What a World, What a World!

Blogging has not been a huge priority for me for quite a while.
Life has kept me hopping. So I need to take some time to update.

I'm warning you, this is gonna be random. You've been warned.

I once harbored hatred for all things anime. It was a genre that I couldn't connect with and an animation style that made me want to lash out irrationally at household objects. I really couldn't stomach it and so I never thought I'd be caught dead watching it (dead? watching? quite a feat in and of itself).

Then I saw Avatar: the last airbender.
I was staying in a hotel room in Denver. My friend Patrick was flipping channels and stopped on Nickelodean.
"Oh, sweet! It's Avatar! Do you watch this?"
I was shocked. Patrick didn't strike me as the anime type.
"No, it doesn't really seem like the type of show I'd get into."
"That's what I thought at first, but I think you'd be surprised with this show."

So I watched an episode with Patrick.
That did it. It was anime and I actually liked it. It was clever, funny, and very well-designed.
Now, I'm nearing the end of Season 2. I admit it, I love it. It's totally anime, and I'm loving it.
Moral to this story: Never say never. Unless you're using it to say that phrase.

Shift. New topic. The weather.
I opted out of Idaho for a more mild climate and I have fallen in love with my home state all over again.
The coldest days here have been in the 40s, and those were rare. Today was almost 80 degrees. I have to feel sorry for the poor people in Rexburg.
I'm not a snow-bird. I just have to go north for school. After that, I want to come back to Arizona and never ever leave. I know some of you are thinking "wait 'til summer hits". I know. I can't wait! Swimming, barbecues, monsoons, ahh. There's nothing not to like about this place.

Next topic: bachelor status.
I'm usually pretty good-natured about other people and their dating suggestions, but after a few years, it starts to wear on a person.
I meet a new person. They hear I'm a bachelor. Then it starts.
"I hardly know this guy, but he's single, and I can fix that!"

Please, I beg you, spare me. I know you have the most noble intention. Let me explain something to you. SO DOES EVERY OTHER PERSON & THEIR WELL-MEANING GRANDMOTHER!!! Excuse me for saying it, but DANG!!! (and I'm thinking the other word)
I used to entertain those suggestions out of courtesy. But the patience account is officially overdrawn at that bank and all I can offer is a frank, honest answer. I hate being set-up. I make my own choice. Period. I'm not desperate, I'm not reclusive. I'm a bachelor. I do hope to change that in the future. For myself, all on my own. I just had to say that.
Thank you to those of you who inherently seem to get that concept. I appreciate it more than you know.

Whew! Next topic: dogs.
I was never a dog person. I hated the dogs that chased me on my way to school in grade school. I hated the idea of dog breath, drool, shedding, and poop on the lawn.
Something changed. I met Rarri & Kaci, my brother's dogs. They're Italian Greyhounds and I love those little stinkers!
I could have a dog someday. A good dog. I could. What do you think of that?

That's all I've got for now. Until next time, ...go catch a chicken.

How I Roll

Lately I've noticed something. I don't know why it didn't occur to me before. Maybe some of you have already noticed, but I always seem to drive old brown vehicles.

Let's have a look at my past wheels.
I learned to drive in this:

A 1960-something? International Scout. I was around 13, not even thinking of the legalities of it as I was needed to help with farm chores. Once you mastered driving "The Scout", you were pretty much qualified to drive anything with wheels.
I was reminiscing with my brothers last week about some of our mishaps in "The Scout". The steering linkage came loose a few times, and that meant a bee-line straight off the road into whatever stood in the way. Either that, or the front wheels would both point outward, bringing you to a sudden skid of a stop. The doors would bounce open, or swing open when you took a corner. There were times when the starter was going out so you had to either arc the power leads across it with a screwdriver to start it, or jump it by rolling it down a hill and slamming it into gear (note: the key has to be on). It is a vehicle that added a lot of flavor to my teenage years.

When I was old enough to want my own car, I went and selected an abandoned vehicle from the Hansen's Auto impound lot. There is always a reason (or two) for a vehicle being abandoned. I chose this:
(This is a photo I got from the web and edited) It's almost exactly what mine looked like. It was the best option at the time. I had to rebuild the engine in it, and I learned a lot about the fundamental workings of an automobile. I knew every last piece of that car. It was really reliable and got really good fuel mileage. When I left for my mission, I told my Dad to sell it if he could. And he did.

When I got back from my mission, I inherited a new set of wheels:
My dear friend Minnie gave me her old car. I can't say enough about the kind of friend Minnie was. But this act alone says a little about how giving she was.
The 1974 Dodge Dart has been my friend through a lot of changes in the last 6 years. It's traveled all over Arizona, up to Provo, Utah and back, up to Rexburg, Idaho and back 3 times, and never missed a beat. Last year, it passed the 100,000 mile mark and kept going strong. This month, I am swapping in a newly-rebuilt engine. The old one was still going strong, but my brother owned a newly-rebuilt Dodge Dart engine sitting in a car in his yard. (Boy, that sure sounds red-neck) He sold it to me for an amazingly good price. I expect a little better performance from a newly-rebuilt engine and it will surely save me from having to rebuild my current engine down the road. I've never been able to settle on any other name for that car. It is "The Dart". That's the only name that suits it. Every time I get in the driver's seat, I think of Minnie. That car holds a lot of special meaning. If ever anyone insults it, it's hard for me to not think less of them. One day, it will get a nice paint job and a new interior. It's sitting at Hansen's Auto shop right now, patiently enduring the engine swap. And while it sits, my Grandma was nice enough to allow my the honor of driving:
The Beast. While I work for my grandma, this is how I get around. It's a '60-something Ford. For two days, the headlights wouldn't work. Today, the blinkers stopped working, but the headlights are back. It's got a lot of personality and power. It's built like a tank and it sure can haul a lot of cargo. If anyone got in a fight with the Beast, the Beast would come out unharmed.

We all have to get around somehow. It seems that for now, I'll be rolling old-school and brown.

The Merry Day

My favorite things about Christmas are memories, being with family, traditions, and the excitement of little kids.

My Dad pulled out his horse carriage and hitched up my sister's horse, Jet, to deliver goody plates and to give rides on Christmas morning. I love this tradition. It brings a real old-time feel to our holiday and I hope that it's a memory that our next little generation will cherish in their holiday memories. My parents always come through with making the day a great one.

My Mom always makes her amazing orange rolls for us. It's officially Christmas when I smell them baking.

And we still have something amazing to look forward to: my parents bought tickets for the entire lot of us to go on the "Polar Express" train ride on Tuesday in the Williams Grand Canyon Railway. The grandkids are all anticipating this event and Lacy has it in her head that Grandpa will be driving the train. After all, why not? He drives just about everything else. Why not the train? I love it. I think the engineer/conductor/whatever should let my Dad go to the front and take the reins for a bit. I'm not sure who'd be more thrilled, Lacy or Dad.

Thanks to my aunt, I got (as a Christmas present) a copy of the DVD from the Hansen Reunion this summer: a slide-show of my great-grandparents and their posterity. We put that in to play while we opened presents. What a treat that was. It made Christmas morning all the greater. Thanks Auntie Juju.

Here are the pictures of our carriage rides. Some are pretty similar to each other, but I just had to post them all. Merry Christmas!

Ringing, Singing, and Making Merry

It's something I look forward to each Christmas Season: the festive sing-a-long. Can you blame me? There you will find the debut of local talent, the debut of local improvisation, the sound of bells ringing and merry singing, a visit from Suzy Snowflake, and the promise of hot chocolate to warm your heart.
Here is the Kinkade-esque cottage where we hold the merry event:




I dedicate this post to Suzy Snowflake and to the children who still beleive in her.
And now for a flashback to the sing-a-long of Christmas Past:

Home

I made it! I donated plasma yesterday morning and left right afterwards to hit the road. The roads were beautifully clear and I made good time. Leaving Rexburg, the temperature was a whole 4 degrees.

I got stopped once, just past Idaho Falls. The officer told me I needed to scrape the ice off my back window. Then he realized that there was ice on the inside too. So he told me, "Try to get it to thaw so you can see out the back."

As I headed South, the temperatures got a little warmer and the ice and snow that was left on my car slowly melted away.

I have (or had, rather) an SD slot in my car stereo, meaning I can play SD cards. So I dumped all my entire collection of Christmas music on an SD card and listened to that on the way down. But at highway speeds, the cab of my car is pretty loud. So I crank the volume of the stereo to compensate. Not a good idea. I guess after about 10 hours of that, it was through. It gave a loud electronic squeal and poof. That was it. All I heard was the bass line coming from my speaker box in the trunk. I fried the audio output of the other channels. Oops. I knew too much Christmas music wasn't a good idea. Apparently, the old stereo agreed. If only I'd had some sort of warning before it was too late. I guess this Christmas I'll be saying farewell to the stereo. She has served me well. And now, she can rest.

The car performed amazingly well, once again. That's up and back to Idaho 3 times now without any trouble. She is a real trooper. She's never let me down. I bought a new engine for her and I'll be putting that in sometime in the near future, then she'll really rock and roll (look out).

I calculated the fuel mielage for the trip. 20.5 miles per gallon. Not bad for an old clunker.

For your gee whiz file: it takes 13 hours to get from Rexburg to Joseph City, and that's if you stop and have a sit-down lunch, which I highly recommend to anyone driving that far.

It feels so good to be home. I can't wait for all my siblings to get back into town. By that time, I hope to be over this blasted cold.

Arizona, I love you!

Must Write Now

Let me set the scene for you: Wednesday night, uhh, scratch that. Tuesday night (finals week is really messing with my brain). I sit nestled in the little comfy nook created by the recess under my elevated bed. It's where I do my best work, and my best thinking. If I had anything equivalent to a secret lair, this would be it. The world outside is bright with the illumination of a heavy falling snow: the perfect mixture of easy wind and downy flake. I probably use Frost lines to a fault, but for those of you who get it, I hope you're smiling. There ya go.

I am going to unload, because it's high time. The thought-minions are near the point of revolt, being overloaded with trivial thoughts. I must keep them happy. They've threatened to sabotage the entire operation of my mental flow. Oh, too late. School has done that already. Minions, do your worst. I'll write it out anyhow, just because I'll sleep better if I do.

I must say, I've really been impressed with Taco Bell's efforts in the way of sauces. I thrill when I see the variety now offered in those little bins next to the napkins and sporks. I confess, I haven't actually tried them all. I like the verde sauce so much that I haven't really felt the need to venture beyond it -for now.

Tonight's snowstorm really enhances the holiday mood. I peered down the main street in Rexburg and saw it in all its Christmasy splendor: the trees laced in bright twinkling white bulbs that glisten off the facets of a thousand little ice mirrors falling in silence; it's got its charm. I am so tempted to dash down the street yelling "Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls!" But here's the thing: there is another charm at work in me. I saw a picture of an ocotillo plant in a desert scene today and the allure of that just made it all the harder to resist the urge to leave town tonight and skip out on the rest of finals. Ahh, Arizona -I pine for the sunshine in your friendly gaze.

I interrupt this program to say that my roommate's laugh from the living room is so boisterously ridiculous and obnoxious that I wonder every time whether it's sincere or forced. Put that in your gee-whiz file.

I've been so distracted this week. Really. I drove to donate plasma yesterday (that was only a day ago? It seems like at least three.) and afterward, I stopped in at the Subway just around the block from my apartment complex. I had a good restful lunch, read the local paper, did the crossword, and then got up, cleared the table, and walked home. I completely forgot that I had driven there, and I thought nothing of my car since I usually walk to and from Subway.

The following morning, I woke up early to go to the school and put the finishing touches on a project I was to present. I went to the parking lot, keys in hand, and my car ... was not there. I paused. I turned around and looked. Where was it? It took me a good three minutes to remember what had happened. I walked briskly to the Subway parking lot, hoping and praying that my car had not been towed away.

When I arrived, the manager of Subway had just arrived too. She was on the phone with the tow-truck driver. I was about to be towed. She canceled her request and hung up. She then told me "This is NOT an overnight parking lot." I explained that I realized that and how my lunch-time stop had led to my forgetting and my honest mistake. She proceeded to "wow" me with details of what the charges are for a tow and storage fees. She was thoroughly irritated. I told her I was sorry, and yet, though my experiences at their franchise have always been satisfactory, her current treatment had me re-thinking my stance. She had no sympathy for me. She is the parking lot queen. She takes pride in a good empty lot when she closes up shop. Anyone who dares defy her will be dealt the full measure of her fury. Your right hand will be severed at the wrist and and stapled to an old board above the restaurant door: "Parking violators, be ye warned". I find it so fascinating that someone could get so worked up over something that is fixed as easily as me driving away. The same lady has been known to call the tow-truck on people who stop in to use their restroom and don't buy anything. Parking is, after all, only for paying customers. I'm of the opinion that life is much to short to be so crotchety.

But what I want to point out about all this is that finals week has really got me distracted. I misplaced my car! How out of it do you have to be to misplace a few tons of steel?

My every instinct is telling me that I need to be headed South, right now. I know I need to stay and finish up my Calculus final on Thursday, but I am staring at the road, car keys in hand, (with a car this time), and glancing at the school. Then back at the road. Home never seemed so alluring. It is calling to me. This week can't pass fast enough for me. I normally like to make the most of each day and cherish it for all it's worth. But some weeks are just made to fast-forward. This one is a fast-forward week. I suppose it's worth it to stick around and see who wins the plasma center promotion drawing, just for kicks. Okay, school is important too.

Lately I've been just cruising through my free iBooks. I keep reading Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. I love them! I wish I'd discovered them earlier on because I just love how cleverly crafted they are. If you're wanting to try a classic, give one of the "adventures" a try from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Each chapter is a new case. I love it.

I'm determined to keep myself in check. I have the urge to add to my movie collection. There are so many good new flicks out! Some not-so-new, but just the same, I want them! Cloudy with a chance of meatballs, despicable me, the a-team, ...wow. Control, ol' boy, control. Control, alt, delete. Okay, maybe that's a little extreme. Control. Control.

There you have it. From the midst of the pains of final exams, I present you with a gift from the heart of my mind, or the depth of my width, or the soul of my brain. Whatever. You know what I mean.

Let-Downs, Bumps, and Rises.

I want to tell you about the past two days.
Do you mind just listening? It's a lot of craziness all mixed into 48 hours.

Enough lolly-gagging. Here we go:

Yesterday, I was slated to present my final project in a class. I worked my tail off burning the midnight oil making sure I got things ready. I wasn't completely satisfied, but I was ready to present it regardless. As the presentations proceeded, we ran short on time, so I was bumped 'til Tuesday for presentation. I was glad for it because that gives me a weekend to really fine-tune things.

I had a scheduled Calculus exam that day. I asked my teacher if she would let me take it the next morning so that I could participate in the undergraduate research conference on campus. She said yes. Big burden off my back. Whew.

I ran from class to the Romney building for a seminar that turned out to be spectacularly mediocre. More of a recruiting meeting for ISU, minus the main speaker.

Then I turned my attention to the student research conference. I'd already prepared a poster and presented my findings at the Geological Society of America National conference in Denver this semester, so entering this conference was only a matter of signing up and hanging my poster.

This was a great experience. At GSA, I had to defend my statements to professionals. At our school, I had to creatively tailor my presentation to suit a non-geology crowd. I loved it. It went really well. I knew they had an awards ceremony after the conference sessions; what I didn't know is that there were cash prizes. I won 2nd place overall in my poster session for the physical sciences. (It's a major award! I won it!) That will help pay for my trip back to the sunny, beautiful desert I call home.

Yesterday, gone. Today, here it is:
-woke up
-donated plasma
-took my 3-hour calc. exam
-went to sound-checks for the Best Of show
-went to the fitness center
-performed in the show
-sulked

It was one of those full of exciting/stressful events days. I was most excited about the Best Of show. Our medley was sounding great, we were pumped up and excited and confident. Then, the sound technicians stepped in. We stepped out onto the stage, the crowd roared. We started the medley with a solo from Beauty and the Beast. Her mic was muted through the first phrase. Throughout our act, our microphones were completely sporadic. Muted, active, live, dead. And no matter how great of a job we did performing, nobody could really hear it. They got the gist of the act, but not the refined finish we'd worked so hard to achieve.

After a performance, our group is usually on a high. The high I'd been anticipating all day was replaced with a huge let-down. I was frustrated. I probably will be for a good while. But that's life. I think what bothers me the most is that our sound-tech in charge of the show was really rude and impatient with us at our sound checks, and then he didn't save the settings for our act into the show program. The poor sound tech at the board was left to handle the catastrophe. If he would've been nice, I would feel less inclined to blame. But this guy was a jerk to us and rushed us through sound checks like we were wasting his time.

Ugh, whatever. There. Now you know all about that event. I want to look back on my time with this group happily. We've had some amazingly fun times together. I've made some great friends and done great things with them. It's kind of sad to end our semester with that tone.

So after the show, I went to Taco Bell with some friends then to the cheap theaters. That is the recipe for taking one's mind off pain. Some people choose alcohol. I choose Chalupas and cinematography.

I end my day here, ready to lay down and not wake up until late Saturday morning. In the light of morning, I can view all of today's craziness in a fresh perspective. And for that, I'm happy.