Five Years...Half A Decade And Our Lives Have Never Been The Same Since

 Another memory popped up on my social media feed this morning. I find them amusing, sometimes surprising. This morning, the memory melted my heart.

Five years ago today, my son and I drove to Sandy, Utah and picked up a puppy, a rescued poodle puppy that was available for adoption. He was so little, and with most puppies, we fell in love with him immediately. This was to be my son's dog. He found the puppy online and we arranged to meet the handler at the PetSmart a few miles south of us.

My son fell in love instantly. I made a call to my wife because the puppy was a little more than we expected, cost-wise. We discussed it and agreed it was worth the cost. I went back to the handler and said we wanted to get him. She said there were several people waiting for us to make a decision because if we passed, they'd take him.

It was one of the best decisions we've made.

It's not our dog's birthday, but it's a day of celebration for our family. Since we brought the puppy home, he's grown, both in size and in intelligence. Today, he's as much a part of our family as anyone. He entertains us, he tests us, he comforts us, he annoys us, and most of all, he loves us...

And we love him.

It's been five years. Here's to hopefully many many more.

Do Cats Remember Stuff...?

 We've had our cat for several years. He was just a little ball of fluff when we rescued him as a kitten...we did not know he'd grow to be a 20 lb huge ball of fluff. Sam Dean Winchester stays in the basement. He's not an outdoor cat. We kept him inside at our last home, and since mountain lions have been spotted in our neighborhood, we feel good about keeping him inside.

Our oldest son moved out and got married a few years ago. He loves pets and pets love him. One thing our cat used to do was jump up into our son's arms, many times on command. A few weeks ago, our son came over and he wanted to say hi to the cat so he went downstairs and the cat, once again, sprang into my son's arms.

It made me wonder...

Just how much do cats remember?

Does he remember our son? Does he remember it's okay to jump into his arms when he's around? I'm sure there are volumes of data out there on the memory retention of cats. Have I read them? Have I done any research? No. It's just a question I have. 

It's possible the cat would love to jump into others arms, but our son is the only one who allows it. Then again, maybe the cat remembers him as being the only one to get that kind of greeting. Maybe one day I'll find out for sure, but for now, it's kind of fun to keep wondering.

Utah's Newest Writer's Conference...Writers Cantina...Is Almost Here

 It's getting closer...can you feel it?

In exactly ten days, writers will assemble, gather, join each other to swap stories, tell jokes, brag (sometimes to the point of lying...), and have a great time. It's something, if you're considering coming, you should do.

The conference is on July 8th at the Utah Cultural Celebration Center, or UCCC for short. It's in West Valley City, Utah. Click: HERE for information on the center. The cost is $15 if you register early, and a little bit more (but not much...) day of the event.

One good thing about attending the inaugural event is you can make history by just being there. You'll be able to tell your kids/grandkids/random strangers that you were there when the doors opened for the first time, when the awesomeness that flowed throughout the conference washed over you and changed your life forever.

But seriously, it you're in town and would like to spend a Saturday among some amazing writers and invited guests and presenters, click: HERE and check out the conference. We'd love to see you there.

It's getting closer...can you feel it?

Not Getting The Picture...Sometimes You Just Can't

 I had a meeting this morning--an in-person meeting--which meant, I needed to drive. I absolutely love working at home, so attending a non-digital meeting every now and again is just fine. As I piloted Donk, the Japanese import, I spotted something flying in the southern sky. 

I wasn't close enough to identify which planes were flying (or how many since they were flying in tight formation...), but it looked cool. For a fleeting instant, I considered grabbing my phone and trying to get a picture, but I thought better of it. After all, I was zooming down I-15 at the posted speed limit (really...). 

I went to my meeting, came home and after work, chilled on Twitter when I spotted several photos of the very thing I saw while driving. It was the Utah Air Guard celebrating their 100 year anniversary. 

Very cool!

I've loved photography since my teens and because of digital photography, I take a lot of pictures...some may say too many, but, well...I live with the consequences of my decisions. Since I take a lot of pictures, sometimes I don't allow life to just happen. I feel I need to chronicle it, to preserve the moments instead of just enjoying the moments. This morning was one of those times. 

I wanted to show you what I--and apparently most of the Wasatch Front--saw this morning so I "borrowed" a photo from an excellent photographer who just happens to have the same name as me. I've been honored by several of my friends asking me if I took one of the many photographs he's had re-posted by many many people because his photographs are so amazing. I'd love to have his eye (and his equipment...) ;). You can check out his Twitter feed by clicking: HERE. I hope my borrowing is okay.

This morning, the moment didn't exist for me because I caught it with photos. It became part of me because I saw it and admired the beauty of these incredible machines and dedicated people who fly and maintain them. I need to remember that...

Especially while driving.

Ever Wonder What Things Will Cost In The Future...?

 We attended a couple of yard sales over the weekend...saw many things. As with most yard sales, a majority of what was for sale was, well...in a work, trash. Maybe that's a harsh word. We'll call it once-valuable stuff.

And some of it was worth a lot of money in its time.

The Compaq iPAQ Pocket PC. That was something. 

I think I tried one out once, at least, I think I did. I'm sure it was clunky by today's standards. We take for granted just how amazing today's tech really is. A modern cellphone instantly delivers requested information. The thought of waiting even a few seconds sounds archaic. That's because it is. Now at the yard sale the iPAQ--all that technology that can fit in the palm of your hand sells for a mere ten bucks.

Then, there's the TV...a Sony Trinitron. I'm no expert in TVs, but I know Sony is a quality brand and Trinitron was their premiere line. I'll bet that particular TV costs a good chunk of change back in the day. I didn't even ask the cost of the TV because it's just too old. I'd probably never watch it.

Then, there's the Tropic Thunder DVD. Can't really say much about that...it speaks for itself.

When I look at things that cost a lot of money today, how much will they cost when they find themselves on yard sale tables in ten, fifteen, twenty years from now? Will a thousand dollar phone of today cost $20 in ten years? Will a top-of-the-line laptop costs less than a tank of gas (assuming there's still gasoline in the future...)? We put value on something based on our interpretation of the item, not necessarily what it's really worth. 

Time will tell.

Give Thanks...For Helpers

 A week and a couple of days ago, family and friends gathered for a wedding. Months of preparation and planning came down to a few hours. So much hinged on things working out just right...for many, it was a stressful situation. At the end of the night, the hall was cleared, food put away, chairs folded and tables returned to their proper place. 

And we have so many helpers to thank, because with out them, it wouldn't have happened...

Or, been the success it turned out to be.

My wife, who did most of the planning, had an army to help. The venue allowed us to set up the day before. We had family fly in for the event and they spent that time doing everything they could to prepare for the big day.

Then, the day of the wedding, we showed up early and left late. If we had to pay everyone who helped, well...it would have been a big bill. Hours and hours of decoration, food prep and display, and the inevitable clean up. When the last car was loaded with the last box, we caravaned back to our house and unloaded. We were all exhausted, but happy.

I'm grateful for helpers, those who gave up their time and talents all to make the bride and grooms's night such a success. We couldn't have done it without them.

If We Had Known It Would Be That Easy...We'd Have Fixed It Sooner

 Back in March I went outside to see the temporary mailbox we installed back when first moved in was no longer vertical. It had become horizontal.

We still don't know what happened to it. We thought someone had hit it with their car, but we saw no tire tracks in the  snow, nor did we see any footprints. It remains a family mystery to this day. Because we didn't have a new one, I went outside armed with a PVC pipe, a block of wood, and some Gorilla tape and "fixed" the broken mailbox.

The result was not good.

But, it was good enough for the mail carriers to have a place to put our mail.

Fast forward four months--almost to the day--and we have a nice shiny new mailbox proudly standing in front of our house.

It took a while, but we finally bought a new mailbox and post. They sat in our garage for about a month, or maybe longer. It's hard to know because for the past several months we've been planning a wedding. That seemed to take up all our brainpower. Now, the wedding's over and we did't have to plan anything. Yesterday, I thought I'd tackle the project.

It turned out great, and had I known how easy it was, I would have done it sooner...

Or, I'd like to think I would.

The old post was set in place with rocks...big rocks, yes, but rocks nonetheless. This time, we found a box of concrete-like stuff we bought years ago for the other mailbox. We felt we needed to use it this time. Another lesson learned...the project wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. If only everything could have the same outcome.

Ever Wonder If God Created A Cloud Just For You...?

 I began my day with a project in the front yard. The location and time of day are important considerations when it comes to each project. In the morning--to avoid the sun--it's best to take on projects in the back yard. The opposite is true for projects in the front yard.

It's all based on the location of the sun.

Because the longest days of the year are literally yesterday and today, the sun was up before we were. That didn't stop me this morning...I had things to do in the front yard, even though I knew it would be hot. Still, I thought I could get things done quickly so I wasn't too worried.

Turns out, I had more work in the front yard than I thought.

The temperatures began to rise and then, the sky began to darken. I looked up expecting to see a tiny cloud temporarily blocking the sun. What I saw brought a smile on my face...there was a cloud but it was not tiny, or even on the smallish side. It was huge and it brought the temperature down significantly.

Such a blessing.

It got me wondering...was the cloud a heavenly gift? I mean, it could have been. I'm a believer of not only the existence of God, but that He sometimes hands out gifts/blessings. But, did the big cloud offer problems to others? These things get into my brain and drive me a little crazy.

I stayed outside another hour or so and completed all the things that needed doing. The cloud blocked the sun the whole time. Did God create the cloud just for me?

I'd like to think so.

How Many Times Have You Thought, That Couldn't Happen In Our Neighborhood...?

 If you watch the news (as we used to do...), you'll see a story about something horrible that happened in a quiet, sleepy neighborhood. Inevitably, a reporter will interview a local and the shocked resident will say something like, "I didn't think anything like that could happen in our neighborhood. It's such a safe place to live."

Seems to happen all the time.

It makes sense. You live in an area that you believe is safe, safe for your kids, your pets, your cars, your property. Then, someone comes along and shatters that idilic image by doing something bad. The trust that once existed is gone, possibly forever. It's just not the same when bad things happen to people who thought it couldn't happen to them.

Last week someone drove up to a home being built in the neighborhood next to ours and took all the windows that were waiting to be installed on the house. I haven't heard if they've been caught. Still, even if they recover the stolen goods, something like that can delay a project for months. One of our neighbors last year walled in their porch. They waited more than half a year just for the windows.

It's despicable.

We felt safe in our old neighborhood. One night someone went around to all the cars parked on the street, opened the unlocked car doors, and stole whatever they could find...loose change, CDs, whatever was there. Our neighbors asked if we were hit and we said we were not because we locked our car doors. It's easy to be trusting of others, but we still locked our doors...something we continue to do today.

We moved from an area where a million people lived within a 50 miles radius. Now, there's less than ten percent of that at our new place. With less people, you think there's less chance of getting robbed. That's true statistically, but I think those who steal from others are looking for areas where people think it couldn't happen in their neighborhoods.

Unfortunately, it's just not true.

"Don't Mess With The Seagulls"...An Old Man Foster Story

 "Let me tell you something, sonny," the old man said, his frail finger shaking as he wagged it in our young faces. "You don't mess with the seagulls."

My friend Steve snickered, almost making me bust up, too. But, I kept it together. The five of us straddled our bikes. I still don't know why we stopped at Old Man Foster's house, a broken-down structure marking the point where the paved road ended and the dirt road began. 

But we stopped for some reason and Old Man Foster came out to shout at us...again.

"I'm serious, man," he said, a drop of spittle rolling down his unshaven face. "You boys think you're smart chasing the seagulls on your little bikes, but let me tell you--you'll be sorry if you do."

I looked at my friends, their twelve-year old faces looked back at me, as if they wanted me to be the group's spokesman. I shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea what to say.

"Mr. Foster, we weren't chasing any seagulls. I mean, they can fly--there's no way we'd catch them." I thought my answer was a good one. It made sense to me.

"That's the problem with you damn kids," Old Man Foster said swatting his hand as if dismissing us with a simple wave. "I saw you riding--I see you everyday riding your bikes up and down this street like you own the place. I've even seen you ride across my yard."

I looked at everyone to see if that was true because I knew I had never done that. They all shook their heads. When I turned back around Old Man Foster's eyes blazed fire and hate.

"Oooohhh yes--I seen you, and I know it was you. You chasing all the animals, cats, dogs, squirrels, all of them. You don't think anyone sees you doing it, but I do. I see everything."

I didn't know if we should just hop on our bikes and peddle away, but I wanted to know why he was yelling at us and why this man who must have been close to ninety-years old was worried about seagulls.

"Mr. Foster," I said. Thinking back I tried to be sincere. "We weren't trying to catch or mess with the seagulls, really." Old Man Foster didn't seem impressed. Then I got a little snippy. "And even if we did, why is messing with a couple of birds such a big deal anyway?"

Foster sighed and shook his head. He then stared us down with a look that sent a jolt up my spine. "You mess with the seagulls, you'll be sorry. No joke. When you see a flock of them birds flying, you don't follow them, you don't even look at them. If you do, there's nothing but bad luck--and I'm talking evil--things are about to happen. I've lived on this earth long enough to know what I'm talking about. You listen to me and listen good--you don't mess with the seagulls."

He stood before us on those frail legs, slightly swaying left and right. He looked at each of us to as if daring us to betray his authority. None of us spoke. I looked at my friends. Steve rolled his eyes, but I knew he was all talk.

"Okay, Mr. Foster. We'll turn around and stop messing with the birds. Thank you for telling us about them. I...we didn't know what would happen. Thank you."

We turned our bikes from his house and started peddling away.

"Man, that old fart don't know anything," Steve said. I agreed, but something in the back of my mind gnawed at me. What if he was right? I thought it was stupid to mess with birds...we never could get close enough to do anything to them...

But, what if he was right?

I didn't say anything to Steve, didn't say anything to any of them. We just all went home. I didn't find out until later that Steve left his house after the streetlights came on and rode past Old Man Foster's house on his bike. I can only imagine he was flipping off Old Man Foster the bird as he passed. 

They found Steve's bike the next day, but they never found Steve. He disappeared. The police asked each of us if we thought we knew where he was...we didn't know. They even asked Old Man Foster, or so we were told. To this day, that look on Steve's face when he rolled his eyes haunts me. 

Years ago, I moved away from my home town, but every few years I'd return to visit my parents and friends. The dirt road is paved and lined with homes. Old Man Foster's shack was demolished a year or two after he shook his boney finger at us and warned us of the flying evil that awaited us if we messed with the seagulls.

It's something I never did again in my life.

And We End With The Cake...

 We've had a whirlwind week, which includes some incredible food. That happens when you put on a big party. When people get together, they enjoy the companionship, but also the food. And because much of the organization originated from our house, well...we had a ton of food before the party, and we brought back more food than our little family can possibly eat...

Especially, the sweets.

Oh...the sweets.

Tonight, we brought out wedding cake. It was delicious. The problem is, it all was delicious, the mini-cupcakes, the min-sweet rolls, the mini-cheesecakes, all of it. And I can't forget the Utah Truffles. Of course, there's a dark side to all this deliciousness...

And I'm not just talking about the chocolate.

Over the past year, I've tried to stay active. This past winter was not a good one for me. Why? Because we did so much shoveling this year that I felt like I was getting good workouts in, sometimes several times a week. I then would indulge in the sweets because I felt I was burning enough calories with the shoveling. Turns out, my math was wrong, so this spring, I tried cutting back.

I did pretty well, too. It kind of all fell apart this past weekend and every day since. I think I'm going to use the cake as a bookend to a wonderful week of partying, dancing, celebrating, communicating, and eating...

Especially the sweets.

We're Not Empty Nesters, Yet...But We Will Have A Guest Room

 It was strange opening the door to my daughter's room and seeing it empty. It's like the front room in January...where's the Christmas Tree? The room is yet more proof that life continues to march forward, whether we like it or not.

I grew up in a home where each of my two siblings and I had our own rooms...eventually. My brother and I shared a room for several years, but when my cousin Kris graduated high school and moved out, my brother moved into her room leaving me with a room of my own. That's the way it stayed until my brother graduated and moved out, then me, then my sister. It was the first time we had a guest room.

Guest rooms are still foreign to me. After my father died, we did a lot of traveling visiting family. I think it helped my mother handle life without her husband. Fine with me--I loved (and still do...) my cousins. And because many of our cousins were the same age, they didn't have a lot of guest rooms, either. We slept on the floor in sleeping bags and I didn't care. Of course, I was a kid so my body was better equipped to sleep on the ground. We didn't need a guest room...the living room suited us just fine.

In a few months, we'll have a room that will not be used on a daily/nightly basis. I thought we could now properly house, albeit temporarily, guests. What's funny/interesting is we hardly ever have people over, mostly because we live far away from family and friends. My family is in-state, but several hours away. My wife's family is mostly out-of-state, so we can have a place for them if/when they come to visit.

As we get older, so do the kids. They move out, get married, begin to build their own lives. Yes, when I think about becoming empty nesters, having unused rooms doesn't come to mind...

Or, it didn't, but does now.

I'm happy my family is growing, expanding. It's more proof that the one constant in life, is change.

Give Thanks...Happy Father's Day, Dad

 One thing I love to do on holidays and days of remembrance/acknowledgements is check out social media. At least on my feed it's full of friends/family recognizing others, proclaiming their love and gratitude for the people in their lives. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother's and Father's Days...seeing their posts renews my faith in humanity.

Like today...

Father's Day.

For me, the day is not about any gifts I may or may not receive (especially this year after just surviving a daughter's wedding...), nor is it about me, really. I think about my father and my wife's father.

They're both gone. It's a bittersweet day, thinking of what might have been.

Next year will mark several milestones for my father. He would have turned 100-years old. It will also mark fifty years since he passed away. I was eight-years old when he died. There's no way I could have realized at such a young age what his passing would mean to me throughout my life. As I age and experience life, I feel more and more my father's absence, and contemplate how life would have been for me and my family.

Still, even though he was only in my life a short time, his impact still affects me today. His impact affects my children and will hopefully continue for decades to come. Our lives are determined by how we react to the events that are put upon us. I know my life would have turned out differently had my father survived the cancer that took his life. I can bemoan the life I never knew, the man I barely knew, but my life is so much better because of the short life he lived. I'm so grateful for my father, a man I still idolize and love. One day--God willing, years from now--I'll have the opportunity to get to know him and thank him myself for everything he did for me and my family.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Sure do miss you.

Family Roots Run Deep...Just Don't Know The Connection

At a local eatery (and there are not many of them where we live...), there's a plank of wood with branding on it. Under each branded symbol is a name showing, what I believe, is an evolution of a family crest, the May family. The board is not placed in a central location, more off to the side.

After decades, The Pie Dump Restaurant recently changed owners. Previously, there were dozens of things to see on the walls, everything from sports memorabilia to stuffed animal heads. The new ownership left a few things, but definitely cleaned things up...

But, they left the board.

When I attended elementary school, a family moved in from up north, from the area where we now live. Over the years, I became friends with the family, quite good friends, actually. The family name...May.

Families up here--as with many areas--tend to stick around. A word of advice was given to us after we arrived a few years back. "Be careful when you talk about people, because you never know who they're related to." Not talking about people is good advice in general, but here there are apparently several influential families here you don't want to cross. I'll bet there are several members of my friend's family still living in the area.

That's why I took notice of the branded board. Are the previous owners part of the May family? Or, is the information just interesting...interesting enough to warrant real estate inside the restaurant? I could have asked the new owner, but he was busy.

We're all related, if we go back far enough. In the Intermountain West, many of us share common ancestors. It makes for a close (at times...) community. I'm sure there's a connection between The Pie Dump, and the May family. I just don't know what it is.

The Big Day...Is Finally Here

 Today, family and friends gathered in Cache Valley to celebrate a wedding, the union of two people to become one entity, a new beginning, a new family. They will be known as a couple and no longer single.

I had no idea how much work it would be.

Sure, I was married almost thirty-one years ago. It was a while back, but I still remember many things about the early 1990s. I don't remember all the things that make up a wedding, mostly because I didn't pay much attention at the time.

It was months ago when my then future son-in-law asked if he could talk to my wife and I before my daughter returned from work. We said, "sure," and he asked us the question. Flash forward several days and weeks and here we are, in a rented room, food and decorations and a borrowed arch all in place. 

I thought, when the question was asked, we had plenty of time to prepare--plus, a couple of years ago, our oldest son was married--that I was prepared. We survived my son's wedding, no problem. Having a daughter get married increases the the complication factor exponentially. 

I had no idea about that, either.

Things are different with daughters...plain and simple, and I'm not just talking about the responsibilities of planning and pulling off a wedding and reception. No, things are different. The term, "Father of the Bride" has forever changed in my mind. And even though it's my daughter and her husband driving away as a married couple, they're not the only ones who have changed.

I am a blessed man, a very blessed man. We've increased our family, expanded the stakes of our tent to included others. Close friends are now even closer. The sun will rise tomorrow with so many changes having taken place. 

I'm one of those changes. It was a good day.

Main Street...U.S.A.

 Errands, errands, errands...it never seems to end, but, of course, tomorrow is the big day so some of the required errands inflicted upon us for the past several months will stop. A few days ago, while waiting for the florist to return from an appointment, we decided to check out a local store on our city's Main Street.

As we waited for the light to change, I pointed my phone camera west and captured the vanishing point of street and sidewalk. If you go far enough, the first thing to vanish is the sidewalk, followed several miles away by the street.

The perspective disappears, but so it seems is what a Main Street in a small town means to the community, at least, in other parts of the world. On Main Street small business owners open their shops, stock the shelves, make the displays as beautiful as possible, and await the fruits of their labors. They smile when tired, laugh at dumb jokes, put in long hours, and go home tired. Children ride by on bikes and skateboards. Young couples stroll past windows meant to entice. Sometimes the advertising works...sometimes, not.

It's a world I knew growing up, a world those who choose to stay understand as well. It's a world many will never know, a simpler time, a slowed-down existence. 

The vanishing point is not only an optical illusion.

Naturally, this is evolution. People evolve and so must the businesses that cater to them. Is it better, worse? Main Streets all but disappeared when shopping malls were all the rage. The same verdict befell the malls a few decades later when online shopping became king. We've only lived in this small town a few years, but the storefronts fronting this particular Main Street remain...different names, different owners, different products, someone takes a chance to see if they can make it work to improve not only their own lives, but the lives of those in the community.

After tomorrow, something else will pop up requiring us to get in the van and head to Main Street for something. I'm glad they're there on our Main Street.

"Don't Trust The Internet," She Said...And I Saw Hundreds Of Dollars Vanish

 Last weekend as my wife and I were running errands preparing for the "Big Day," we saw a yard sale sign. Of course, we stopped by. It was an estate sale, but we found little that we wanted and even less we needed. But, I did spot a book...

Bram Stoker's Dracula.

I'd like to say I paid $1 for it, but we threw it in with some other things so it might have been free. As we do, after returning home with our summer treasures, I got online and checked out the book. After bringing up the first website I accessed, I was almost giddy...other copies of the book in what appeared to be in worse shape than mine were selling for hundreds of dollars.

Score!

I showed my wife. She was equally excited at our find. It was a first edition from Grosset & Dunlap Publishers in New York. I knew the story was from the late Nineteenth Century. The book didn't look late Nineteenth Century so I was confused. It looked to be published in the 1920s, which other websites confirmed. We had even more errands to run so we thought we'd stop at one of our favorite places, an antiques and book store in Brigham City, Utah...3 Goats Gruff, an awesome store.

We stopped and said we found a book at a yard sale and we wondered if it was worth anything. I told them I checked out the internet and had an idea of its value, but wanted to make sure.

"Don't trust the internet," one of the store owners said. The other owner checked out the book and said he'd probably sell that copy for $10 or $15. He said the publisher was known for taking already established tiles at the time and re-publishing them. I left the store feeling a little bummed, but not surprised.

The real question is, will those people actually pay three, four, even five-hundred dollars for the same book? Too bad I don't know any that will.

The Question Is...Is My Doppelganger Out There?

 Finding my doppelganger...

Don't think it's going to happen. 

At least, not in the way Ancestry.Com is thinking.

Years ago, I did the DNA test with Ancestry. I found a half-sister I didn't know I had, and there's a couple of other semi-close relatives that haven't responded to my e-mails. If that's all that happens because I took the test, I count myself blessed.

I know Ancestry wants to get its customers more involved in the process. More involvement translates to more $$$ for the company. That's fair and I applaud their efforts. Such is their latest project about which I received information from them. They want me to upload a selfie and see what relative I look like the most.

Doesn't really work for me.

Every year on Memorial Day we take pictures. Since my sister passed, it's just my older brother and I. A few years ago we ran into a neighbor who moved away in the 1970s. He introduced us to his girlfriend and it somehow came up that my brother and I were adopted. She couldn't believe it. I guess to her, we looked like biological brothers. I can kind of see it, but also, no.

Doing genealogy is something I should be excited to do. It's recommended as part of our religion and I am fascinated by my relatives, their lives, their stories. And I do feel a connection to them because without them, my adoptive parents would not have turned out to be the people they became, and by extension, how I turned out to be.

But, I have no stories of the people who created me. Do I look like my dad, my mom? I'll probably never know in this life. I'm okay with that, it's more of an interest, not an obsession. So, I don't think I'll be utilizing the "Finding Your Doppelganger" option, and if there is someone out there that looks like me, I hope they're having a great life.

A.I. Art...There's An App For That, Sort Of

A.I., Artificial Intelligence, it's all the rage. People much smarter than me have proclaimed the rise of A.I. as either one of the greatest developments of humanity, or something that will doom us all.

There doesn't seem to be a lot of middle ground.

For me, the programs are sort of a fad, something to kill time. I suppose I could use A.I. to generate these daily blog posts (maybe some of you would prefer it...). For the record, I've never used A.I. for the written words on these posts, but I have used the art.

Last week I found an A.I. app and thought I'd give it a chance. It works, sort of. I mean, some of what it generates is incredible, but other aspects--especially details on the people--they're not quite there. Of course, I did get the app when it was on sale, and by "on sale" I mean, free. I can only imagine if I were to fork over good money, the results would be (should be...) better.

Also, some of the results are puzzling at best. 

I put in a search for "Denmark" using the Steampunk filter and I got this: 

Still, could be worse.

In some ways, I want the "free" technology to improve and I'm sure it will. But, on the other hand, this means talented artists will not get contracts, not get paid for all the hard work they've put in. This is a very simplistic view, but there's some truth in it. 

When it comes to art, I don't know if I'll be using A.I. very much, as far as these posts specifically, or in general. Time will tell.

If you're interested in the app, here's the screenshot from the App Store.

Give Thanks...The Birds In The Air

 I thought I knew a lot about Northern Utah. After all, except for three years, I'd live in Northern Utah all my life. Yes, I lived "north," but not as north as I am now.

I had no idea.

Especially about the birds.

We lived just east of a bird refuge for decades. As a kid we used to ride our bikes to the wastelands that were West Farmington. I say "wastelands," because back then there was nothing there except farmland and a few homes. I remember the bike rides, but I don't remember any of the birds. To be honest, we were more interested in the bike ride than the birds.

I knew there was a huge bird refuge near Brigham City...it's one of the city's claim to fame. Last year we visited it for the first time. We saw some cool birds, but what I've loved is seeing the birds fly over our house. At our old home, we lived next to the mountain. Yes, we'd see birds, but not like where we live now. It's as if we live under the flightpath.

Tonight, it was seagulls. The California Seagull is the Utah State Bird. They're kind of ordinary, mostly because they're so common, but up close, they're fascinating (as are almost all birds...). Unfortunately, the birds I saw tonight were not close, but they still flew before an incredible backdrop.

I'm grateful for where we live. I'm grateful for the open skies and the marshlands to the south that play an important part in the lives of the migratory birds that fly in and fly out. I'm grateful for the beauty of nature and that I'm fortunate enough to see it, to experience it, to have it become part of me.

I thought I knew what we'd be in for when we moved. I'm glad I didn't because it's been a wonderful and eye-opening adventure that I hope continues for many years.

Choosing A Daddy Daughter Dance...

 I Hope You Dance

Forever Young

Unforgettable

Daughters

Time After Time

We're sitting in our living room as dusk sets on our little corner of the world trying to choose a song...a song that will be played in less than a week, a song to continue a tradition between father and daughter for generations...

The Daddy Daughter Dance at the daughter's wedding.

It's getting close.

We've got to make a choice.

I love music, as do billions of other people. I'm no scientist, but I believe humans react to music in such a way because our bodies operate on wavelengths similar to those found in music. Though maybe not exactly like that, there must be something between music and people that affects them on a deeper level. How else do you explain that urge to jump up and boogie when certain music hits you?

This is just one song. There's other songs that need choosing before the big day/afternoon/night. We'll make decisions and the music will ring throughout the hall. It will affect each of us differently, as it should...we all react in our own unique way to outside stimuli. And when the time comes, I'll take my daughter's hand and lead her onto the floor and we'll begin moving as music mixes with words. It will be beautiful and poignant and tender and sad and lovely all at once...

Such is the power of music...

And the choice of a Daddy Daughter Dance.

Venus Through The Stars...

 A father, worried about his job, his family, chose to leave the comfort of his faded and overused recliner, and take a walk outside. Though he didn't acknowledge it, he needed to crisp spring air to clear his mind and refresh his soul.

He looked into the western sky, clouds darkened by the disappearing sun enveloped the canvas above. What am I going to do, he thought...the bills piling up on the kitchen counter, the threats of disconnection from utility companies mocked the young father and he wondered if and or when the nightmare would end.

"Dad?"

The father turned around as he paced his weed-filled yard and spotted his five-year old son--his only child--standing on the porch looking up, but not at his father, but at the sky at dusk.

"Yeah?" the father said.

"What's that?" the son said pointing to a point in western sky. 

Dad turned and looked. He saw nothing but darkening clouds.

"What, son?" 

"That thing right there?" The son continued pointing.

"Is it a bird, a plane?"

"No," the child said. Dad heard disappointment.

The father searched again and saw the same thing, clouds. He walked to his son and knelt. Even in the fading light his son had the brightest blue eyes. "Son, I don't what you're looking at. Can you help me see it, too?"

"Dad--there's something in the sky and I don't know what it is." 

"Where is it?"

"It's right there, between the clouds...that light."

Then, the dad saw it, a tiny point of illumination. "You mean, that star? Is that what you're seeing?"

"Yeah."

"Son, you've seen stars before, right?"

"Yes, but it's the only light up there. There's no other stars."

The dad thought about this. He scanned the sky--his son was right, the evening's first star. But, it wasn't a star, was it?

"Son, that's not a star. It's a planet. It's Venus."

"Do people live there?"

The dad laughed. "No, they don't, son."

   "Maybe I'll live there one day," the son said. "Do you think I'll be the first person to live on Venus, Dad?"

The father thought, then said, "Son, if you believe it, there's nothing you can't do."

"Really, Dad?"

"Really."

"Dad, can we go inside, now?"

"Sure, son." He took his son's hand in his and the two entered the house. As they passed the kitchen counter, the father eyed the stack of bills. Did he really believe what he told his son only a minute earlier? Let's see if it's true, the father thought. After all, his son believed it and there's nothing more pure than the trust of a child.

Almost Every Square Inch Covered...

 Growing up, we lived on the side of a mountain, and I mean that literally. On the other side of our driveway was mountain and all that that entails.

In short...we had undeveloped earth right next door.

I'm used to a yard that's untamed, sort of wild. Others are not.

This is our third spring at our new location. The first summer we put in a yard complete with grass and a sprinkling system. Last year we put down fabric and covered it with little rocks to keep the weeds in check. We surrounded the house with this rock barrier. Still, there were areas on our lot that were uncovered, and thus, prone to the explosion of weeds.

This spring, we're out to cover up almost every square inch.

Last week we put down fabric and covered up much of our weed-infested front yard. It looks so much better. Next, we covered the slope in the back yard. We didn't have time to cover it with rocks--that's a project for another day. It got me thinking--when we're done, we'll have the flower beds in the front yard and the raspberry plants in the back. Everything else is covered by concrete, grass, fabric and small rocks. It's amazing the lengths we're going to just to make sure what grows is what we want to grow and keep out everything else.

Over the past three seasons, I've collected rocks in one section of the back yard. They were too small to place somewhere else. There's so many of them. The problem is I have to basically move each one by hand, one-by-one. It's going to take a while to clear out that pile.

Like everything else, yard work is never-ending. Where we live yard work is interrupted by winter, so we get a break, but as sure as morning follows night, spring follows winter and we're at it again. Hopefully, the work we do now will help in the future.

We'll see.

Remembering Tara...

 My niece found some pictures she took at a mini-family reunion that took place years ago. Funny, how at the time, you don't realize al the memories that will return by just seeing a photo of the event. My niece sent over several pictures, but one in particular, hit home.

It was a photo of my sister and my daughter.

Next week my daughter is getting married.

And there are no new pictures of my sister.

When someone close passes away, sibling, parent, child, the shock acts as a buffer. You concentrate on immediate needs, funerals, financial issues, buying a casket...stuff like that. You don't think about never being able to talk to them again, give them a hug at a family dinner, or receiving a text from out of the blue. No, you don't think about stuff like that until later.

Until you see a picture of your sister who passed away almost a year and a half ago and you realize just how much you miss her.

That's the power of a photograph. 

That's the power of memories...

Because sometimes, that's all you have.

Bumper Crop...? Maybe, Hopefully

 I'm not a farmer, at least, I've never been called a farmer, even though technically, we have grown stuff. We've planted some fruit trees since we've moved here. One tree species that stumps me (pun, intended...) is the elusive apricot tree.

It is, in a word, fickle.

I never know if we'll ever get a crop.

Like I said, not a farmer.

I do know that if there's a late frost, the apricot trees seem to get hit the hardest. This year, our little tree seems to be blowing up with fruit, so much so, we need to thin the fruit. If we do, it looks like we'll get a decent crop this year.

One danger we continually face--or, the tree continually faces--is wind. We could power our house with the winds we get up here. Wind is bittersweet. It cleans the air, but also makes it tough in other ways. Never say never, but I believe the threat of a late freeze is over, so it's keeping the tree watered and hoping the wind doesn't destroy all the fruit.

I'll keep you posted.

The Eternal Question--Is A Fritter A Doughnut...?

 There's a national day for pretty much anything, or so it seems. Last week was National Donut Day. Personally, I prefer National Doughnut Day, but whatever. I would not have known about it except we dropped by our local grocery store and there was a huge display.

After passing the display, we entered the store and saw another display, this time a display of sugary deliciousness. Because it was National Donut Day, I made my choice...a fritter. As we left the store, I wondered if a fritter is considered a donut.

The definition of a donut, according to Merriam-Webster is:

1

: a small usually ring-shaped piece of sweet fried dough

2

: something (such as a mathematical torus) that has a round shape like a doughnut

3

: a controlled skid that sends an automobile into a tight circle of at least 360 degrees 

—usually used in the phrase do doughnuts

What I also loved was something else included on dictionary website. It said, "Less common spelling of DOUGHNUT."

Score!

We can immediately eliminate definitions 2 and 3, which leave #1...a small usually ring-shaped piece of sweet fried dough. My fritter was made of dough, it was fried, and it was round (ish). 

My ruling--yes, a fritter is a doughnut...

And I'm glad I helped support the cause.