When it rains ...

Enough already! The old adage about problems coming in threes certainly isn't holding true for us. I think the needle is stuck on the record (an analogy that won't make sense to anyone younger than 30, because the CD was introduced 26 years ago in October of 1982!)

Several weeks ago Mom and I decided to replace our garage door because it was so water damaged. I did this against my better judgment, because we had not saved the total amount of cash to pay for the new door. And wouldn't you know, this apparently unleashed the following avalanch of unplanned expenses:

• the water heater failed and had to be replaced
• a tire on the van picked up a nail in the sidewall and had to be replaced (punctures in sidewalls can't safely be repaired
• the battery in the van failed and had to be replaced
• the Honda Laura drives needed four new tires
• the radiator in the Honda had to be replaced

Rarely have we had so many things like this happen in such a short period of time. That said, I am so grateful that the battery in the van failed two blocks from our house and not in the middle of Nebraska or Wyoming. Our neighbor very graciously helped me quickly replace the battery and we were back on the road in no time.

I am re-learning the lessons of financial viability -- avoid unnecessary debt and always have a cushion for unexpected expenses. It looks like for Christmas this year Mom is getting a garage door and a water heater, I am getting a tire and a battery, and Laura is getting tires and a radiator. Merry Christmas!

1978 - 2008

You undoubtedly have heard me relate the story of how, on the night before we were to be married in 1978, a member of our ward who had agreed to accompany Brenda as her escort to the temple called and told Brenda that she would not do so. You may remember that Brenda – in some desperation – called Ardeth Kapp, whom she had met once three years previously, and asked if Sister Kapp might go with Brenda to the temple the next morning. Sister Kapp graciously agreed, staying until the ceremony was complete and then quickly leaving because she was late for a meeting with President Kimball! In the years since then, we have maintained a correspondence with Sister Kapp.

A few weeks ago we were pleasantly surprised to learn that Sister Kapp was to be the speaker at our annual Stake Youth Standards night. I bent (okay, broke) the rules a little and wrote to Sister Kapp asking if we might be able to see her while she was in town to speak. She was nearly as excited to see us as we were to see her and we got to enjoy dinner (hosted by the Stake President’s family) with Sister Kapp and a little bit of private time with her following the youth meeting.

Prior to this opportunity, we did not know if we would ever see Sister Kapp again. What a blessing it was for us to renew our acquaintance with her and to understand in richer detail than before just why she agreed to put her busy schedule as a counselor in the General Young Women presidency on hold and accompany Brenda to the temple. We are richly blessed to know Sister Kapp and hope that in some way we might be able to impact the lives of another individual as she has ours.

We do not have a photo of Brenda and Sister Kapp from our wedding (she had to leave before we took photos), but here is a photo from our recent reunion with her.

Moving On

Although I was released from my calling as my ward's Young Men president a couple of Sundays ago, my last activity took place this week. We had a combined activity featuring square dancing. How fun to see about 40 youth and their parents strutting their stuff! Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. And I noticed that most everyone also got quite a workout!

It is going to be hard leaving the Young Men program. I remember early in my mission in Viet Nam that President Bradshaw, probably seeing something in me that I did not yet clearly see in myself, warned me that I would complete my mission and return home unsatisfied, feeling that I had not done everything I was supposed to do. That was certainly true then ... and it remains true now.

Most church callings seem to me to be designed to do more than the average person can possibly accomplish. With the Young Men, I certainly never figured out how to attend all the meeting, hold all the interviews, work with all the quorum presidencies, meet with all the families, track all the progress, prepare all the lessons, plan and carry out all the activities, fill out all the reports, perform all the service, and do all the good that I was expected to do. I do leave this calling with some regrets for what I did not do well or do at all.

But I also know that I made an impression on these young men. I know that I taught them truth, shared my testimony, encouraged them to live the gospel, helped them understand the scriptures, showed them how to serve, taught them to honor women, and had some fun with them. That's not so bad, really. I could have done worse.

Now I move on to another calling, to serve on the stake high council. I don't yet know what I am supposed to do. I don't yet know what I will need to learn to fulfill my responsibilities and magnify my call. I don't know what will come easily to me and what will not. I don't know whom I will help and whom I will hurt. I only know that when this calling ends, I will leave unsatisfied, feeling I did not do everything I was supposed to do.

I will not have figured out how to attend all the meetings, conduct all the interviews, correlate all the activities, train all the leaders, support all the teachers, report all the progress, motivate all the priesthood holders, preach all the sermons, and render all the service I could have. But perhaps I will have made an impression. Perhaps I will have taught the truth, shared my testimony, encouraged others to live the gospel, helped people understand the scriptures, showed them how to serve, taught them to honor their family members ... and had some fun with them. And that won't be so bad, really. Maybe at that day I will once again leave thinking that I could have done worse.

Table Tennis

The Asian American employee network at Pioneer sponsored a table tennis competition this week. I did not participate in the tournament last year, but decided on a whim to do so this year. Fortunately for me, Donglong Liu consented to be my doubles partner. Unfortunately for him, I unexpectedly got a cast on my foot three days after signing up.

As might be expected, my mobility was limited and I turned out to be more of a liability than an asset to Donglong. In our first match we went up two games to none, but our opponents came back to sweep the final three games and were victorious in the match.

Here you can see me warming up with Donglong. His arm and the ball are both blurry because he hits it very fast! If you look carefully, you can see the cast on my left foot showing under the table.

Casting around

After a year of treatment for heel pain with no real improvement, my podiatrist recommended immobilizing my foot for 30 days. My options were a cast on my foot or bedrest for a month. I thought bed rest sounded great, but it wasn't very practical!

Actually, this is the second cast on my foot. The first one was extremely uncomfortable. I tried to tough it out, but after five days experienced what I can only describe as a bout of claustrophobia of the foot. I literally couldn't stand to have the cast on my foot for another moment. I tried cutting the cast, but ran into two problems: I couldn't reach to my foot very well and my tool (wire cutters) were not up to the task. So I went next door and told my neighbor, Steve, that I was going crazy and needed his help removing the cast right away. He brought out his heavy duty metal snips and did the job. Afterwards he said that he has helped a lot of neighbors with a lot of things, but this request was a first for him!

My relief was short-lived. I went back to the doctor's office the next day for another cast. But I insisted on more padding to avoid a repeat of the first experience. So far the second cast is an improvement. But I still have three weeks to go ...

As you can see, I don't let my immobility stop me from exercising. I am working with weights even if I can't walk, run, or bike. So here I am in workout clothes at the fitness center at work. Check out the muscle in that right leg! No wonder the cast on my other leg was so tight.

Lots of zeros

Large numbers fascinate me. I think this started as a child with my interests in dinosaurs (millions of years ago), the speed of light (unbelievably fast), and the distances in the universe (one light year is nearly six trillion miles). It continues today, but now the context is often something like the federal budget deficit or the cost of waging war.

Here is how I make sense of large numbers. First, consider the ordinary paper clip, which weighs about 1.4 grams. One million paper clips weigh nearly 3,100 pounds, or over a ton and a half. The number "one million" is very large when you envision a ton and a half of paper clips in your office. But the number "one billion" is much larger; one billion paper clips weigh more than eight Boeing 747 passenger jets. And the number "one trillion" is almost too large to fathom. This many paper clips would weigh more than four Empire State Buildings.

Next, consider a penny, which is 1.55 millimeters thick. A stack of a million pennies would reach nearly a mile high. A billion pennies would reach from Des Moines along Interstate 80 a little ways past the Utah-Wyoming border; driving at freeway speed (75 miles per hour) it would take almost thirteen hours to drive that distance. And a trillion pennies would reach around the earth nearly 39 times or between the moon and the earth four times. And I don't think I can drive that far.

Finally, consider time. There are 86,400 seconds in a day. This is a number I can grasp. One million seconds is just over 11.5 days, or a week and a half. So each month sees the passing of almost three million seconds. But a billion seconds is almost 32 years. With luck, I might reach the ripe old age of three billion seconds. But I'll never reach one trillion seconds; this is nearly 32,000 years.

So I get a little concerned when I hear that the federal deficit has reached the trillions of dollars. From the US National Debt Clock:

The Outstanding Public Debt as of September 19, 2008 is $9.7 trillion. The estimated population of the United States is 304 million, so each citizen's share of this debt is nearly $32 thousand.

Garage Sale

Mom and I take very different approaches to garage sales. I think this starts with the very purpose. I want to get rid of stuff (read "junk") and Mom is interested not only in making money, but in helping people by selling them things they want or need at bargain prices. Given that we differ on "why" it is not surprising that we also differ on "how." For example:

• I sweep or spray the garage floor, but Mom mops it
• I wipe off the display tables with a damp cloth, but Mom uses disinfectant
• I use pre-printed pricing stickers, but Mom stencils hand-made pricing signs
• I put out items in "as is" condition, but Mom washes or dusts the items to make them look as nice and new as possible

As it turns out, Mom's jewelry was far and away the biggest attraction at our garage sale. I never cease to be amazed at what people will buy.

Garage sales are an interesting study in people and their personalities. Some people live to haggle over the posted prices. They will buy things they don't need or want just for the opportunity to pay less than what you are asking. Other people shy away from bargaining and always pay the posted price, even though we would be willing to take less.

Mom is also an interesting study. She isn't just a cashier, taking money for what people decide to buy. She is a salesperson, pointing out items that she thinks someone will like or telling an interesting story behind a particular item. Mom connects with the people who come to her garage sales. Why? Because she is helping them.

Part one of our garage sale was last weekend. I left the display tables up in the garage and we will bring up more stuff from the basement to continue with part two over the Labor Day weekend. Wish us luck! Mom will need to sell a lot of items so that she can have enough room in her new office for what remains.

Happy Birthday to me!

Monday was my birthday and numerous people wished me well. I began the day with a 6 AM teleconference meeting. One of my colleagues said, "I understand today is your birthday, is that right?" I replied that it wasn't right, but it was accurate! He was a little confused until I explained that it wasn't right because another birthday had come much too quickly following the last one, but that he was accurate that it was my birthday.

I kept forgetting that it was my birthday and so when my caller identification would show a phone call from a family member, I would give a little start and wonder why that person would be calling and what could be wrong. Each time I was pleasantly surprised with a birthday greeting or song. Thanks to all who called and made my day.

I was tickled when Autumn called to wish me a happy birthday (with some whispered coaching from Emily in the background). Autumn told me that she had a birthday present for me and asked if I wanted to know what it was. "Me calling you!" she exclaimed! That is indeed a wonderful birthday present. Autumn ended her call by telling me that Prairie also had a birthday present for me. "What is it?" I asked. "Her taking a nap," said Autumn. I replied that taking a nap is a great birthday present and told Autumn that I would also take a nap for my birthday. What a sweet, cute call!

Laura treated me to her Scottish accent version of the Happy Birthday song. I can't hear Lassie Laura talk or sing using her thick brogue (definition: a strong dialectal accent, especially a strong Irish or Scottish accent when speaking English) without starting to giggle. By the time she finished all the flourishes of the song, I was laughing out loud. If only I could have recorded this call and preserved it for posterity.

Thanks to all for your wonderful birthday wishes. Until next year ...

What happened in 1954, the year of my birth?
-The US was composed of 48 states
-The first nuclear powered submarine was launched
-Mass vaccination of children against polio began
-The first successful kidney transplant occurred
-Roger Bannister became the first person to run a mile in under four minutes
-Bill Haley and the Comets released "Rock Around the Clock", the first rock and roll record to reach number one on the charts (initiating the rock and roll movement)
-The Supreme Court ruled that segratation in education was illegal
-The words "under God" were placed in the US Pledge of Allegiance
-The French were defeated in Viet Nam, which was divided into north and south sections
-The magazine Sports Illustrated was first published
-What eventually became The Tonight Show, with Steve Allen as host, first aired
-The transistor radio was announced
-Senator Joseph McCarthy was condemned in the US Senate
-Watson and Crick discovered the double helix structure of DNA
-The Boeing 707 took its maiden flight
-Swanson introduced TV Dinners
-The Dow Jones closed at an all time high of 382.74

What did things cost in 1954?
-A postage stamp cost 3 cents
-The First all Electronic Color television went on sale from RCA for $1,000
-A new house cost $10,250 (average)
-A gallon of gas sold for 22 cents
-The average price for a new car was $1,750
-Average monthly rent was $85
-A movie ticket cost 70 cents
-An 8 ounce box of Kellog's Corn Flakes sold for 25 cents

Aloha!

I spent one summer working in Hawaii harvesting pineapples. What an adventure this was! The thought of my first airplane flight and the chance to go to a tropical paradise were overwhelming for me. I was so excited when I went to an orientation meeting to learn the details of this job, then was devastated to learn that I was partially color blind (I hadn't known this previously) and was put on a waiting list. Fortunately, enough people who had been selected before me opted not to go and this opened a space for me.

Why was color vision so important? In order to tell the difference between green and ripe pineapples (see the photos). I can tell the difference between green and gold, so choosing the ripe fruit was not a problem for me.

When people ask me what it was like working in Hawaii, I say that it was fun for the first ten minutes and then was a summer of drudgery. Only after arriving in Hawaii did I learn that we were the migrant workers brought in to do work most of the local population would not do.

I included a photo showing the type of protective clothing we wore to do this work. While we did not use the picking bag, we did wear hats for protection from the sun and the long sleeves, goggles, gloves, and chaps over our pants to protect us from the very sharp leaves of the pineapple plant. We would have liked to wear t-shirts and shorts in the heat, but this simply wouldn't provide adequate protection.



This picture shows the tractor and boom rig used for harvesting. We walked in rows behind the boom; I'm not sure why this photo shows workers on both sides of the boom. Harvesting involved picking the ripe fruit and twisting off the thorny top before placing the pineapple on the belt, where it moved along the boom to the tractor and filled a waiting truck.

That Stinks!

The flood waters are receding and the danger appears to be over. Now the cleanup begins and will continue for weeks and maybe months. Mom and I went downtown earlier this week and drove on one of the roads that was flooded. As we looked out onto the river from the Court Avenue bridge, we were amazed at all of the debris that had washed up against the pedestrian bridge and was trapped there. This wasn't all little branches and limbs, but included a couple of gigantic trees. It will require some kind of crane to remove these.

When I leave work to go home, there is a distinct odor just east of the bridge where the water sat for so long. We can't help but wonder just how much waste material was in the water because so many treatment systems overflowed and discharged raw sewage into the rivers. Remember the spot in Nebraska along the interstate where we could always smell the cattle lot? We aren't that bad, but can certainly notice a difference in the air.

We are so grateful that we were spared personally from the flood devastation and pray for those who experienced the full impact of the deluge. I hope never to see anything like this again.

500 year flood?

In 1993 Des Moines experienced a terrible flood, resulting in the loss of drinking water in the city for twenty days. We have considered the flood of 1993 a 500 year flood. I was confident I would never see anything like that again.

Here it is fifteen years later, in 2008, and we are experiencing even worse flooding. How did 500 years pass so quickly? The explanation around the water cooler at work is that we caught the tail end of the last 500 year cycle in 1993, and are starting out the new 500 year cycle with another flood!

This time we are in no danger of losing our water supply, thanks to the work done following the last episode. The levees around the water treatment plant are much higher and the equipment and buildings are safe. Unfortunately, many homes and businesses are not safe. They are inundated with water -- again.

There is flooding all over the state. The following photos, which are printed in the Des Moines Register, show what is happening in downtown Des Moines (you can see Court Avenue under water). The rivers will crest some time this weekend, so what you see here is not the worst we will experience.

Where is a ten year old when you need one?

I hate technology. Last night I was downstairs watching the NBA Finals and surfing channels during commercials. For some reason, one channel with no transmission was apparently programmed into the scanning function. I got tired of seeing the "snow" on the screen when switching channels, so decided to go into the onscreen menu and remove the unwanted channel.

You probably already know the outcome of this little adventure. Now the remote won't scan through the channels at all. I guess I'll give up watching basketball. Or I'll only watch what happens to be playing on ABC. I'll be darned if I will get up and down to switch channels manually. Perhaps I can attach a string to the remote and throw it at the buttons on front of the television and change channels that way. I can retrieve the remote with the string and won't have to get up at all.

This reminds me of the time I almost threw away my VHS/DVD player because it quit playing DVDs. I knew it would cost more to have it repaired than to buy a new one. But I am of the generation that is reluctant to throw away electronics. Thinking maybe a setting was off, I pushed every button and combination of buttons I could think of -- to no avail. Because Lindsey, who was away at school, was due home soon I decided to have her look at the DVD player before doing anything. After all, we still had plenty of VHS videos we could play while waiting for her to return. Sure enough, when Lindsey got home she took one look at the machine and pushed a button that fixed the problem. It was the same button I had pushed twenty times, but for her it worked.

Someone, please come home. The clock on my stereo is blinking and the clock on the DVD player is off an hour, even though the time zone is set correctly (I swear!).

I hate technology ...

1968

I was 13 years old in April and June of 1968 when two horrible assassinations took place: Martin Luther King on April 4 at age 39 and Bobby Kennedy on June 5 at age 42. We were still in school when Dr. King was killed. He was not as universally revered at that time, in the midst of the struggle for civil rights. Some in our nation, viewing Dr. King as a trouble maker and rabble rouser, were not sorry to see him die and this sentiment was voiced in our classroom discussion in our social studies class. It wasn't that my classmates held this view, but I remember clearly one boy repeating a comment in that vein his parents had made. We were shocked at the murder and didn't know how the country would react.

Just two months later Bobby Kennedy was shot, moments after delivering a speech following his win in the California Democratic primary. School was out by then and I remember being outside helping my Dad pour a concrete extension to the driveway of the house in South Jordan. The impact of this murder hit me harder. I think this was because I thought Bobby Kennedy was almost certain to become the next president, just five years after his brother was assassinated in Dallas and because it followed so closely on the heels of the death of Dr. King. I couldn't quite believe that this was happening in the US. It seemed so savage, as though suddenly the country had reverted to an uncivilized land where life was of no value and raw force held sway. All this took place against the backdrop of the Viet Nam war with the Tet offensive in 1968 making me wonder if we would lose the war. The country was intensely divided and angry, and massive anti-war protests were a common occurrence. It seemed very surreal to keep mixing and pouring concrete when yet another high profile assassination had taken place.

Race riots followed Dr. King's death, reaching to within a few blocks of the White House in Washington, D.C. And the Democratic convention in Chicago turned into a big protest by the Yippies, culminating in the arrest and subsequent infamous trial of the Chicago Seven. It felt like the country was coming apart at the seams.

Here are some of the photos that are seared into my memory from that time.

Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy

Bobby Kennedy, mortally wounded

The most famous of all the Kennedy assassination photos

Yard Work

I am supposed to be painting the upstairs bedroom so we can turn it into Mom's new office, so what do I do today? Yard work, of course! It was such a beautiful day I could not resist being outside. So what started out as mowing the lawn turned into some trimming and then weeding the flowers and then removing some more raspberry plants and then planting some bare spots in the lawn and then tilling the flower beds and then planting flowers in the beds. Did I mention that I didn't get any painting done today? The yard looks very good and I ache all over!

We planted two kinds of flowers today. Just off the front porch in the small flower bed next to the garage door we planted columbine seeds that Mom harvested from the plants she already had. I'm not sure how long it will take these to grow and bloom, but it will be fun to wait and watch. We were down to a single plant (the others didn't survive the winter weather), so we are anxious to have more. The columbine flower is such an interesting shape, with long "tails" coming from the back of the blossom. The flowers Mom harvested were red and blue, so I hope some of both colors grow for us.

We also planted marigolds, again with seeds Mom harvested from a couple of years ago. Marigolds are particularly hardy and seem to thrive in our area. One season with a long, mild fall our marigolds actually bloomed a second time. I believe you can for subsequent blooms if you pick off the heads, but Mom usually wants them to go to seed so she can harvest the seeds for planting in subsequent years. Marigolds are also supposed to keep away rabbits. Perhaps we will have to plant a row around the garden.

Disaster in Iowa

By now you've undoubtedly heard about the tornado in Iowa over Memorial Day weekend that took seven lives in and around Parkerburg. In addition to the incalculable value of the lives lost and families shattered, the preliminary damage has been estmated at over six million dollars. This figure will surely rise.

The wind speed was estimated at exceeding 200 mph, which would give this tornado a rating of EF5. Apparently the tornado was over one mile wide and stayed on the ground for over 40 minutes.

I've included a couple of photos, which I'm certain do not do justice to the swath of destruction and scope of the damage. Our thoughts and prayers are with the people in Parkersburg. And we are certainly grateful that we are not in the position of literally picking up the pieces of our lives as they are.

Iris

This week our first iris blooms appeared in the back yard. Our spring has been so wet and cold this year that the growing season is delayed. I'm not certain if or when we will see all the irises bloom.

When I was a boy, on Memorial Day my Mom would cut iris blooms of all colors from her garden, wrap the stems in wet paper towels covered in plastic bags or foil, and drive to the cemetery in her hometown to decorate the family graves. For the longest time I called this holiday "decoration day" rather than Memorial Day. I looked forward to decorating the graves and hearing stories about the names chiseled into the stones.

We carefully placed the fresh cut flowers at the headstones in what we called Mason jars, canning bottles we had emptied during the winter. I can still see the bright colors of the flowers and American flags brightening the graves in the otherwise drab cemetery. This is where I learned about my Mom's parents losing their first baby to pneumonia. This is where I realized how many soldiers had been cut down in the prime of life fighting in far away wars.

When we moved to Iowa, I no longer had family graves to decorate. So one year I cut my iris blooms to decorate the various war memorials near the capital building and grounds in Des Moines. This turned into a tradition for my own family, honoring the sacrifice of the war wounded and dead who fought to preserve and protect our country and freedoms.

I particularly enjoy the World War II memorial here. The history of the progress of the war for both the European and Pacific theaters is literally cast in the concrete walk, year by year. I tried to explain to my children the magnitude of the war and the heroism of those who fought in our defense. I had them place blooms at the memorials as a small gesture of thanks for a debt we can never adequately repay.

Even though the children are gone, each year I continue our Memorial Day tradition. I am humbled and thankful every year when I think about what others have done and have given for me. I will never forget and I will never cease being grateful. I hope my children enjoyed leaving flowers at the war memorials. More importantly, I hope they remember those who have made it possible for them to enjoy the freedoms and prosperity of this land.

A little history about the iris flower ...

The goddess Iris of Greek mythology was a beloved messenger of the gods, especially of Hera, who became Juno to the ancient Romans. She had golden wings and was the goddess of the rainbow. Iris traveled on the rainbow's arc, carrying commands and messages from the ancient gods to mankind. Iris married the west wind, Zephyrus. To this day, the Greeks plant irises on women's graves, believing that the goddess Iris will guide the souls of women to their last resting places. (from herbs2000.com, "History of Irises)

Tall Bike

When I was 12-13 years old, my dad created an unusually tall bike for me and my brothers to ride. He did this by turning the bike frame upside down and welding extensions for the seat and handlebars so that we were sitting five or six feet in the air. The only way you could get started on this bike was to lean it up against a tree or wall and climb up onto the seat. Then you had to pedal hard enough to get started without falling over, or have someone give you enough of a push to send you on your way.

This photo gives an idea of what our bike looked like. As you can see, this is a girl's frame turned upside down with the seat and handlebars opposite of where they are normally located. In this photo, the original seat is left "underneath" the bike. We relocated the seat to the other side, so we didn't have a spare. And instead of a handlebar, Dad welded on a steering wheel from a car. While the bike was a little clumsy to ride, we looked unbelievably cool (okay, dorky). We certainly attracted a lot of attention. Everybody wanted to take a turn. And everybody wanted to know where they could get a bike like ours.

Because the center of balance was so high while riding this bike, it was always a little awkward to ride. You couldn't turn too sharp or you would easily tip over. And if this happened, you had to time your jump from the bike so you wouldn't get tangled in it when it fell over. I remember a few scrapes and bruises learning to master the tall bike. But, oh, what fun it was!

On the road again

For the first time this year I was able to ride my bicycle to work today. My timing is good, because this is "bike to work" week. My route is 3.1 miles, mostly downhill on the way to work and mostly uphill on the way home. This works out very well because I arrive at work relatively fresh. By the time I reach home, I know I've had a workout.

I'm always surprised at how out of shape I seem when I start biking in the spring. I am fairly active, working out regularly and playing basketball weekly. But I obviously use different muscles riding my bike, as is apparent when I resume riding each year. Riding home today was an added challenge because a stiff wind was blowing from the south, meaning that it was working against me most of the way home.

I like getting some exercise going back and forth to work. I guess I save a little money, also, but probably not enough to make the next van payment. Let's see, AAA calculates that in 2008 the cost of operating a minivan is around 60 cents per mile. At 6.2 miles for my round trip, this saves me $3.72 per day or nearly $82 a month if I bike every work day (22 days) during the month. Hmm, more than I thought. But I don't ride every single day, so I can probably realistically save $50 monthly for the five months I am able to bike to work. I guess I can nearly make one payment on my van after all!

Woeful Wodents

For a time as a teen I raised hamsters and sold the babies to local pet stores. I was under the delusion that this could be a money making venture. Had I ever bothered to calculate the cost of cages, food, and bedding compared to how much I made selling baby hamsters, I would have been very clear that I was hopelessly in the red. And that didn't even count "accidents."

For example, one time my female hamster, Katy, somehow escaped her cage. I put out food and kept watch for her, thinking that sooner or later I would find her. And I was almost right. My Mom found my hamster ... making a new nest in her vacuum bag, through which Katy had chewed a hole to gain access. In her cage, Katy's bed was an old sock put over the end of an empty tissue core. Katy would crawl through the tunnel into the sock and sleep there. When she was out of her cage, I suppose the vacuum bag had a simlar texture and feel and Katy made her own tunnel to fashion a new bed.

I believe the new vacuum bag cost $45, which in 1967 was more than I could have ever hoped to earn selling baby hamsters. When Mom found Katy she said to me, "We won't tell your Dad about this." Thanks, Mom, for saving my life.

Another experience still makes me laugh when I think about it. Our South Jordan house had a very small closet just off the kitchen. One day my Mom opened the closet door and saw a mouse. The mouse, frightened out of its wits, took off running through the kitchen and into the living room with Mom in close pursuit with a broom. In the living room, the mouse ran behind the full-length curtain to hide and actually started climbing the curtain fabric as Mom tried to swat it with the broom. When Mom shook the curtain, the mouse fell to the floor and raced back across the living room, through the kitchen, and under the closet door to its original hiding place. Mom readied her broom and flung open the closet door to face her nemesis. The mouse, desperately trying to escape, ran straight at Mom in a frantic effort to get past her and find a safer hiding place. Mom jumped straight up in the air and came down right on the mouse, which promptly declared her the undisputed winner and never moved again. Mom immediately ran to the bathroom and threw up.

Color Blind

It's always dangerous when I start painting because I am partially color blind. Once during a college break I went to work with my Uncle Bob and brother Gary for a couple of weeks. At that time Bob was finishing some pre-fabricated houses. These are built in two sections (imagine a house cut in half lengthwise) and the two pieces are set on the foundation and "stitched" together for a finished house.

Bob sent me to paint the seam of one house he had stitched together the previous day while he and Gary worked on another house across the street. The exterior siding is already painted except at the seam. When the two halves are connected, an unfinished strip of siding is installed over the seam and is then painted to match the rest of the house. Simple enough, I thought. So I went into the house, dutifully got the painting supplies, opened a can of paint and worked very hard painting the unfinished strips at both ends where the two sections were joined. When I finished, I went across the street to tell Bob I had completed the painting and to ask what he wanted me to do next.

When Bob came out of the house where he was working and looked across the street at my handiwork, he stopped dead in his tracks and was speechless for a moment. I had painted the entire exterior seam with the interior finish paint, which was a different color. He asked, "Couldn't you tell the difference between those colors?" Actually, no, I couldn't. So that ended my painting for pay career. Bob found something else for me to do.

I suggested to Mom that we hire someone to paint over the avocado green in Lindsey's old room, but she was reluctant to spend so much money when we could paint ourselves. So I covered the old paint with primer and told Mom to pick the color she wanted. She decided on a two-tone scheme, with the back wall a slightly darker contrasting color. Remembering my earlier experience with Bob, I decided to buy only the darker color and do the back wall first. But I promptly forgot and painted not only the back wall, but the doorway and adjoining side segment. Apparently there is no protecting a paint job from the likes of me.

Air Conditioner

Our house is a little over twenty years old. Needless to say, so are the furnace and air conditioner. At what point will they need to be replaced? Maybe soon.

Today I had a technician service the air conditioner. I wanted to do this before the weather turns very hot in case there is a problem. Where possible, I would rather deal with the ounce of prevention than the pound of cure. Mom has expressed concern many times about how ugly our outside unit is. I am more concerned with how mechanically sound it is and how well it operates, but of course there is some correlation. It looks ugly because it has been exposed to the elements for so many years. And because it is so old, it is increasingly likely to malfunction.

And this may be the year. The technician said that he didn't see how the compressor had lasted so long. He also said he did not think it would last the summer.

So, do we gamble? Or do we bite the bullet and make the change while the weather is still pleasant? The neighbors on both sides have replaced their AC units in recent years. It really doesn't stand to reason that ours will last much longer. Perhaps we could get through one more season. This would give us time to plan for the expense. On the other hand, a new air conditioner would make a nice gift for Mother's Day, Father's Day, my birthday, and our thirtieth anniversary!

Did you know? An air conditioner is basically a refrigerator without a box. A refrigerator removes heat from an insulated cupboard to keep food cool or frozen and pumps the heat into your house. An air conditioner removes heat (and humidity) from inside the house to keep it cool. The cold air you can feel flowing from the ductwork is the result of heat being transferred outside. Evaporation and compression of gasses (like Freon) are responsible for this heat transfer. As the gas compresses, it liquifies and becomes hot (drawing heat from the house). Then it is circulated outside where the heat is dissapated. As it returns to a cooler gaseous state, it is circulated back inside to pick up more heat and repeats the process. So your refrigerator creates more work for your air conditioner, and your air conditioner creates less work for your refrigerator!

The beginnings of modern air conditioning go back to the 1820s, where experiments with compressing and liquefying gasses demonstrated the ability to cool air, and to the 1840s and the process of creating ice. The first modern air conditioner was invented in 1902, so the basic technology is over 100 years old!

Hey, Old Paint!

This morning I got up very early and started moving things out of the front bedroom. Yes, I finally have begun the painting project so Mom can consolidate her things from downstairs and the small upstairs bedroom into one room. Between the ugly green carpet (what were we thinking???) and the even uglier green paint Lindsey chose for the walls, we have to do something. We aren't in a position just yet to replace the carpet, so we are going to repaint the walls.

Covering a dark color with something lighter is difficult and obviously requires more than one coat. I am starting with a coat of primer and will see if a single primer coat will be sufficient before applying the new color. I'll probably have to apply either a second coat of primer or two coats of the neutral (beige) color Mom chose for the room. I'm not sure what I am going to do about the places on the ceiling where the roller slipped and left bright green spots. Perhaps we will pin up some of Mom's photos as part of her decorating scheme.

Mom bought a six foot by nine foot beige area rug for the room. I believe she thinks she will have enough stuff along the walls that the area rug will cover the rest of the green carpet, so no one will even know it is there. Gee, this sounds just like when Lindsey was here. No one ever saw her carpet, either.

Enough, already ... Uncle!

The weather forecast here is for snow

so it is time for a sun dance

Come on, spring!

This little piggy ...

Well, the soaking worked and the toenail came off. Let the healing begin!

Toe: A part of the foot used to find furniture in the dark. (Rilla May)

A couple of weeks ago my big toe was smashed while playing basketball (I know, I know ... I'm too old to be doing this!). Later in the day I noticed that my nail was floating on its bed, so I figured I would eventually lose the entire nail. And I am half right. As it turns out, the nail is loose all along the back, the left side, and most of the base of the nail. But it is still attached at the front and on part of the right side.

Now what do I do? I trimmed away most of the nail, but have this crescent-shaped piece that won't let go. I don't dare rip it off because it will hurt like ... nail! I guess I will try soaking it (while I watch the NCAA finals basketball championship tonight) to see if I can coax off the remaining piece. I can't believe I might have to go to the doctor to have the last small piece of the nail removed.

Mom's tongue is very sore from her valiant efforts not to say, "I told you so!" She got a little queasy when I showed her my toe. So out of respect for Emily I won't post a photo here.

Quick Trip to Utah

Last year about this time I was bumped from an overbooked flight and received a travel voucher good for one year. I was thinking I would have to let the voucher expire unused when suddenly there arose a need and the opportunity to go to Utah. I jumped at the chance!

Travel vouchers don't qualify for the best airline routes, so my itinerary was not the most convenient. But it was still better -- and less expensive -- than driving. I flew from Des Moines to Cincinnati, where I had a long layover before the second leg to Salt Lake for a scheduled 9:30 PM arrival. But when I checked on my seat assignment in Cincinnati, the agent put me on an earlier flight and I arrived just after 7 PM. (Why didn't they offer me that when I booked my original flight???) On the way home I was scheduled to leave SLC at 9:30 PM, fly to Las Vegas, then to Atlanta, and arrive in Des Moines at 11 AM the next day. But the first leg was delayed and I didn't get away until 12:30 AM. Fortunately, I was able to bypass the leg to Las Vegas and go directly to Atlanta. I didn't get home any earlier, but had a simplified route.

I thought I would enjoy spring in Utah, but it snowed on three different days while I was there. In loading furniture into a pickup truck, I slipped on some ice and fell hard on my elbow. My forearm swelled up to a scary size and turned wonderful colors. When I got home, Mom was not pleased to learn that I hadn't gone to see a doctor. One week later my arm is still very discolored, but fortunately is not painful. We'll see how I do in basketball tomorrow.

I'm grateful I had the opportunity to spend time with my family. I was rather transient, sleeping in a different home each night. Thanks to everyone for making me welcome! It was fun to play with the grandchildren, pick up a few books from the clearance table at the LDS book stores, go shopping, attend Hanna's baptism service, and do a few "fix it" chores. I even enjoyed soaking in the jacuzzi at Mom's house ... how relaxing! And I was able to visit the Timpanogas temple, which I had not previously seen. The snow-frosted mountains in Utah are very beautiful. I think I'm a little homesick!

My next trip should be to welcome a new grandson in July. I can't wait ...

Mission ... impossible

Long, long ago and in a galaxy far away (Arkansas) I worked for a time with Vietnamese refugees. From June to October in 1975 I lived in Barling, Arkansas (a bedroom community to Fort Smith) and spent my days at Fort Chaffee helping to resettle refugee families into communities throughout the country.

I ran across a couple of photos from that time. The first is with Santry Elmer, who was my companion during the time we worked in Arkansas. Eventually we were transferred to California, where we finished our assignment. This photo was taken in front of the chapel in Fort Smith.

The second is at the Fort Smith airport, where Elder Baxter and I are seeing off one of the Vietnamese families who are departing for their new home.

While working in Arkansas I celebrated my twenty first birthday around the time I first met Brenda. It's hard to believe that was over thirty years ago!

Yellowstone ... 1964

Mom and I have enjoyed several trips to Yellowstone in recent years. Mom has some wonderful photos from these visits ... and can't wait to get back to take more. Perhaps she will post some of her photos or will allow me to include some here.

My only visit to Yellowstone as a child was the summer I turned ten years old ... I think. I remember celebrating my birthday in the park, but might not accurately remember which birthday it was. If I am correct, the year was 1964. My father was 32 , my had just turned 30, Wane was seven, and Gary was five.

This photo is of my Grandmother Allen, who came with us on this trip. My grandfather could not leave the farm, but Grandma Allen decided to come along -- very unusual for her. In those days visitors to the park routinely fed the bears. As a result, the bears were always in the campgrounds begging for food (not at all like today).

In this photo Grandma is 57 years old (not much older than I am now!). She is standing behind the car and to the side of someone taking pictures. Her face is half in the sun and half in the shadow. I notice in this photo that Grandma had curly hair. I don't remember this. What I do remember is that around the farm Grandma always wore an apron.

My mom has a motion picture of my grandmother (8 mm film; this predated video cameras) yelling at a herd of antelope and shooing them with her dress (my memory is of her shooing with her apron, but in reality it must have been her dress) trying to get them to move or run. When she realized that my father was pointing the camera at her and not at the antelope, Grandma was embarassed nearly to death! What fond memories I have of that trip and of having Grandma Allen along with us.

Daylight Saving Time

Tonight we turn the clocks ahead one hour as the nation moves to Daylight Saving Time. So why am I up and not trying to go to bed an hour early? Because I simply must set the record straight and rant a little about one of my pet peeves. It is NOT Daylight Savings Time; it is Daylight Saving Time.

Think about it. What are we doing? We are saving daylight hours -- not savings daylight hours -- for the evening. Now, everyone clean up your act and say it right!

Here is a little background about the origin of this very controversial practice.

• "The prominent English builder and outdoorsman William Willett invented DST in 1905 during one of his pre-breakfast horseback rides, when he observed with dismay how many Londoners slept through the best part of a summer day. An avid golfer, he also disliked cutting short his round at dusk. His solution was to advance the clock during the summer months, a proposal he published two years later. He lobbied unsuccessfully for the proposal until his death in 1915. Germany, itsWorld War I allies, and their occupied zones were the first European nations to use Willett's invention, starting April 30, 1916. Britain, most of its allies, and many European neutrals soon followed suit, Russia and a few other countries waited until the next year, and the United States adopted it in 1918." (from Wikipedia, Daylight Saving Time)

I enjoy Daylight Saving Time and wish we would adopt it permanently. If not, I wish we would stay on standard time permanently. I object to the changing back and forth each year.

Weather or not

Yesterday the temperature in Urbandale was over 60 degrees. The sun was shining, the ice was breaking up, the snow was melting, and water was running down the gutters and streets. Could it be that spring had finally arrived?

Uh, no. This is Iowa.

This morning I woke up to the sound of beep-beep-beep. It sounded suspiciously like the city snow plow backing up. I looked outside to see fresh fallen snow. So I bundled up and went out to find 5-6 inches of heavy snow and a temperature of less than 20 degrees. This snow was too heavy to shovel, so it was out with the snowblower to clear the drive and sidewalks.

From the Des Moines register ten days ago (that is, before our last two snow storms!):

Iowa has received an average of 36.7 inches of snow this winter. That's a foot more than what is normal for this time of year and 4 inches more than the state usually receives for the entire winter season, which begins in November and ends - well, when it ends. This month, Iowa has received an average of 13.2 inches of snow. Normal: 6.3 inches. It's the highest February total since 1994 and the most for any month since December 2000, said Harry Hillaker, the state climatologist.

Two weeks ago I realized that winter had gone on far too long when I broke the handle on my ice scraper trying to clear the sidewalk at church. I give! Uncle! Bring on the warm weather!

Iowa Winter

We seem to experience a winter storm every week. This week is no exception. Yesterday afternoon we had rain for a couple of hours. Then the low temperature turned the water to ice and a layer of snow fell. This morning the roads were treacherous. Winter can't last much longer, or so goes the conventional wisdom. I've yet to see signs of spring.

I am including some photos of Iowa winter (credit to several people who posted on KCCI.com).

Mom has photos of a bright red cardinal who visits our deck on a regular basis. It looks very much like this one (don't they all?).

Almost every night before the sun sets I see a herd of deer come out of the trees south of my office and feed in the field just across the street from our parking lot. I am fortunate to have a window panel in my cube that provides me an outside view. I brought my binoculars to work recently for a closer look. I don't know where this deer was feeding, but enjoyed seeing its long tongue scooping up seeds from the bird feeder.

This is the time of year when it is not unusual to see sun dogs. The other night we even had a moon dog, but I don't have a photo of that.

And here is what everything in Central Iowa looks like today -- ice covered, but beautiful!

No improvement (sigh)

This is the third week of physical therapy to treat my plantar fasciitis. Unfortunately, I am not seeing the improvement for which I had hoped. Oh, I am back to wearing a regular shoe rather than the orthopedic boot I wore for a couple of months last year. And when I wake up in the morning I don't have to hobble as badly for the first few steps as I once did. But I'm not anywhere close to being back to normal.

The ultrasound treatments on my foot make no noticeable difference. And the one iontophoresis treatment I received last week actually seemed to make things worse for a day or two. My therapist keeps taping up my foot, but the tape makes me walk funny and my foot winds up more sore than it is without the tape. Could this be the end of basketball? Heck, could this be the end of walking without pain?

I keep telling Mom I need to come home from work every night to soak in a hot tub, send out for pizza, and go to bed early and keep my feet up. Mom tells me I can soak something, all right, but that it is attached to the other end of my body. I guess I am going have to take up video game basketball.

Eclipse

Last night was a lunar eclipse. I called Mom to let her know that the eclipse would be full at 9:01 p.m. in case she wanted to take see it. I came home from church to find Mom bundled up in her coat sitting at the front of the garage in her wheelchair with the door open so she could see the moon above the trees in the island across the street from our house. While the sky was a little cloudy, Mom did get some photos of the eclipse. These are not Mom's photos, but were taken from Iowa and are similar to what we saw.

Unfortunately, Mom stayed out a little too long. When she came in the house her fingers were like icicles. I would not let her touch me! Instead, I helped her run lukewarm water over her hands until the pain diminished and she regained normal movement. I think this was a case of taking one's hobby a little too far!

More art

Because of inclement weather over the weekend our church meetings were not held and I spent the day organizing my office and going through stacks of paper to decide what to toss and what to file. In doing so I found another invaluable piece of art to add to my blog collection, this time from Vaughn. Note the date of September 2006, which shows how long it has been since I went through my papers. I look forward to more priceless works of art for my growing collection!

Maybe Mom is right???

I began physical therapy on Monday to treat the pain (diagnosed as plantar fasciitis) in the heel and arch of my left foot. On Wednesday I was at church after Mutual watching the Young Men play basketball while waiting to take two of them home. One of the players had to go home, leaving an odd number to finish their game. What else could I do but step in to even out the teams?

Unfortunately, I was wearing sandals and not athletic shoes. Even more unfortunately, I caught the toe of my sandal on the floor and bent my toe quite far forward. It didn’t even hurt much, at least until later that night. The next day my toe felt much better, but it didn’t look so good. I told Mom that I got a black eye on my toe.

Mom says it serves me right and that I ought finally to start acting my age. I think she means this as a compliment, even if it didn’t come out quite right.

Thanks, Autumn!

I was inundated with mail yesterday, including letters from Lisa, Lindsey, and my first ever letter from Autumn. I was so tickled to get four pictures Autumn drew on notebook paper in crayon. Because I am so proud of her artwork I scanned the drawings (though scanning doesn't do them justice) and include them here for your viewing pleasure.

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