Spring College Football...Love It!

 The game should have taken place last fall...

Lots of things should have happened last fall.

But, because of circumstances beyond their control, the game took place Saturday afternoon in Ogden Utah. And it was great. About this time of year, I've usually had my fill of football. This, however, was no ordinary sports year. I didn't watch any pro football, and the team I like to watch the most--the University of Utah Utes--only played part of a season. Then, their superstar freshman passed away...it sort of sours things.

Usually, I'm okay with no football. Then, in the summer, I start to get itchy. I even search out and watch Canadian pro football. It's not a bad product, especially considering there's no other football to watch. The summer's the worst part--with college football ramping up, they keep pumping out stories from college summer camps, anticipation builds...got to watch something.

I thoroughly loved watching Weber State--one of my alma maters--beat UC Davis on Saturday. They looked lethargic in the first half, but came back strong in the second. It would have been fun to attend. The commentators on TV discussed how much they enjoyed watching spring ball, too. They listed some of the"pros" having the smaller football conferences play in the spring. I agreed with them. Schools playing in the spring could bring attention to their programs, because it would be the only game in town.

I doubt spring ball will happen...change is difficult. But, these are not ordinary times. 

There's More Than Just Clouds Up There...

 My wife, mom-in-law and I were outside this afternoon when I noticed something in the sky. At first I only saw a few birds, so I climbed up on a rock wall to get a better view. What I saw was amazing--the biggest flock of birds flying in a V-formation I'd ever seen.

It's difficult to see from the photo, but you can spot the front of the V just left and above the apex of the roof. The lines of birds continue both up and to the right and down to the right. We--as amateur bird watchers/spotters figure there were around one-hundred birds in that flock headed north...

Migrating.

There's a lot of cool things to see here. Before we moved, I'd lived in the same place for so long, I guess I'd seen so much of it, nothing seemed new. Now, everything we see seems new. I suppose that will wear off in time, but for now, it's exciting--you don't know what's next.

I've heard from friends who lived in this valley years ago. One specifically pointed out all the amazing birds there are to see up here. Since I'm an amateur watcher/spotter, I haven't been seeking out the birds that can be found in the skies above the valley. Who knows...maybe I might be a little more active in that area.

Give Thanks...For Those Planes

We traveled south last week, had a few errands to run. We stopped at a store in Ogden, my wife ran inside and that's when the F-35s flew overhead. I watched them circle, then fly to Hill Air Force Base where they landed.

Man, I miss those planes.

Those planes were my childhood, or my childhood from my teenage years up. When I went to jr. high school in Kaysville, we heard the roar of those jets everyday. I think back then they flew F-4s, then F-16s. Now, they fly F-35s (the F-16s are my favorite...). We'd be in class. The teacher would have to stop his or her lecture until the roar dimmed, then they would resume. I was only a student--others who lived in southern Weber County and northern Davis County dealt with the jets all the time. I'm sure they just accepted it, like us student did.

When I worked in Clearfield, we had a huge window facing north. We saw the planes take off and land, and once, we even saw the planes practicing for an air show, something people used to put on and attend before everything went to crap.

I'm grateful for those planes, what they represent, what they mean to the community and for the country. I'm grateful for the men and women who dedicate themselves to the service of others. I hope those in the planes screaming overhead and the crews keeping them aloft know that we're grateful and we love seeing them up there.

We now live north and the only planes I've seen are the passenger jets 35k feet in the air or small single-engine Cessnas. 

Not the same...

Folks...I Don't Know If I'll Ever Eat Another Crumbl Cookie Again

 Thursday, we were out and about, running errands and picking up stuff. We had some time to kill before our appointed time to get our groceries so we decided to stop and get a treat. I mentioned that Crumbl Cookies had a store in a strip mall near the grocery store. I'd never been, but I'm not one to turn down a cookie. They must be pretty good, I thought, since they can stay in business selling only cookies.

That's where I was wrong.

The cookie I had wasn't pretty good.

It was amazing.

As a kid, I ate so much junk food. My mom used to buy the gallon ice cream tubs and I would have a bowl of ice cream almost every day. Back then, I could not gain weight to save my life. On my first drivers license I got when I was sixteen-years old it listed my official weight as 103 lbs (times sure have changed...). I was sent on a church mission to Denmark. You know what they have in Denmark besides Lutherans who don't want to convert?

Danish pastry.

And, boy--did I eat my share of Danish pastry while I was there (still couldn't gain weight...). I have so many delicious memories of the Danish people and their food.

But I digress...

I brought my raspberry and cream cheese Crumbl cookie home and dug into it. A thought...as I get older, I'm realizing I can't do some things I used to do, or if I can still do things, I don't do them as well. Eating huge delicious desserts appears to be one of those things. I could not finish the cookie in one sitting so I had to put the uneaten half of the cookie in the fridge. I devoured it the next night. The reason I may never eat another one is because it was so good and so rich, it sort of sat in my stomach the rest of the night.

As many things go, I'll probably change my mind if I'm ever near a Crumble Cookie store and feeling a bit peckish. I may try one again--never say never. But, in all seriousness, I can understand the franchise's success....they make a good cookie.

New Is Great...But Antique Is Classic

 My wife and I just exited one of the local hardware stores in our little town...that's when I saw it. Parked across the lot was a classic truck, extended, old.

When I first saw it, I didn't even know who made it.

Years ago, I used to know my VW beetles. I could identify the year just from the taillights. Of course, other things like the windows, the bumpers, the seats can also give away a bug's age. For me, I always tried to see the taillights. 

But the truck...the first thing I noticed was the extended cab. I figured the truck was from the 1960s, or early 1970s. I didn't know they made extended cabs that early. Then again, why not? I'm sure they made lots of models and variations I've never seen. And, it's possible someone extended the truck themselves. I doubt it, though. It looked pretty clean.

Maybe because I'm getting so old, I appreciate things that are as old as me. My first car was produced the same year as I was, and there are fewer and fewer old cars on the road (in the case of my bug, that's probably for the best--it was not the safest care to begin with...). 

I stopped and just looked at the truck. I snapped a picture, but didn't want to linger or get too close so as not to draw attention to myself. Some owners can get protective of their vehicles, especially truck owners. Still, I wanted to get the picture, to remember it. Would I want to own a truck like that? Perhaps. Having owned old cars, you must be dedicated to preserving them...or you should be. There's a price to pay for taking on the responsibility of owning a classic car or truck. 

As it should be.

Of course, if someone came and offered me a 1965 VW beetle (preferably green...), there's no way I'd refuse. New is great, but antique is classic...and also beautiful.

I'm Seeing Sasquatches Everywhere...

 I saw the first one a few weeks ago on one of our Sunday drives. Someone put up a huge metal Bigfoot near his mailbox. I only saw it and realized what it was as we drove by. I made a mental note to try and snap a picture of it on the trip back home. The problem was, we took another way home so I missed out on preserving the memory of the metal Sasquatch.

Turns out, these metal Bigfeet are much more abundant than the actual Bigfoot.

We started seeing them everywhere.

Okay, when I say "everywhere," I don't literally mean everywhere, even though we have seen more than I would have thought possible. The next week on our next weekly Sunday drive, we saw another one--this time, on the side of a garage. Once again, I was unable to get a picture of it. However, I did make sure to drive by it on our way home. We pulled over and I took a couple of pictures.

The other night my son had an activity with the church youth and as I drove out of the parking lot after dropping him off, a metal Bigfoot stood there, across the street in the yard of a house. And these things are not small--they must be six feet tall, at least. Then, as we traveled home tonight, a van passed us with a Bigfoot sticker in the back window.

Maybe there's a secret group that manufactures and distributes these large Sasquatches and eventually, once we're residents long enough, we'll be able to join those who proudly display their metal monuments.

And if we can, that'll be cool.

It's Like An Old Friend...That's Wearing Out

 I always do it...I'll wear a hat while working in the yard or doing some other activity and the hat gets funky, so I'll toss it in the wash. Can't have a funky hat, now, can we?

I should not wear my favorite hats while working up a sweat so I won't need to toss them into the washer and dryer where they get chewed up but good. And once they start to fray, well...it's only a matter of time.

Being a bald man, I have a certain affinity to hats. They're not just head coverings. They have their own personalities, their own characteristics. No two hats are the same, even if they follow one another off an assembly line. Hats protect me from sunburns in the summer (which totally suck...), and a frozen head in the winter. Back in my father's day, all men--no matter if they had hair or not--wore hats. They were as much a part of a gentleman's wardrobe as a pair of shoes. Personally, I'd love to see that return because the hats were wicked cool, but those days never will return...it's a shame.

All things wear out. In the grand scheme of things, hats last a relatively short time, as compared to, say, rocks, or  VW beetles, or grudges between sports teams and their fans. And if you wear those hats overly, it expedites the deterioration process.

If I'm careful, I can nurse the collection of fabric and stitching and see how long it'll last. Hopefully, a bit longer. But, when it's time, I'll go the way of all things. It'll have no future--no one will necessarily want it, even though it's a trophy of sorts...A Koval Award from 2018. And when it's retired, I'll hold fond memories of the hat.

For it will be replaced by another selection...most likely not a trophy, but another friend to offer comfort, to shield me from dangerous rays, or bitter cold, or the revelation to the world of my lack of hair. For many, it's just an old hat. To me, it's something more.