TO: Kathryn - the best wife EVER!
Well, here we are. 16 years later. What a different world we are in now, don't you say? 16 years ago, I thought I loved you and felt like I couldn't be closer to a person than I felt like 16 years ago today. How wrong I was, but how pleasantly surprised I am to find out that I had no idea how great it is to be married to my best friend in the world (universe really) and how much I could love someone as much I as I love you.
We have seen a lot, you and me. Some of it has been awesome. Some of it has been horrifying. Some of it has been challenging. Some of it has been downright nasty. But somehow we made it through and we're still best friends; even better, really.
I don't know what to say today to let you know how I really feel. I have never been good at it. But let me say this one thing to you, Kathryn:
Now, and forever.....
Love you!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Morosity - is it really a word?
So, it's been a while since I last posted. How many blog posts start that way? No idea. Well, here's one more.
It's not that I haven't wanted to post. I have had thoughts about it. Many, in fact. But how do you post something without talking about the one thing that has dominated your time, thoughts, efforts, and emotions for the past 5 months? I don't know. Maybe that's why I haven't posted.
Scout camp was great. Tim did really well. Mostly. He did get 6 merit badges. I guess I could complain that he could have got more, but for a 12 year old first year camper, 6 merit badges is awesome. I thought that he was really going to set a world record when he came back with his first merit badge before lunch the first day. But then, he fell victim to Archery and spent about 2 days working on that. Then the "Oops, I lost it again" bug started on him and he lost his score sheet. Well, at least he moved on and did finish up other merit badges. That was great. I was proud of him, although there were many "learning moments". I guess those are important too.
Camp New Fork, in the Wind Rivers of western Wyoming, is a great place for a Scout Camp. I have been there at least 5 times with troops (it may be more; I keep losing track). The most striking thing about that camp is the forest there. It was just awesome.
Sadly, the pine beetle has taken a huge toll on that forest. I'd say at least 50% of the trees in the camp are dead now and we saw many areas that either were totally dead or at least 90% dead. There are a lot of factors that have contributed to it, of course. The best way to put it is that it's all a natural cycle and the forest will come back. It may take a generation, but it will be back.
As fun as it was to go on the Camp, particularly the first camp with a son of mine, it was great to come home. I am so lucky to have the best kids in the world. I missed them all.
It's hard to believe I have a 14 year old daughter now. I hope she knows how proud I am of her. She is a great kid and I know she has great things ahead of her.
Sierra is just so cute, even though she did cut off her beautiful hair! Well, she is still cute and looks great with shorter hair, but I am a Dad that likes long hair on his daughters. I know, I don't have to wear it, so I shouldn't say anything, but I am allowed to have my biases.
Savanna is the bravest, most wonderful birthday present a guy could ever hope for. She still wants me to tuck her in at night. Sometimes I get annoyed and wish she would tuck herself in; then I realize my tucking in nights are numbered. Then I just am grateful she still gives me a hug, smiles, and kisses me on the cheek when I tuck her in.
Ethan is a super, awesome, medium big-ish boy that I just don't know how I could possibly live without. He keeps us all happy, and if you are feeling down, those medium big-ish boy hugs are tonic and balm for the soul.
I like to post stuff that is funny, and I do try to make those posts from time to time. This one won't be as much, but I am sure I'll dredge up some funny stuff sooner or later. It's too ingrained in my personality to make people laugh, I think. I guess that is because laughing is so much better of an emotion; if you are laughing you aren't crying. Sometimes life throws curves at you that make you cry a lot, even when you are tough "manly man". Hopefully, those are the times you learn, grow, and move on so that you can laugh again.
I will be back with more posts, I am sure. There will be funny ones; there may be other ones like this. So for now, so long and thanks for all the fish.
It's not that I haven't wanted to post. I have had thoughts about it. Many, in fact. But how do you post something without talking about the one thing that has dominated your time, thoughts, efforts, and emotions for the past 5 months? I don't know. Maybe that's why I haven't posted.
Scout camp was great. Tim did really well. Mostly. He did get 6 merit badges. I guess I could complain that he could have got more, but for a 12 year old first year camper, 6 merit badges is awesome. I thought that he was really going to set a world record when he came back with his first merit badge before lunch the first day. But then, he fell victim to Archery and spent about 2 days working on that. Then the "Oops, I lost it again" bug started on him and he lost his score sheet. Well, at least he moved on and did finish up other merit badges. That was great. I was proud of him, although there were many "learning moments". I guess those are important too.
Camp New Fork, in the Wind Rivers of western Wyoming, is a great place for a Scout Camp. I have been there at least 5 times with troops (it may be more; I keep losing track). The most striking thing about that camp is the forest there. It was just awesome.
Sadly, the pine beetle has taken a huge toll on that forest. I'd say at least 50% of the trees in the camp are dead now and we saw many areas that either were totally dead or at least 90% dead. There are a lot of factors that have contributed to it, of course. The best way to put it is that it's all a natural cycle and the forest will come back. It may take a generation, but it will be back.
As fun as it was to go on the Camp, particularly the first camp with a son of mine, it was great to come home. I am so lucky to have the best kids in the world. I missed them all.
It's hard to believe I have a 14 year old daughter now. I hope she knows how proud I am of her. She is a great kid and I know she has great things ahead of her.
Sierra is just so cute, even though she did cut off her beautiful hair! Well, she is still cute and looks great with shorter hair, but I am a Dad that likes long hair on his daughters. I know, I don't have to wear it, so I shouldn't say anything, but I am allowed to have my biases.
Savanna is the bravest, most wonderful birthday present a guy could ever hope for. She still wants me to tuck her in at night. Sometimes I get annoyed and wish she would tuck herself in; then I realize my tucking in nights are numbered. Then I just am grateful she still gives me a hug, smiles, and kisses me on the cheek when I tuck her in.
Ethan is a super, awesome, medium big-ish boy that I just don't know how I could possibly live without. He keeps us all happy, and if you are feeling down, those medium big-ish boy hugs are tonic and balm for the soul.
I like to post stuff that is funny, and I do try to make those posts from time to time. This one won't be as much, but I am sure I'll dredge up some funny stuff sooner or later. It's too ingrained in my personality to make people laugh, I think. I guess that is because laughing is so much better of an emotion; if you are laughing you aren't crying. Sometimes life throws curves at you that make you cry a lot, even when you are tough "manly man". Hopefully, those are the times you learn, grow, and move on so that you can laugh again.
I will be back with more posts, I am sure. There will be funny ones; there may be other ones like this. So for now, so long and thanks for all the fish.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Roto Rooter - Sinus Style
So, maybe you have heard I went in and got the 'roto-rooter' job done on my sinuses. Honestly, it was a long time in coming. I have dealt with sinus infections off and on for years and I really had enough of it. So, after suffering for yet another round of it this year, I went in and had an appointment with an "Ears, Nose, & Throat" Specialist. After taking a look at the CT scan of my sinuses, it was pretty clear that they, well, weren't pretty clear.
I could give you the long list of technical/medical names for the procedures, but I doubt it would mean much to you. It doesn't mean much to me either, other than they stuck something up my nose, rooted around for a while, and figured once enough was rooted out, they would call it a day.
I took a somewhat casual approach to this. I knew it was going to be fairly major - probably the most intrusive procedure since I had my ankle operated on just after my mission. Still, all told, this shouldn't have been nearly as bad as all that, and I guess from an overall standpoint, it really hasn't been. But what it was, it was interesting.
One person I work with had this same procedure done a few years ago. She swears it was worse than having gone through childbirth. I can't speak to that, obviously. But since she actually experienced both, I would say she may be in a unique position to gauge it. Either way, I had my trepidations about the process.
I had to go in early on the 4th for the procedure. I say early, but it wasn't too early. I was supposed to be there at 8:45 am, and was the second procedure scheduled for that day. The plan was to go, get prepped and ready, then off to the surgery at about 9:45 or so. Well, things never go as planned and I was not taken in until almost 11.
I remember going down the hall to the operating room. We left the pre-op room at about 10:50. I was trying to keep careful track of time for the 'memory gap' - the time when you get stoned beyond the ability to remember anything and when you start coming back out of it. Well, I made it to just about the time when the cart stopped and they locked the wheels in place for the surgery. The very next second (at least at my point of reference), I was making jumbled noises about being thirsty, and hearing someone tell me something to the effect that I couldn't have anything to drink just yet.
I don't know who it is that covers the post-operation recovery, but I bet they could have some serious fun with the people coming out of anesthesia. I only remember bits and pieces of it, and everything I said, I am positive was important, and cognizant. Reality could beg to differ on that point, I am sure.
Anyhow, the procedure went longer than they expected. It was supposed to take 1 1/2 hours, and ended up taking closer to 2 1/2 hours. I heard something about having a hard time with the ventilation tube they stuck down my throat (could be hearsay. I don't remember anything about a tube down my throat). I just knew that I felt very much like I had got a good swift kick in the face. It didn't really hurt, because I was so doped up, but I knew it had been hacked on. Plus, I couldn't breath through my nose, as it was packed almost to bursting point with some sort of gauze packing stuff. More on that blessed little piece of equipment later.
After a while of getting myself to the point I could actually sit upright and try and walk, I was released to go home. Fortunately, Kathryn was there as I really doubt the drive home would have been a good experience for me if I had to do it on my own.
And thus started the 4 day journey into discomfort and recovery. All told, it wasn't so bad - just long and uncomfortable. After switching to pain pills (from the lovely IV stuff they were loading me with), I got really strange in my sleeping patterns. I would sit on a chair and doze off only to awaken 2-3 minutes later. I could engage in real conversation with Kathryn or the kids for a while, and once they stepped out I would konk out for 3 minutes or so, they startle myself into being awake. I was supposed to sleep on an incline, so I 'slept' in our Lazy-Boy recliner, which was an adventure in and of itself. But of all the things that it was, the most unusual aspect was that I had nothing coming in or out of my nose.
Have you ever tried to swallow without having the benefit of your nose? It's easy to simulate. Just pinch your nostrils together and try to drink something and actually swallow it. It isn't so easy. Without having the benefit of your nose, things don't go the way they are designed to. Water that is supposed to go down the throat, end up partially coming up the nose. Or the pressure differential ends up "popping" your eardrums - you know, like plugging your nose and trying to blow out - what you do when driving up a canyon and the altitude changes.
After 4 days of this, I was ready to get rid of the nose plugs. I had no idea what this entailed. Fortunately so, because if I did, I would not have been willing to even go to get those things out.
Talking about an amazing experience. Let's see, how to describe it - I can't. What I can say is that the removal of those plugs were FAR worse than anything else I had done during the course of the procedure.
I went into the exam room, and the doctor hiked up the chair I was in so he could an angle on these plug things. I guess they have improved this process, as they used to take gauze strips and stuff them up your nose to pack them really good. This removal was pretty bad - my Mom had it done, and she didn't have many glowing things to say about it. The gauze strips they used to use were 6 foot long pieces, soaked in Vaseline, then crammed into the sinus cavity. Removal entailed grabbing a hold of the end of a piece and pulling on it until all 6 feet came out. The picture I am painting is of a magician pulling a scarf out of his pocket, only it is coming out of your nose - and it keeps coming, and coming. I think Mom's description was something to the effect of, "How did they manage to get all that crap in there?"
Well, my friend, times - they are a changin'. That sort of thing isn't done anymore. Now, they stick this foam thing up there with a straw in it, and once it's in, they inflate it to pack in the sinus. The foam is absorbent, so any liquid gunk can get caught by it, and thus we don't have to go through the magic trick when taking the stuff out.
For mine, they had a total of 4 of these things up my nose; two in each nostril. The doctor got the little string cut that was keeping track of the ends of them, then got the little straw thingie out and let it sit for a second or two to deflate. That's when the fun began.
He took what looked like a pair of needle nose pliers and grabbed the end of the first one and gave it a small crank to one side to get it loose. Inside my head, this sounded a bit like a chisel being hit by a sledge hammer, and a bunch of crackling, popping noses that indicated a significant chunk of my face had dislodged. He then grabbed the end of this foam blob thingie and pulled it out. Only it was bigger than my nostril. If I could visualize it, I would imagine someone using needle nose pliers to try and pull a grape through a straw.
As all fun does come to an end, the foam thinigie finally came out. As I have a somewhat morbid curiosity, I had initially wanted to see what the thing looked like, but my entire body was in the middle of a complete panic attack, afraid that someone had initiated a deadly assault on my skull and had just ripped a chunk out of it. Hot flashes like I never felt before crashed over my body from head to toe. I started sweating, the room started spinning, and I started to go to tunnel vision. At the peak of this pleasant experience, the doctor plunged on with the next foam plug. Despite my surprise at the second wave of the assault, my body at least knew this time what to expect and thus very completely panicked at the cracking, popping noises as the second foam plug was wrenched free from it's original position. A grape-in-the-straw moment later, and foam plug #2 was gone.
I had hoped for a moment to get the license plate number of the bus that just blind sided me, when the doctor plunged in for plug #3. At this point, I realized that plug #2 at least had the benefit that plug #1 was gone and had some room to move for plug #2, because plug #3 took some work to get the cracking, popping noises going. Do I need mention how much my body loved this particular experience? By this time I was seriously questioning my thought process that brought me to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to this procedure. I was certain to have soaked through that in seconds. Follow a grape-in-a-straw moment, and soon plug #4 was doing it's creaking, popping thing. Finally that one came out and I was left to try and gather up the pieces of my face and figure out what the crap had just happened.
The doctor used his suction thing to get some fluid away (he assured me it wasn't blood - not sure why I would have cared with half my face missing, but it was important to him). Then he said in a satisfied voice, "Well, how's that? Can you breath?" I recall taking a moment to soak this question in. It had all the relevance of having someone dropping a nuclear bomb and then asking if I thought it smelled pretty after wards. All I could think of was that I seriously wasn't going to stay in that chair once I passed out and we better make arrangements before I face plant on the floor. So, I feebly said, "Yeah, I can breath, but I think I am going to pass out!"
The doctor sort of chuckled and got me a cold washcloth to try and help me recover. He then launched into his reasoning for going after all 4 plugs with a gusto, saying he had tried to take one out, give his patient time to recover, then going after the next, but he said this way was much more humane. 2 minutes and we were done, as opposed to 20 minutes of drawn out agony. Deep down inside, I would have to agree.
After 5 minutes of discussion about "what's next" (to which I seriously hope Kathryn was listening as I had no idea what he was talking about. I was still trying to unscramble my brains), I was able to get up on shaky legs and to leave the office. I fully believe that the plug removal was FAR worse than the surgery, at least for my personal experience.
Everyday shows improvement, and I am thinking I'll be back up and around by the end of the week. Not bad for having my face re-arranged, I guess.
I could give you the long list of technical/medical names for the procedures, but I doubt it would mean much to you. It doesn't mean much to me either, other than they stuck something up my nose, rooted around for a while, and figured once enough was rooted out, they would call it a day.
I took a somewhat casual approach to this. I knew it was going to be fairly major - probably the most intrusive procedure since I had my ankle operated on just after my mission. Still, all told, this shouldn't have been nearly as bad as all that, and I guess from an overall standpoint, it really hasn't been. But what it was, it was interesting.
One person I work with had this same procedure done a few years ago. She swears it was worse than having gone through childbirth. I can't speak to that, obviously. But since she actually experienced both, I would say she may be in a unique position to gauge it. Either way, I had my trepidations about the process.
I had to go in early on the 4th for the procedure. I say early, but it wasn't too early. I was supposed to be there at 8:45 am, and was the second procedure scheduled for that day. The plan was to go, get prepped and ready, then off to the surgery at about 9:45 or so. Well, things never go as planned and I was not taken in until almost 11.
I remember going down the hall to the operating room. We left the pre-op room at about 10:50. I was trying to keep careful track of time for the 'memory gap' - the time when you get stoned beyond the ability to remember anything and when you start coming back out of it. Well, I made it to just about the time when the cart stopped and they locked the wheels in place for the surgery. The very next second (at least at my point of reference), I was making jumbled noises about being thirsty, and hearing someone tell me something to the effect that I couldn't have anything to drink just yet.
I don't know who it is that covers the post-operation recovery, but I bet they could have some serious fun with the people coming out of anesthesia. I only remember bits and pieces of it, and everything I said, I am positive was important, and cognizant. Reality could beg to differ on that point, I am sure.
Anyhow, the procedure went longer than they expected. It was supposed to take 1 1/2 hours, and ended up taking closer to 2 1/2 hours. I heard something about having a hard time with the ventilation tube they stuck down my throat (could be hearsay. I don't remember anything about a tube down my throat). I just knew that I felt very much like I had got a good swift kick in the face. It didn't really hurt, because I was so doped up, but I knew it had been hacked on. Plus, I couldn't breath through my nose, as it was packed almost to bursting point with some sort of gauze packing stuff. More on that blessed little piece of equipment later.
After a while of getting myself to the point I could actually sit upright and try and walk, I was released to go home. Fortunately, Kathryn was there as I really doubt the drive home would have been a good experience for me if I had to do it on my own.
And thus started the 4 day journey into discomfort and recovery. All told, it wasn't so bad - just long and uncomfortable. After switching to pain pills (from the lovely IV stuff they were loading me with), I got really strange in my sleeping patterns. I would sit on a chair and doze off only to awaken 2-3 minutes later. I could engage in real conversation with Kathryn or the kids for a while, and once they stepped out I would konk out for 3 minutes or so, they startle myself into being awake. I was supposed to sleep on an incline, so I 'slept' in our Lazy-Boy recliner, which was an adventure in and of itself. But of all the things that it was, the most unusual aspect was that I had nothing coming in or out of my nose.
Have you ever tried to swallow without having the benefit of your nose? It's easy to simulate. Just pinch your nostrils together and try to drink something and actually swallow it. It isn't so easy. Without having the benefit of your nose, things don't go the way they are designed to. Water that is supposed to go down the throat, end up partially coming up the nose. Or the pressure differential ends up "popping" your eardrums - you know, like plugging your nose and trying to blow out - what you do when driving up a canyon and the altitude changes.
After 4 days of this, I was ready to get rid of the nose plugs. I had no idea what this entailed. Fortunately so, because if I did, I would not have been willing to even go to get those things out.
Talking about an amazing experience. Let's see, how to describe it - I can't. What I can say is that the removal of those plugs were FAR worse than anything else I had done during the course of the procedure.
I went into the exam room, and the doctor hiked up the chair I was in so he could an angle on these plug things. I guess they have improved this process, as they used to take gauze strips and stuff them up your nose to pack them really good. This removal was pretty bad - my Mom had it done, and she didn't have many glowing things to say about it. The gauze strips they used to use were 6 foot long pieces, soaked in Vaseline, then crammed into the sinus cavity. Removal entailed grabbing a hold of the end of a piece and pulling on it until all 6 feet came out. The picture I am painting is of a magician pulling a scarf out of his pocket, only it is coming out of your nose - and it keeps coming, and coming. I think Mom's description was something to the effect of, "How did they manage to get all that crap in there?"
Well, my friend, times - they are a changin'. That sort of thing isn't done anymore. Now, they stick this foam thing up there with a straw in it, and once it's in, they inflate it to pack in the sinus. The foam is absorbent, so any liquid gunk can get caught by it, and thus we don't have to go through the magic trick when taking the stuff out.
For mine, they had a total of 4 of these things up my nose; two in each nostril. The doctor got the little string cut that was keeping track of the ends of them, then got the little straw thingie out and let it sit for a second or two to deflate. That's when the fun began.
He took what looked like a pair of needle nose pliers and grabbed the end of the first one and gave it a small crank to one side to get it loose. Inside my head, this sounded a bit like a chisel being hit by a sledge hammer, and a bunch of crackling, popping noses that indicated a significant chunk of my face had dislodged. He then grabbed the end of this foam blob thingie and pulled it out. Only it was bigger than my nostril. If I could visualize it, I would imagine someone using needle nose pliers to try and pull a grape through a straw.
As all fun does come to an end, the foam thinigie finally came out. As I have a somewhat morbid curiosity, I had initially wanted to see what the thing looked like, but my entire body was in the middle of a complete panic attack, afraid that someone had initiated a deadly assault on my skull and had just ripped a chunk out of it. Hot flashes like I never felt before crashed over my body from head to toe. I started sweating, the room started spinning, and I started to go to tunnel vision. At the peak of this pleasant experience, the doctor plunged on with the next foam plug. Despite my surprise at the second wave of the assault, my body at least knew this time what to expect and thus very completely panicked at the cracking, popping noises as the second foam plug was wrenched free from it's original position. A grape-in-the-straw moment later, and foam plug #2 was gone.
I had hoped for a moment to get the license plate number of the bus that just blind sided me, when the doctor plunged in for plug #3. At this point, I realized that plug #2 at least had the benefit that plug #1 was gone and had some room to move for plug #2, because plug #3 took some work to get the cracking, popping noises going. Do I need mention how much my body loved this particular experience? By this time I was seriously questioning my thought process that brought me to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to this procedure. I was certain to have soaked through that in seconds. Follow a grape-in-a-straw moment, and soon plug #4 was doing it's creaking, popping thing. Finally that one came out and I was left to try and gather up the pieces of my face and figure out what the crap had just happened.
The doctor used his suction thing to get some fluid away (he assured me it wasn't blood - not sure why I would have cared with half my face missing, but it was important to him). Then he said in a satisfied voice, "Well, how's that? Can you breath?" I recall taking a moment to soak this question in. It had all the relevance of having someone dropping a nuclear bomb and then asking if I thought it smelled pretty after wards. All I could think of was that I seriously wasn't going to stay in that chair once I passed out and we better make arrangements before I face plant on the floor. So, I feebly said, "Yeah, I can breath, but I think I am going to pass out!"
The doctor sort of chuckled and got me a cold washcloth to try and help me recover. He then launched into his reasoning for going after all 4 plugs with a gusto, saying he had tried to take one out, give his patient time to recover, then going after the next, but he said this way was much more humane. 2 minutes and we were done, as opposed to 20 minutes of drawn out agony. Deep down inside, I would have to agree.
After 5 minutes of discussion about "what's next" (to which I seriously hope Kathryn was listening as I had no idea what he was talking about. I was still trying to unscramble my brains), I was able to get up on shaky legs and to leave the office. I fully believe that the plug removal was FAR worse than the surgery, at least for my personal experience.
Everyday shows improvement, and I am thinking I'll be back up and around by the end of the week. Not bad for having my face re-arranged, I guess.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
An Ode to January
Ahh, January. How do we love thee? Let me count the ways!!
First, there is.......
Hmmm.....what to start with. Think.....
Ok. First there is......
What can I put down for the first. Hmm....I am at a quandary here.
Shoot - I seemed to have lost my train of thought. What was I talking about? Oh yeah. January. This is supposed to be a blog on why I like January so much. How do I get this ball rolling....
Ahh - got it! Ok, here goes:
First......
Dang, lost it again.
Well, the best I can say is this. Have you ever wondered why December goes so fast and February seems to drag on forever?
It's because
JANUARY SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There is just nothing more to it than that. You know how sometimes people refer to the month as it's closing out as that month "dying"? As in, "the boy born as the month of July dies" (vague Harry Potter reference here). Well, if it were true that a month could die, once January died, I'd do a happy dance on it's grave!
I hate January. If you could rank all 12 months on order of goodness, you would not be able to rate January because #12 out of 12 is just far too kind for that month. You'd have to allocate about 35 blank dates to give January it's proper ranking of #38 out of 12, and I feel that would be even a bit too kind.
Why is January so bad you ask? First off, I'd say "DUH!!!" But if you were really clueless, I'd have to tell you my reasoning. First off, it's cold here in January. Too cold. As in, so cold that your nose hairs start to freeze together while you are trying to walk around and actually breath like a normal human or mammal. Generally, you find yourself minimizing the time you spend out of doors because it takes so long to bundle up to the point where you don't freeze to death by walking outside. You run from your car, to get into a warm house or store, or workplace, then when the business of whatever you were doing is done, you run back to your car and cuss it for not staying warm while you were gone.
At this point, various folks begin to tell me that the real solution is to move to somewhere warm. I am not fooled by this argument. In fact, I have a stronger argument against it. You see, by moving to somewhere like this, it does indeed make January tolerable from an "outside warmth" standpoint. But in effect, you are swapping the nasty January for a nasty July or August where you can't go outside without various body parts literally melting off. Then you find yourself running from your car to your destination in hope that heat stroke doesn't set in while you are out there, then running back and cussing your car for not staying cool while you were gone. It may make January more tolerable, but I love July & August and I could never make myself hate it as much as January. Trust me, I have been in Arizona in July. 116 degrees in the shade? No thank you.
Now back to the January bashing. The other day, I looked directly at the Sun. And I stared at it for an extended period of time. "Aarggh! What were you thinking" you are saying at this point. "Didn't your Mom ever warn you not to stare directly at the Sun?!?!? You'll melt your corneas off!" Well, don't you worry your little head, dear, there was no melting (it's cold out here, remember?) No, it wasn't because it was cold. It was because there was 54.5 miles of airborne garbage for the sunlight to travel through before it made it to my corneas. By the time the sun rays made it to my eyeballs, it was a shell of it's former bad old self. It couldn't barely muster a tear from the old tear ducts due to it's complete lack of intensity. In fact, you could look directly at that blob of a sun and you could almost see the face of the sun, verging on the edge of weeping, big old bottom lip sticking out and feeling sad being repressed behind a sea of airborne gunk. I felt sorry for it. I almost wanted to shout to it not to worry that some day this horrid month would be over, and he'd be back on his feet melting corneas off like it never happened!
Yes, there is an unusual amount of gunk in the air in January around these parts. In fact, I would say of the 31 miserable days of January, perhaps 10 of them have any real extended periods of unobstructed sunlight that makes it to this part of the world. It's not uncommon to go for weeks at a time without being really sure the sun had imploded, or just taken it's ball and gone home because it couldn't play anyhow. When it finally does show up, I find myself closing my eyes, feeling the tingle of actual sun rays on my face and remembering what it was like to be summer again. Then the smog bank rolls back in, I am yanked back into reality, and have to pull my hoodie over my ears before they freeze off again.
I have heard the argument as well that I should take up something like skiing to overcome these January blahs. The rational is that going up to the ski slopes is refreshing because the sun is most always shining up there and you can go enjoy the outdoors. Really? Is it that drastic to take those measures? You see, you have to take on all the other risks associated with skiing.
Skiing. Who came up with that idea? Did someone wake up and say, "You know, I am going to go strap some wood boards on my feet, go to the top of the highest mountain, and slide uncontrollable down the side of the mountain, and hope I don't hit a tree on the way!" Of course, being the top of the mountain, the snow is around 65 feet deep, and as you are going down the luge of death, the wind chill hits -55 degrees and any exposed flesh is immediately frozen. Not to mention should the inevitable happen, and you wipe out. Then joints that aren't meant to bend in ways that get bent in such a collision begin to make you notice they are there. If you are lucky, you don't end up being hauled down off the slopes in a stretcher.
I know - it's not that bad. It just seems like a harsh thing to do to go get some sunlight in the winter. I haven't actually ever skied before, so I have to admit I am making that whole argument against it up. I could do it and really love it. If I could associate anything with cold as being something I would love to do. It would be hard to overcome the psychology of it, is all I am saying.
And so, as of today, January is dying. True, tomorrow is February who's only real saving graces are that for one thing, it's only 28 days, and for another thing, it's not January. But come, let's join in and have a moment of silence for the death of January. Then the celebration can begin!
First, there is.......
Hmmm.....what to start with. Think.....
Ok. First there is......
What can I put down for the first. Hmm....I am at a quandary here.
Shoot - I seemed to have lost my train of thought. What was I talking about? Oh yeah. January. This is supposed to be a blog on why I like January so much. How do I get this ball rolling....
Ahh - got it! Ok, here goes:
First......
Dang, lost it again.
Well, the best I can say is this. Have you ever wondered why December goes so fast and February seems to drag on forever?
It's because
JANUARY SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There is just nothing more to it than that. You know how sometimes people refer to the month as it's closing out as that month "dying"? As in, "the boy born as the month of July dies" (vague Harry Potter reference here). Well, if it were true that a month could die, once January died, I'd do a happy dance on it's grave!
I hate January. If you could rank all 12 months on order of goodness, you would not be able to rate January because #12 out of 12 is just far too kind for that month. You'd have to allocate about 35 blank dates to give January it's proper ranking of #38 out of 12, and I feel that would be even a bit too kind.
Why is January so bad you ask? First off, I'd say "DUH!!!" But if you were really clueless, I'd have to tell you my reasoning. First off, it's cold here in January. Too cold. As in, so cold that your nose hairs start to freeze together while you are trying to walk around and actually breath like a normal human or mammal. Generally, you find yourself minimizing the time you spend out of doors because it takes so long to bundle up to the point where you don't freeze to death by walking outside. You run from your car, to get into a warm house or store, or workplace, then when the business of whatever you were doing is done, you run back to your car and cuss it for not staying warm while you were gone.
At this point, various folks begin to tell me that the real solution is to move to somewhere warm. I am not fooled by this argument. In fact, I have a stronger argument against it. You see, by moving to somewhere like this, it does indeed make January tolerable from an "outside warmth" standpoint. But in effect, you are swapping the nasty January for a nasty July or August where you can't go outside without various body parts literally melting off. Then you find yourself running from your car to your destination in hope that heat stroke doesn't set in while you are out there, then running back and cussing your car for not staying cool while you were gone. It may make January more tolerable, but I love July & August and I could never make myself hate it as much as January. Trust me, I have been in Arizona in July. 116 degrees in the shade? No thank you.
Now back to the January bashing. The other day, I looked directly at the Sun. And I stared at it for an extended period of time. "Aarggh! What were you thinking" you are saying at this point. "Didn't your Mom ever warn you not to stare directly at the Sun?!?!? You'll melt your corneas off!" Well, don't you worry your little head, dear, there was no melting (it's cold out here, remember?) No, it wasn't because it was cold. It was because there was 54.5 miles of airborne garbage for the sunlight to travel through before it made it to my corneas. By the time the sun rays made it to my eyeballs, it was a shell of it's former bad old self. It couldn't barely muster a tear from the old tear ducts due to it's complete lack of intensity. In fact, you could look directly at that blob of a sun and you could almost see the face of the sun, verging on the edge of weeping, big old bottom lip sticking out and feeling sad being repressed behind a sea of airborne gunk. I felt sorry for it. I almost wanted to shout to it not to worry that some day this horrid month would be over, and he'd be back on his feet melting corneas off like it never happened!
Yes, there is an unusual amount of gunk in the air in January around these parts. In fact, I would say of the 31 miserable days of January, perhaps 10 of them have any real extended periods of unobstructed sunlight that makes it to this part of the world. It's not uncommon to go for weeks at a time without being really sure the sun had imploded, or just taken it's ball and gone home because it couldn't play anyhow. When it finally does show up, I find myself closing my eyes, feeling the tingle of actual sun rays on my face and remembering what it was like to be summer again. Then the smog bank rolls back in, I am yanked back into reality, and have to pull my hoodie over my ears before they freeze off again.
I have heard the argument as well that I should take up something like skiing to overcome these January blahs. The rational is that going up to the ski slopes is refreshing because the sun is most always shining up there and you can go enjoy the outdoors. Really? Is it that drastic to take those measures? You see, you have to take on all the other risks associated with skiing.
Skiing. Who came up with that idea? Did someone wake up and say, "You know, I am going to go strap some wood boards on my feet, go to the top of the highest mountain, and slide uncontrollable down the side of the mountain, and hope I don't hit a tree on the way!" Of course, being the top of the mountain, the snow is around 65 feet deep, and as you are going down the luge of death, the wind chill hits -55 degrees and any exposed flesh is immediately frozen. Not to mention should the inevitable happen, and you wipe out. Then joints that aren't meant to bend in ways that get bent in such a collision begin to make you notice they are there. If you are lucky, you don't end up being hauled down off the slopes in a stretcher.
I know - it's not that bad. It just seems like a harsh thing to do to go get some sunlight in the winter. I haven't actually ever skied before, so I have to admit I am making that whole argument against it up. I could do it and really love it. If I could associate anything with cold as being something I would love to do. It would be hard to overcome the psychology of it, is all I am saying.
And so, as of today, January is dying. True, tomorrow is February who's only real saving graces are that for one thing, it's only 28 days, and for another thing, it's not January. But come, let's join in and have a moment of silence for the death of January. Then the celebration can begin!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Water Managers
I have to admit, I am really a bit pathetic. In order to crank my rusty wheels in my brain in motion to post on my blog, I need to have an assist from Kathryn on what to write about. Usually I tap into something that begins to form, but my brain doesn't connect the dots until Kathryn interrupts me in mid-rant and says, "Sounds like a good blog post subject." At which point, my brain says something to effect, "Huh? Chicken and rice?" Ok, so that has nothing to do with it, but I digress.
To my point, and the point of my blog for tonight - Water managers. I recently read an article in the paper in regards to the water content we currently have in our snow pack. And quoted is the somewhat whimsical beast, the water manager.
Who knows what dire circumstances that brought someone to the point that they had to make a career of watching water. Granted, there is probably no substance on the face of the earth, save maybe oxygen, at sustaining life than water. And while we usually walk to the sink and turn on the water, fully expecting clean, wholesome water to flow out of the tap and into our cups, we rarely have to consider that there is a whole infrastructure in place to manage that water and make sure it's what we expect.
I don't know what bet you have to lose, or who you had to get really mad, to make you resort to being the water manager for a place like Utah. Utah is a desert, so the water here is pretty important. But what is there to say about it? It snows, the snow melts, it comes down from the mountains in rivers (or "cricks" as the good ole' native Utahns would call them), we collect it, then feed it down the pipes to our cups. What more could there be?
Well, I recall in my youth the danger in not listening to these feral water manager beasts. Way back in the day, 1983, to be exact, we had ourselves a weird water year. There was the usual pattern - snow, snow melt, rivers, etc. But this year, it decided to do it all strange-like. We had snow. We had a LOT of snow. I don't remember a year before, or since, that we had snow like we did that year. Roofs were collapsing in Kaysville, carports in Clearfield were caving in, little doggie mansions in Bountiful were bowing under the sheer weight of the snow. I recall going around as a noble varsity scout and climbing up on the roof of the widows' houses in the ward to shovel snow off them (the roofs, not the widows) to prevent them from caving in (the roofs, not the widows). Most of the rest of my youth, that would have got me in trouble, but we were doing service!
Then spring came along, but it was cold, and wet. In fact, it stayed winter-like all the way until Memorial day weekend. Then it got HOT. Like 90 degrees hot. And snow doesn't like hot much. It stops being snow and starts being water. But there wasn't anywhere for the water to go fast enough, so it started crossing streets. And it didn't even look both ways - it just went!
And in Farmington, they had themselves a good old fashioned mud-slide. I remember this vividly because the mud covered almost the entire course of my paper route. And they didn't let me ride my bike up there to deliver papers because, well, it was muddy. In fact, there were two or three porches that were then located a considerable distance from where they had been previously and no one involved with that porch seemed to care anymore that there wasn't a paper on it.
As all disasters go, mostly we survived. But it got me thinking about water up in them thar hills. The newspaper got that idea too, and ever since, the water manager has become something of a celebrity. You started to hear from some of these guys that never got any notice before, and people cared what they had to say! We didn't want a repeat of that nasty winter of '83.
So here we are, safely nestled in 2010. I recently picked up a the paper and read a story on our water situation. Basically, it sucks.
According to our water managers, we had snow. But it wasn't enough snow. And even if we got way more snow, we won't have enough snow. In fact, if it snowed constantly from now until the end of May, we are all screwed.
What will happen? Well, we won't have enough snow. And, if we don't have enough snow, then.....we won't have enough snow.
It seems almost as if these water manager people are saying that it's all our fault. You see the problem was we had a warm November. It didn't snow. And we all enjoyed it! If you had been smart, you would have been totally disgusted that we didn't get enough snow and then we might have been ok, but you were all out working in your yards, ENJOYING the no-snow condition! Now it has come home to roost. Because we didn't get enough snow then, we are in trouble!
But wait, you say. How can me enjoying the warm weather have anything to do with it? Even if I hated the warm weather, it still would not have made it snow, right? I mean, we can't make it snow! All we can do is enjoy the lack of it. But that's the problem, they say. You ENJOYED it. So the snow gods didn't let it snow because they were just trying to make YOU happy! And because you were happy, we didn't get snow! So now we are screwed and it's all YOUR FAULT!!!!!
You see, if we had a good snow storm in November, it would have made it easier to get our normal snow pack by April. But you had to enjoy that warm November, didn't you. Now even though we had almost a foot of new snow in the last week, preceded by even more snow in December (I think it has snowed straight since the 2nd week in December, hasn't it?) It just is not enough. Even if it snowed 2 feet every day until April 30th, we won't have enough snow!
So, what kind of person becomes a water manager?
Eeyore.
To my point, and the point of my blog for tonight - Water managers. I recently read an article in the paper in regards to the water content we currently have in our snow pack. And quoted is the somewhat whimsical beast, the water manager.
Who knows what dire circumstances that brought someone to the point that they had to make a career of watching water. Granted, there is probably no substance on the face of the earth, save maybe oxygen, at sustaining life than water. And while we usually walk to the sink and turn on the water, fully expecting clean, wholesome water to flow out of the tap and into our cups, we rarely have to consider that there is a whole infrastructure in place to manage that water and make sure it's what we expect.
I don't know what bet you have to lose, or who you had to get really mad, to make you resort to being the water manager for a place like Utah. Utah is a desert, so the water here is pretty important. But what is there to say about it? It snows, the snow melts, it comes down from the mountains in rivers (or "cricks" as the good ole' native Utahns would call them), we collect it, then feed it down the pipes to our cups. What more could there be?
Well, I recall in my youth the danger in not listening to these feral water manager beasts. Way back in the day, 1983, to be exact, we had ourselves a weird water year. There was the usual pattern - snow, snow melt, rivers, etc. But this year, it decided to do it all strange-like. We had snow. We had a LOT of snow. I don't remember a year before, or since, that we had snow like we did that year. Roofs were collapsing in Kaysville, carports in Clearfield were caving in, little doggie mansions in Bountiful were bowing under the sheer weight of the snow. I recall going around as a noble varsity scout and climbing up on the roof of the widows' houses in the ward to shovel snow off them (the roofs, not the widows) to prevent them from caving in (the roofs, not the widows). Most of the rest of my youth, that would have got me in trouble, but we were doing service!
Then spring came along, but it was cold, and wet. In fact, it stayed winter-like all the way until Memorial day weekend. Then it got HOT. Like 90 degrees hot. And snow doesn't like hot much. It stops being snow and starts being water. But there wasn't anywhere for the water to go fast enough, so it started crossing streets. And it didn't even look both ways - it just went!
And in Farmington, they had themselves a good old fashioned mud-slide. I remember this vividly because the mud covered almost the entire course of my paper route. And they didn't let me ride my bike up there to deliver papers because, well, it was muddy. In fact, there were two or three porches that were then located a considerable distance from where they had been previously and no one involved with that porch seemed to care anymore that there wasn't a paper on it.
As all disasters go, mostly we survived. But it got me thinking about water up in them thar hills. The newspaper got that idea too, and ever since, the water manager has become something of a celebrity. You started to hear from some of these guys that never got any notice before, and people cared what they had to say! We didn't want a repeat of that nasty winter of '83.
So here we are, safely nestled in 2010. I recently picked up a the paper and read a story on our water situation. Basically, it sucks.
According to our water managers, we had snow. But it wasn't enough snow. And even if we got way more snow, we won't have enough snow. In fact, if it snowed constantly from now until the end of May, we are all screwed.
What will happen? Well, we won't have enough snow. And, if we don't have enough snow, then.....we won't have enough snow.
It seems almost as if these water manager people are saying that it's all our fault. You see the problem was we had a warm November. It didn't snow. And we all enjoyed it! If you had been smart, you would have been totally disgusted that we didn't get enough snow and then we might have been ok, but you were all out working in your yards, ENJOYING the no-snow condition! Now it has come home to roost. Because we didn't get enough snow then, we are in trouble!
But wait, you say. How can me enjoying the warm weather have anything to do with it? Even if I hated the warm weather, it still would not have made it snow, right? I mean, we can't make it snow! All we can do is enjoy the lack of it. But that's the problem, they say. You ENJOYED it. So the snow gods didn't let it snow because they were just trying to make YOU happy! And because you were happy, we didn't get snow! So now we are screwed and it's all YOUR FAULT!!!!!
You see, if we had a good snow storm in November, it would have made it easier to get our normal snow pack by April. But you had to enjoy that warm November, didn't you. Now even though we had almost a foot of new snow in the last week, preceded by even more snow in December (I think it has snowed straight since the 2nd week in December, hasn't it?) It just is not enough. Even if it snowed 2 feet every day until April 30th, we won't have enough snow!
So, what kind of person becomes a water manager?
Eeyore.
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