Subaru, we installed a tow hitch. Where a lot of trucks exist, there's also a lot of trailers. I see them anywhere. Part of getting the hitch was for a trailer. Now, we just had to find a cheap one to make a de facto truck.

And I found the perfect trailer.

Just down the road, half buried in the snow, I saw a little blue truck bed. I parked the car and walked over to get the phone number on the For Sale sign. The sign also listed the price...

$190.

Now, that's in our budget.

After I got Donk back with the new hitch, I called a nice gentleman named Larry. I asked about the trailer. Then, we arrived at the point in the conversation when I asked how much he wanted.

"Well, some say I ought to charge $400, but I'll let it go for $125."

Even better!

Last week I picked it up and now instead of sitting next to Larry's house, it's next to mine. It's too cold right now, but when things warm up, we hope to hook up the trailer (lovingly named either Rust Bucket or just Rusty...) and do all those things that need doing.

Ever since we moved, I've joked that we're the only truckless residents in the town. I know it's not true, but it feels that way sometimes. Now, we're halfway there.

Just A Simple (The Simplest...) Meal At Home

 Something that I love about social media is logging on during holidays. Now, I know Valentine's Day is not really a holiday (even though it's named after St. Valentine on the anniversary of his death...). Still, it's not a bank holiday so unless you asked for the day off, you had to work.

On breaks, I'd check out the various social media sites. It's fun to see my friends and family post about the day, fun to check out the pictures, the stories, the memories people share. We get to hear about and see Valentine's Days in the past, or better yet, plans for tonight.

For us, we decided to spend the night at home. Where we live has limited places to eat and I'll bet they're all full. I hope they enjoy their meals. Us? We dined of an ol' standby...frozen pizza. My wife and I are at that age where going out to celebrate a particular day can be more work than it's worth. 

I don't have a lot of wisdom in me, but one thing I can suggest is to find someone who is okay spending a quiet night with a simple meal on Valentines. If you can be happy with that, you can be happy with a lot of things.

Don't get me wrong...we are having ice cream later. ;)

Finished A "Friends" Puzzle...It Messed With My Mind

 My wife ordered a Friends-themed puzzle. She thought it would be fun.

Turned out, it wasn't as fun as she thought it would be.

Oh, it wasn't the worst puzzle we've ever done--that would be a thrift store find that was missing puzzle pieces. No, even though the photos used to make up the puzzle are fun for fans of the show, this puzzle had a lot of negatives going for it.

First, it wasn't "high-quality." We've put together a lot of puzzles (more than some, not as many as others...) and we've gotten used to a certain quality of the product. Most of those puzzles we've finished were from Dowdle Folk Art Puzzles. We love them. The pieces fit together nicely, but better yet, they include a separate larger-than-the-box picture of the puzzle, a picture you can pick up and look at closely.

The Friends puzzle only had the picture on the box, and a lesser-quality picture on the bottom of the box. It started giving me a headache trying to pick out the tiny details found on the individual puzzle pieces.

My wife did almost all the puzzle. I swooped in at the end and finished it. I don't think I could have done it all--there were just too many issues with this particular puzzle.

If you're a fan of the TV show and a fan of puzzles, I'm not going to necessarily discourage you from choosing this puzzle...

I'm not necessarily encouraging it, either.

When A Friend Passes...The World Is Not The Same

 Last night, after posting pictures and blogs, I remained on social media, something I usually do most nights. A story caught my attention. An Ogden Utah man was killed in a motorcycle accident. I thought it was strange someone was riding his bike at night in the middle of a northern Utah winter.

Then the story left my mind...

Until this morning, when after church my wife told me the man who lost his life was a family friend.

When news like this hits, it shakes your world, weakens your foundation, hurts your soul. We've known this man's family for decades. We first met the family when they had two children, just like us. They lived in our neighborhood and we both lived in basement apartments. Even though both families have moved over the years, we've stayed close. My wife and the man's mom chat together, their phone calls sometimes lasting hours. We know what is happening with their children, and they ours. We've laughed together, prayed together, and now, mourn together.

Their son was their oldest, married, living away from home. He worked hard, a blue-collar man who loved engines, especially when surrounded by muscle cars and beautiful bikes. Whenever I interacted with him, his smile was infectious. He was a big bear of a man, but that smile burned bright.

There is but one undeniable truth upon which all can agree (or should agree...). That truth is, if you're born you must one day die. The body that gives life will one one day stop living, stop growing, stop loving. Just as a sunrise guarantees a sunset. But, looking at it differently, a sunset guarantees a sunrise.

The sun will rise tomorrow, just as it did this morning where the earth had one less person able to see it. Left behind are those with broken hearts that will never fully mend. 

Book Review...Jana J. Dearden's "Echoes On The Rock"

 Fans of historical fiction, in the vein of Michener, like the genre because you get more than just a sense of the characters. The location becomes a character, too, a character you get to know, you feel a kinship for, an emotional connection. I believe this because I am a fan of Michener. It's how I feel when I read a novel about not only the people, but the land--especially when the story covers centuries.

In Jana Dearden's debut novel, Echoes on the Rock (a story in three parts...), we are transported back to Italy in the 1400s. It's where the story of the heretic Waldensians, a group of religious people who are at war with the Pope, his church, and the Pope's army. Families battle to save their homes and their beliefs. Dearden's vivid descriptions of how they lived, fought, and died transported me to a land I've never known...the avalanche scene along with the stories of battles were especially engaging.

Part Two of the story takes place almost one-hundred years later where a people are persecuted again for what they believe. Fast forward almost three-hundred years for Part Three when descendants of the Waldensians travel from Italy to America after converting to an American religion and joining other saints in Utah. Having lived in Utah almost all my life and having heard the story of the pioneers all my life, many of the stories as the families traveled west were eye-opening and informative.

Echoes on the Rock is extremely well-researched with creative details that puts the reader back in time during fascinating periods of history. If you're familiar with the Mormon Pioneers, for example, you may find--as I did--new incites into their plight. I also learned about a culture and time I knew nothing about. And after all, isn't that what good writing is supposed to do?

If you'd like to check out Jana's book for yourself, and if you're a fan of historical fiction (especially religious historical fiction...), I highly recommend her book. You can order it from Amazon by clicking: HERE.

There Are A Lot Of Ways To Destroy A Transmission...

 A few weeks ago, I stopped by my friend's auto mechanic shop. He had to adjust a transmission seal on Donk, the Subaru. His shop is larger than a "more-than-two-bays" shop so as my car was lifted and being worked on, another mechanic was discovering what killed (temporarily...) a newer VW beetle.

Destroyed transmission.

They took it apart and placed it on the floor. Apparently, the damage done on this car was so unique that all the other mechanics gathered around to check out the carnage (sorry...). To the professionals, it was horrendous. In fact, my friend took one look at it and said, that in all the many decades he's been tearing apart and putting back together cars, trucks, basically anything with a motor, he'd never seen a transmission trashed the way this one was.

 To me, it was an open transmission.

Then, I looked closer and saw chunks of metal that should not have been there or should be there, but in different configurations.

It's funny. We as a society value those who excel in their professions. We see a heart surgeon or a circuit judge or a university professor and admire their dedication and talent. Mechanics are no different. Like a doctor looking at an x-ray, they can spot a problem the untrained miss. Same with mechanics...they spotted the problem immediately. And considering the complexity of modern vehicles, it's even more amazing what they can do.

I think I admire mechanics because back in the day I tried repairing the cars I drove, which, coincidentally, were VWs. It's just not my thing.

I saw a hunk of no-longer-working parts. They saw everything.

These Shoes Were Made For Walking...And Hiking And Mudding And Shoveling

 After the last time shoveling snow, I took off my old boots and one of my socks was wet. I didn't think much of it...we had been in the snow for about four hours. It wasn't until I picked up my boots after they'd dried out that I noticed the sole was separating from the top of the boot.

If you look closely, you can see the separation. If you look at the other boot, you can see where I used shoe glue to join the two sections when the same thing happened earlier. We decided it was time to get a new pair of boots, and so we did.

Once we got home, I picked up the old pair and set them on the garbage can. I felt I should take a picture, you know, to preserve the moment. After that, I tossed them in the garbage.

Looking at the picture, it made me think. The leather on the boots were still good, so was the tread. Yet, I was throwing away something that still had some use. I still have half the shoe glue I originally used on the shoes. They can still be fixed.

Then, looking at the boots, it reminded me of my parents.

Strange, I know.

Both my parents lived through the Great Depression, my father was five in 1929, my mother born a few years after it started. I didn't talk to them about their experiences when I had the chance--I don't know if they really wanted to talk about the things they went through. I've heard some stories and I know that more are documented in books and online. From what I know about my parents, I'll bet they'd keep those boots and patch them with the glue. The boots would have miles more that could be put on them...thousands and thousands of steps to walk.

After I thought about it, I dug the boots out of the trash and put them in a garage cabinet. I've never lived through a depression, at least not any as big as the one my parents experienced. The way things are going, either I or someone else may need those boots because new ones won't be available. I guess we'll find out.

Community Bulletin Boards...Fulfilling Their Destiny

 In some of the local stores in our little rural town have community bulletin boards. I'm pretty sure the larger community where we used to live had them, too, but to be honest, I paid them little attention.

It's different here.

Here, the boards seem to prove a more vital role in the community.

Even though notices come and go, I'm pretty sure at any given time there will be at least two flyers for dogs, both puppies for sale and the missing/found dogs and cats. Then there's the landscaping flyers, music lesson flyers, and every once in a while, you'll see something like I saw the other day.

Babysitting...

And animal sitting.

When I see something like that, it reminds me we live in farmland. 

And, we love it.

Got to give it to Emma--even though she's only 13-years old, she's got gumption, and I wish her nothing but success. We are not Emma's target audience. We don't need babysitting and we do have a dog and a cat, but we're always home so we don't need animal sitting. 

Yes, we always check the bulletin board as we either enter or leave the stores...or both. Glad to see the boards are working as intended in our little town.

Yes...It's Windy Here

 Yes, it's windy here.

It's one of the first things we noticed after relocating...the wind. I'm not anti-wind. In fact, I'd love a way to harness it and somehow have it power things in my home. 

Would it work?

Let me put it this way. A neighbor a few homes down put in a windmill--not one of those cosmetic ones we had, but one designed to capture the power of the wind. The wind was so strong, it blew the blade off the pole and it slammed into their home. Since then, it was not put back up.

A few weeks ago I was at my mother-in-law's house (her's is also a few homes away from ours...) and she proudly showed off her dangling icicle. I snapped a photo and shared it to the world. As you can tell, icicles don't lean like this one does. Gravity guarantees the water will take the path of least resistance and fall straight down, unless an action is forced upon it. That force is wind.

When our little town was the coldest dwelling in the state last week, it was the wind that caused it to be so cold. Lately, however, the wind has taken a break...thankfully.

This is our third winter here. We know the wind will return--it's the one constant for all four seasons...

Except, there's no outside icicles in summer.

VW...No Problems

 If you've ever owned an original VW beetle, you know the headline of this post isn't exactly true. I've owned half a dozen bugs in my lifetime and to say they're "problem-free" would be a misstatement...

A big misstatement.

Funny how time sometimes erases bad memories.

My first car did not lack for problems. It rarely went over 50 m.p.h. and it broke down more going to and from Utah State University my first quarter of school than making the trip problem-free.

But, man...I loved that car.

The reason this photo caught my attention was because of a conversation I had last month with my car mechanic friend. We were discussing new cars and all the things that can go wrong with them. I told him about my friend who ordered a new Toyota from the factory and he ordered it with manually-operated windows. Yes, the hand roll up/roll down ones. He said he did it because it was one (actually, four...) less thing to break.

My mechanic friend agreed. The more things in a car, the more things that break down. 

Look at that VW photo (curtesy of VWSlut on Instagram...). Yes, it lacks all those things, and all the VW beetles I owned lacked them too. None of those missing things broke down...

Like my friend would say, "No problems."

Give Thanks...For Working From Home

 The storm moved in this morning and died out in the afternoon. It left an inch or so of snow which was easily dispatched. Now, the sun has set and I'm sitting on the couch in our family room, our dog sleeping beside me. 

Sundays are wonderful, but inevitably, my thoughts drift to tomorrow morning...Monday, and all that it entails.

Back to work.

Just over two years before the world went insane, I was fortunate enough to be chosen as a telecommuter. We set up an office space in our unfinished basement and thus began a new chapter in my working life. Back then, only a few workers within the organization were allowed to work from home. I felt blessed. By the first week of telecommuting, I realized just how blessed I was. By staying at home, I shaved off two hours each day in driving, a total of eight hours, which means instead of being away from home ten hours a day for five days, I only had to work four--I was given an entire day each week. I also got to sleep in an hour later which meant I could stay up later. Throw in wear-and-tear on the car, the cost of gas, and it all added up.

In a few months it'll be five years working from home. As I consider beginning my work week tomorrow morning, I'm more grateful than ever that I get to stay home. If I had to go to an office, it would take me at least a half hour each way, not to mention another storm is expected to hit overnight. It would probably take longer to get to and from work. Before, I had access to public transportation. That doesn't exist up here.

I know there's blessings I've been given by working at home. I'm sure there's others I don't even know about. It has allowed me to be closer to my family, literally and figuratively. Studies say working from home makes a person less likely for promotion. I say, it's worth it. I can't imagine having it any other way.

Introducing Writers Cantina...Utah's Newest Writing Conference

 This summer, by the shores of a huge (and dwindling...) dead lake, an event where people of all ages, sizes, backgrounds, and abilities will gather for enlightenment, enrichment, and most of all, to get together and have a great time.

It's called, Writers Cantina, and its inaugural voyage takes place July 8, 2023.

I don't know how things go in other parts of the country, but I'd imagine other writers have access to in-person conventions and conferences. They're important for writers. There needs to be places where writers can get together for their own sanity. 

I'm fortunate enough to live in an area where there are many events that allow us to congregate. And up until covid hit, there were half a dozen or more conferences each year where we did just that. I think covid made us all realize how important these are.

You can access the website and register to attend by clicking: HERE.

How will it go? Time will tell. I'm planning on attending and if you're a writer in the Utah area, please check it out. We'd love to have you join us.

I Sort Of Remember These Toys...Sort Of

 Ah, another funny meme...what would be do without them?

Memes can cover politics, religion, family relationships, technology, pretty much anything. This one caught my attention. Yes, it's funny, but it also made me think about my childhood...

And the toys we had.

In many ways my childhood--especially my early childhood--was much like anyone else's for someone born in the middle of the 1960s. We had one TV (that my dad built...), a dad who worked outside the home and a mother who worked inside and stayed home, and a couple of siblings. But, in other ways, my childhood was different from others at the time. My father passed away when I was a child and so we didn't have a lot of the things people had. 

For example, we did not have a lot of Fisher-Price toys. I had to go to friends's house to take advantage of the wonder that was Fisher-Price...the barn set, the school set, and my personal favorite, the parking garage. We did have Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys and even Erector sets. 

I don't remember having the toys in the picture.

Oh, I've played with them--don't get me wrong. All those years serving in the Primary at church...we played and played with them. I tried searching for a history to when the shape sorting globe was invented...couldn't find a date. It's possible those things existed when I was in infant, but I just don't know.

Still, I guess all this is secondary, because the meme is dang funny.

Come On, Boy...It's Too Darn Cold!

We have a smart dog. I know many people believe they too have a smart dog. It's natural to feel that way. I have some statistics to back up part of my claim. According to TheSmartCanine.Com, Poodles rank as the second smartest dog breed.

So, there's some science. To see for yourself, you can visit the webpage by clicking: HERE.

Last spring we put in a backyard fence. A big reason for doing this was the dog. Poodles are not only smart, but they need exercise. They could run and run all day long. Putting in the fence was one of those things we wanted to do ever since we got the dog years ago. And because we have a fence, I started to play fetch with him after my work day ended. I've blogged about it several times, mostly because I have a blast doing it (probably not as much as him, but, you know...). 

The dog and I played fetch almost every day. In the summer, it worked out perfectly. There was still sunshine after I logged off the computer. Except for the mosquitos, summer was great. As the seasons changed, the days became shorter and shorter. Our dog, not knowing how to tell time (as far as we can tell...) would use the sun's location to get antsy when he felt it was time to go outside and play fetch...either that, or he could tell the time to fetch was drawing close by our actions.

Either way, the dog knew when it was time for us to go outside. I trained him well.

Even though the summer has issues, it's nothing compared to winter, especially this last week when temperatures dropped to below 0 degrees. Throw in several inches of snow and you have some undesirable conditions for fetch playing.

The dog doesn't care.

Between 4pm and 5pm the dog leaves his warm and comfortable couch and hangs out outside my office door. As 5pm gets closer, he sometimes scratches at the door with his paws. Even though I know he's disappointed, we've not played during those cold days. It's really for his own good.  

Yesterday, I thought it was warm enough to return to the backyard. We didn't stay out long, but the dog loved chasing that ball and throwing up snow. Yes, I've trained him too darn well.

Sorry Mom...Turns Out I Like It

 Yup, looks like I'm not going to follow my mother's footsteps on this one.

Like many in my generation, you probably ate oatmeal for breakfast at one point or another. Sure, we had those sugary cereals (anyone remember Waffalos...) and even half a grapefruit now and then. I guess we ate whatever my mom put before us before we shuffled out the door and headed to school.

I don't remember how old I was, but I distinctly remember a conversation I had with my mom one morning after she placed a bowl of instant oatmeal in front of me and I dug in.

"Mom," I said somewhat casually--perhaps in a smart a-- manner. "How about you get a bowl and we can both eat oatmeal together?" Those were probably not the exact words I used, but the sentiment is the same.

Then my mother said something I've never forgotten.

"Nope--I can't stand the stuff."

I was shocked.

I followed up with why the strong reaction to my suggestion she have some oatmeal for breakfast. She then went on to tell me a story of her youth. My mom lived during the Great Depression. Though she was a child, she remembered the food her mother fed her. She said they ate oatmeal almost every day. She vowed when she grew up she'd never eat oatmeal for breakfast again. I remember thinking if I'd ever seen her eat oatmeal and I couldn't recall a single time she ate oatmeal for breakfast.

Of course, I cannot travel back in time to share the experience she had as a child growing up in Driggs Idaho in the 1930s. I'm 100% sure the food I had for breakfast this morning tasted much better than what she had. It may not have been more nutritious than what she had--I'm sure my food is worse for me than her food was for her. And if I had to eat the food she ate, I'd probably think the same thing.

Sorry mom, turns out I actually like the stuff. Then again, I'd be well served to follow my mother's footsteps more often. She's one of my greatest heroes.