Friday, June 15, 2012

We are controlling transmission.

This is a test.

This is only a test.

Do not attempt to adjust your screen.




For the next several hours, this blog will be conducting a test of the Emergency Blogcast Network.

Should you require assistance, leave a witty comment below, and I will get back to you, as soon as I can.

Or as soon as I want to -- depending on who you are.

And what you gave me last year for Christmas.

(You know who you are)

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Photostory Friday: Touching Hearts



Give me your best shot at Better in BulkPhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and Lolli
If you believed that what you said mattered, would you say different things?

If you believed that you could make a difference, would you behave differently?

If you knew that someone looked to you as an example, would you let them down?




I don't generally get stopped in my tracks by a fortune from Panda Express, but this one caught my attention. Not because I necessarily think that I HAVE touched the hearts of many, but because I wondered if I could -- and what have I been doing to this point?

What would it take, to touch the hearts of many?

Should I be listening, instead of lecturing?

Do I heal, or do I open the wound?

If I have a way with words, what does it take for me to penetrate to someone's heart? And are my words hindered by my actions?

I thought of how tender my own heart is, and how little it takes for others to reach it -- and how I can never have too many of those people in my life. And how I want to be someone who touches the hearts of many.

Fortune is a strange and uncertain thing:

"Good luck coming your way soon." 

I'll make my own luck, thanks.

"You will experience a change at work."

Insecurity. Just what I need.

But...

"You will touch the hearts of many."

That's a fortune I can embrace.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Every Random Thought in My Head in 10 Minutes

Lemonade is good.

Lemonade with strawberries is very good.

Lemonade with strawberries AND blueberries is also very good.

There's a fine line between having a nice fruit flavored lemonade, and having a drink with a bunch of floaties in it.

I'm in a John Denver kind of mood lately. This happens two or three times a year.



I like it when John Denver joins the Muppets.

I think maybe John Denver WAS a Muppet.

There are four energizer bunnies on the table.

Actually, they're Energizer batteries, I don't know why I wrote bunnies.

I took pictures of sparklers tonight. I think that was probably illegal.

Ten minutes goes a lot faster than I thought it would.



I don't have very many interesting thoughts.

I want my tombstone to say "Um."

I want my last words to be "I buried all the money under the..."

I want my other tombstone to say "I told you I was sick"

Yes, I'm going to have two tombstones. Or maybe it could just be upright, with words on both sides.

Dare to be different.







Masticate my phalanges.

My son is going to Scout Camp in a couple of months, I hope he doesn't get lost or eaten by bears.

I hope he showers while he is there.

I hope he showers tomorrow too.

My sprinklers look like they belong in a mental assylum.

That's not how you spell asylum.

Evidently, there is no ass in asylum.

I still hurt from jumping out of a swing on Monday night.

"Let it Be" is the Beatles best song.




Some people say my blog makes clowns vomit rainbows.

I'm too old to be jumping out of swings.



I crashed so hard, my shoes fell off.

Blogging every night for a month is not all it's cracked up to be.

AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!

Not sure where that came from.

Well, it came from Gladiator, but I'm not sure why I blurted it out just now...

SQUIRREL!!!!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Chris vs Mothra!

This is a story of abject terror.

This is a story that scarred me.

This story is true.

This is the story of the night I came face to face with the biggest moth I have ever seen.



It was a midsummer night, in Cedar City, Utah. I was working the graveyard shift, at a gas station on Main Street. It was hot -- hot like an oven, hot like a blast furnace. It was night like any other -- trying to stay awake, dealing with the occasional drunk college student, refusing to sell beer to the local high school kids. Again. Business had been dead for about an hour, and I was just getting up to go stock the cooler when I heard it....

I HEARD IT!

Before I saw the moth, I heard it. When is the last time you heard a moth?

THBTHTBHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTBHTHTTHTHHTBTBTHTHTHBTH -- well, I can't put the sound into words. The closest approximation I can come to is a helicopter. A giant helicopter -- the kind that blows up small villages full of terrorists.

I had been facing away from the front door, which was propped open (did I mention it was hot?). I turned at the sound, and it took me only a second to find it. It was blocking out the light of the main doorway. At first I thought it was a bat. But bats don't hover.

Moths don't hover either, so I knew this was no ordinary creature.

This was not your run of the mill bug. It was like the death's head hawkmoth, that Hannibal Lecter leaves in the throat of one of his victims, in Silence of the Lambs.




It was Arthur, from The Tick!


It was clearly a leftover from the Nevada Nuclear tests of the 1950's.







It was...Mothra!



It was also a night of destiny. I knew only one of us was getting out of the Cash Saver alive. This creature had to be destroyed, and there was no one else. Was I scared? Hell yes I was scared. But I thought of the kids -- this thing could easily carry off a small, unsuspecting child. What kind of a man would I be, to let that happen? Destiny rarely calls upon us at a time of convenience.

What followed is documented in two sources -- my memory, and the convenience store security cameras. In the interest of historical accuracy, I will give you a play by play of the situation, from both sources.



My Memory: It looked at me. So help me, we made eye contact.

Security Camera: Clerk looks up from magazine, seems suddenly startled, and stands up -- banging left knee on cash register.

My Memory: One drop of cold sweat trickled down my back. My left eye twitched. So did the moth's eye.

Security Camera: Clerk appears to be incapable of moving for several seconds.

My Memory: I knew I had only seconds. I drew my weapon, and prepared for single combat.

Security Camera: Clerk turns quickly to his left, apparently grabbing for a broom -- stepping in a small trash can, and knocking over a display of chewing tobacco.

My Memory: It made it's move -- a direct frontal assault. The moth came in so close I could see it's dripping fangs.

Security Camera: Clerk appears to be screaming, and flailing his arms. The trash can on his left foot causes him to trip, falling to the floor and scattering napkins from the lunch counter.

My Memory: I knew that if I didn't move fast, I was as good as dead. I could see him out of the corner of my right eye -- he was coming around for a second run. This was my chance. I raised my weapon...

Security Camera: Clerk is screaming again. At what, is not quite clear. Clerk's left foot -- the one in the trash can --  slips on a pile of napkins, causing him to smack his elbow on the popcorn popper. Now we know why he is screaming.

My Memory: It came in. Fast. Like lightning on meth. Luckily I had been perfecting my sword skills in the back room of the store for several months....

Security Camera: Clerk is swinging broom wildly at ceiling. Florescent light fixture above clerk's head is struck, and becomes dislodged. Clerk appears to be...crying?

My Memory: The moth began the death dive. I swung. Epic is not a big enough word. I felt the collision to my core. I heard the handle of weapon cracking, but she held. The moth careened across the room, smashing into the wall. There were reports of the seismic wave as far away as Pioche, Nevada.
Destiny INDEED!

Security Camera: Clerk thrashes with broom at everything in a seven foot radius. Broom straw, napkins and cans of Skoal brand chewing tobacco everywhere.




My Memory: The beast was not dead yet -- I heard it growl  -- so I ran for the far corner of the room. The time had come to end this.

Security Camera: Clerk can only be described as hobbling, trash can still on left foot, right elbow bleeding, to the far corner of the store.




My Memory: There it lay. A worthy opponent, no doubt. Dying, broken, but not dead. Not yet. It knew I had come to finish what I had begun. In single combat, there is no second place. It licked it's bloody fangs, and I swear to you it smiled at me -- a devil's smile. I brought the hammer down.

Security Camera: Clerk is beating floor with broom -- or what's left of broom -- and stomping repeatedly with trash can enclosed foot. More screaming and icky, crawly dancing.

My Memory: It was finished. The world would never know how close it came to utter destruction. And that's as it should be. We heroes -- we simple, humble few -- don't do the things we do for fame and glory. We do them, because they are the right thing to do.



Security Camera: Clerk half hobbles, half crawls to opposite end of store. Clerk sits in corner. Time stamp on camera indicates clerk does not move for three hours.



And that's exactly how it happened. That's how I faced my fears, and single handedly brought down the biggest moth, the world has ever seen. I won't say it didn't change me, because it did.

Monday, June 11, 2012

The night Bob Dylan sang to my kids

May God bless and keep you always

May your wishes all come true




May you always do for others

And let others do for you




May you build a ladder to the stars

And climb on every rung




May you stay forever young




May you grow up to be righteous

May you grow up to be true




May you always know the truth

And see the light surrounding you




May you always be courageous 

Stand upright, and be strong




And may you stay forever young




May your hands always be busy

May you feet always be swift




May you have a strong foundation

When your winds of changes shift




May your heart always be joyful

May your song always be sung




May you stay forever young






Sunday, June 10, 2012

When I write my book...

When I write my book:

It will be a love letter to the greatest hometown anyone has ever grown up in. A world five streets wide, and jam packed with dirt hills and basketball courts and so many doors to knock on Halloween night, that you wouldn't finish your candy by Easter. A town where kids were kids and life was colored in the golden hues of a summer afternoon.

It will be a shout out to the generation called X. You, the kids privileged to come up in the Twilight of Innocence -- that magical era, in the fading glow of the Space Age, and before the dawn of the information age, when the world was still small, and dreams were big.

There will be dinosaur bone excavations and bike jumps and Atari and Big Gulps and shooting arrows like Bo and Luke Duke and huts and trampolines and cuts and scrapes and broken bones and tennis racket guitar concerts and chinese stars and skateboards and Star Wars (lots of Star Wars) and Saturday morning cartoons and sleeping under the stars and construction and destruction and fire and ice and Indiana Jones and watching the sunset from the roof and ghetto blasters and capes and super heroes and cowboys and indians and pvc light sabers and things I probably shouldn't let my mom read. Or my kids for that matter.

And Star Wars. A lot of Star Wars.

And most of all, it will be a thank you to the greatest best friend anyone has ever had.

Aaron, for more than thirty five years now, you've stood by my side. You've led me into danger, and back out the other side -- mostly unscathed (though everyone needs at least one good scar). We stood by each other, as our families fell apart. We made each other better. We complimented each other and completed each other. A best friend is hard to quantify, and to this day, I don't think I can adequately describe our friendship to anyone. If you're Han Solo, I'm Luke Skywalker. If you're Bill, I'm Ted. Best friend doesn't cover it. Neither does brother.

My story is our story. The adventure that is my life would have been stillborn without you.

I pity the rest of the universe.

And that's what will be in my book...

Saturday, June 9, 2012

366: Week 23

Day 156


June 3: Well, I already wrote a whole post about these flowers here, but here's the nutshell: June third is the anniversary of the day that I proposed to Sharon. It's been eighteen years, hence the bouquet -- eighteen different flowers.


Day 157


June 4: Emma is different than my other children. Matt and Jordan never had much use for toys (not that we didn't spend a LOT of money buying those toys...), but Emma can spend hours with her dolls, happy and content to get lost in her imagination.


Day 158


June 5: This was my bedtime snack on Tuesday night. It's also the reason that I wasn't feeling so good by around 3:00 in the morning. But what am I supposed to do? They're bite size Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!

I'm only human.


Day 159


June 6: Remember when you were a teenager, and you became aware of a wider world? You learned that there were things that needed to fixed, causes that needed awareness.

Each one means something.

I love that Jordan wears her causes on her arm.


Day 160


June 7: This is one of my favorite parts of any soccer game. The sportsmanship.

These boys are getting older and the game is becoming more physical. But, when it's all said and done, the boys still line up and shake each other's hands. This goes back to coaching, and Matt has a great coach. He teaches them rules and fundamentals and skills, but most importantly, he teaches them sportsmanship and grace in victory and defeat.

(Matt is number 8 on the Green Team -- the Tusken Raiders)


Day 161


June 8: Sunsets have always fascinated me. Every one is truly unique. I thought of that last night as I was taking this picture. Sometimes, under seemingly identical conditions, the color and the light behave so differently -- tonight the color was localized to a small segment of the horizon, but on another night, it will spread across the sky, from cloud to cloud, until it seems like world is on fire.


Day 162


June 9: I thought this would be a cool, laid back picture of a boy and his guitar. But I can't stop looking at how dirty my hand is.