The Killing Floor...

 

Dogs are weird.

We are dog people, but not "dog people." For a majority of my life, I've lived with a dog in the house, but we had multiple dogs only once. The first dog I remember was Waldo, a black lab that was big (we were little kids then and the dog was HUGE...), and uncontrollable. Waldo didn't last long. Then came Tasha. She lived for seventeen years. I got her when I was a barely a teenager and she passed away after I graduated from high school, finished college, got married, and had our first child. Great dog.

Next came Patch. She was another wonderful dog. She only lived thirteen years, and we had to put her down last year due to health reasons. She was my kid's dog, a great example of a family pet. Now, we have Bec. He's really my son's dog, but he's also a family dog. He's a poodle, which is a much smarter breed than Patch, a shih tzu.

The poodle is scary smart.

But, still weird sometimes (I'm sure they think the same of us, on occasion...).

Dogs are famous for destroying things, furniture, homework, shoes. Thankfully, our poodle has been good, but there's one thing we allow him to chew up...junk mail. For some reason, the dog will take his prized possessions to the killing floor, which happens to be the landing on our staircase. I don't know why he's chosen that particular spot to destroy his victims. But, that's how things go.

It's possible the poodle will continue to tear apart junk mail (and bones...) on the landing. He may choose someplace else to wreak carnage. Maybe we'll have a Killing Basement, or Killing Couch. For now, though, a small part of the stairs works just fine.

I Thought These Things Would Go Fast...I Guess Not

 I cannot believe how much stuff we had crammed into our old house. It's more than a little embarrassing. We moved most of it up with us, having sold some of it and donated some of it, but we still seemed to fill up the new house.

We don't need it all.

So, we're still giving stuff away.

Last week I blogged about a couch we had that needed to go. At the same time, I posted in our neighborhood church congregation Facebook page that we had a couch that needed to go to a good home. Later that day, a neighbor (that we had not yet met...) messaged us letting us know she wanted the couch.

Score!

A few days later, the couch was gone, hopefully being used by a new family. Great, we thought. What else can we put on the Facebook page that someone can use and bring great joy to yet another family or families? I know--we have a couple of IKEA reversible beds, disassembled, but all the parts (almost...) are there. I found a picture of what they looked like when assembled, and I even tracked down the PDF detailing the assembly instructions for whomever would want to come and get these cool beds. We posted the beds on Facebook, and...

Crickets.

We got the beds fifteen years ago. They served us well. The kids loved them when we first got them--they can either be raised and the kids can sleep above the ground and have a play place underneath, or they can be reversed and they can sleep on the ground with some storage underneath. It's a win-win-win in my book. I thought they'd get snapped up pretty quick, considering we have a lot of young families in the neighborhood.

Before we posted these items, I would have thought the beds would be more desirable and the couch would be something we'd end up donating to the local thrift store. Now, the couch is gone and the beds are in the garage waiting for their new owners. Strange how things work out sometimes...

Give Thanks...We've Got Family History Hanging On Our Wall

 One things we have avoided after being in the new house for just over five months is hanging things on the walls. In our old house--since we were going to live there forever--I didn't care about putting holes in the walls, which was evident by the way the walls looked after we cleared out.

We're a little gun-shy about recreating that look here.

But, yesterday, I felt I needed to hang a picture that was passed down from my mother to me, a painting of Mt. Moran, one of the picturesque beautiful mountains in the Grand Teton National Park, a painting created by a family member.

Today, I'm thankful for several things. I'm thankful that my Uncle Claude (actually, he was my mother's uncle, so my great-uncle...) made the decision to take up painting and put the time and effort into the craft so that we--along with others, I'm sure---can have beautiful art to enrich their lives.

I don't know the date of the painting I put up yesterday. I imagine it was done in the 1950s or 1960s. I also believe it was done while Charles Claudius Dalley sat next to the lake and painted what he saw. I could be wrong--he could have taken a picture and painted it from that, or from memory, but when I consider how the painting came to be, I can see a man, born in the nineteenth century and having survived two world wars, the Spanish Flu, and the Great Depression, sitting humbly with paint and brushes creating art.

I think I only met Uncle Claude once. I was young so I don't remember much. There was an art studio, or a place with art supplies. Maybe that's when we got the picture. I don't know for sure. I do know I can't remember my childhood home without the painting of Mt. Moran. We took it from that house when my mother died, and we took it with us when we moved last year. Yesterday, I hammered a nail into the pristine, hole-less wall and hung the picture.

I wish I could have known him better--I read some of his history online this afternoon. Because I hung up his painting, the house is a better place because of my decision, and we are better for having a relative work so hard to create something so lovely.

Americana...A Little Different, But Still Out There

 We pulled up to the diner, put the van in park. We weren't there but a minute when the young girl emerged from the building and came to the driver's side window, which I lowered. I asked for recommendations and ordered a shake, just a shake. As we waited, I gazed into the the diner, at red and white benches, formica-covered tables, and chairs unused to a year.

It was a snapshot into what life used to be, the way things once were.

In that space--at those tables--people fell in love, and hearts were broken...all over greasy food and ice cream, served in a myriad of colors and flavors. Teens met friends and parents ordered food at this singular location, a place replicated all over the country, thousands and thousands of destinations, in every city, in every state.

And it's survived for decades.

I haven't spent much time outside the United States, though I did live in Europe for a few years back in the 1980s. They can build a Pizza Hut in Copenhagen, but it's not the same. You don't have a wicked big-block 1970s muscle car pulling up, reviving the engine, and having both teenagers and the adults turn their heads in admiration or disgust (but, really admiration...). It can never be the same thing.

I don't know the history of Brigham City's Peach City, but I can imagine it's similar to that of all the other places in big cities and small towns across America. Thousands upon thousands of people consuming tons and tons of food...and the memories that endure.

We weren't allowed in the building, so we joined the other auto-bound patrons waiting for our food. I know somethings will never return to what we once considered "normal," but when all this crap has settled, I hope at least the neighborhood diner can return...to what it once was.

A New Ski Resort...In Utah

 My son returned from a youth activity earlier in the week. They traveled to a ski resort in the area to do some tubing.

Ah...to ski is to live.

Too bad it costs so much to live.

I was one of the fortunate generation that could afford to ski in my youth. I mostly skied Snow Basin...a place that's grown immensely since the late 1970s when an all-day, all area pass cost around $8.50. Snow Basin is a first-class resort now. In fact, almost all the resorts in Utah are first-class. Back in the day the most expensive part of skiing was the equipment. Now, you can find used skis relatively cheap--the cost of a ticket is what costs now.

In Northern Utah, there's always been one ski resort, Beaver Mountain. It's located east of Logan. I've never been--lots of Utah State University students go there. What I didn't know until recently is there's a new kid in town, Cherry Peak. I've not been to this one, either. It's north and east of Logan, close enough for a group of teenagers to go for an activity. I checked them out on-line. Their prices seem reasonable. I don't believe it's a large resort, mostly because it's so new.

I don't need a big place to ski--sure, it'd be nice, but since I've only gone three times in the past 25 years, I think I can get enjoyment out of a small hill. Also, not sure how the ol' body will adapt to strapping on heavy ski boots and controlling two long skis so I don't do major damage to myself.

It's good to see a new resort begin operations. I can't imagine how much money it would take to open one of those things. I'd love to see more of them, but maybe we'll just have to do with what we have. One day, perhaps next season, I'll get up to Cherry Peak. Because, to ski is to live.

You Can't Take The...Gym...From Me

 When I worked in an office building there were times when I took advantage of the gyms located on the premises. I wasn't an everyday gym user, mostly because it involved changing clothes, working out, showering (when they had showers...), and all those things took time.

Amazing what a change of venue can do.

Our little gym is nowhere near as nice as the gyms in those office buildings. We have three machines, a mini-trampoline, and a yoga ball. We do, however, have a TV and a library of DVDs. I've been spending at least fifteen minutes in our gym every workday. I chose, for my workout entertainment, the 1994 miniseries, The Stand. I finished that last week. This week, it's Joss Whedon's, Firefly.

I'd forgotten how good it is.

I've watched the movie from the series, Serenity, several times. Great show, but I didn't watch the series when it was on years ago, and when I did watch the series after buying it, I liked it, but like most Firefly fans, I wanted more. Unfortunately, no more were made.

I know many people who work out to music--not a bad choice, something I can definitely get behind. But, when I watch part of a show, it helps me want to come back and keep watching. It's like the opposite of bing-watching. It's slow-watching.

There's multiple Firefly DVDs. If I continue to work out in our little gym (which I totally plan on doing...), I'll get through the entire series probably next month. Then, as I was the first time I watched the series, I'll be sad it's over.

Crystal Hot Springs...A Cozy Place To Go

 "Hey," my wife said to me last week. "Let's go to Crystal Hot Springs on Friday."

"Sure," I said.

One of the things we looked forward to when we knew we were moving to Northern Utah was the close proximity to Chrystal Hot Springs in Honeyville, Utah. I'd never been, but my wife has and she is a fan.

After going, now I'm a fan, too.

It's been a while since I've been swimming. As a kid, I swam everyday in the summers (except Sundays...). I was a fish in search of water. Not that the hot springs is foremost a pool for swimming, but it's been a while since I donned a bathing suit and immersed myself in water. When I first saw our fellow hot springers, I thought in order to gain entrance to the facility I needed facial hair and several tattoos and that somehow, they overlooked that I had neither when we arrived, but they let me in anyway. Growing up, if someone had a beard and tattoos at the Lagoon pool, they were either ex-military or in a biker gang.

Times have changed.

But, I digress. The hot springs...were heavenly. 

Because it was cold outside, we hurried to one of the small pools first. What struck me most--after the incredible relaxing feeling of the water--was the minerals. There was a film on my skin when I got out of the water. I've been told the minerals in the water do more good than the heat or the steam.

While we were there, it snowed lightly. That was cool. Also, while we were there, a fellow hot springs patron struck up a conversation with us. We found out where he's from, that he's getting a divorce, that he's invested in Game Stop, and that Utah lawyers are not kind to husbands/fathers.

I don't know if the heat of the water or the materials causes a tongue to loosen, or just joints.

All in all, the experience was wonderful. We will be back. I will--once again--be beard-less and tattoo-less (the one I can't control, the other I can...). I'm glad we decided to drive the ten miles to the hot springs...a very cozy place.