Well, my work finally ended and that means I no longer have to ride the Cedar City Area Transit or CATS for short. Yea! Lets just say nothing can compare to a small town bus.
First let me paint you a picture of this "bus". You know the dial-a-ride buses that are only available for handicapp people? Well take that, rip out the comfy seats, replace them fold-up church chairs that are not all the way bolted in, the floor, not carpet, but what looks like tile, but who can tell due to the 1 inch layer of dried soda and dirt. Also, there is a handicapp lift in the back which is also not bolted in all the way so if the constant banging doesnt keep you wide awake, the flying seatbelt will when it slashes you across the face. The smell is not too bad, until he turns on the air conditioner. Then you'd wish you were back to sweating drops.
Next comes the ride. Because of our small population, the bus only runs one way. That means, to get to work at 9, I walk to the bus stop at 7:45 and ride for 1 hour and 15 minutes. I don't believe the driver has to hold any type of a special liscense, so as we run stop signs, pull into, or should I say cut off high speed traffic, go over curbs (all the while the driver laughs and says, "man that just jumped out at me!") I have to start taking deep breaths, praying that I can hold on to my breakfast for another hour. What seems to be an eternity and a migraine later, he drops me off in front on my school. I dry heave into the grass for awhile and rush into the classroom. Now I get out of work 15 minutes after the bus comes to my stop agian. So, having an hour to wait, I head to either the gas station or Artic Circle (gross, i know, but it's the only thing remotely close) for some much needed lunch. Now there is a nice little hill covered with grass and trees (rare for cedar city) across from the bus stop. So I start to eat my lunch there and try to get psyched for the trip home. Its nice until the lunch work crowd starts to pass through. And by work crowd I mean shirtless white construction guys, seated 3 to a seat in their huge truck thinking that they are something else. You know that they're desperate when they sucomb to waving to a pregnant lady scarfing down 3 hamburgers at once. Well finally the bus comes, I sit back in my seat and reach my home 30 minutes later.
And finally, my fellow passangers. Now most of the time I am the only one on the bus, so the only conversation I have to worry about is when the driver tells his jokes. But every now and then the bus fills up (with a total of 6 people) and I find myself looking out the window, trying to hold back my grin and wishing someone was thier with me to witness the situation. We pick up a young couple that reminds me of Dan and Rosanne Conner. They each take two seats, due to obvious reasons, turn around and start talking loudly to a quiet older mexican man asking about his knee brace. The man, obviously wanting to be left alone responds with a soft, short answer and turns back to his window. The lady then manages to tell her whole life story to the man, complete with her innate knowledge of the medical field, and is still talking by the time I get off. We picked up another guy, probabaly in his twenties, wearing a wife-beater, and I believe having a grand total of about 4 teeth in his mouth. He sits in the back and starts talking to the driver like thier old friends. The driver, usually a very friendly sort, ignores him almost completely and it starts to get really awkward in the bus. But the guy just keeps talking, laughing to himself until he gets up, announces there's "too much sticky pop"in the back and makes his way to the seat next to me. Now there is one other person on the bus, an old man, and he seeing this, starts to grin, and looks out the window, he probably knows what's coming. He sits down and puts his arm up around my seat and says, "so how are you doing?" I say fine and look back out my window, while he continues to talk to himself and make jokes.
Now, there are many more people that have made me grin in the last 3 weeks, but I don't want to waste your timeor mine. This has been quite an experience and I'm glad it's over, however if we have to live here much longer while Mike commutes, I may have to make the trip again. Let's hope not.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Support or not support...that is the question. Hmmm.
What a dilemma!! Dad wants to go eat at Carl's Jr. I say that we would be supporting Paris Hilton and her antics. But they do have good hamburgers. But does dad have an ulterior motive?? What say you????????????
Monday, May 23, 2005
Can I get a Yeehaw? And I say thankya...
I’m sure everyone is aware that San Antonio is the latest city to be graced with a temple. Two weeks ago we went to the open house. Today (Sunday) was the dedicatory prayer in which President Hinckley described the temple as “the most beautiful temple he’s ever seen.” It has been a very exciting time for San Antonians and for all southern and central Texans. So what do you do with all that excitement? A night of boot scootin’? A round of drinks? Of course not--It has to be an evening full of glow sticks, glitter and a whole lot of dancing—no I’m not talking about Samantha’s bachelorette party, I’m talking about a good ol’ barn raisin’ mo’mon jubilee.
Saturday night, Jenn and I went to the Alamodome for this unsurprisingly unique experience. Lucky for you, I kept a running diary of the whole event. Enjoy it as much as I did…
3:00pm—Jenn reminds me that we have the fireside and jubilee with President Hinckley at 5pm in the Alamodome. Admittedly I was a little perturbed since I was hoping to watch our latest movie “rental” we got that morning from the library: Herbie Goes Bananas. It was the best we could find since we checked out “Airplane” last week. Surprisingly, Jenn enjoyed the movie and we were both disappointed to find out yesterday that someone had checked out Naked Gun and Naked Gun 2 & ½. Our romantic date night will have to be postponed.
3:55pm—I’ve decided to wear my brown corduroys with a fitted Geoffrey Bean shirt. I put on the boots and not surprisingly I look good in them. I have one problem, however, with the boots. Whatever I do, I walk bowlegged and have to hold my belt. I don’t know if it’s the years of training from observing Mom’s family or something else. Whatever it is, Jenn tells me I look like a feminine raptor…The normal shoes go back on.
4:00pm—We leave for the Alamodome and quickly come to the conclusion once again that, yes, we are the best drivers in the world.
4:35-4:50—As everyone knows, the Alamodome is no longer the arena in which the Spurs play—they play in the SBC center now. It’s about twice the size of the Delta Center. At work my buddy, Chi Chi (aka Kevin) told me that now they only hold Monster Truck rallies and other events. When he couldn’t name anything else, I wondered if there was anything else if Monster Truck is at the top of the list. I don’t think Karl Malone ever wanted to come to play for the Spurs. I think he only wanted to race his monster truck ‘Power Forward’ on the weekends.
We find some seats in the nosebleed section and set up camp next to some lady from Brigham City (now a Texan). When I tell her that I have family in Honeyville, she responds matter-of-factly: “Oh, well that’s close to Brigham City.” It was as if she revealed a long-hidden truth to me--like why they don’t call hemorrhoids-asteroids. Anyway, she was a nice person and we’ll leave it at that.
5-6pm—The one-hour devotional with Pres. Hinckley, Elder Ballard, Elder Diddier and others was pretty good, although it was mostly geared toward the youth. Probably the highlight of the whole devotional was the entrance of the prophet and his entourage on golf carts. For a second, I thought I would see Coach Edwards dismount the cart and walk on the stage with his Stockton shorts. No such luck. What did happen, though, was a thunderous amount of applauding as President Hinckley took the stage. It was pandemonium. I thought I saw the missionaries on the lower balcony trying to start a wave but it didn’t pan out. I was just waiting for the lady next to me to start “raising the roof”, in which I would have followed her gestures by body slamming her over the railing—the only thing worse than a guy doing the “raising the roof” motions is a girl doing it. Don’t try me…
Anyway, another round of thunderous applause followed the choir’s singing of “Reverently and Meekly Now”, which ultimately prompted Elder Diddier to remind everyone it was a worship service and there was “no need to applaud.” For a second there, I thought we were about to receive salvation from none other than Fay and Tammy Baker(?)—No offense Mom…
6:15pm (Intermission)
Me: I’m hungry, should I get some nachos?
Jenn: Sure, if you want?
Me: What if I don’t want any, do I have to get some?
Jenn: huh?
Me: I’m hungry
6:20pm
Me: I think I’m going to get nachos and a soda.
Jenn: Okay.
6:23pm
Me: I kind of hungry for some nachos
Jenn: (clearly perturbed) If you think I’m going to get you nachos, think again…
6:30pm
Finally I relent and go get Jenn some nachos.
7:04pm—Jenn finally pulls my attention away from my 32 ouncer long enough to point out what obviously had to be the miscalculation of the whole event, and what also happens to be one of the highlights: While waiting for the performance to start, a huge white screen is set up toward the back of the whole ground staging area. On this screen they have the symbol of the whole celebration. If I had asked you to come up with a symbol of the new temple and San Antonio, what would you do? Well, what the organizers decided to do was have a banner across the bottom that read “The Heart of Texas.” The picture above it was none other than the once-Catholic church, The Alamo, with the Angel Moroni triumphantly placed on the top. I can hear the rumors now: “The Alamo was built in such a way that it can easily convert into a temple for the second coming.” And yes, you may spread this rumor at will. And Tim Duncan’s brother is taking the discussions.
7:14—I had to go back and get the nachos because the cheese wasn’t hot enough. With the exorbitant amount of ice and bad nachos, the concession stands have so far received a D minus. If it wasn’t for the nice lady behind the counter, they would have gotten an F. I mean, c’mon, how do you mess up nachos????????? I hereby declare dad’s sausage nachos the greatest nachos I have ever experienced.
7:17pm—The celebration has officially started. How do I know? I hear the first Yee-Haw of the night. Fortunately for Jenn and I, the culprit is sitting only two aisles back. Can I have a second Yee-Haw?
7:18pm—Be careful what you wish for…
7:21pm—The story is set in pioneer times with a family talking about their ventures in the state. There are supposedly over 5,000 kids participating. Well, a huge group dressed in pioneer garb finally enters the arena which brings thunderous applause from the crowd. You know what that means, more standing ovations than the president’s State of the Union.
7:25pm—“The Stars at Night, shine big and bright, (clap, clap, clap), Deep in the heart of Texas.” The song just gets to you. I would’ve clapped in the right parts but I had a 32 ouncer in one hand and cold nachos in the other. Again, the crowd erupts when horses come running in.
7:33pm—The nachos are gone and the ice cup I’m left with leave me a little discouraged—That is, however, before “Coming to America” comes blaring through the speakers. And no, it wasn’t Apollo Creed’s theme song in Rocky IV (Which happens to be one of the greatest films of all time, if only for the fact that Stallone single-handedly ended ended the cold war with this movie. One of those movies that comes on a random channel that you just can't turn off).
7:40pm—Just when I’m starting to lose interest, a Mariachi tune comes on and kids in customary Mexican attire come running through the gates and start performing a dance. Mayka probably has something similar in her closet. One kid in particular looks like he’s doing a cross between the running man and the Russian dance that all the guys try to do at the stake dances. Did those guys ever think they were cool? They’re the same guys who are still dancing the Russian dance at EFY as counselors.
7:41pm—My thoughts turn to Mayka as the Mexican flag is proudly hoisted in the air, shining brightly amongst the three Texas-style piñatas they decided to fly next to it.
7:55pm—A song comes on that sounds vaguely familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it but it sounds like a cross between George Straight and PC Quest. Which reminds me—remember when we would be driving through California switching between PC Quest and Wilson Phillips? I think it was that music alone that got us through those trips to Utah when the van broke down going through Nevada. If, when we were growing up, Mom had to choose only one CD to take with her anywhere, I would guess the following in this order:
3. George Straight: Mellow music, easy to listen to, great for road trips to Delano to see the weird eye doctor.
2. Wilson Phillips: Secretly, this was Clint’s favorite band.
1. Jive Bunny and the Master Mixers: This is clearly the obvious choice. Every Saturday morning, there was at least a 40 percent chance that the words, “J-J-Jive Bu-Bu-Bunny and the Mastermixers” would be pumping though the stereo. Of course, I was always outside working so this is just what I had heard…
We’re almost there…
7:59pm—Three words: Cotton. Eyed. Joe. I didn’t even know that was a dance. I thought it was a song by Insane Clown Posse, or whoever it was. Anyway, last week in church I overheard one of the youth talking to someone about the dance and how Guinness (not the beer) was going to be there to see if this would break the world record for number of people doing the cotton-eyed-Joe. Great resume builder or a great conversation topic on a date. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.
8:03pm—The song, “Be kind to your web-footed friends, for a duck…..” comes on. Although it seems as though the lyrics have been changed. When did that happen?
8:12pm—I’m still waiting for “All my Exes Live in Texas” to come on. No luck.
8:19pm—The narrative picks up on a conversation between the son, who wants to dance with a girl, and the mom who wants to dance with her son. Which reminds me—Every family reunion involving the infamous cousins’ dance, Mom would lament how her rhythmically challenged sons could not compete with Barbara’s(?) sons two-step. While it is true that I really didn’t learn to dance from her, I did learn to play the piano (stepping up, stepping down, then-a-skip), cook Taco Bake, and jump on the trampoline with near perfection. Who needs to Fox trot when you can jump 15 feet off the trampoline without breaking an arm. Oh wait….
8:27pm—I thought the Cotton-Eyed Joe was the loudest it would get in here. That was, until, the official arrival of the missionaries. Even the nachos got a little jumpy. Some country song was playing and I was half-hoping to see the missionaries start a square dance routine with the mission president calling out the moves. No such luck. They do, however, do their best to look as awkward as possible.
8:29pm—The last streamers go off, along with two glitter explosions. It’s starting to get a little too feminine for me. Finally, the jubilee ends with a closing prayer, which was then followed by more applause and countless yee-haws. Don’t look now, but I think I may have even said one.
Finally, I fully understand if you decide to permanently ban me from posting anything else on the Tustizone. I know it’s big, but that’s how WE do things here in Texas y’all!!!!!!!!! YeeeeeeeeeeHaaaaaawww.
Saturday night, Jenn and I went to the Alamodome for this unsurprisingly unique experience. Lucky for you, I kept a running diary of the whole event. Enjoy it as much as I did…
3:00pm—Jenn reminds me that we have the fireside and jubilee with President Hinckley at 5pm in the Alamodome. Admittedly I was a little perturbed since I was hoping to watch our latest movie “rental” we got that morning from the library: Herbie Goes Bananas. It was the best we could find since we checked out “Airplane” last week. Surprisingly, Jenn enjoyed the movie and we were both disappointed to find out yesterday that someone had checked out Naked Gun and Naked Gun 2 & ½. Our romantic date night will have to be postponed.
3:55pm—I’ve decided to wear my brown corduroys with a fitted Geoffrey Bean shirt. I put on the boots and not surprisingly I look good in them. I have one problem, however, with the boots. Whatever I do, I walk bowlegged and have to hold my belt. I don’t know if it’s the years of training from observing Mom’s family or something else. Whatever it is, Jenn tells me I look like a feminine raptor…The normal shoes go back on.
4:00pm—We leave for the Alamodome and quickly come to the conclusion once again that, yes, we are the best drivers in the world.
4:35-4:50—As everyone knows, the Alamodome is no longer the arena in which the Spurs play—they play in the SBC center now. It’s about twice the size of the Delta Center. At work my buddy, Chi Chi (aka Kevin) told me that now they only hold Monster Truck rallies and other events. When he couldn’t name anything else, I wondered if there was anything else if Monster Truck is at the top of the list. I don’t think Karl Malone ever wanted to come to play for the Spurs. I think he only wanted to race his monster truck ‘Power Forward’ on the weekends.
We find some seats in the nosebleed section and set up camp next to some lady from Brigham City (now a Texan). When I tell her that I have family in Honeyville, she responds matter-of-factly: “Oh, well that’s close to Brigham City.” It was as if she revealed a long-hidden truth to me--like why they don’t call hemorrhoids-asteroids. Anyway, she was a nice person and we’ll leave it at that.
5-6pm—The one-hour devotional with Pres. Hinckley, Elder Ballard, Elder Diddier and others was pretty good, although it was mostly geared toward the youth. Probably the highlight of the whole devotional was the entrance of the prophet and his entourage on golf carts. For a second, I thought I would see Coach Edwards dismount the cart and walk on the stage with his Stockton shorts. No such luck. What did happen, though, was a thunderous amount of applauding as President Hinckley took the stage. It was pandemonium. I thought I saw the missionaries on the lower balcony trying to start a wave but it didn’t pan out. I was just waiting for the lady next to me to start “raising the roof”, in which I would have followed her gestures by body slamming her over the railing—the only thing worse than a guy doing the “raising the roof” motions is a girl doing it. Don’t try me…
Anyway, another round of thunderous applause followed the choir’s singing of “Reverently and Meekly Now”, which ultimately prompted Elder Diddier to remind everyone it was a worship service and there was “no need to applaud.” For a second there, I thought we were about to receive salvation from none other than Fay and Tammy Baker(?)—No offense Mom…
6:15pm (Intermission)
Me: I’m hungry, should I get some nachos?
Jenn: Sure, if you want?
Me: What if I don’t want any, do I have to get some?
Jenn: huh?
Me: I’m hungry
6:20pm
Me: I think I’m going to get nachos and a soda.
Jenn: Okay.
6:23pm
Me: I kind of hungry for some nachos
Jenn: (clearly perturbed) If you think I’m going to get you nachos, think again…
6:30pm
Finally I relent and go get Jenn some nachos.
7:04pm—Jenn finally pulls my attention away from my 32 ouncer long enough to point out what obviously had to be the miscalculation of the whole event, and what also happens to be one of the highlights: While waiting for the performance to start, a huge white screen is set up toward the back of the whole ground staging area. On this screen they have the symbol of the whole celebration. If I had asked you to come up with a symbol of the new temple and San Antonio, what would you do? Well, what the organizers decided to do was have a banner across the bottom that read “The Heart of Texas.” The picture above it was none other than the once-Catholic church, The Alamo, with the Angel Moroni triumphantly placed on the top. I can hear the rumors now: “The Alamo was built in such a way that it can easily convert into a temple for the second coming.” And yes, you may spread this rumor at will. And Tim Duncan’s brother is taking the discussions.
7:14—I had to go back and get the nachos because the cheese wasn’t hot enough. With the exorbitant amount of ice and bad nachos, the concession stands have so far received a D minus. If it wasn’t for the nice lady behind the counter, they would have gotten an F. I mean, c’mon, how do you mess up nachos????????? I hereby declare dad’s sausage nachos the greatest nachos I have ever experienced.
7:17pm—The celebration has officially started. How do I know? I hear the first Yee-Haw of the night. Fortunately for Jenn and I, the culprit is sitting only two aisles back. Can I have a second Yee-Haw?
7:18pm—Be careful what you wish for…
7:21pm—The story is set in pioneer times with a family talking about their ventures in the state. There are supposedly over 5,000 kids participating. Well, a huge group dressed in pioneer garb finally enters the arena which brings thunderous applause from the crowd. You know what that means, more standing ovations than the president’s State of the Union.
7:25pm—“The Stars at Night, shine big and bright, (clap, clap, clap), Deep in the heart of Texas.” The song just gets to you. I would’ve clapped in the right parts but I had a 32 ouncer in one hand and cold nachos in the other. Again, the crowd erupts when horses come running in.
7:33pm—The nachos are gone and the ice cup I’m left with leave me a little discouraged—That is, however, before “Coming to America” comes blaring through the speakers. And no, it wasn’t Apollo Creed’s theme song in Rocky IV (Which happens to be one of the greatest films of all time, if only for the fact that Stallone single-handedly ended ended the cold war with this movie. One of those movies that comes on a random channel that you just can't turn off).
7:40pm—Just when I’m starting to lose interest, a Mariachi tune comes on and kids in customary Mexican attire come running through the gates and start performing a dance. Mayka probably has something similar in her closet. One kid in particular looks like he’s doing a cross between the running man and the Russian dance that all the guys try to do at the stake dances. Did those guys ever think they were cool? They’re the same guys who are still dancing the Russian dance at EFY as counselors.
7:41pm—My thoughts turn to Mayka as the Mexican flag is proudly hoisted in the air, shining brightly amongst the three Texas-style piñatas they decided to fly next to it.
7:55pm—A song comes on that sounds vaguely familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it but it sounds like a cross between George Straight and PC Quest. Which reminds me—remember when we would be driving through California switching between PC Quest and Wilson Phillips? I think it was that music alone that got us through those trips to Utah when the van broke down going through Nevada. If, when we were growing up, Mom had to choose only one CD to take with her anywhere, I would guess the following in this order:
3. George Straight: Mellow music, easy to listen to, great for road trips to Delano to see the weird eye doctor.
2. Wilson Phillips: Secretly, this was Clint’s favorite band.
1. Jive Bunny and the Master Mixers: This is clearly the obvious choice. Every Saturday morning, there was at least a 40 percent chance that the words, “J-J-Jive Bu-Bu-Bunny and the Mastermixers” would be pumping though the stereo. Of course, I was always outside working so this is just what I had heard…
We’re almost there…
7:59pm—Three words: Cotton. Eyed. Joe. I didn’t even know that was a dance. I thought it was a song by Insane Clown Posse, or whoever it was. Anyway, last week in church I overheard one of the youth talking to someone about the dance and how Guinness (not the beer) was going to be there to see if this would break the world record for number of people doing the cotton-eyed-Joe. Great resume builder or a great conversation topic on a date. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.
8:03pm—The song, “Be kind to your web-footed friends, for a duck…..” comes on. Although it seems as though the lyrics have been changed. When did that happen?
8:12pm—I’m still waiting for “All my Exes Live in Texas” to come on. No luck.
8:19pm—The narrative picks up on a conversation between the son, who wants to dance with a girl, and the mom who wants to dance with her son. Which reminds me—Every family reunion involving the infamous cousins’ dance, Mom would lament how her rhythmically challenged sons could not compete with Barbara’s(?) sons two-step. While it is true that I really didn’t learn to dance from her, I did learn to play the piano (stepping up, stepping down, then-a-skip), cook Taco Bake, and jump on the trampoline with near perfection. Who needs to Fox trot when you can jump 15 feet off the trampoline without breaking an arm. Oh wait….
8:27pm—I thought the Cotton-Eyed Joe was the loudest it would get in here. That was, until, the official arrival of the missionaries. Even the nachos got a little jumpy. Some country song was playing and I was half-hoping to see the missionaries start a square dance routine with the mission president calling out the moves. No such luck. They do, however, do their best to look as awkward as possible.
8:29pm—The last streamers go off, along with two glitter explosions. It’s starting to get a little too feminine for me. Finally, the jubilee ends with a closing prayer, which was then followed by more applause and countless yee-haws. Don’t look now, but I think I may have even said one.
Finally, I fully understand if you decide to permanently ban me from posting anything else on the Tustizone. I know it’s big, but that’s how WE do things here in Texas y’all!!!!!!!!! YeeeeeeeeeeHaaaaaawww.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Knee Caps
Did you know...
"Babies are born without kneecaps; they don't appear until the ages of 2 to 6. "
(I got a fun list of trivia from one of my favorite professors, so from time to time, I'll post a few of the most interesting facts here.)
"Babies are born without kneecaps; they don't appear until the ages of 2 to 6. "
(I got a fun list of trivia from one of my favorite professors, so from time to time, I'll post a few of the most interesting facts here.)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Aiden's Recent Fascination
Aiden was the recipient of what will become a family heirloom --- one of Mom's felt mobiles with the puffball animals. Anytime she laments her sewing ineptitude, simply point her to one of these creative classics. For some reason, it has sparked a recent fascination with Aiden. Perhaps it's due to its unreachability that Aiden is constantly trying to blow it down.
Monday, May 16, 2005
The Illegitimate Son
This last weekend Sam and I set out on a journey for rest and relaxation, known in some circles as R&R. Enthralled in our quest for the Holy Grail, as it were, we decided that the house of Padres was the ideal destination for this relaxation. Upon arriving the decision was made that I would accompany Jim to the Father and Sons outing as his provisional progeny. Given this gift and responsibility I decided that the rest of the weekend should be spent acting like a son. My next task, mow the lawn. Inspired by a certain someone, an ensemble including only Trevors boots and longjohns served as my template for this 4 a.m. task. (just kidding I could'nt take it that far). Feeling incomplete, the sting for more service made my stomach ache like a hungry dog with a plate full of steak just inches away. Having been a pupil of Bob Villa at one time I decided to try my luck at a home remodel (moving the Piano). This task almost bested my assistant Jim, but I proved the victor none the less. Putting the last of my affairs in order I thought it best that the wife and I return to the homestead, thus putting an end to my days as an Illegitimate Son.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
"Chloe, we do not have time for your personality disorder right now"
If you're going to move a piano,
Let your conscience be your guide.
Just get Mike to help
And hope he won't yelp
When you take a bite out of his hide.
The End
Let your conscience be your guide.
Just get Mike to help
And hope he won't yelp
When you take a bite out of his hide.
The End
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The disenchantment of blue eyes...
I just learned in my neuroscience class that blue eyes aren't nearly as enchanting as I once thought. My apologies to those who have those baby blues, but your eyes are seriously deficient in a pigment producing cell called a melanocyte. I don't have much room to speak coming from my green eyes with their only marginal amounts of melanocytes, but now when I stare into my husband's and my son's beautiful blue eyes, I am so grateful that I am not reliant on them to hunt down our food in an equatorial region where their eyes would be uselessly flooded with stray light.
SIL Insights
A while back the following was written by Kim via email to us all:
"As the original SIL, I have to say no, Tustison Logic and Tustison Humor arenot the same thing, but they may be connected. Tustison Logic is turning right eight times and going four miles out of your way just so the place you want to end up will be on the right side of the street and no left turns are required. Tustison Humor is probably funny and makes sense if going that far out of your way on a daily basis is normal for you. I mostly just get a kick out of Nick getting a kick out of himself or laughing about how he thinks his mom or Chad or whoever will think whatever he wrote was hilarious. In all sincerity, making jokes about Tustison humor and how I don't get it make it funny. Any other SILs (or the BIL) have an opinion onthis? Kim"
I have been meaning to respond and Chad insists that I blog it. So here I go.
I would have to agree with Kim here on the difference between Tustison Logic and Tustison Humor. I learned early on that I needed to drive if I was to get where I wanted when I wanted and how I wanted. I just couldn't and still can't understand why we needed to turn on every side street and zig zag across Provo when there are roads that would take us directly to our destination. I think it is all Chad's plot to drive up the frustrations so high so that he can simply sit back and enjoy the ride!
As for the Tustison humor although I could never create it I enjoy observing its course. It's also a great way to make Chad feel important because without his explanations I wouldn't get half of it. I agree Kim that as a SIL the best part is watching Chad laugh and come up with another quip to poke fun at others including himself.
Kim, eloquently said.
"As the original SIL, I have to say no, Tustison Logic and Tustison Humor arenot the same thing, but they may be connected. Tustison Logic is turning right eight times and going four miles out of your way just so the place you want to end up will be on the right side of the street and no left turns are required. Tustison Humor is probably funny and makes sense if going that far out of your way on a daily basis is normal for you. I mostly just get a kick out of Nick getting a kick out of himself or laughing about how he thinks his mom or Chad or whoever will think whatever he wrote was hilarious. In all sincerity, making jokes about Tustison humor and how I don't get it make it funny. Any other SILs (or the BIL) have an opinion onthis? Kim"
I have been meaning to respond and Chad insists that I blog it. So here I go.
I would have to agree with Kim here on the difference between Tustison Logic and Tustison Humor. I learned early on that I needed to drive if I was to get where I wanted when I wanted and how I wanted. I just couldn't and still can't understand why we needed to turn on every side street and zig zag across Provo when there are roads that would take us directly to our destination. I think it is all Chad's plot to drive up the frustrations so high so that he can simply sit back and enjoy the ride!
As for the Tustison humor although I could never create it I enjoy observing its course. It's also a great way to make Chad feel important because without his explanations I wouldn't get half of it. I agree Kim that as a SIL the best part is watching Chad laugh and come up with another quip to poke fun at others including himself.
Kim, eloquently said.
Friday, May 13, 2005
A Little Action on the Side
With the positive feedback for the new looks, I thought that we'd keep the current motif. This means that we can add links to the sidebar. How do you suggest we organize the sidebar? All suggestions are welcome except, Chad, let me quell any possible thoughts of putting a link to Sean Hannity's website.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The Job
Just to let everyone know, Mike had his meeting/review with the district manager yesterday. He gave him a couple of store options he could become sales manager in. They were Layton, Cedar City, and St. George. All had it's advantages and disadvantages but when it came down to it, the best move would be to St. George. That is for many reasons. First, it is the busiest store in the district, (I believe top 10 in the region, if not in the whole country) yet it's sales numbers are not too good. Mike would have to opportunity to increase the sales and kind of "shine" for the company if you will. Ken (the D.M.) also said the store would look amazing on his resume and once there for a couple of years (assuming he helped the store) set him up for becoming a General Manager or a transfer to almost anywhere (even outside of Utah, yea!). Also, a move to St. George would be a significance raise in salary than any where else in Utah (not that that matters in the least :) Staying here would have been okay, but we have come to realize that towns with less than 20,000 people are far too small for us. Going to walmart 4 times a day and Del Taco for dinner just doesnt cut it anymore. St. George isnt much bigger, but atleast there is a Costco and a Bajio's...I'm happy about that. Layton would have been fun to be close to mom and dad but it's the lowest ranked store in the district, and wouldnt do much for Mike as far as his job goes. So the time line is probably as follows: the next 3 weeks or so, Mike will be finishing up his training in St. George, when he will then have his official interview. Hopefully all will go well, and then we will be moving to St. George in a month or so. On a different note, my ultrasound appointment is set up for the 13th of June, so that will be the day we find out if it's a boy or girl. Kind of exciting.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Joseph Smith Conference files
If anyone is interested, LDS.com has audio files for presentations given at the Joseph Smith conference Nick was at this past weekened.
(Hey, Nick, you can also redeem yourself by watching the video of Elder Oak's talk since you left early.)
You can find the page here.
(Hey, Nick, you can also redeem yourself by watching the video of Elder Oak's talk since you left early.)
You can find the page here.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Life In the Fast Lane
As I comtemplate the joyous telephone calls, cards and other vissitudes of motherhood I have received, I am reminded once again how amazing my family is. You all are so diffierent (thank heaven's) but somehow you seem to participate and cooperate and regurgitate your empathy and compassion for each other. I may be living in a fog or in the fast lane but I do know what I know. And that is that I will be your mother any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I am reminded of the time when we went to Wendy's in Delano and all had $1 Happy Meals. Now Nick was too embarassed to (1) be with his family and (2) eat a Happy Meal. but he was with us in spirit. And that is what counts in this life....Clint riding down Cattle Call Hill at breakneck speed and stilll managing to pedal home and not complain. Chad (although left home from Stake Conference) was cleaning out his drawers. Samantha owning up to the chips in the sink. And Trevor - the new kid on the block wearing new leviis (Kirkland brand) with the size strip still on the leg. But was still the toast of the "girl ask guy"scene... a unique Utah dating phenomenon. What fond thoughts I as your mother have imbedded in my small but efficient brain. Thanks for the memories. MOM
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Sexual Identity, Abecedarian Adroitness, and Homemade Pepperoni Pizza
The only time that I remember Mom swearing was when we lived on 331 Terrace Circle in Brawley. We had the room with the corked wall paper and I slept on the bed with red, white, and blue bed frame that I painted myself. We had been folding clothes and Mom kept insisting that I leave a pile of clothes in one specific spot and I, in my immaturity, refused to listen. I suppose that such an event is odd to bring up on the eve Mother's Day. However, I shelve that memory right beside all the memories of times she made homemade pizza at my request, or how proud she was that I took after her in winning the spelling bee in 7th grade, or the time she thought I was gay, when in reality I was only a loser without any friends (just kidding Mom), and even the expression that still overwhelms her when reminiscing about how her musically-challenged son created an unforgettable song complete with backup band as a gift for Mother's Day --- for it is all those memories that I cherish. Mom, thanks for being one of my best friends. Happy Mother's Day.
For those that are interested, I posted my Mothers' Day talk here.
For those that are interested, I posted my Mothers' Day talk here.
First Impressions...
Well fellas,
Let me start off by saying that Texas is cool y’all. Work has been pretty hectic. Between having a meeting every half hour and taking mandatory 2 hour lunches, I find little time to do any of the actual work. On to my first impressions:
Rand() hits from San Antonio
--I had to go to Thursday’s City Council meeting where, to make a long story short, I found out Jenn and I live in an area with the most Gentlemen’s Clubs. I always thought the “Wild Zebra” near our apartment was a sister location for the San Antonio Zoo—some exotic African wildlife exhibit. I guess Jenn and I won’t be visiting that place this weekend.
----I’ve been asked to go get beers with fellow coworkers about 6 times during my first five days of work. I thought about saying, “sure, let’s go get some root.” Then I would have invited them over to play twister and hang out for a Saturday’s Warrior marathon. I’m sure I would have made friends faster than Mike at a Staples convention.
----We have exactly three channels with only hooking up the F-type cable (that’s the “cable” cable sending the RF signal). While they do come in a little fuzzy, they are in color about 60 percent of the time (why’s it got to be a color thing?). They are NBC, Univision, and Fox San Antonio. It would be good except that the only thing Jenn can watch during the day is 5 judge shows in a row—including Judge Judy, who’s hair rivals that of dad’s during his mid ‘80s perm phase.
----Our ward is ‘ite. The bishop brought us in his office right after Sacrament Meeting. First question: “What is your experience with boy scouts?” I thought about feigning gayness but decided that may hurt my membership options. I almost told him that while I did get my Eagle award, the only knots I know how to tie now is a granny knot and a hangman’s knot. And I’m willing to use the latter if scout leader is in my future. I told him that I would be very busy during the week for the next four months and that a calling during the week may not be the best thing. He then went on to tell us that there are two types of people that come into the ward: 1. Those that “devote themselves to a calling” and 2. Those that “don’t have time.” Hey, how much time can passing out hymnbooks take? Sign me up. First impressions are the most important, right? Let’s hope so…
I guess I can be called to the young men or scouts. I’ll just have to set up tents in the copy room next to my office when they want to go on a campout. If anything, I guess I’ll call Clint since he’s the family expert now. By the way, we don’t have callings yet but we had to fill out a full page (6 point font, no joke) questionnaire that rivaled a criminal background check. I was just waiting for the Ward Clerk to walk out in scrubs with a cup and point me to the nearest bathroom. Good times. Can’t wait for next Sunday.
c
Let me start off by saying that Texas is cool y’all. Work has been pretty hectic. Between having a meeting every half hour and taking mandatory 2 hour lunches, I find little time to do any of the actual work. On to my first impressions:
Rand() hits from San Antonio
--I had to go to Thursday’s City Council meeting where, to make a long story short, I found out Jenn and I live in an area with the most Gentlemen’s Clubs. I always thought the “Wild Zebra” near our apartment was a sister location for the San Antonio Zoo—some exotic African wildlife exhibit. I guess Jenn and I won’t be visiting that place this weekend.
----I’ve been asked to go get beers with fellow coworkers about 6 times during my first five days of work. I thought about saying, “sure, let’s go get some root.” Then I would have invited them over to play twister and hang out for a Saturday’s Warrior marathon. I’m sure I would have made friends faster than Mike at a Staples convention.
----We have exactly three channels with only hooking up the F-type cable (that’s the “cable” cable sending the RF signal). While they do come in a little fuzzy, they are in color about 60 percent of the time (why’s it got to be a color thing?). They are NBC, Univision, and Fox San Antonio. It would be good except that the only thing Jenn can watch during the day is 5 judge shows in a row—including Judge Judy, who’s hair rivals that of dad’s during his mid ‘80s perm phase.
----Our ward is ‘ite. The bishop brought us in his office right after Sacrament Meeting. First question: “What is your experience with boy scouts?” I thought about feigning gayness but decided that may hurt my membership options. I almost told him that while I did get my Eagle award, the only knots I know how to tie now is a granny knot and a hangman’s knot. And I’m willing to use the latter if scout leader is in my future. I told him that I would be very busy during the week for the next four months and that a calling during the week may not be the best thing. He then went on to tell us that there are two types of people that come into the ward: 1. Those that “devote themselves to a calling” and 2. Those that “don’t have time.” Hey, how much time can passing out hymnbooks take? Sign me up. First impressions are the most important, right? Let’s hope so…
I guess I can be called to the young men or scouts. I’ll just have to set up tents in the copy room next to my office when they want to go on a campout. If anything, I guess I’ll call Clint since he’s the family expert now. By the way, we don’t have callings yet but we had to fill out a full page (6 point font, no joke) questionnaire that rivaled a criminal background check. I was just waiting for the Ward Clerk to walk out in scrubs with a cup and point me to the nearest bathroom. Good times. Can’t wait for next Sunday.
c
Out of School Non-Regrets
Now that I’ve left of school, I’m starting to put my whole college career in perspective. I’ve been in school for about six years and during these six years there are things I regret and things I definitely don’t regret not doing (if that makes sense). So, without further ado, my top four list of things I will not regret not doing at BYU (as of today):
Becoming an EFY counselor: I remember at the end of my freshman year, some dude in our hall frantically went up and down the hall, telling everyone to sign up to be an EFY counselor. Before that incident, I thought he was the cool/intimidating guy in our hall. After this happened, I would have had no qualms about the idea of lighting his computer on fire. It just didn’t seem as cool to me as some of the other guys on my floor. And besides, I just don’t know if I could ever play duck-duck-goose on the front lawn of DT in the morning and then listen to testimonies till midnight about how much friends love each other with every fiber of their being. Don’t get me wrong….it’s just not me…
Taking social dance: I think I’m finally realizing why dad has an obsession with social dance: that’s how he courted mom. I don’t remember if it was social dance per se, but I do know they were members of the Wrangler Jeans club or something. I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures. I don’t think dad ever tried to sign me up because he was just glad that I went on a mission and he didn’t want to scare me off. But any class where I am forced to prance around the ballroom twice a week and receive a B- is a definite thanks-but-no-thanks. Just my opinion…
And the number one non-regret at BYU is (drum-roll please…..)
Becoming a((n) official) tunnel singer: In case I run for president some day or fill another high profile position like William Hung’s bodyguard, I want all my past improprieties put out on the table. Therefore, I must now admit that I went tunnel singing my freshmen year not only once, but twice. Both times I went because a girl wanted me to go with her. I found out pretty quickly that tunnel singers are very possessive of even an inch of their blankets. I guess the low part of my experience, besides everything, happened the second time I was forced to go. I was not only yelled at because I was sitting on a half-foot section of someone’s blanket, but two guys on each side of the tunnel (in Sunday attire no less) began arguing loudly over singing How Great thou Art and I Believe in Christ. I didn’t know whether to laugh or look for a lighting storm. Meanwhile, three guys stand up to open their mission calls. Yeah, that’s right, forget the parents and siblings, let your tunnel singing companions know where you’re going first. Needless to say, tunnel singing is a very evil practice and should be outlawed at BYU, just like incessant flyers, incompetent pedestrians, and one-level elevator trips (i.e. TNRB). I feel very strong about this. And if I ever see Trevor wearing a “Tunnel Singing is the High Note of my Life” t-shirt, I will set him up on a blind date with Lani Hyer. On the other hand, I think I have his name for Christmas…
Any others?????
Becoming an EFY counselor: I remember at the end of my freshman year, some dude in our hall frantically went up and down the hall, telling everyone to sign up to be an EFY counselor. Before that incident, I thought he was the cool/intimidating guy in our hall. After this happened, I would have had no qualms about the idea of lighting his computer on fire. It just didn’t seem as cool to me as some of the other guys on my floor. And besides, I just don’t know if I could ever play duck-duck-goose on the front lawn of DT in the morning and then listen to testimonies till midnight about how much friends love each other with every fiber of their being. Don’t get me wrong….it’s just not me…
Taking social dance: I think I’m finally realizing why dad has an obsession with social dance: that’s how he courted mom. I don’t remember if it was social dance per se, but I do know they were members of the Wrangler Jeans club or something. I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures. I don’t think dad ever tried to sign me up because he was just glad that I went on a mission and he didn’t want to scare me off. But any class where I am forced to prance around the ballroom twice a week and receive a B- is a definite thanks-but-no-thanks. Just my opinion…
And the number one non-regret at BYU is (drum-roll please…..)
Becoming a((n) official) tunnel singer: In case I run for president some day or fill another high profile position like William Hung’s bodyguard, I want all my past improprieties put out on the table. Therefore, I must now admit that I went tunnel singing my freshmen year not only once, but twice. Both times I went because a girl wanted me to go with her. I found out pretty quickly that tunnel singers are very possessive of even an inch of their blankets. I guess the low part of my experience, besides everything, happened the second time I was forced to go. I was not only yelled at because I was sitting on a half-foot section of someone’s blanket, but two guys on each side of the tunnel (in Sunday attire no less) began arguing loudly over singing How Great thou Art and I Believe in Christ. I didn’t know whether to laugh or look for a lighting storm. Meanwhile, three guys stand up to open their mission calls. Yeah, that’s right, forget the parents and siblings, let your tunnel singing companions know where you’re going first. Needless to say, tunnel singing is a very evil practice and should be outlawed at BYU, just like incessant flyers, incompetent pedestrians, and one-level elevator trips (i.e. TNRB). I feel very strong about this. And if I ever see Trevor wearing a “Tunnel Singing is the High Note of my Life” t-shirt, I will set him up on a blind date with Lani Hyer. On the other hand, I think I have his name for Christmas…
Any others?????
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Feedback
As you can see, I've changed the motif from the original. I'll be scrolling through a few different ones over the next week or so. Please provide feedback as to your preference.
Dangling In a Cup of Diet Soda
I have to thank Mom for the title. Don't you think it sounds like the title for a Dali painting? I suppose it falls upon me to write the inaugural posting. First, notice that I haven't invited Trevor yet since we don't know how he'll behave. Anticipating his arrival reminds me of an incident in Elders' Quorum last week when this newly returned missionary, in response to a question from the instructor, comes out of left field with an irrelevant quote from President Hunter about doing member missionary work. I started to laugh and the instructor, chuckling as well, said, "Spoken like a true returned missionary." The missionary seemed a little indignant when he retorted angrily "Spoken like a true prophet." Hopefully he'll take less time than I did to relax.
Second, I haven't told anybody in the family (besides Kim) but they asked me to give a talk on Sunday for Mothers' Day and they gave me free reign in selecting a topic. I'll be posting my talk on my own blog sometime next week. As for now, it is top secret. Kim's a little worried since all I've told her is that I'm using the words 'misogynistic' and 'feminist', reciting Judaic law, and discussing the induction of women into French Masonic Lodges (just kidding about the last one). I'm even foregoing my usual outfit of no tie and sandals for a suit (with a colored shirt, of course). I'll let you know how it goes.
Second, I haven't told anybody in the family (besides Kim) but they asked me to give a talk on Sunday for Mothers' Day and they gave me free reign in selecting a topic. I'll be posting my talk on my own blog sometime next week. As for now, it is top secret. Kim's a little worried since all I've told her is that I'm using the words 'misogynistic' and 'feminist', reciting Judaic law, and discussing the induction of women into French Masonic Lodges (just kidding about the last one). I'm even foregoing my usual outfit of no tie and sandals for a suit (with a colored shirt, of course). I'll let you know how it goes.
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