This Halloween Season...I'm Sad To See It Go

 The candles are out, the jack-o-lanterns are off the porch, the candy bowl empty.

The Halloween season comes to an end.

I'm sad to see it go.

On Sunday we closed my autumn gig, our sixth year...the best show we've ever done. We said our good-byes, took some selfies, cleared out our stuff, and drove away. It'll seem weird not putting on the three-piece suit and introducing everyone to Professor Clarence Black. They'll just have to wait ten months for the good professor to hold court again.

This year, we didn't decorate the house, didn't have our traditional day of Halloween party with homemade doughnuts and family gathering. The party was Saturday. Tonight, we set up the Candy Cannon (for some, a neighborhood favorite...) and blasted the kids with candy. The waining moon rose in the east and the temperature dropped, we cleaned up the cannon, put everything away, and turned off the porch lights.

Another Halloween over.

Some traditions were missed, others observed, like carving a pumpkin to honor my mom on her birthday. Thankfully, because of my autumn gig, I didn't have to make a special trip to deliver the pumpkin or to pick it up. Same town.

Tomorrow November arrives--actually, for us it's only a few hours away. I love November, but it's no October. Even though I finally get to slow down in November, there's something about October and Halloween that is special. It's like no other time of the year.

I'll miss this Halloween season, for some of the best reasons. 

The Thrill Of Victory--The Agony Of Defeat...In Ties

We all give off signals. Some purposely, some not, but because we are social animals and use verbal and non-verbal communication to survive, we're constantly giving off signals.

Even with neckties.

In the space of one week I went from elated to deflated, all because of two football games. On November 20th, my beloved Utah Utes beat USC in California. A great win by any metric. Seven days later, Utah was destroyed by Oregon. I'm not bitter--Oregon is one of the best teams in the nation and if you can't match them, the better team wins. I did not watch the game, but I'm sure (based on decades of watching Coach Whittingham do his job...) Utah played with heart and determination. There's no shame in doing your best and getting beat.

On November 21st, I wore my Utah football tie to church.

A week later, I wore all black.

I was in mourning.

I don't think anyone noticed. I moved from an area where there were many Utah fans to an area where Utah State is the predominant school--lots of Aggie fans. Heck, I'm an Aggies fan. I always wish them well, unless they're playing Utah. When I wore my Utah football tie where we used to live, I received several comments, both from Utah fans and fans of other schools. This time--nada. No one said anything. Nor did they say anything yesterday when I donned the color of despair (Les Miserable reference...).

I'd like to wear the Utah tie more often. If I wore it every time the Utah Utes football team won, I'd wear it more than any other tie time during the season, such is a testament to their success. Here's to me having the option for many years to come.

Give Thanks...For Those Willing To Serve

It's strange when you live somewhere for years, change occurs slowly, or at least, if feels that way. When you move away and return a year or two later, the changes you see appear sudden, as if overnight, even though I know that's not how things work. To honor my mom on her birthday, I drove to the Farmington City Cemetery earlier this week. I saw some of those changes.

One change in particular hit close to home...

As in, our former next-door-neighbor.

He's running for city council.

Now, we never really know everything about another family, but the closer they live to you, the more opportunity you have to know as much as possible. Roger and his family moved next door to us years and years ago. I'm actually partially responsible for his family to live next to us. Roger and I used to take public transportation to and from work. Since we both like conversing with strangers, we struck up a friendship. I told him one day that our neighbor was considering selling his house. That night, he drove to our street, spoke with our neighbor, and negotiated a price. The rest is history.

When I saw Roger's name on the city council sign, it put a smile on my face. A finer man you cannot find. If anything, he can be too kind, too good, to the point where it can be off-putting for some. He's now running for office. Many feel there's not enough good people in government, local or otherwise, and that we need more people of substance for those positions. I have my own opinion that government corrupts good people and changes them. I'm sure that's not completely true...it just feels true.

I can no longer vote in their election, though if I could, I would definitely cast my vote for Roger, a man I still call a friend. I'm thankful he's running. I wish other good men and women would run. I have no idea if he'll make it--don't know his odds or have a feel for how he's doing. We'll find out soon enough.

Roger Child, City Councilman...has a nice ring to it.

My Own Little Dilbert Principle...

 Millions--perhaps billions--of people know Dilbert, a corporate middle-management superhero, a spokesperson for an entire generation. Dilbert is the creation of Scott Adams, who, along with being a brilliant cartoonist and satirist, has garnered a reputation as something other than a comics creator of late.

He's also a published author (even though when his first comic strip was published he became a published author...). One of the many books he's written is entitled, The Dilbert Principle. I remember when it came out and I read a review. What is the Dilbert Principle, you ask?

Adams explained it with an anecdote. He explained how, back in stone age of phone pagers, his pager stopped working. His first thought was a dead battery. He took out the old battery and replaced it with a fresh new battery. Still, no power, no pager. He did what any normal person would do, he drove to the pager store (they did exist...) and presented the problem to the worker. The employee took the pager, opened the battery compartment, took the battery out, flipped the battery over, replaced it in the compartment, restored the cover, turned it on, and gave the now-working pager back to Mr. Adams.

On the humiliating drive home, he considered what had just happened. He was an educated person working on technical projects light years ahead of a pager, and yet, the simplest of problems stumped him. The book goes into greater detail of the Dilbert Principle in action, but I've remembered that little story ever since I read it.

In relaying my experience, I in NO WAY wish to compare myself to Mr. Adams in both education, experience, creativity. No, my story involves car headlights. I found out my headlight was out. Before I did anything, I accessed YouTube (my first mistake...). I watched the first thirty seconds of a video on how to change headlights on my particular car. Got it, I thought (second mistake...). On the next trip into town, we stopped at an auto parts store to buy the replacement. I told the worker my car and what I needed. He courteously found the light. I bought it and we came home.

I popped the hood, took out the old bulb (as instructed...), ripped open the package (my third mistake...), and immediately saw the problem. The new bulb won't fit. I realized the worker made a mistake. I went to another auto parts store (same company...), and told them my problem. They found the right bulb, and swapped it out in the parking lot. I jumped in my car, turned on the lights to bask in the glow of my accomplishment. One problem...

The headlight was still burned out. Unfortunately, I had to go to work. It wasn't until hours later that I replaced the wrong headlight. 

Turns out, the previous worker was right all along.

The next day I went back to the store and explained the problem. I got the right bulb and installed it. I watched the wrong YouTube video. I believed I knew all there was to know. I was wrong...

My own little Dilbert Principle

I Just Don't Live...In A Starbucks World

 It's not my world...

And it shows.

I was given a Starbucks Gift Card as a kind gesture at the last FanX event. Today, we finally used it. My wife and I stepped into one of the thousands of Starbucks across this amazing country and I ordered a hot chocolate. 

No coffee.

That's basically why I never visit Starbucks.

As they prepared my hot chocolate, I sat and took in the atmosphere. Of course, I've visited other Starbucks in the past. It felt the same in those businesses as well. There's a feeling you experience in a Starbucks, to an outsider, it's like being in a club or a fraternity/sorority. Maybe it's the smells...I don't know for sure. Something is different.

Because I'm not a regular, I didn't hear my name called (it might not have been...) when my drink was ready. We sat at our little table as I watched patron after patron who came in after us fetch their coffees and leave. I finally stood and saw my cup on the counter. I wondered if the workers thought I was dense as they saw us waiting for something ready to go. I'm sure they could tell I didn't belong.

I've often wondered if I drank coffee, would Starbucks be a regular stop for me? Would I feel at home inside their shop? I'm guessing, no. Not because it's not quality, but because of the price. I can't justify paying premium price for something like coffee. Then again, who really knows?

Don't know when I'll step foot in another Starbucks...

Maybe when I get another gift card.

Man...I Miss Singing With These Guys

 Five years ago, two friends and I posed for a photo...a selfie is what the kids call it these days. We met at work, at my autumn gig, October 26, 2018.

The three of us used to spend time together, October 1989. It wasn't at work, but at college, not at an amusement park, but at a singing class.

Those were some of the best times of my life.

Thanks to a social media site that has a better memory than I do, I was reminded this photo exists. It's interesting...five years doesn't seem so long anymore, but a lot has happened in those five years. My family moved north, and both my friends joined a choir--not just any choir...

They joined THE choir...

The world-famous Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square.

If you watch the church's General Conference, or the weekly choir broadcasts, you'll spot them both, if you look long enough. I'm usually not jealous of my friends, but I was when I watched conference earlier this month

It got me thinking...why was I jealous? Was it because they were both in a choir that I can't join? I'm so close to the "kick-out age," it would't even be worth trying. No...after some thought and reflection, I was jealous to not be singing with my friends. I know we can't turn back time, and I can't re-live those college days, but singing with several members of the University of Utah A'cappella Choir decades later would be a close second. It would sound, well...in a word, heavenly.

I'm no longer jealous...okay, that's not entirely true. I still would love to be singing with my friends (and with so many others who are not in the choir...), but I'm fine now. I am glad the two--and others--are finding joy in their endeavors. I'm glad they made it in (it's not an easy thing to do...) and I hope they're having as much fun as we used to those many years ago. 

But I'll bet they're not.

My Son Helped Make A Game...And You Can Buy It

 You know when you're a new parent and you look at that tiny baby and you wonder what their life is going to be like? My wife and I were blessed to have four opportunities to do just that...four times holding an infant and wonder how their lives will turn out.

Our children are grown. They range from recently graduated from high school to married to having children of their own. They have in no way reached the point where their lives have "turned out." They have years, decades for that to happen.

It's also interesting to see traits of yourself in your children. I see creative tendencies in all of them, but one has dedicated years toward becoming an incredible artist. 

He's also a commissioned graphic designer.

And a game he worked on went live today.

It's not unusual for him to show us his latest finished artwork, or make an announcement. This week he said he had a gig creating artwork for a video game. It's called, Fruit Salad, and you can download it to a PC today. Just click on the link: HERE.

I bought it--it's only $1.50 right now. Unfortunately, my PC laptop is so old, it wouldn't work. That's okay...supporting our son's latest artistic endeavor is an honor.

If you get a chance and would like to check it out, click the above link and download the game. I'd love to see what you think.

So would my son.

Hitting 200k...Good Girl

 I've never had a new car. The closest I came was when my mother passed away and we inherited a little cash. I bought a two-year old car that had maybe 20k miles on it. I've had a few cars since then. My latest car, a 2010 Subaru Forester lovingly named "Donk" just hit 200k.

I had to stop and take a picture.

I've had Donk almost three years. When I bought it, the odometer was about to click 180k miles. Even moving way from civilization, I don't drive the car a lot. After I bought it, I was working at home and it took forever to put on the required miles for me to get an oil change. I put more miles on it now, but not much more. Except for my autumn gig, I'd hardly ever drive the thing.

For some strange reason, I remember a TV commercial from my youth. In the commercial, an older woman was driving her car. I think the ad was for motor oil--motor oil specially designed for older cars, and by "older" they meant, cars that had been driven over 100k.

Seems like a joke now.

They build better cars now--I don't think anyone would argue. It seems cars just last longer now, especially certain brands. If a certain make and model of car/truck has over 100k miles, I'd not think twice about buying it (if I had the money, that is...). And because the cost of used cars has skyrocketed lately, cars with 200k are still attractive to buyers.

But, I'm hoping I can keep this one. 

And maybe one day I'll pull over around 11pm on I-15 on a weekend night and snap another picture. Of course, if I continue driving Donk like I have been the past three years, it'll take me thirty years to reach another 200k.

Finished A Home Project...It Makes Things Better

 Funny, how completing a simple home project can improve things.

The way I see it, there are two types of people in this world...those who tackle home projects the moment they're discovered, and those who put things off until later.

Okay, maybe there's another type of people out there...those who know about the home projects and never get to them. Of the three, I'm more like the one in the middle. I acknowledge the need to finish home projects, but I usually put them off.

And, sometimes--with a little help and encouragement--I actually finish one of those projects.

Last week, with the help and encouragement of my wife and mom-in-law, the three of us gathered and tackled the much-needed job. The door frame really needed paint. We bought the paint in the morning. We gathered early before the sun hit the back of the house and began. We put on a primer coat, and after it dried, applied the first coat of black paint. The next day we applied the second coat and...

Done.

The frame needing painting for months. Did I take action before? Nope. I thought, I'll get to it one day. What surprises me, now that the project is over, is how there was a time when painting a door frame would have been the simplest job in the world. When my wife and I worked on our first home, we finished so many projects. We painted, we ran wires, we put in floors...so many things.

I guess not doing home projects on a daily basis for twenty years sort of softens a person, or at least, has softened me.

Tonight, I glanced at the door as I played fetch with the puppy. Seeing a finished project made me feel good. It made me feel like I used to when we completed projects that needed doing. It also gave me confidence of sorts, confidence that we can still do things...

Things that need doing.

Give Thanks...For The Unafraid, The Unashamed

 There are entire social media sites dedicated to the shoppers at Walmart...

And not to celebrate them, but to make fun of them.

It's a shame, really, since all of us--every one of us--could be made fun of by someone. Three's always people who feel superior and, unfortunately, there's always people who feel inferior. The sites that denigrates these shoppers are popular because we all want to feel superior and seeing others who are "less than us" makes that happen, I suppose.

Last week I spotted a shopper, a singular man pushing a cart with the words, "WE ALL NEED JESUS" printed on the back and front of his shirt. I posted the picture on my social media and I got some predictable responses. 

I probably wouldn't wear that shirt. Why? Maybe I'd be embarrassed, maybe a little ashamed. Either way, it's not my style to have those words on a shirt. But, I've got to say, I respect that man. He obviously wanted others to know how he felt on the subject...either that, or it was just another shirt he threw on. I'm guessing the former. He walked up and down the aisles unafraid...unashamed.

I'm thankful for those who are willing to stand up for their beliefs, maybe because it's something I wouldn't be willing to do. Of course, at this very moment there are people who are wearing messages and holding signs that others find offensive. For many, that's a problem. Is the problem with the message, the messenger, or the viewer?

Maybe all three.

It takes guts to wear your opinions literally on your sleeve. The man I saw was among others who felt the same way...somewhat safe. I wonder if he'd wear the shirt in other parts of the world where it's not so safe, where those around him would disagree...that would be true bravery. I'd like to think this man would.

Center Of Attention...

 We gathered as a family earlier today for food, conversation, a chance to catch up. But when one group entered the house, a definite change raced throughout the room...

The grandbaby had arrived.

And just like that, he became the center of attention.

I, of course, participated in showering attention on the little guy. Smiles all around, grown adults making baby noises, and every camera phone sprang to life. 

We live in such an amazing time. When I was my grandson's age (almost 58 years ago...), some pictures of my mug were taken. My parents sprang for a few family photo sessions and I'm glad they did. It's been wonderful to see how I looked as an infant and compare to how my children--and now grandchild--look. There's something about peering into the eyes of a descendant that's special.

Children born in the digital age will have more than a few pictures of themselves when they reach adulthood...they'll have thousands or tens of thousands. We'll know who they looked every week, every day. I wonder how that will change them...will it be for the better, or the worse?

The center of attention will continue, and I'm glad it will. Children should feel they're a miracle, for indeed, they are. And as long as we here and they're here, we're going to keep making them the center of attention.

End Of Shift...

 Last night, the last show in the books, I made my way to my car across pavement, gravel, dirt, grass, and cow pies. Having arrived late, all the good (i.e. close...) parking spots were taken, so I parked north, among the other late-arrivers. 

It's our space...we claim it.

I loaded up the car, walked around to the driver's seat and looked south. An amusement park really shines at night.

I resumed working for this particular amusement park in 2015. Previously, I worked her during high school and during college. It paid for many a restaurant dinner, and thousands of tanks of gas. Now, it pays for other things, for the family and not just for me.

Times do change.

But, that feeling of finishing a shift, somehow, that stays the same.

You can count on one hand the number of shifts remaining in the season. We see the finishing line...just beyond the tips of our fingers. Soon, the last ride will stop, the last light will fade into the night, and the park--the park that people see--will hibernate for several months. 

The show, in which I am fortunate enough to work, is special. It's terrifying, exhilarating, bust-your-gut fun. Soon too, will the door close for the last time this season, the props put away to be picked up next autumn.

End of shift...a wonderful feeling after a job well done.

Yet...I Resisted

 I watched as several co-worker prepared the room for our office party. Halloween decorations hung on the walls, but the biggest change came when box after box of sugary treats burdened tables in the corner. Doughnuts, brownies, candy bars, Halloween snacks...they just kept coming.

And yet, I did not partake.

It's a miracle.

What's funny (for me...) is that I hardly had any breakfast before I reached the party room. I should have jumped at the table, loading anything and everything on a plate and gone back for more once it was empty--especially, the Krispy Kreme doughnuts. They looked heavenly. 

But, something happened, something that doesn't happen. I looked at all that delicious food and the urge I get to eat as many treats as possible was gone.

I must be getting old.

As a kid, this time of year was the best time of year. Autumn is still my favorite season, but not for the same reasons. When I was younger and could eat candy all day long, I looked forward to Halloween, Thanksgiving, then Christmas...all good food holidays. Plus, everyone knows Halloween candy is not available on Halloween day only. When I worked in an office, I knew exactly who had candy at their desks and when it was replenished. When I needed a "pick-me-up" I'd take a walk around the office and take a candy or two.

The office party was a huge success. Most of the table-full of treats went uneaten, so we all, myself included, had to pack up bags of goodies to take home. I have no idea how long it's going to last me. Maybe I should give it away at Halloween.

Yes, I was surprised not to have jumped right in and gobbled up the goodies. Not sure what changed in me...

But I hope it lasts.

Time To Break Out The Christmas Music...

 It's time...

Time to sing the songs of the season.

It's so easy to love Christmas music. Just the memories those chords and notes conjure make it easy, memories of childhood dreams, of snow falling and fires warming the room. I speak for myself, of course. Looking back, I had wonderful Christmases, though others may not have. I know I experienced tough times growing up...everyone does, and everyone should. It's the way life was intended. We should never life a life without pain...it makes it impossible to experience joy.

Joy to the World

For years, heck, for decades I belonged to a congregation that took their annual ward musical Christmas program to heights seldom seen (or heard...). We had world-class (and I mean, world-class...) musicians participate. We began practicing the music months in advance. We had piano, organ, strings, bells, even harp--multiple harp--accompaniment. We had solos, duets, small quartets. They were an event, something people penciled in like many do when attending a Hallelujah Sing-In.

Handel's Hallelujah

We would practice the songs week after week. We'd gather in homes and at church...even having an incredible breakfast at the church the Saturday before the Christmas service. Those programs--like the Christmases of my youth--are now only memories, ghosts of the past, sounds lost to time. Now, part of my church calling is to help organize the upcoming Christmas program in our ward. It won't be as grand, nor will it include talent found in our previous neighborhood. But, does that matter? Do we need the same preparation, the same degree of difficulty to find success? The answer is, no. No we do not. Because it's not those things that make the program special. It's a group of imperfect people gathering together and sharing their talents to make the holiday special for themselves and others.

Angles We Have Heard on High

When the last chord rings through the space and the prayer ends, we all go home. We hopefully join loved ones on a day of rest, a day set apart to reflect, to consider, to dwell on higher causes. And when the evening comes, those who participated and those who experienced the program will look back on their day with relief and satisfaction in the hopes that they did some good in the world.

Silent Night

We've got ten weeks until Christmas Eve. Time to break out the music.

Utilizing Some Of Those Home Ec Skills...

 Have you ever darned a sock?

I don't mean using the non-profane type of damning a sock. No, I mean, have you ever taken a sock with a hole in it (other than the one where you insert your foot...) and some thread and repaired the damaged sock?

The older I get, the memories of my childhood make me feel as if I was born in the nineteenth century. Don't believe me? Consider this...

My mother used to make my school shirts. 

I put bread bags on my feet before I put them in my winter boots.

I wore hand-knitted mittens.

And, I took Home Ec in jr. high school.

Do they even teach home economics anymore? I recall taking the class from Mrs. Allen in 7th grade at Kaysville Jr. High. I remember the name because the teacher was the mother of a classmate of ours (funny, how you remember some things and not others...). Back then, to a bunch of pre-teen boys, home ec was, well...in a word, girlie. I mean, they sewed in that class, after all.

Turns out, I liked it. I remember learning how to sew fabric together. We made stuffed animals...picked out the fabric and the patterns. We cut out the faces, hands, and feet, and sewed them onto the animals. I made a hippopotamus and I kept it on my bed (TMI, I know...). 

I also learned how to darn a sock.

Fast forward almost half a century. I've had socks wear out--they all do, eventually. Did I repair them? Did I utilize those Home Ec skills? Nope, not once. I toss the socks and when enough socks have enough holes, and when that happens, I pick up a new package of socks at Walmart and the whole process begins all over again.

Last week I put on a relatively new t-shirt, one of my good ones. It was then I noticed a space between the collar and the shirt. I thought it was a smudge, but nope--it was a hole. I found some white thread and a needle and I fixed it. Simple as that.

I've often wondered if we'll turn back to the time when we darned our socks, repaired damaged stuff, make our own clothes. Maybe we'll be living like my parents did when they grew up, which was during the Great Depression. Maybe one day we'll all need to use those Home Ec skills...

Whether we were taught them at school or not.

Fan Art...A High Form Of Praise, Indeed

 I got a text message last week. It included a picture...a computer drawing of a house.

But, not just any house. It's the house where I've been visiting each fall for the past several years. It's not a real building, but a facade, a representation of where Professor Black holds a spooky ritual. The drawing was a gift, of sorts. Fan art from a fan.

My autumn side gig takes place at an amusement park. It's an attraction, something those who enjoy scary things greatly enjoy. It's where Séance, the Dark Ritual is performed each weekend and will continue until the end of this month.

I loved getting the drawing. It's something the fan didn't have to do, obviously. We live in a world where everyone looks out for themselves, does things for themselves, or at least it seems that way. This fan went out of his way to recreate the place we, that do the show, all love.

I can't remember the last time I did something like that for someone else, share a talent just for the fun of it. I hope when I see opportunities to do the same kind of thing, I'll act.

I think the picture means so much to me/us, because the show means so much to those who do the show. We've had incredible memories doing the show.

Fan art...high form of praise, indeed!

Give Thanks...Family Gatherings

 Family get-togethers.

They're special.

And they can't go on forever.

Okay, that's not true. Family gatherings can go on forever, as long as there's families, that is.

My wife has orchestrated family get-togethers for the past several months. And I think I'll be forever grateful for them, and for her. We've been luckily enough to have our children close, at least, for this past summer and fall. Since spring we've welcomed first, a son-in-law, then a grandson. 

Our family's growing. Growing means change...whether you want it to or not.

Back when my mother was alive, my siblings and our families used to gather at my mom's house, the house our dad started building, but passed away before he could finish it. We didn't realize it at the time, but those weekends when we would sit around the same table and talk and share stories was fleeting...it wouldn't...it couldn't...last forever.

And it didn't.

Now, my mom's gone. The our familial house is sold and changed. And our baby sister passed away. After my mom's passing, we tried having family gatherings. We kept that up--once a month--for several months, but then life happened. Life always happens.

Now, it's our family that's changing and because of these get-togethers, we're creating a tradition. 

Like I said, family gatherings can go on forever, as long as there's families...

They'll go on, just with other people.

Time to enjoy them while we can.

Sometimes...You Have To Use The Good Camera

 I guess it takes a solar eclipse to realize you have more than two cameras.

Today was that day.

This morning the family gathered outside to take pictures of the solar eclipse (incredible, by the way...). I ran inside and grabbed my Nikon 3300. I snapped some pictures of the sun/moon combo through clouds...

And then I saw the rose bush.

Snapped a few more photos.

I bought my Nikon years ago. I love that camera. I also love the camera on my phone. It's not the best camera phone, but it's adequate. That's the problem...adequate. It's just good enough to get good shots, but not great, not like the cameras on new phones. One day I'll upgrade, but today is not that day.

Of course, it's cumbersome to lug around a big DSLR. That's not the only disadvantage. You can't edit the photos as easily as you can with a phone. You can't instantly upload and send pictures to friends/family.

Still, I look at this picture of one of our last roses of the season and I wonder if I should be using the Nikon more, lugging around the big camera, waiting until later to download the photos to edit/send them.

Sometimes, it is. Sometimes, you have to use the good camera...

Because it's worth it.

The Fifteen-Minute Mile...It's A Start

 Last winter really did a number on me. After shoveling my last scoop of snow, I found things have changed...

And not for the better.

The biggest issue was my feet. They hurt like I'd never had them hurt before. I think it was all that shifting weight in big boots shoveling the snow. They call it plantar fasciitis, though I've never been diagnosed. A quick internet search and I have the symptoms. It hurt to walk. I didn't even want to think about jogging, let alone, running.

This summer I've tried to keep somewhat active. On work breaks I hit the treadmill and walk ten or fifteen minutes...not everyday, but enough to keep it going. 

Then came FanX weekend.

A weekend I dreaded, because of my feet.

From Thursday to Sunday (FanX and my Frightmares gig...), I'm on my feet more than I'm off. I wore my best walking shoes and I was surprise that after the first day, my feet didn't feel too bad. I thought, things would be bad--or worse--the next day. The day came and, once again, not as bad as I suspected. The weekend came to an end and I was shocked. Not only did I survive the con and my weekend gig, my feet felt surprisingly good.

I thought I'd try doing a little jogging.

Last week I would walk then jog then walk then jog on the treadmill. Two days ago I jogged for several minutes, longer than I had before. My ankles hurt, I had pains in places I'd never had before, but I kept going. I got close, but yesterday, I hit a mile under 15 minutes.

Back in 2021 I blogged about running a fifteen-minute mile. Things seemed so much easier then, as things do when thinking of past times. My goal going forward is to run that length without as much pain, then try and do a twelve-minute mile and see how that goes.

I'll keep you posted.

Never Watched A Regular Season Game...But Playoff Baseball Is Great

 Maybe because it's October.

Maybe there's something in the air.

Whatever it is, I actually watched a MLB game for the first time this year.

It wasn't the game from these pictures...those were last night's. It was the first round of the playoffs, wildcard series. Of course, I'm not a "true fan" as you can clearly tell. How can you clearly tell? Because I watch the games on my computer and not sitting on a comfy couch watching a quality TV with surround sound.

That's what a real fan would do.

There's something about playoff sports. The tension is heightened, the stakes are higher, the pressure is next level. Each pitch, each out, each swing determines the outcome. And the crowd helps create the atmosphere. Even watching on a screen...you can almost feel the hopes and dreams of tens of thousands of fans from thousands of miles away.

It's electric. It's hypnotic. It's addictive.

I watch and enjoy other playoffs series from other sports. The same vibes permeate those games, too...especially college championships. It's almost like the student fans--being younger--attach more of their self esteem, their self worth to the outcome of the games. They haven't been beaten down by life yet so they haven't considered a reality where their team doesn't win.

It may be because it's October or something in the air (or watching a Bryce Harper homer...). Whatever the reason, I'm a fan of playoff baseball.

It Can Be Yours...For Only A Cool Million

 I saw the post on my social media feed today. 

It's the (possible...) end of an era.

And it can be yours if you have the cash.

It's also sad. In the three years since we moved to this little town at the top (latitudinally, not elevation...) of Utah. Having moved from a town that had almost as many people as currently live in our new county, there's things we missed. If you know me at all you understand I love to check out thrift stores. The town didn't have a big thrift store.

Then, a couple opened a second-hand store. It wasn't big, but they had some good stuff. They then moved to a larger space just up the road. As time went on, they upgraded their space again until finally they found themselves in a great location, a huge space on the town's main street. 

Things were looking up.

At least, that's how I saw things.

Of course, only a few know the whole truth. Was the store successful? Did they have issues staffing the store, or with the inventory, or donations? I'm sure they did...it seems every company deals with these things and more. I don't know the details behind the decision to sell, but, well...there it is.

Now, the store and a house are for sale. The million is for both, not just the store and what's inside. Maybe there's a reason our little town lacked a big thrift store, and may again in the future. Maybe it's too much work for the community to support. I've got to give it to the owners. They worked hard to give us an option. I hope things work out for them.

And if you've got the funds, you can move up here with us and give it a go.

Flew The Flag...Glad I Did

 Yesterday was a federal holiday. Though not a federal employee, I do work for an employer that recognizes Columbus Day as a holiday. We had the day off. I had planned to fly the flag, but forgot.

My mother-in-law reminded me. 

I went into the garage, retrieved the flag, and set it up.

I'm glad I did.

The world is a crap hole right now...makes me think it's always been a crap hole--we just either didn't see the crap or chose not to accept it. A flag is a symbol. Other than a pole and colored fabric, that's all it is. Since the birth of our country, our flag has meant many things to many people. In a way, it's a testament to what the flag represents. 

It's supposed to represent a place where people can believe different things, say different things, do different things. The facts, however, sometimes fail to live up to those standards. Some people can believe/say/do things that others cannot...Orwell nailed it.

Still, the flag still stands. The flag never changes, only how people perceive what the flag represents does. Yesterday, I flew the flag because of what it means to me, what the country means to me. I imagine others are looking at flags from across the world in a different light lately.

Actually...It's NOT A Sword

 Last summer, we checked out a yard sale in the community next to ours. We check out a lot of yard/garage sales in the summer. It's fun and relatively (if we can control ourselves...) inexpensive entertainment. On this particular morning, we happened upon an estate sale, and they really meant "estate." The parents had passed and the children were selling everything, the house, everything inside the house, everything in the bards, the garages, the fields. They had so much stuff for sale. 

We did not buy the 50s school bus or the old accordion, or any of the cars/motorcycles/tractors or the thousands of other things packed on to that lot. We did, however, buy something that's gotten me a lot of attention.

A walking cane.

When I first saw it, I thought when the time comes when I need a cane, it would be a good one to have. I chose the one with the brass horse heard and brought it home. 

A few months later as I prepared for my autumn side gig, I remembered the cane. I thought it might be a good addition to my character. The show's creator was at the first rehearsal. I brought the cane and asked him if he thought (as I did...) the cane would be a good prop for me to use. 

He loved it.

It's in the show.

The show requires me to interact with people, both people seeing the show and those asking about the show. I have my cane with me as I converse with them. An interesting question has emerged since we began our season...

Is there a sword in that cane?

Unfortunately, no.

It's not a sword cane...it's not a gun cane. It's just a cane. When I first spotted it at the estate sale among about ten other canes, I picked it up and I, too wondered it there was a sword concealed inside the cane. If so, it would be cool, but at the same time, if it was a weapon, there's no way I could use it for the show.

Win some, lose some, I suppose.

Give Thanks...For "Tesla V Cthulhu" And Friends With Talent

 

Tonight I finished listening to an original musical, Tesla V Cthulhu. It's been a long time since I've listened to an original musical. It left me in awe.

People throw the term "original" around liberally these days, or so it seems. But, when I say the musical is original, that's exactly what I mean. There's nothing out there like it.

I've blogged about Craig Nybo before. He's the writer and producer of this musical. Without knowing for sure, Craig was most likely more than just the writer and producer. He was in charge of all aspects of the project. He hired the talent, he recorded all the music and the dialogue, he juggled people's schedules, he put out fires, and he was the head cheerleader. If you know Craig, you can see his fingerprints on everything.

The musical is broken down into three podcasts currently playing on the Terrible Lies podcast. You can access and hear the episodes for yourself by clicking: HERE. The story is pretty much what you would expect from a title like, Tesla V Cthulhu. There's witches, fantastical creatures, curses, promises made and broken, and lightning...lot's of lightning. In addition to the spoken dialogue complete with sound effects, the music is what takes center stage. I listened to the earlier episodes the same way I listened to the last one...amazed at the talent of my friend. My mind reels thinking about trying to successfully write one song, let alone enough to complete a musical.

It's evident Craig's finished work will not appeal to everyone...the title of the musical says as much. I know many of my friends will enjoy it, especially because of the title and subject matter. I'm thankful there are people out there willing to put in the hard work to create art. I'm thankful for the art they create. I'm thankful I can call these amazing people friends. Well done, Craig and everyone who worked on the project. It's awesome.

Car Door Handles...So Much Joy

Several years ago, I went to lunch with some friends from the FanX Planning Committee. I volunteered to drive. As we climbed inside the car, a friend opened the back door and, "pop"

Door handle broke.

It just snapped. 

I thought that strange. 

I don't know if I've ever had a door handle break. So, to "one-up" itself, a few months later, another door handle snapped off. Unbelievable...yet, believable. My daughter ended up inheriting the car and she drove it for a couple of years. Since it was her college commuter car, she didn't necessarily need all four door handles--as long as the drivers side handle worked.

Now, it's time for another driver to take the wheel. For kicks, I decided to do an internet search to see how much door handle replacements would be. Turns out, not as much as you'd think. I placed the order. It came last week.

I successfully installed one handle.

It made me so happy.

I can't testify to the quality of the new handles. I'm sure they're not up to the original standards and will most likely fail like those that went before. Then again, the original ones weren't too successful either. And, there's always the fact that since the car's almost twenty years old--it may expire before the new handles do.

I'm not thinking about that now. I'm thinking about how cool it is to be able to open the car door.

Anytime Is A Good Time...For A Pun War

 It began innocently enough...just a simple sharing of a meme, a meme containing a pun. For those of you who don't know me, I love puns. I love them in an almost inhuman way. Puns are a sign of higher intelligence...of this, I am certain. So, I found a fun little pun meme and texted it to my friend--you know, something to break the monotony of work.

Thus began the war.

Truth be told, it was a short war...consisting of three volleys. I sent one pun. He responded, hoping to inflict damage. His was good, no doubt. I felt, however, I had to finish him off. 

I sent yet another pun.

He did not respond.

I guess I won the war.

Of course, I could have continued the battle, lobbed yet another incredible pun to inflict further damage. Would he respond? Probably, unless he was paralyzed by the effects of the masterful puns I sent.

The next war may be fought in a day, a week, a month, or maybe never. If so it will most likely be instigated by me...I cannot resist. He may find one he knows I will enjoy. I will inevitably respond with a blinding pun of my own...rarely does he best me in this category. And if that happens, I may write about it, I might not.

We'll just have to wait and see.

The Nigh The Mosquitoes Swarmed...

 Before I went outside to play fetch and pick up puppy nuggets, I decided to put on a long-sleeve jacket and pants.

So glad I did.

I thought the mosquitos would be bad, but tonight they were extra bad, ferocious, just plain evil. 

I know, they're not evil, at least, they don't know they're evil. They're just bugs trying to survive, trying to suck the last drop of blood from whatever creature they can find, and because it's getting close to the time of year when they'll eliminated...not from exterminators or bug zappers, but from Mother Nature, once things freeze outside, that's the end of them, until they pop up to feast again next spring.

They were so bad, I wondered if I could capture the attack on video. I took out my phone and began filming. I warn you, the video is not pretty. You may want to put the kids to bed before watching. I only wish the poor quality of the video player here was better. 

It's the eternal struggle, man against beast, us against them. Thank goodness for winter. It's one of the advantages of living where we do.

Without doing any research, I understand mosquitos are important to the overall ecosystems that keep our planet alive. Just how important, I'm not exactly sure. It's human nature to put up with annoying things, as long as they're in someone else's yard. I'm guilty of that. Still...

I'll be glad when the snow flies.

Hoping It Snows In The Next Thirteen Days...Sort Of

 If you follow this blog (or my other social media accounts...), you know I post a daily picture and have done so for quite some time. When I started, Facebook would only allow 200 pictures in a photo album. I don't know when they increased the limit for their albums--I keep creating a new album when I reach 200 pictures (maybe I fear change...). Currently, I'm on Album #23.

That's almost 4,600 pictures posted.

I'm thirteen pictures away from Album #24.

On April 2nd of this year, I selected a photo of our dog in our backyard. As you can see from the above picture, it's snowing. I wanted to remember the winter we all lived through...it was a doozie. Maybe it's because we were hired to shovel eighteen driveways (including our own...) and it nearly killed us--it snowed so much. The winter never seemed to end.

The April 2nd picture was the second picture in my Album #23. On October 16th of this year, it will be Day 200 for the album and I'll begin another one. I thought it might be fun to have a picture of it snowing at our house before photo #200 is posted.

It could happen.

Right now because of recent storms, I'm seeing snow on the mountain range to the east of us. Ski resorts are posting pictures and videos of newly-fallen snow on their slops. Yes, they are thousands of feet higher than us in elevation, but we have experienced snowstorms on the valley floor in October before. Without looking at official records, it's probably more often than not that we get at least one snowing before the month ends.

I'm most likely in the minority to want it to snow so soon, but if it hits before the 16th of this month, then I'll have photos of snow bookending the album with summer in between.

For me, that's pretty cool.

Does Anyone Really Know How Cold It Is...?

We are entering the transition time of year when the warm days turn to cooler days. It's one of those weird in between seasons where you put on a sweater in the morning and need (sometimes...) to wear shorts during the day.

It's also a strange time for your thermostat. 

I passed ours in the hallway this morning and noticed the temperature. Sixty-nine degrees. It struck me that some people (not us...) set their inside temperature in the mid to high sixties in the summer. We haven't switched over to our heater so it would now take a severe heat wave to hit seventy-six degrees.

So, if in the middle of the summer sixty-nine degrees is heaven, why was it chilly in my hallway this morning?

Isn't sixty-nine degrees the same temperature in the summer as in the winter? If it were summer and we had our a/c at sixty-nine degrees, I'd probably be in a t-shirt and shorts. But this morning, no way. Also, if I switched on the heat and bumped the inside temperature to mid to high seventies during the winter months, would it feel warm? Would I dress in sweats? If so, why am I not wearing sweats when it's seventy-six degrees in the summer?

I've never thought about this before. Maybe the insulation on our home isn't has efficient as I thought. I'm sure those who have studied such things can explain all of this (or, if I did a little research, I'd know...). It might be that our bodies get used to the heat in the summer so a house set at seventy degrees inside still may feel warm, and a house set a seventy degrees inside in the winter may feel cool.

It made me wonder...do I really now what temperature it is?

I Hate Getting Scammed...But I HATE More Involving Others

 I saw the post and I should have known it wasn't real. Should have followed my gut.

But, alas, I didn't.

When I first joined Facebook, I caught the "friends" bug. I tried to get Facebook friends left and right. I succeeded, too. I've got more Facebook friends than some, much fewer than others. It helped that I became part of several communities, communities that like to add Facebook friends, namely writing communities, and especially theater communities. Every time I did a show, I'd Facebook friend dozens of people.

Fast forward ten or so years and the memory of many of those Facebook friends have faded. And with writer friends, there's many I've never actually met in person. I've also friended several high school acquaintances. Some I've kept kept in touch with, some not so much (and it's my 40th high school reunion next year, so that's a lot of years...). 

I saw a post from a high school friend. She said she had four Yorkie puppies that needed homes. A few months back, we thought our dog needed a friend. Turns out, he's more of a solo act. But, I saw my friend's post and since we weren't looking, I thought I'd share the post for other to see, others who might be looking for a puppy.

It was a scam.

After I shared the post, I got several messages from friends asking for help in contacting my friend. I messaged her and she said she'd contact them. A few hours passed and they'd contact me again saying they hadn't heard from her. Finally, I deleted my shared post. The next day my friend posted that she had been hacked.

What I hate is involving others. If you go to this website: HERE, you'll see these puppies are not cheap. No one is just "giving them away." I'm sorry I shared that post. I'm sorry they got their hopes up. Just crappy all the way around. Should have followed my gut.

Give Thanks...For Sleeping In

 Remember when you were young and busy doing all the things young people do and you get tired and you know that the next morning you have nothing to do and you can sleep in, and...

You actually sleep in?

Those were the days.

Sadly, as I get older and older, the days of sleeping in when you want to are fading forever in the distance. Sleep is no longer a given, something you know your body will be able to do. You can add "sleep" to a long list of things your body is no longer able to do, a list that gets longer and longer with each passing year.

This morning, however, it seemed those old days returned. We slept in until after 8:30am. And because if was Conference weekend, I did not have to hurry, get dressed and go to church that begins at 9am. No, it was a wonderful convergence of available weekend and actually sleeping in.

It doesn't happen often, but I'm thankful for those rare times when it does. It's a small thing, when comparing big things like poverty and the national debt, but when I woke up and saw the time on the clock...man, it felt great.