Out of My Element

I just recently had one of the most awkward social experiences of my life: the annual company Christmas party.

What should make a company Christmas party any different? This year’s party was held at the Embassy Suite. Nothing abnormal there. The awkwardness stems from three main points:

· I went alone [my wife was unable to join me for this outing]
· I am the new kid on the block. Out of the 1000+ people in attendance, I only know about 1% of those in attendance.
· I don’t drink.

Mix all three factors together and you have a recipe for a dysfunctional social event. I lasted about an hour before departing silently into the night.

A Milestone

For those of you who have endured with me for the first 99 posts, I give you my 100th post. I’ve often debated about whether or not to publish this through a blog, but as you can see, I’ve made my decision and so here it is. In fact I’ve held off posting this one…I’ve reserved it for my 100th. After all, we are not talking about ordinary, average milestones.

Moving to Lincoln

In the chilled shadows of the sentinel grain silos
that existed before the cross laden building of the believers
I stood demurely, head bowed, eyes averted
unsure of the shame I felt in their presence.

Would they ever approve of a foreigner who
lacked the gift and might of Joseph’s foresight?

For one hundred seventeen years, settlers have poured
yearly offerings into those concrete bellies
to stave off hunger against long deep winters of
a conquered prairie.

Their disapproving gray stare
leave me certain of an extended dismal season to come;
they don’t need pharaoh’s dream
for their shadows to point the way back to Canaan.

The Resurrection of the Road Show

The last time I saw a road show, Indiana Jones was on his last crusade and Johny Lingo was still a film strip. Tonight was the ward Christmas party and they put on a piece of this year’s road show. This year, the show brought to life, the story of Lehi’s family as they journeyed across the sea. The ingenuity and originality of this production was that they added a WB Anamaniac twist to it]. It was very entertaining. So the food was good, the entertainment was good, and the spiritual message given by the Bishop, at the close of the party, was really a nice touch. So thanks to all for a wonderful evening.

My Plea to the Banking World

You control all the money. Surely you can spend just a wee bit more of that money as well. I beg of you to keep up with technology. There should not be a banker anywhere in the U.S. that is still using 600x800 screen resolution monitors.

An Open Letter To Those That Post The News In Cyberspace

I really care about how Britney Spears spent her Thanksgiving [even though I had to wait until three days later to find out]! I care about her getting pulled over for wreckless driving and endangerment of a child [because they were crawling back and forth over the front seat], as she was beating her two kids with half-eaten turkey drumsticks because they insisted on listening to Hanna Montana on the radio instead of retro nineties Spice Girls. I enjoy reading about Rosie O'Donnell starting up a soup kitchen just so she can serve tofuturkey shaped like George Bush. I really care about Michael Jackson inviting his plastic surgeon’s kids to his “Never Land” ranch for a Thanksgiving feast, never to be outdone.

It really touches me deeply. I get tired of the same old boring stories of “getting together with the family, sitting around the table, stuffing ourselves with turkey and all the fixins, enjoying each other’s company. Forget about how more than 200,000 US troops had to spend their Thanksgiving abroad. That’s not important. Keep the focus where it matters most. After all, using Hollywood’s measuring stick [how celebrities live their lives] has always left me feeling good about myself. It improves my self image. They are as constant as the North Star. I really don’t know how I could make it through my day without my daily dose of Spears. For this I applaud you all. Keep up the good work,

Yours truly and always devoted,

LH

[disclaimer: These stories may or may not be true (definately could be true), but there really was an article about how different celebs celebrated the holiday...Britney's name was at the top of the list]

My Date With WalMart

Last night I went on a date with WalMart. She was the one who initiated the date. Me of all people. I mean with her popularity and star like status, she picked me, a lonely, small, and insignificant guy that has never come close to being in the lime light. So, after work I decided to give it a whirl…good thing I was already dressed for the occasion.

I went to pick her up at her place. She had asked if I knew how to get there [and I’m thinking who doesn’t know how to get there? It’s like not being able to find Texas. It’s huge]. The moment I pulled into her driveway, I could see that she was already awaiting my arrival. Her door was wide open. I didn’t even have to knock. One of her servants [she has about a zillion of them] greeted me at the door and invited me to make myself at home.

To start the date off, she insisted that I let her own personal beautician cut my hair [who gets a hair cut on a date? But I consented. Afterall, it was practically a scalp massage!]. Besides, I could hardly refuse. I mean we are talking about WalMart. After my haircut she began to show me around.

So there we were, and all WalMart could do is talk about herself. She didn’t even compliment me on my new look. She told me all about her clothes [where they came from, who designed them, how much they costs]. She told me all about what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner [and everything in-between…you’d think she was part hobbit]. I must say that I was impressed with the amount of material goods she has stocked in her home. At first I tried to be polite and listen attentively. I tried to pretend that she only had eyes for me, but that WalMart-she’s a player! She was constantly checking out other potential suitors. I tried to bring this to her attention, but she told me to quit being jealous. “It’s not like we’re engaged yet or anything”. So I grabbed my things, told her if she couldn’t be courteous enough to show me some respect and individualized attention, then I was leaving. “Fine!” she said and even had the nerve to suggest that I would be back. That I couldn’t resist her allure.

By the end of the date, I had spent just a little less than $50 and on the way out, one of her servants essentially referred to me as “being a cheap date”. So I ask you, my readers: first,is $50 too little to spend on a date? [It’s not like this was Prom night or anything]. Secondly, is it immature of me to alter her picture like that? Lastly, would you go back if you were me?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Now that I am in Nebraska, I have run into a minor dilemma. My T-Mobile is not being very mobile. There is not any decent coverage anywhere around. T-Mobile doesn’t even have a store here in town. There are a zillion Verizon, Cellular One, Alltel, ATt&T,…, just no T-Mobile. I was more than happy with my carrier in Utah and in Lubbock. I am a consumer that is having a hard time consuming. Changing carriers is the easy solution. However, my situation cannot work with such a simple solution. The main reason we went with our current carrier is because my MIL beat us to the picking of the carrier. So when she went with T-Mobile, we had to go along for the ride as well due to the whole mobile to mobile thingy. So if we change carriers, we loose that mobile to mobile feature that we all enjoy. I’m pretty sure that the same situation was the whole reason why the Hatfields and the McCoys started feuding. They were drawn into the whole “which telegraph company was the best” If the telegraph companies would have just allowed the Hatfields and McCoys to take advantage of each other’s services, without extra surcharges, be one big happy family and not two disgruntled families carrying on generation after generation of hate and misgivings.

So my question for my faithful [and not so faithful] readers is: How can I overcome this problem and still get the same bang for my buck and make both parties happy?

Tick Tock the Game Is Locked, Nobody Else Can Play

It has always been a wonder to me that people can be so limited in their view or definition of "Christian". It is a small wonder that this topic was touched upon more than once with this last General Conference of the LDS Church. My reason for even posting about this stems from my drive home from work the other day. I was surfing the AM radio waves [old school] when my attention was caught by hearing an interview of a lady who had recently published something about how Mormons aren't Christians and don't be fooled into thinking they might be if you should happen to have a conversation with one...


This was the first time [that I can recall] since serving an LDS mission in Brazil, some thirteen years ago, that I have heard on the airwaves someone so actively seekeing to put down and destroy a single religion [I'm sure that this was not an isolated event in the US; it's just been a rare experience, personally speaking].

Let the winds howl, let the hand enter the waters of the Amazon, in an attempt to divert its course. Let her go buy some poster board, a marker, and a stick to protest near Temple Square at Conference time. I don't think I'll ever understand the psyche involved in why people go to such lengths [in the name of Christianity] to rant and rave like they do at the Mormons. I'm sure those who posses an ounce of wisdom, will always see errors in such rhetorical fallacies.

I figure that the majority of my readers this is "preaching to the choir", but nevertheless, I blog on., if for nothing else, but to capture a humorous moment of ignorance and bias of a woman exercising her freedom of speech...while I go on exercising my freedom of religion.




So be sure to read my new book, "10 Reasons Why You Should Never Invite a Baptist to Your BBQ".


Hurry, copies are going fast, faster than the stores can stalk the shelves, faster than FedEx can ship the books, faster than I can write the book. So grab your pen and be making that check out and I will personally guarantee an autographed copy before the ink even dries.

Can't we just all play together nicely on the beach?

The Lonely Road

Well folks, the inevitable did happen I drove across Kansas [and on into Nebraska]. So let me fill you in a few little known facts that I discovered along the way.
1. North Texas will soon have to place the skunk on the endangered species list. I counted nearly thirty dead skunks on the road.
2. Folks in west Kansas must eat the skunks before they make it to the road to become road kill.
3. Paul Bunyan played baseball. There is a giant immortalized steel baseball in western Kansas that has been converted into some sort of storage facility.
4. Map Quest is a free service and therfore can not be held accountable for errors in their directions.
5. Getting lost at night, in a rain storm, travling roads that are unfamiliar is not a good thing to do when you have alreadhy been on the road for 10 hours and have to start a new job at 8:00am the following morning.
6. Don't be fooled into thinking that just because a Comfort Inn was taken over by another roach, that the service is going to be any better.
7. I doubt Boot Hill really looks like a boot. I came this close [------------------------------------------------] to stopping to take a look for myself.
8. I now know why Banks charge all those hidden and less hidden and down right reach into your pocket and extract your money fees are needed.
9. If I think of any more, I'll try to post them as comments.

Change is in the Air

With autumn upon us, there are bound to be changes. One change that was not foreseen was Wendysue recruiting a Corn Husker.

Mid October, I will be the next new kid on the block, the greenie, the fresh face...

When my world stops being less topsy-turvy, I will let you know.

Job Hunting Part Two: In Houston

Goblin Valley had been translated and moved somewhere above the outskirts of Houston. At least, that’s what it looked like to me: tall, skinny, billowy celestial white crags, radiating with a fiery glow.

The job hunt took me to Houston again. I was relieved of having to navigate my way around on my own. The company provided all transportation that was needed to get from points A, H, and C and back to A.

The interview was like a five course meal and went really well.

With this trip there were not any delays, or extra miles to travel, or hoops to jump through, it was like a well executed military drill, without the military unpleasantries. The biggest glitch was the four hour wait in the airport for my return trip. People should never get a chance to become that intimate with any airport. Airports should be like a fast food experience, and you should always be able to have it your way, but alas, that is not how life [or this part of life] was meant to be.

Upon my arrival to Lubbock, the sun was getting ready for bed. The sky was ablaze, God was stoking the furnace. How can the sun go to bed so quickly right after such a climatic moment? That’s like going to bed just when the last Horcrux has been destroyed. There needs to be a moment for the endorphins to slow down and return to normal levels. There needs to be a moment to sort things out.

But I digress. If you had to choose between Lubbock, Houston, or Lincoln, which would it be? If you answer the question, you must also give at least one reason why.

Job Hunting In Lincoln: Part 1

And then the alarm went off when the chickens were still asleep. Hastily dressing, I finished getting ready for my trip. Somewhat bright-eyed and bushytailed, my friend arrived to return the favor [a trip to the airport]. This was my first time flying “stand-by” and I was not sure what to expect. When you begin your journey before 6:00am, stand-by must not be much of an issue. There were at least eight empty seats on one of those 2x1 seating arrangement planes…just a tad bigger than a Cessna.

My first stop was Dallas/Ft Worth and it all seemed smooth sailing…in fact they decided to put me in First Class for the next leg to Omaha. Did I mention it was First Class? There’s a first for everything. I think I could get used to the extra pampering, if only I could get used to being rich…oh yeah, I have to get rich first.

We boarded the plane, they shut the door, and…delay. There was a mechanical problem with the luggage compartment. We sat and waited [I snoozed] for over an hour. But hey, at least I was being delayed in First Class.

I arrived in Omaha, and without backtracking too much, let’s just say that I did not have reservation for a rental car to take me to Lincoln. The only thing available in the entire airport was either a minivan, or an SUV…for the shallow, cheap price of $110 per day, with only a 30 minute late return window. Fortunately a kind car rental lady informed me that a car rental company across town had something more in my price range…the hang-up was getting across town. I had to take a taxi [what a necessary evil in the world…taxi cabs]. Once I got across town, I was hooked up with a nifty little Kia sedan.

Because I had time to kill before I could check into my nightly abode, I decide to take in a couple of sites in Omaha. I went to the Mormon, Winter Quarters Church History Site. It was a wonderful place to be in the middle of an unfamiliar land. The Temple across the street was a beauty to behold as well.

With time passing, so did my stay in Omaha as I headed west, southwest, to Lincoln just an hour away. As I drove, I was amazed at the landscape. It was like God’s solidified version of the ocean. The rolling hills went on and on, of all shapes and sizes.

I checked into my room, rested up a bit, and went to see if I could navigate the town well enough to find the company I would be paying a visit to tomorrow. Lincoln must have been planned by the town drunk or by a pack of tornados…either would have appeared just as haphazard. But don’t get me wrong, Lincoln is a pretty town. I’m sure the locals know all the ins and outs and turns of the town. My persistence paid off and I found my destination and figured out how to snake my way there in fifteen minutes versus half an hour.

More updates to come…

Lippi's Lunar Lunacy

And so Lippi paid homage to the lunar eclipse by burying twelve chicken bones and one split wish bone [making it fourteen bones] in the back yard. And from the bottom of each hole he removed exactly one spoonful of dirt and mixed it with rainwater to make the mud to smear on his face so he too could be eclipsed like the moon. With the mask on his face, he walked sideways down the sidewalk until he came to the streetlamp, where he begged the mighty light to move on, to pass by so he could wash his face and return to bed before the sun spoiled his celebration.

August 1945

And so the world was
soft orange when the letter arrived from Jed
on a day in late summer with only the wind around for companionship
flatness was out and wavey auroras of the spent day hovered on the horizon were in
side of the mind recalled how long it had been
since the last communiqué coming from over there, yonder where I yearned to go
what is left to tell of his scribbled ink
of the orange day when hearts were knitted, before the dawn of sorrow
when the world was unblemished by sun spots
never the same, shadows
growing, dispelling, dismissing the light— as before
for he will not be home
tomorrow
but three days hence,
before the post makes the rounds again
beyond the withered willow, down the road from Ms. Snow
Jed shall finally behold what he held so dear.

Lions, Gators, ...Cape Buffalo? Oh my!

Quick Quip:

Just one bite of African veal

Was more than my pride could bear.

Yard Sale

There is a reason why we haven’t had a yard sale in ten years. I hate putting together and holding a yard sale. So why did I decide to have one last Saturday? Because there really isn’t ever a really good and justifiable reason for having one, I’ll just say that the devil made me do it and the fires of his domain were extra toasty that day— so toasty that I could feel it. I sweated in it. I was burned by it…extra crispy.

My kids were so excited to have a yard sale. Our oldest was only a baby when we had the last one. To make things more exciting, we gave up our home court advantage to set up shop in front of a friend’s house [who happens to live on a much busier street…and to our surprise had two other homes hosting a yard sale] and we invited or suckered another friend to join us for a fun filled day in the sun.

Anyone who has ever had a yard sale [I think I can safely say that everyone reading this post has held at least one…I mean it’s like trying to find someone who hasn’t at least once, touched a 9V battery to their tongue to see if it still had any juice left] can attest to the fact that finding stuff to sell in a yard sale is about as much fun as pulling thistle with your bare hands. To de-junk is one thing, to gather junk and place a pathetically priced price tag on it another story.

7:30 am I set up shop. One of the weird things about Lubbock, is that people hold yard sales 365 days a year, weather permitting. Having two other people on the street hosting yard sales only makes the garbage pile bigger, thus attracting more scavengerous beasts. I met some of the strangest people…perhaps they watch Antique Road Show too often. I sold a few items to a lady who even asked me “Why do people buy stuff like this when they don’t need it?” as she continued to add junk to the growing pile in her arms. Because I was shallow enough to want her $3.50, I refrained from honestly answering that question.

Another couple pulled up in their van, the wife toting a small plastic baggy of loose change. I dubbed her Queen Haggle. $1.00 was the only number she knew and for her, nothing at a yard sale should ever be priced higher than a dollar. In fact, she gathered up several items together and insisted that she get all of them for a $1.00. Now with each passing moment, her husband’s face was getting redder and redder, the veins were bulging… “Honey, give me a dollar.” “The ATM has run out of dollar bills!” “Oh, pipe down and give me the bag.” She proceeded to count out her loose change. Why was I so willing to give in to her powers of persuasion? I mean it was pocket change! I was hot. I was tired. I was burned. I was miserable. Did her jingle of coins offer any relief to what I was enduring?

I closed up shop sometime after 5:00, a few dollars richer, none the wiser, but in a last ditch effort to rid myself of my wares, I put up a sign that said FREE. Three ladies hopped out of a car, looked through everything that was left, loaded up their arms with stuff and left with smiles on their faces. What didn’t sell, was taken to United Way.

I think I'm good for another 20 years.

An Open Letter to Donny Osmond

Donny,

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is one of my favorite musical plays. I have seen many productions of this play. Ever since you did your stint as Joseph in the 1999 production, I have wanted to see it. My MIL had the opportunity to see it live when your show traveled to SLC. She enjoyed the show. Recently, as a birthday present, my MIL gave me a DVD copy of this particular production. I was really excited to see it and share it with my children because it would allow them to finally see the visual story line [we have had a CD of another version for many years and they enjoy the songs, but they had never been able to fully appreciate the entire story on the stage].

How sorely disappointed I was to see that You, a man who should have some sense of moral compass, allowed yourself to be portrayed as a Joseph who does not flee from the grasps of Potipher’s wife. That is a main part of the story. Joseph flees from her! My kids know the Bible version. He flees! That is one central part that makes Joseph’s character so great. To be a part of a production that illustrates otherwise diminishes the value of the story and wrecks the moral high road that you have trodden for most of your life. Was it worth the money?

Signed,

Sorely Disappointed in Lubbock

Random Storyish

The Bed Warden

Each night the old man sat at the foot of the bed like some warden. Was he there to protect or keep us confined? Were there silhouettes of minions or just the need to see us off to sleep? Some questions are never answered in life, especially in our childhood. Like many other summer nights, this one was hot. The ceiling fan twirled in a blur: little comfort could it bring. Was he still watching, or had he dozed off himself?

I don’t recall what brought the warden the first time. I just know that he’s been around for some time now, like clock work. Strange part is, when I awake, he’s gone...like the shadows of the night. The warden, he don’t say much. Just sits there and listens to the music of the night. He’s kind enough to change the CD periodically, so we don’t get so tired of the same old songs. My eyelids always get so heavy. Does he make it through the entire CD? The oiled hinges of the door always muffle his escape. Why does he get to escape? The Phantom Warden. That’s what he is. What are the benefits of being a warden? Is there a health and dental plan? Is it volunteer work? Is he more like the tooth fairy that has some strange complex and obsession? The rumpled bedding near my feet offer no answers. Let me ponder, perhaps inspiration will follow, silently.

Paradox Of Lubbock

Following stereotypes, Texas is supposed to be rough and tough-cowboy central. Last night my wife and I had a chance to see the flip side. Lubbock has an event called First Friday Art Trail. It’s free. It involves art. It involves trolleys. Yes trolleys. And it takes place on the first Friday of the month. It get’s even crazier than that. Let me unfold last night’s events. We showed up at the Buddy Holly Museum [one of the two main starting points] and there we had the chance to listen to some music from the emerald isle out in the open air of the veranda. Roan-inish was the name of the rag-tag band and they even had a lil lass dancing an occasional jig...like a mini River Dance.

The event uses four different trolleys. San Fran style is the only way to go! So we hopped onto a trolley and off we went to the next “display” of local talent. Of all possible places to set up an artistic display, the place we ended up was at the bottom of the list. A Subaru dealership. That’s right folks. A used car lot. Inside the store, they had some very nice pottery, some pretty oil paintings, some nice hand made wood furniture, some acrylic paintings that my five year old could have done [yes, I said a 5 year old... at the risk of offending readers who may view art to be anything produced by a proclaimed artist], and some handmade [possible factory made from China] jewelry. Our voyeuristic journey was over in less than five minutes. This meant that we still had some time to kill before the next trolley came to whisk us away to our next stop. So we looked at used cars. I ought to add that in addition to selling Subaru’s, they also dabbled in Cadillac, Lexus, BMW, and Mercedes...so there were some nice cars to look at and some hefty price tags to go with them.

At last came the trolley and off we went to a much larger facility and there we saw paintings, artistic quilts, photographs, sculptures, pottery and other canvassed art. I also ought to mention that each place served refreshments...and did I mention that it was all free? Our last leg of the journey, before heading back to the Buddy Holly Shrine, was at the Tornado, were we saw more paintings, sculptures, and a Spanish dancer. Upon our return we sat and listened to more of Roan-inish. They even brought out a bag pipe. By then it was time for us to retrieve our brood from the neighbors and send them off to bed.

All in all it was a smashing night. And we made a mental note to scratch off car dealerships from any future outings that involve art. So you see us Texans have a soft spot for culture, we just have to scrape the cow pies off the boots, cinch up the bolo tie, polish our belt bucket and six shooters, and dust off our Stetson and we’z ready for the opera.

Responsible Parenting

Uhhhhh.....let’s see now, we have been doing this 4th of July with kids thing for 11 years now and would you believe it, this was the first year that our kids sat and enjoyed one of them there big city folk firework shows.

You see, you have to understand the dichotomy of the situation. I was raised as one of them kids who regularly enjoyed the big shows until my 16th year and the Stadium of Fire was more of a Stadium of Ice (but that’s another story). My wife on the other hand was raised with a different set of traditions. Her family had block fire work shows...those who lived on the block all added to the pot-luck or stash of fireworks and then they would light them off after it got dark. Once we was married we just stuck with the tradition from her side of the family and that was that. Our kids never felt like they were missing out.

Last year was the first year that we found ourselves alone for the 4th. Being in the great state of Texas, we decided to purchase [legally] the cool fireworks...the kind that leave the ground. We then decided to get together with another friend of the family and we had our own private show...and watched some of the neighbor’s fireworks.

I’m sure that most of you are aware that these “legal” fireworks are just the toddler version of the “excuse me, but do you have a permit for these” fireworks that the bigger cities usually light off.

This year we decided to brave the crowds and attend the fireworks in the park [free admission] celebration. I think whenever you attach the word free, it tends to bring folks out of the wood works...hey it brought us out. Nevertheless, we found a spot in which we could park and lay out a blanket. Now our kids were not used to having to wait [being pretty much idle for an 1 1/2 hrs.] for it to get dark enough for the city to do its thing. As such they was a plenty tired and ornery. We almost packed up and went home when 10:05 rolled around and they still hadn’t started...after all, we had already watched as plenty of other folks nearby just set off their own fireworks as fast as they could touch the punk to the fuse.

Lo and Behold, the real firework show began and the kids were all a oooohhhhss and aaahhhhhhs and “Mom did you see that one?!” or “Dad, can you believe that one looked like Saturn?” The bottom line is, the show was a success. Our kids exclaimed several times that they wanted to come watch them again next year.

Still Alive,

Yes, my kin and blogging buddies, I am still alive. Even after last week’s events. Last Friday, it was time for a rematch...the annual father and son’s campout at Caprock Canyon State Park. For those who have followed my ramblings long enough should recall that last year’s event was very eventful, thanks to Mother Nature [who voted her into office anyway?].

My two oldest boys are very resilient. I was sure they would harbor ill memories of last year’s failure to ride out the storm. They were just plain excited. Before we headed out the door, I checked the latest weather report...T-storms were on the docket. Silent curses and prayers simultaneously ran through my mind, creating their own mental storm.

We made the drive that afternoon and were amazed at the difference in the scenery. It was green. Not brown like last year. Last year included a fire ban. This year was blazes ho! Factoring in the fact that the increased precipitation equaled more bugs [primarily mosquitoes] I brought both repellant and pesticide. Death to blood suckers [tics too]! My tent was rapidly deployed, the boys ran around as boys should do in the wild. We had a nice helping of chilidogs and s’mores. The boys continued to run around, while the adults acted like adults; we sat around the fire and chewed the breeze, cracked jokes and swapped manly stories [not the perverted kind].

Just as we were headed to our mobile dormitory, the thunder began to roll and lightning filled the sky. Dread seeped into my soul...would this be 0-2 for staying the night? I was determined to wait and see.

The youngest of the two offspring was sound asleep within minutes. The other expressed his concern about the approaching storm. I tried to reassure him and said that if it got bad like last year, we would make a hasty departure. Then, I heard the wind approaching. Do you know what I am talking about? You can actually hear it move through the trees and canyons as it approaches. To my relief, the wind was pulling her punches [I suggest divine intervention cause other parts of the region has very strong winds]. Even the rain that followed was tamed and only lightly drizzled for a couple of hours.

The coyotes were a frenzied bunch. I have heard them many times in my life, but this night was amazing. It was like a coyote frat party. Hoopin and hollerin. It was a wild rumpus and I was wondering who the king of the wild things were.

We made it through the night! I even managed to get about 7 hours of sleep [which is like a new record for camping on the ground as an adult]. So the score sits at 1-1. The next morning the boys were back to running around [acting like wild turkeys of all things]. Camp was broken down, packed, and homeward bound we went, with positive memories to preserve.

ps. I am still not fully blog functional [posting to other sites is still off in the distance. Thank you for your patience and support].

To slumber, to Slacken...with Regret

For the time being, I am in blogging limbo. Whereas I have finished the school year and no longer find myself with idle office hours, my blogging time is on a much shorter [self imposed] leash. My time and energies will need to be temporarily refocused on other projects that have sat idle far too long. As such, there are bound to be fewer posts and fewer visits to other sites. Blog on my fellow bloggers! Do not despair or follow where I cannot lead you. This isn’t a complete good by or worse, adieu, but a run on impulse power, until the good captain can thwart the invading Orks [nanoo-nanoo].

Praiseworthy or of Good Report

A while back I had posted about my unhappy experiences with a certain computer company. Those of you who followed that part of the story saw a certain advocate from the company, who wished to look into my mind, my heart, and my soul...okay, maybe she just wanted to look at my customer history record.

Somewhere in the dark corners and crevices of that file, she found items of redeeming quality. I was recently notified by Debbie that I was going to be credited back for my most recent purchase of a CD/DVD drive for my laptop. This news was Dellightsome to my ears.

What Do Mothers and Flowers Have in Common?

This was the question that was asked in primary just the other day. After a few of the other kids gave their responses:

They’re both pretty.
They both smell good.
There’s a Mother’s day song about moms and flowers.

My oldest, M, pipes up and says…
They would both attract caterpillars if my dad was a caterpillar because he’s attracted to my mom.

And That is My Report

To Utah we went.
To a wedding to be more precise.
It was the first time the entire family had been together in four years.
Not the short kind either.
Manti was wonderful.
And wonderfully cold and windy.
The reception was smashing.
I watched the chillins.
My oldest brother’s brood popped in.
Sunday was a triple treat.
One baby blessing.
One missionary homecoming.
One open house with food.
We saw lions, tigers and bears.
All dead and stuffed…oh my.
Celebrated the 92nd birthday of a grandfather.
Tuesday took us to Temple square.
I met Elder Ballard.
Wednesday the van had minor surgery.
My dream came true.
Blogger kin were waiting at Café Rio.
My friend became a father for the fourth time.
And my sister shared the wonders of Hawaii.
Thursday’s fishing trip never happened.
Mother Nature wasn’t feeling up to it.
Got stuffed twice at Tucanos.
Once from eating.
The other from paying the bill.
Friday found us at the zoo.
Real lions, tigers and bears (except there wasn’t a lion).
The cold weather persisted.
Drove across town.
Saw 3-D dinosaurs at the Clark Planetarium.
Saturday, shed tears of “until next time”.
Drove to Paradox.
Stayed at the Hayes Hilton.
Drove twelve more hours on Sunday.
Still recovering from exhaustion.
That is my report.

Can I Pencil You In?

We are coming to Utah this week. Rhonda’s sister is getting married and their long lost brother and his brood are going to be in Utah as well. We have not seen the MIA brother for four years so it’s bound to be a treat. We will have approximately 9 short days for our visit before I have to return to my post here at TTU.

I also daydream about a gathering. A gathering at Café Rio. A gathering at Café Rio with fellow bloggers. I have a dream!


The dilemma: I honestly do not know if there will be time for such a gathering. I feel bad that the last time we came up to Utah that the dreamed get-together never took place. Will this be an 0-2?

Can I pencil you in? I will provide updates via the Blog. Get your mo-jo working. Give those monkey bones a toss. If nothing else, I say come to the reception. Who cares if you don’t know the bride or the groom?

Renting Rudolph in the Off-season

EASTER BUNNY: Yo Santa! Lean your ear this way.

SANTA CLAUSE: Make it quick, I’ve got to go check out the new fawns.

EASTER BUNNY: Santa, mind if I call you Kris? It is Kris right?

SANTA CLAUSE: Yes. Mind if I call you Peter?

EASTER BUNNY: All’s fair. You see, I’ve got a proposition for you.

SANTA CLAUSE: It’s not something illegal is it? I’ve got an image to maintain. Can’t have myself on my own naughty list.

EASTER BUNNY: Kris, what kind of bunny do you think I am? ...Don’t answer that. No, it’s perfectly legit. You see, there’s this snow storm over west Texas and it’s like Easter and all and snow tends to kinda slow me down a bit. (beat)

SANTA CLAUSE: And where do I fit into your dilemma Peter?

EASTER BUNNY: I was wondering if I could rent Rudolph...ya know with this being your off-season and all.

SANTA CLAUSE: Rent Rudolph? Why I must say that this is a first.

EASTER BUNNY: As you know, snow this time of year is rare...especially in Texas. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about the snow, but Texas is really, really big and I’m afraid that I would get slowed down to the point of not finishing my rounds until lunch on Tuesday...and I’m kinda small and don’t think I could last until then...it’s not like I came prepared ...no, I was never a boy scout. They don’t have scouts for bunnies...but that’s beside the point. Now where was I? Oh yes, I didn’t plan on bringing extra food with me and all that chocolate is great and all but it’s not very filling...why I’d look more like a mangy jackrabbit with a tape worm come Tuesday. I too have an image to maintain.

SANTA CLAUSE: So you were hopping that I would rent Rudolph for the day?


EASTER BUNNY: Did you just say hopping?


SANTA CLAUSE: Couldn’t resist the pun.


EASTER BUNNY: Yes. I would like to rent Rudolph for the night...to be more precise...to guide me through this storm so that I can deliver all the Easter goods before tomorrow morning.

SANTA CLAUSE: What are you willing to offer? I’m not about to fill stockings with 8 month old hard-boiled eggs.

EASTER BUNNY: As it so happens, I have a surplus of chocolate. Chocolate has a longer shelf life. All you and your elves would have to do is rewrap them in Christmas deco. I could probably provide 2/3 of your yearly quota for next Christmas.

SANTA CLAUSE: That’s a lot of chocolate and a lot of labor involved with the rewrapping and all.

EASTER BUNNY: ok. Ok. I’ll throw in my own wrapping machine. All you have to do is place the chocolates on your conveyor belt and my machine will do the rest.

SANTA CLAUSE: They’re not all going to be egg and bunny shaped chocolate candies are they? That would seem a bit odd. Kids are getting brighter and brighter every year you know.

EASTER BUNNY: No no no no. It would be all the Hershey, Doves, Reeses...all the cross seasonal stuff.

SANTA CLAUSE: Well Peter, it sounds like you’ve made yourself a deal. Let me go introduce you to Rudolph.

EASTER BUNNY: Man Kris. You’re the greatest. Everything the kids say about you is true

SANTA CLAUSE: let’s not go overboard. Brown nosing is soooo unbecoming of someone like you.

(enter the reindeer Hilton)

EASTER BUNNY: Wow! It really does glow so bright. Like a light bulb

RUDOLPH: Who’s this clown?

SANTA CLAUSE: Meet your new best friend...for the night.

exit

I Can Swing a Racket

When the days were less troublesome and time was in more abundance, I occasionally found myself [no, not in the soul searching way] on the tennis courts behind Dixon Middle School. Usually, I was in the company of my friend Jory. While neither of us ever had ambitions of playing competitively, we managed to occasionally impress each other with our abilities. In other words, we advanced from the novice level of the game.

It wasn’t long before my SIL Rebecca discovered that I was sneaking into her field of interest and the challenge of a game was issued. What young teenage boy can resist such a challenge? For her, it must have been like stealing candy from a baby. If ever it was possible to finish lower than Love, I certainly came close. For the sly spider lured the fly to the safety of her net. The wicked serve with the spin on the ball left my eyes spinning, my hand eye coordination was more like a drunken stupor….and so my play time resumed with Jory.


And then the days grew shorter. Time began to issue its call to responsibility and adulthood and eventually a mission.

In the first couple of post mission years I played a game or two of tennis. I don’t rightly recall with whom. For years, my racket moved with me from place to place— always collecting dust, zipped up— the bag over its head, muffling its cries to get out.

Enter Spring of 2007. An invitation is made by my friend Adam in the ward to come join him and his “tennis” friends. With great hesitation, I accepted his invite [those who know me know that my body feels old and is out of shape and suffered two long term injuries playing softball last year]. Two weeks ago, in spite of nature’s fury, I found myself on a lighted court at night with four other players eager to get their game on. A silent prayer was offered, asking for help in not looking the fool. When the match was over, I told Adam that he served like a girl…like my sister in-law. That was a compliment. Aside from not being able to return his serves very well,

I held my own.

My serve was on and off like a light switch

My backhand is still in hiding. When I find it I’ll have to dust it off too.

I held my own. And returned to play again last night. I even returned a few of Adam’s serves. And no injuries to report. That is my report.

And The winner is....

Many celebrations have come and gone already this year: the Oscars, passing kidney stones, delivering a baby, 30th Birthdays, climbing the Y for the first [or second time], getting a new [used] set of wheels for free,… these are just to name a few of the oodles and oodles of note worthy events.

The newest and greatest and most marvelous of all celebrations [at this exact moment in time] is one worthy of a joint celebration. Puxa Meu is at the top of the charts!!! It’s ready to go platinum baby! Just Google "Puxa meu" and da ta da da! It’s me. Right there on top. Just like the palm reader on 1505 West Center [in Provo] said would happen. Who would have thought that such a gal could have foreseen all y’all’s actions with your mouse click after mouse click, tallying up the hits for my site. Ole Mark McGwire would be proud of such a hit record…and I don’t even use steroids. Naturally, I’m not a one-man-band. I really do owe it all y’all. So pat yourself on the back, toot your horn, do the “Oh what a feeling” Toyota leap, tell me how much you love me and adore me and want to be me. Too far? Okay, ignore the last 15 words or so [but remember that shallow praise will go along way with me].

Sound the Alarm and Head for the Bunker

Twas a normal Sunday Church day...

Five minutes after the hour [65 minutes of Sacrament Meeting], the Bishop stepped up to the pulpit and said that we would forgo the closing hymn and have a prayer...[I'm thinking, What? We haven't gone that far over the time]

There have been a couple of tornado sitings. So after the prayer, we will have all the primary children and their leaders go to.... All the adults for Sunday school will go.....

What actually ended up happening [because kids wanted to be with their parents and parents wanted to be with their kids], we all crammed into the basement . Yes our church building has a basement. After several uncomfortable minutes, it was decided to let the kids do their Sharing Time. But alas, all bad things must come to an end. The tornado warnings passed and we returned to our regularly scheduled program.

Come to find out, there had been several funnel spouts/funnel clouds...all of them Rhode Islandly small for a funnel cloud...not a Texas size [aahhh ok...I'll throw in Oklahoma, Kansas and the rest of the tornado belt] twister. Only one was confirmed as touching down for a few seconds [Pecos Bill would have scoffed at such a wimpy overgrown dust devil].

The photo above shows one of them there funnel clouds not more than 1/2 mile from my home.

Having said all that, I am glad that we were all at the church [with or without a basement] and not hunkered down inside our bathtub at home.

Amusement with a Slice of Crazy

The uncle of a certain fellow blogger likes to amuse himself [and his guests] with some odd forms of entertainment. Because I am not as blogger savvy as my compatriots, all I have is a link to the site to show you what I am talking about.

If you are wondering...Yes, I have tried this contraption. Yes, it's crazy. Yes, it's a rush of adrenaline. Whould I do it again? Probably not...considering the owner's personal experiences with the device.

Super Trooper

To borrow from ~j:

Today’s yay- Lil goober's surgery for his trigger finger release went well.

Today’s boo: getting up at 4:30am to get to the hospital by 5:30, not leaving the hospital until after 10:00 [for a fifteen minute procedure], having to drive back to the hospital cause the lil tike managed to pull off his bandage.

Cheaper By The Dozen?

Today marks a very special day. It is our 12th anniversary. I am amazed each time I reflect back on this same day 12 years ago and all the things that had to happen in order for a loving Heavenly Father to put us in a position to cross each other’s path.

President Hinckley once stated that he could trace back everything good that has happened in his life to his mission. I would imagine that I could also make such a declaration. As odd as this may sound, it was because of my stubbornness [for what seemed more like selfish reasons at that time], that I did not extend my mission [at my mission president’s request]. As such, this allowed me to return to my homeland just in time to register for school [pick up the scraps of classes that were left], and it was in this same semester that I found my future wife, in the same 200+ seating-auditorium classroom.

Of course there were many other things that happened in those previous 21 years that had to happen to get me to the point of serving a mission and I will not go into to all that...you’ll just have to read my journal and piece it all together.

The bottom line is, I can’t imagine my life without her [and our 4 chillins]. She has been and forever will be my pillar of strength, my best friend, and confidant [just to name a few of the roles that she plays in my life]. So while it may not be cheaper by the dozen, it certainly seems to be better by the dozen. Here is to another 12 and many more dozen to come.

♣♣♣♣♣♣and a Happy St. Patricks to all y'all.♣♣♣♣♣♣

UnDELLicious

I’m sure that most of you have encountered customer service that has run-a-muck. My recent experience has been no different.

My poor lil notebook/laptop computer took a turn for the worse. You see, it recently came down with a very nasty virus that two different anti-virus companies have been unable to detect and deliver a deadly blow [to said virus]. It has been advised to me to just reinstall Windows and begin anew. Come to find out, because problems do not enjoy solitude, my CD/DVD combo drive had also entered the world of defunctness.

Enter the phone call to DELL customer service [keep in mind that DELL does everything in its power to discourage phone calls unless you have a very large banking account from which they can feed the hunger of their 3rd world customer service agents]. I began my inquiry about being able to purchase a new CD/DVD drive so that I could fix the aforementioned problem. Now each and every time that I have dealt with DELL [via phone, online chat or email] there has always been at least one problem or another [usually because the left hand in Dallas, never knows what the right hand in New Delhi is doing. To keep the story short, let’s just say that the customer service rep hung up on me without even trying to say “Good-bye” or “Thanks for choosing DELL” or “Have a nice life, moron.”.

Two days later a package arrived for me in the mail from DELL. Inside were two color ink cartridges and two black ink cartridges…no explanation about why I was receiving such a gift from DELL. Speculate how you will. The problem is, I tossed their printer in the trash after my first dealings with having to order ink from directly from DELL. Besides, it was a cheap piece of plastic anyway and too costly to maintain [because of the ink]. So now I am stuck with four cartridges of ink and no printer to use them with. An additional two days later, I received an invoice from DELL for the ink [which has a retail value of $114.00]. The part that I eventually ordered from DELL was only $68.00.

Why couldn’t they just send me a replacement CD/DVD drive instead if they felt bad about my experience with their customer service agent? That is an unsolved mystery.

Old Yeller and lost Innocence

Recently, and I mean as in within the last week, my kids were listening to Old Yeller on tape as their mammy drove them around town. Now someone should have placed a forewarning label on the book or the “book on tape” cause there is no mention of the possibility that your kids might not know what the word “castration” means.

So there was my wife just driving along, listening to the narrator telling the story when much to her surprise, he tells the listener that it was time to go castrate the pigs. Stop. Rewind.

Mommy, what does “castration” mean? There were all four kids in the car: ages 2, 5, 8 and 10. The two youngest couldn't really care all that much about the story, but the other two certainly were engrossed enough to ask and listen for the answer.

The way my wife tells it [I hope she’ll forgive me if I get it wrong], she replied that males have the little ball sacs on either side of their “pooder” [call it what you will]. Those little ball sacs have the boy part that helps make babies. If they let the boy pigs grow up with them, then their meat gets all tough and isn’t very tasty so they cut them off [upon which my oldest boy exclaimed, “Ouch!”.…and then she resumed play. However, my wife mentioned that she could literally see [through the rear-view mirror] the wheels turning inside the head of our 8 year old boy, as he was trying to figure out the whole “boy part that helps make babies”. Much to her relief, that was enough of an answer to satisfy their inquiry and then they chose to keep playing the tape and found out that Old Yeller dies and that was sad...a double wammy.

A Philosopher of One

An Observation:

For those who may be unawares, I spend way too much time in the building posted above. This is the English building at Texas Tech University. Alright so I shouldn’t refer to is as just the “English” building because it also houses the Philosophy person. If you were to divide the building into eight sections [two sections for each floor] the Philosophy department occupies two of the eight sections [the east side of the first two floors].

Because I spend so much time in this building, I find myself regularly taking my mini “Australian” walk-a-bouts through the building as a way to get up and stretch my legs [the torture rack at home is broken]. At any given moment during my jaunts through the English turf, I can see and hear the commotion of students all day long. Pick a floor, doesn’t matter. If it’s on the English side of the building [divided my masking tape] there is life to be found.

Whenever I cross the boundary [through whatever wormhole stands before me]. I am transported to the silent “serenity now” quite and desolate halls of Aristotle, Cicero, Kant, and Charlie Chaplin. Ha! Bet you didn’t know ole Chaplin philosophized anything did you. One of his more famous quotes is, "The silent picture is a universal means of expression. Talking pictures necessarily have a limited field, they are held down to the particular tongues of particular races... There is a constant demand for a medium that is universal in its utility." How much more philosophical can you get than that?

But I digress…are philosophers a dying breed? Judging by first hand evidence of walking those halls, it is indeed a dying breed and someone has pulled the wool over the eyes of the Provost into thinking that they need ¼ of the building when they could get by in a custodial closet.

So do I have an ethical responsibility to convert the last poor soul over to the light of English so we can just have the rest of the building to accommodate the overflow of the true seekers of truth and light?

Am I destined to be like Martin Luther King Jr. who answered the siren call to carry the gospel of freedom across America? Does anyone have some poster board and a sharpie to spare? I’ve got a soul to save.

♫ Onward English Soldiers! ♫

Four for Four Fridays

Four Fridays in a row we have had snow and my fellow Lubbockians are all on their knees a tremblin and a fearin that the end of the Earth is upon us.

So in a fine tradition of eat, drink and be merry, I present to you the eating part [the rest you’ll have to work out on your own]:

Oatmeal Chocolate Caramel bars

2 Cups Flour
2 Cups Oats
½ tsp. Salt
1 ½ Cups Brown Sugar
1 tsp. Baking Soda

Mix all together

Melt 2 ½ sticks of butter

Add to mixture
(should be about the consistency of graham cracker crust used for cheesecake)

Place ¾ crust in 9x13 greased pan (press/spread out evenly across the bottom)
Bake at 325° for 17 minutes
Sprinkle 1 bag of chocolate chips
Drizzle one jar of Caramel sauce on top (enough to cover the top)
Crumble remaining crust over the top
Bake another 17 minutes
Allow to cool for two hours
Enjoy....cause the end is near

My Life. My Card.

My name... Lyle….funny how I’ve never seen anyone misspell Kyle, but I’ve seen plenty of people misspell Lyle.

Childhood ambition... to be rich

Fondest memory... ask me again tomorrow

Soundtrack... The Man from Snowy River

Retreat... Lofty Lake in the Uintahs

Wildest dream... fighting Darth Vader and then escaping from further danger by using the Alpine Slide (which I’ve never been on)....a dream from my younger days.

Proudest moment... Becoming a Father

Biggest challenge... Becoming a Father

Alarm clock... on its last leg

Perfect day... would have to involve the high Uintahs in the summer

First job... slave to The Daily Herald, delivering newspapers and going door-to-door to collect monthly payments from their subscribers.

Indulgence... Oatmeal chocolate caramel bars

Last purchase... gas

Favorite movie... LOR trilogy..it really is just one movie [that fits on 6 DVD's]

Inspiration...my family

My life... needs a tour guide

My card... gets me to where I need to be

Global Warming Was to Blame

Many have seen the claymation "Rudolf The Red-nosed Reindeer". The story begins with the narrator telling about the big blizzard that almost canceled Christmas....well let me tell you about the "blizzard" that hit Lubbock.

At least as early as last Wednesday, local meteorologists were predicting "the big one" that would cover Lubbock and make us like Denver, CO or Buffalo, NY on Friday night/Saturday morning. It was a doomsday prophecy for sure. We could expect up to 18" of that strange white wet powdery stuff. Oh Wal-Mart was enjoying a second "Christmas eve" like shopping spree with locals snatching up all sorts of things you'd expect to purchase in case of emergencies...bread, eggs, water, diapers, matches, candles, beer, Pillsbury Rolls, etc. Probably the biggest difference for this preparation with the folks in Florida preparing for a hurricane was the long line of cars parked on the freeways trying to get out of town.

By Thursday, snowfall predications were down to 12-15" inches of snow.

By Friday morning, predictions were down to 8-10" inches of snow.

By Friday night, predictions were down to 6-8" inches of snow....6" is still a lot for these parts of the world.



As you can see from the picture, we ended up with about 2" of snow and the kids had some fun. Because of the snowstorm, public schools were canceled on Friday and the Pinewood Derby was canceled on Saturday morning.





This meant that I got to spend time with my eight year old N- making a birdhouse, which was another [possible] requirement for his Wolf badge. So I present to you, the morning's labors...ta da! he helped cut it, nail it and paint it. It was one of them bonding moments.

And the dad of the week award went to.....






The meteorologists clamed that Lubbock was just a couple of degrees too warm for too long for the rain/sleet to turn into the snow that would have dumped more than a foot on us. See, Al Gore was right after all.

Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave When First We Practice to Deceive

Good evening all y’all.

This afternoon in this room, from this chair, I am coming clean before the blogging world in regards to some of my past posts. I was put to the question and must lay the truth before the world.

I answered their questions truthfully, including questions about my private life, questions no American citizen would ever want to answer.

Still, I must take complete responsibility for all my actions, both public and private. And that is why I am speaking to you tonight.

As you know, in a deposition in January, I was asked questions about my relationship with Bobby Knight. While my answers were legally inaccurate, I did not volunteer information.

Indeed, I have never met with Bobby Knight. In fact, it was all a lie. It constituted a critical lapse in judgment and a personal failure on my part for which I am solely and completely responsible. [sobb sobb. snif sniff. weep weep]

But I told my family and I say to you now that at no time did I ask anyone else to lie [although I do recall helping pappy convince his daughter that I was really on the court with BK], to hide or to take any other unlawful action.

I know that my public comments and my silence about this matter gave a false impression. I misled people, including my hair stylist. I deeply regret that. [sobb sobb. snif sniff. weep weep]

-go to commercial

____________________________________________

[Welcome back]

While I am coming clean with that, I should also confess that I have never had a family bar-b-que with Sonny Pope. I have never even been to his house. I just let everyone believe it, in the hopes of getting others to believe that I was moving up on the Pope’s adoption list so they would back down and leave me as the sole contender.

dim lights-

camera 1 pans to a waving U.S. flag,

camera 2 pans to a picture of a church

camera 3 pans to a picture of a boy with his mother

-go to commercial

The first confession, if you didn’t already recognize it, was heavily borrowed from. http://www.zpub.com/un/un-bc-sp1.html

Off to a Good Start: One for the History Books

It's always good to start off the new year on the right foot. Today, my friends, was a day to remember. Thanks to the generosity of Tech, I found myself with some free tickets to a certain game that just happened to correspond with the magical number of 880. For those who may still be in the dark at this moment, let me illuminate your minds further by saying, we were there to see and cheer for uncle Bobby's 880th career win, making him the most winningest coach in NCAA history. The game against New Mexico went down to the wire with Tech 70, NM 68. It was the first basketball game my kids had ever been to and I picked this one to take them to. The fates must have been smiling upon me, cause I almost got tickets to the game on the 28th in which ...they lost. This game had to be as good as Tech making that comeback against the Gophers in the Insight Bowl, when BYU stomped over Oregon, Boise State beat Oklahoma in overtime, or when the USA hockey team sent USSR to the woodshed [a couple decades ago].

I wish you could all share in the moment, but alas, that is what you have me for, to live that vicarious dream for you. I will wish Bobby all the best wishes from all y'all at tonight's shin-dig...I had to insist that we hold it here; I mean, after all, he has enough occupying his time today with all the interviews and what not. It's the least I could do for him.

The full story