Can I just share something with you?  Well, even if you say ‘no’, I am going to anyway, so tough beans!

Whoa, where did that come from?

Anywho, the weather here in Utah has been pretty dang nice.

*Disclaimer: the term ‘pretty dang nice’ is relative.  It does not apply to all people, in all places under all circumstances…but could.*

Yep, mid-40 degree weather, threatenin’ to breach the 50’s…sunshine, rain…a difficult combination to pull off anywhere except Utah.  Can you feel it?  Spring is in the air.

I know, I know, it is a bit too early to approach the topic.  After all, we just got out of the suckiest month in existence (curses to January) and we are in the second most suckiest month in existence…except for that whole black history month thing, of which I am a HUGE fan.  I’m not racist.

The best thing about February is that it is about 2 1/2 days shorter than the other months of the year.  Of course, my basis for categorizing the months of the year has a lot to do with the weather.  December is pretty good because of Kwanza.  I think they have some kind of Jewish and Christian holiday in there as well, which is good for all the folks who don’t appreciate the black culture, of which I am not one of those.  Boxing day is a hoot, too.  Oh yeah, then there is New Year’s Eve, which has lost its appeal as I grow older.  It used to be fun because I could stay up late and my parents were okay with it.  Now I can stay up late, but I just end up calculating in my head all night how little sleep I will get if I stay up much longer.  Needless to say, that is a real party killer, so I usually end up going to bed at 12:00:01 that night.  Instead of a countdown to the new year, it is usually a countdown to when my head reaches the pillow.  I try to synchronize my head hitting the pillow with clicking the power button on the remote.  I am pretty good at multitasking, btw.  Yeah, just watch me make 4 pieces of toast…AT ONE TIME!!!

If it weren’t for Kwanza, and all the other holidays in December, that month would be quite depressing, too.

The real issue is that I hate snow.  I don’t ski.  I don’t snowboard.  I don’t ice skate much anymore since the Olympic tryout fiasco a few years ago…but you all know about that.  In recent years, all snow has meant to me is a sore back, cooped up, whiny children and horrendous driving conditions to and from work.

I’m not worried about myself driving in snow, mind you: it’s all the idiots that try to go bobsledding in their four-wheel drives that make me nervous.  I think they should create special highways for stupid people to drive on in adverse weather conditions.  They could do an extensive questionnaire at the time of issuing a license to determine if you go on the smart person road or the dufus driveway.

Question #1: What kind of car do you drive?

Answer: a four-wheel drive something or other--

That will do.  Next question: If you find yourself teetering precariously over the edge of a cliff in your car, what do you do?

Answer: I pop that sumabi**h into four-wheel drive and--

Thank you!  Next question: You have a jar of mayonnaise (or Miracle Whip for Kathryn and crew) that you just can’t get the lid off of.  How do you proceed?

Answer: well, first, you see, I get into my car.  Then I engage the four-wheel--

Okay, I think we can skip the rest of the questions here.  By the authority granted me from the great state of Utah, I hereby award you with this Dufus Decal, which entitles you to drive on the Dufus Driveways and Byways of Utah.  Furthermore, anyone caught with a Dufus Decal on the Smarty-pants Interstate will be pulled over and arrested.  Your car will be put in the jail cell with you, but we will reduce the length of the chains with which you will be bound so that your fingertips can just graze the top of the 4-wheel drive gear shift so that you can’t actually touch it.  Any questions?

I don’t have anything against four-wheel drive vehicles.  They have their purpose.  What I am sick of is the idiots who think that the four-wheel drive system is some piece of alien technology that circumvents the laws of physics!  As if just by activating it, suddenly your car starts to hover gently in the air, thereby avoiding all the black ice and 5 inches of slush on the road.  Watch them as the careen down the road, their kingly eyes scanning down upon all the lesser people as they float along, untouched, like a majestic eagle….

Well, I got news for you, buddy: Utah has an anti-idiot device called snow and black ice.  This is also alien technology used to aid in the survival of the fittest!  Go ahead, engage that four-wheel drive.  Once you slide off the road or roll your car, I will drive by and chiggle.

If you think about it, it is kind of a paradox how so many idiots could wind up in a vehicle that is actually a very practical piece of equipment.  But, that is life, right?  Instead of educating themselves about the realities of slippery roads, there are those who think they have found a loophole in the system.

Anyway, that is enough for now.  Off to work I go!  Thanks for reading and have a great day.

Brooke told me last night that her sister, Amy, loved reading my blog because “he is becoming a real person”.  Ok, so I can’t say that is exactly what she said, but it was something along those lines.

First of all, thank you, Amy, for reading my blog.  Second, thanks for enjoying it!  I had a thought about that statement, however, and it totally makes me laugh.  So, no offense to my good friend Amy, but I want to share my thought.

I have a coworker who makes me giggle just by looking at him.  No, not like a school girl—it is a much more manly, husky giggle.  I suppose, if we were classifying it on the ‘hilarity scale’, it would fall somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle…maybe something like a chiggle or a guckle…I like the term guckle, but it sounds suspiciously like I am about to lose my last meal.  Let’s go with chiggle.

I digress.

This guy is maybe 5-foot 7 or so, orange-ish red hair which is scraggly, and light green eyes.  Of course,  he wears glasses and is a rather small, little turd, but I like him.  I could definitely win if we got into a cage fight, but it would be more like Yao Ming beating up Webster, and where is the glory in that?  Sure, it would be fun, but it would last for like 6 miliseconds…all I’d have to do is pick him up and bounce him off the cage walls….

I digress.

So, this guy’s nickname is “Keebs”, because he looks suspiciously like one of the Keebler elves.  When I first transferred into my current department, I thought it was derogatory and refused to call him that, but the guy has a great sense of humor and it’s really easy to make him laugh.  I have since gotten over it and routinely make fun of him, for which he is a great sport and is more than able to throw it back, which makes the cage fight look more and more appealing every time he zings me…turn him into an elf basketball and dunk him in the biohazard bucket….

But, once again, I digress.

I think the thing that really broke the ice for me accepting the “Keebs” nickname was one experience in particular.  You see, Keebs once worked in my department, but switched over to R&D about a year ago.  Loosely translated, it means he comes down to bug us about running samples for him.  My supervisor saw him coming towards his office, cracked a smile and said: “I’m a real boy!” 

Now, go back and reread that last statement in the voice of Pinnochio from Shrek…you know the part I am talking about.  Needless to say, I chiggled quite loudly, then I was quite comfortable razzing Keebs.

So anyway, it was a rather hilarious moment…Keebs laughed, but I am sure that he went home and cried on his pillow.

That makes me laugh, too.

So, when Brooke told me about Amy’s comment, for some reason that experience flashed back to me:

“I’m a real boy!” said I.  I don’t think Brooke thought it was too funny, but I did.

I can’t say that I blame my in-laws for thinking me a total loser.  I am inherently shy by nature, but have come a long way (believe it or not) since high school.  I really do have good people skills, but sometimes I just don’t feel like using them.  To all my in-laws, I am sorry for being so introverted.  I am working on it.  Fortunately, I am a much stronger writer than I am a speaker, so this blog thing has been pretty good for me.  I can take advantage of my strengths and use them to open up, which is something I need to be doing anyway.

Making connections with people is always interesting, especially when someone has categorized you as being a certain way.  Of course, a person’s viewpoint can also complicate the scene when you think a person has categorized you as being a certain way.  Sometimes, it is easier to just live in the box someone else builds for you.  Other times, it is just as easy to live in the box you build for yourself.

I had a very powerful experience on my mission that taught me a lesson that I keep running into recently.  Without going into detail, I learned that, even if a person makes assumptions about you that doesn’t mean you have to become those assumptions.  True, people can be more fair—I am not sparing anyone from making a hasty judgment.  But, you can’t really control what a person assumes, either.  About all that you can do is be you, be honest, and do the right thing.  Now, I know that the “right thing” is a point of debate in our society, and I don’t intend to enter that arena here.  What I am saying is that everyone should be guided by the light inside themselves—be true to it and the details seem to work themselves out.  Those people whose opinions matter the most will come around, and the people who don’t…well, they can go flog a log…or something like that.

And this is what I learned on my mission.  There were a large number of people who had been told erroneous information about me.  It was embarrassing, humiliating, degrading and a whole strew of other negative emotions.  To say I was angry would be to call Lebron James an above-average basketball player.  I was furious.  But, with some very wise counsel from my father and after a lot of soul-searching, I realized that I couldn’t control what people thought or what people said about me.  I could only do what I knew was right.

So I did.  I proved a lot of people wrong, and they knew it.  Many of them came to me, after a few weeks, and apologized for the assumptions they had made and the hurtful things they had said, but, not all of them did.  What was most important to me was, at that point, I honestly didn’t care about what anyone thought about me.

I am glad that Amy is beginning to see me for who I am.  Now, I don’t think Amy has ever made negative statements or assumptions about me, but I do know that unflattering information has been passed on to her.  To her credit, she has always seemed to be a very open-minded person.  I appreciate her and the relationship she maintains with Brooke.  I hope she realizes just how much she means to Brooke and me.

More and more I am impressed by the importance of family.  When all is said and done, that’s all we really have.  Occasionally, we will meet those friends who become family, but some of the ones that seem the closest end up hurting you the most.  I am lucky to have met a friend in kindergarten, and stayed close to him ever since.  He has been a brother to me and is quite easily the coolest dog since Boss Hogg.  Greg, you are the best.  Seriously, dude, you are awesome!.

Of course, from family we can experience either the greatest friendships and joys or the greatest pains and sorrows.  It is our duty and privilege to learn from our family and do our best to keep that relationship close.  It is a two-way street and requires effort from all involved, but it can be the greatest source of strength and peace in our lives.

Anyway, I didn’t intend to make this post all serious, but it is interesting to see where my writing takes me sometimes.

That’s it for me.  As Greg would say, “Peace, love and baby ducks’ feet”.

It has been a while since my last post, mostly because I have been caught-up in the talk I was asked to give on Sunday.  The theme was: Temples.  Specifically, why they are important.  Oh, and I had ten minutes to fill.

My problem these days is not filling the time: it’s trying to stay within the time limit.  Especially since I had five single-spaced pages typed with what I thought was good material.  I knew I could spend some time…well, a lot of time, trying to trim it down.  Or, I could give it to Brooke and let her go to town.  I realized that giving it to Brooke would amount to significant changes, because there was a lot that needed to be dropped.  I also knew that it would be easier for her to ‘axe’ things out because it was not her talk.

So, off to Brooke it went, and back it came at three pages.  But, it ended up being a good thing, because I actually had a talk that was cohesive, to the point, and just about within the time constraint—I think I took eleven minutes.

I think it went well, but it was for combined priesthood (ward conference).  The guy after me didn’t give a talk so much as a shortened lesson, involving people within the group.  I would have preferred to do it that way, but, again, only ten minutes.  Needless to say, he took way more than ten.

Anyway, here I am to blog a wee bit before I head off to work.  What to talk about?

It has come to my attention recently that I may have offended one of my readers with a random comment I inserted into one of my posts.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  I suppose my hubris was exfoliating a bit too much, and I may have gesticulated out of focus as I supervised the ramifications of my comments.  Honestly, from time to time, sometimes my intense ego causes my thinking superlative agendas.  I don’t think I need to articulate how this would be deleterious in the maximized velocity.  I think you all see where I am going with this, so let me just wrap it up here.  My penchant for irony has turned me quagmire, and I have exasperated an immaculate agnate.  So, to my one-and-only mechanic brother-in-law, I bid portentous extenuation: I am distressingly penitent.  Your language credentials are superlative.

As a kind of by-the-way item, has anyway tried to do the ‘disabled’ feature for the word verification for posting comments?  Did they have to make it sound like a song being played backwards?  I keep expecting to hear the phrase ‘it’s fun to smoke marijuana’ in the background.  Either that, or they need to turn off the bread-mixer in the background.  I guess that is just practical thinking for you—make some bread and help the disabled post their comments.  There should be some kind of award for that.

I can see it now:

“And this next award goes to the individual whose commitment to serving the disabled globally is rivaled only by their passion for pastries of all shapes and sizes.  That’s right, it is time to announce the nominees for the ‘Disabled assistance whilst multitasking bread production award’.”

Then they announce the winner and give him/her the award—a wheelchair with a loaf of bread in the seat.

Anyway, I think I have said enough for today.  Thanks for reading!

I would like to officially thank dictionary.com for the assistance I received in crafting portions of this blog.  I think you can tell which portions! =)

I don’t have much to say (or much time to say it), but I had a recurring experience last night that made me chuckle.

I work late 4 nights a week.  On my way home, I usually call Brooke, just to let her know I am heading home and that all is well.  I usually have time to call her at least once from work to ensure that her mental status is in order, since being at home with 3 kids solo makes for some level of instability at times.  But, lately, things have been so crazy at work that I am lucky if I can’t get to the bathroom, let alone call Brooke.

Last night when I called Brooke, I was about halfway home.  It is always a funny experience for me because I can tell from the moment she answers as to what kind of mood she is in.  Last night she was in the ‘slightly annoyed, but reasonably good-humored, but still not quite talkative from the get-go’ mood.  So, with a little coaxing and a few good questions, I got her into a full-on conversation, which is what I usually am looking for.  On bad days, I can’t ever get her to open-up on the phone.  Those are the days that worry me—I call them the ‘you better hope I don’t smother you with a pillow while you sleep’ mood.  I don’t really want to go into detail about this mood, but so far, no smothering.

So, Brooke was cookin’ along, chatting my ear off (which I do enjoy, despite what she may think), when I arrived home.

I thought about telling her that I was home, but she was in the middle of a delightful story, and interrupting people is rude, right?  Plus, I figured that the grunts that were emanating from my throat as I tried to get out of the car, the car door closing in the background and the sound of the car horn honking to indicate a successful keyless remote locking session, would have told her the message I thought was so rude to interrupt her.  A little thought in the back of my head told me to say something anyway, but I dismissed it.  She had to have heard all those noises, right? 

I unlock the door, Brooke is still talking.  I open the door, at which point an innocent smile swept across my face.  Brooke was still talking, anxious to finish her story, but there was a sudden moment of hesitation.  The words came a little bit slower, as if she were processing some other piece of information.

I call this next series of voice articulations and hesitations the ‘is there an axe murderer entering my house’ combined with an ‘which of my scrap booking supplies can be used successfully as a weapon’ mood.

I entered the house as she continued, with less heart, naturally, than before.  Obviously the idea of being de-brained was preoccupying her thoughts, but still I held out.

Yes, at this point, I was a jerk.  I wanted to see if she was going to creep up the stairs with her double-sided tape in one hand and her paper-cutter in the other.

My courageous wife kept going, although fear had clearly taken a hold of her heart.  I closed the door.

A definite pause.

Maybe Brooke knows me too well.

“Are you home?”

I had to ditch the axe somewhere before she came upstairs, though.  That would have been awkward.

Anyway, the other thing that made me laugh, aside from terrorizing my lovely bride, was that she said that she would just come upstairs and finish her story.

That’s fine—no sense chatting on cell phones when you’re in the same house, right?

But there was an awkward moment when both of us had to decide how best to hang-up the phone.

I’ve always been told that it is rude to hang-up on someone.  It just feels unnatural to not get some closure on a phone conversation, regardless of circumstances, right?

Luckily, Brooke feels the same way I do.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you in just a minute, ok?  K, talk to you later, bye.”

As irrational as it is, I just can’t hang that dang thing up without closure.  It’s as if the phone conversation is a separate entity from the face-to-face conversation, and the two cannot co-exist in the same room at the same time.  Like two beings from parallel universes, there might be some cosmic event if the two get into too close in proximity to each other.

“K, I am home now, got to go, bye, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY AND IN THE INTERESTS OF THE CONTINUATION OF LIFE, HANG-UP THE PHONE NOW!!!”

Maybe it is an instinctive behavior that just developed in our species.  Maybe, on some level, we understand the ramifications of this situation and we instinctively have to cut-off the phone conversation before it sees the face-to-face conversation.

Whatever the case may be, that phone conversation is pretty demanding.  So, far all of you out there who may call me on the phone and then come to visit me whilst talking on the phone, do not take anything I say or do too personally as you approach my location.  I have never been one to destroy all life as we know it, but I don’t like getting bullied around, either.  If I hang-up or rant incoherently all of a sudden, just chalk it up to my rebellion against established authority.

No obtuse cosmic anomaly is gonna tell me how to live my life…thinks it’s so big…maybe it needs to be taken down a couple notches.

Watch your email, for soon I may be instigating a revolution against the phone conversation entity.

“Oh, you need closure before you flip that phone shut, son, otherwise, I am gonna come out of my dimension and beat up face-to-face conversation man and then kablamo (not sure if I spelled that right…I can’t find my explosion word dictionary right now…dang kids), you and all your friends will be gone!  You better get closure soon, boy, or else kersplat (again, not sure if it is spelled right…it was a nice book, too), like a fly on a windshield!”

Is anyone else tired of this tyranny?  Do we really need to live under this shadow?

Fight the power!

Thank you, Kat, for the challenge!  How you knew that Mike was one of the lead ‘sharks’, I will never know.  I mean, Mike NEVER pokes fun at ANYONE! =)  Wait, I think there was a typo in that last sentence.  It should read: Mike ALWAYS pokes fun at EVERYONE.  It’s okay—it’s what makes Mike uniquely Mike.  On a serious note, I have some very tender memories of Mike from when I was growing up.  Particularly, from when I was in high school, he was in college, and when I was on my mission.

That is the challenge of life, though, isn’t it?  You don’t have to look hard to find a person’s weakness.  I don’t know if it is justifiable to dwell on it or not.  Maybe that fact is not important.  The world is filled with pessimists, so, in order to be truly different, maybe we should look for the positive things.  Those qualities that we admire in others lift us to higher ground and draw us closer to He who gave us Life and Hope.

Mike certainly has more than his fair share of these excellent qualities.  Mike, I don’t know if you read this blog or not, but if you do, I want to tell you that, even though we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past, I appreciate you for who you are.  You are my brother and I love you.  We could waste our whole life away keeping a running tally as to who did what wrong at what time, what they said and how they said it, but in the end, all it is is wasted time.  I have been guilty of that, but I have also had the God-given logic to stop and see that this behavior is not getting me what I want out of life.

Mike, even if you never read this, I feel I need to say it: I know I did and said things to hurt you.  I can say that, if I had it to do over, I would have done it differently.  But, it is over, and I hope you understand that I am truly sorry for those hurtful things.  Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have chosen to do things differently in my life, but I certainly would have handled things between you and me differently.  You had good intentions—arguably the best.  I didn’t see that at the time, but I see it now, and I feel like a dufus.  I miss my big brother, is all, and I hope that we can continue to move forward.

Okay, so, now back to the original object of this post: accepting the challenge.  For your reference, see http://comics.com/frazz/2009-02-07/.  Kat informs me it is not the diet add, but the comic.

K, here goes.

First off, you know what always cracks me up?  When you do slip and fall, be it ice or otherwise, what is the first thing you do?  If you are like me, the first thing you do is to look and see who saw you fall.  You could have just cracked your leg in half, and still the thought is: “I hope no one saw me!”  And then, if someone did, you either try to get back on your feet, cracked-in-half leg and all, and pretend like it wasn’t anything. “I’ve had worse—just a scratch.”  Either that, or you feel like you owe that person some kind of explanation, like they just caught you robbing a bank or picking your nose (since the two are so similar on the embarrassment scale).

What kind of excuse can you come up with?

“Don’t know how I didn’t see that invisible patch of black ice there.  I will watch closer next time.”

“Sorry, I got distracted by the icicles hanging from the trees.”

“I have to make it to my laboratory, to conduct an experiment, the ramifications of which could have far reaching consequences.”

“Really, what was your experiment for?”

“Um, to make a bike…that doesn’t tip over…without training wheels…that a dolphin could use…underwater, of course.  I think it should save the environment…from bike tipping dolphins…and help with global warming….”

“But your leg is cracked in half!”

“Which is exactly why I have to get to my laboratory, if you’ll excuse me!”

Have you ever slipped on ice when someone is watching you, but not fallen all the way down?  Instead, you make a Chewbacca the Wookie yelp, flail your arms out like someone just came around the corner and scared the crap out of you; your legs go all crazy-like, as if you were half-asleep and just dreamed that you were walking down a sidewalk and tripped.  Yeah, the resulting pose is probably worse and more difficult to explain than if you had fallen and cracked your leg in half.

“Sorry, I thought I saw a ninja over there.  Master Toniko taught me this special, anti-ninja attack defense.  Sure, it looks silly to the untrained eye, but there are so many ways that I could break his arms and incapacitate him.  So, in actuality, if you think about, this was actually a smart thing to do, because I would hate to not do that and have it be a ninja attack.  I’ll take looking silly a thousand times over losing that one time when my training could have paid off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Have I told you about the bike I am working on?”

Personally, I have thought a lot about these last two scenarios.  Should I fall and someone sees me fall, I will say:

“I did this to prove a point: black ice kills.  Let that be a lesson to you.”

If I do the whole jimmy-legs thing on the ice, once I gain my balance, I will break into a jog, then stop and say:

“Nah, I really shouldn’t take a run in these clothes.  I really need to change before exercising.”

According to my calculations, these are the two ‘best-case-scenarios’.  The next stage for me is to do some field testing.  Anyone who would like to assist me, you are more than welcome.  It is winter in Utah, and the bottom step off my front porch in constantly iced-over, so there should be plenty of opportunity.

Other useful equations that I have discovered from life:

Brooke + stairs= bad things;  bad things usually = stubbed toes, but can also include sprained ankles, torn-off toenails and bruised elbows.

Actually, Brooke + just about anything is the house can = bad things, as defined above.

Brooke + steel-toed boots does not = bad things, but for Brooke probably = fashion faux pas, or something like that.  I wonder if they make steel-toed high heels….

Abbi pooping on the kitchen floor + me trying to get some paper towels before someone steps in it + Kristen visiting = Kristen stepping in Abbi poop.

A green light in the distance while I am driving home at night + no cars waiting at the cross street for a green light = me getting stuck at that light for 5 minutes while no cars come from either direction.

Someone doing 35 in a 50 mph area + a one lane road= me behind that person.

Me playing music on the computer + Lucy= me memorizing princess music lyrics for the next 3 hours.

Abbi + any household item, no matter what it is = big mess.  For specific information, see: Abbi + butter = either a buttered bunk bed ladder, or a buttered playroom floor; Abbi + baking soda + raisins + water + crock pot = baking soda raisin soup; Abbi + dolls + Brooke’s hair care products = stylish doll hairstyles; Abbi + neighbor kid + play room = painted neighborhood kid in the playroom.

Snow storms + every neighbor having a snow blower = me shoveling my own walks and driveways.  No, seriously, my neighbors are great and will usually clear my walks for me.  I just hate shoveling snow.

A Jack and Jill master bathroom + a hallway running parallel to this bathroom + kitchen on one end + bedroom on the other end = a big circle in the house.

Big circle in the house + Me + Brooke + urgent desire to talk to Brooke = me chasing Brooke in circles, reversing directions and chasing in the opposite direction for about 5 minutes.

My family + Chili’s = the same terrible server, every time…go figure.

Me + holding Asher + Xbox360 does not = me playing Xbox360…boohoo….

Lucy + Abbi + singing + dancing = me smiling. =)

Lucy + Abbi + making up a song = me laughing.

4 am = Asher’s play time…unfortunately….

Silence in the house = Abbi getting into something…usually expensive.

Red lights + blue lights + flashing sporadically throughout the night does not = alien abduction…nor does it = police visit…oddly enough, it = kids mouthwash on the top of the bookcase going off without cause…don’t ask.

Three car seats + limited space in backseat of the car = bloody, skin-peeled knuckles.

One friendly competition between two sisters + one sister knowing the mom’s log in = the other sister being upset because her mom isn’t following her blog.

One mechanic brother-in-law + one thesaurus = big words being used in odd contexts.

There are more equations I have been thinking of, but the stink eye telleth me to stop.

More to follow…eventually.

Thanks for reading!

I have always loved writing.  I remember trying to write my very first book in elementary.  My dad read us The Hobbit  and The Lord of the Rings series as we grew up, so much of my writing has a heavy influence in fantasy/science fiction.  As such, this early novel was a fantasy masterpiece.  I made maps, complete with names of towns, provinces, continents, etc.  Yes, I was a geek, but a thorough one.  Looking back, it surprises me that I understood the concept of a character sketch, or a plot timeline…all tools that the experts encourage.  I don’t ever remember anyone telling me to go about things in that way—it just made sense to me.

That novel was doomed for failure: being an impressionable child, and one with very sensitive feelings, even the slightest criticism would have sunk the idea like a pirate ship.  But, it wasn’t a simple criticism, but a major one.

Being the youngest, my brothers never needed a good reason to tease me.  They still don’t.  So, any slight hint of weakness was often attacked ruthlessly.  Like blood in the water, the sharks approached and took bites at their whim.  Emotional scaring.  Good times.

Not that I am bitter or anything! =)

I made the mistake (innocent, I must stress) of naming one of the towns on my map ‘Brothel’.

What elementary kid knows what that means?  I certainly didn’t.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called it that.  But, it was already committed to paper.  What was I to do?  My brothers caught wind of it, and the rest is better left to a professional…or a telemarketer.

<Insert here the sound of a WWII bomber falling out of the sky in a fireball>

So much for that idea.

My writing hid like a gopher, emerging randomly, poking its head out of the ground from time to time, just to take a look around.  Just as quickly as it had emerged, it would duck back into the ground to hide from a perceived threat, sometimes real, usually imagined.

My writing took on life again in high school.  I had a FANTASTIC English teacher in 10th grade.  Mrs. Bean.  You rock, Mary Lou.

Not only was she fun, but, to my absolute joy, she also taught creative writing.

Creative writing?  Sounds interesting.

Now, those WERE some good times.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Bean threw a stumbling block in my path that tripped me up for a long time.

“Andy, don’t be a writer!  There are so few people that actually make it as a writer.  Be a doctor instead!”

This was good advice.  I focused on getting my education (although not as a doctor), which has done a lot for my writing.  In the process, I found out that science rocks!  Plus, it gives me a legitimate, challenging way to pay the bills. =)

I didn’t take my writing seriously after that bit of advice, however.  Sure, I still dabbled here and there, but it was more for fun—to make people smile or to express myself.

It wasn’t until I was working at Desert Samaritan Hospital in Mesa that the idea of writing took on some sort of permanency.  I had written about 2 chapters of my current book at that point (I think), and it was still just an unreachable dream.

While I was a new employee, the lab bought new chemistry analyzers and, since I was training (and very bright), they thought it would be a good idea to train me on everything relating to the analyzers.  It was then my job to take care of them and train everyone else.

Having a new piece of instrumentation is very much a baptism of fire.  The manufacturer sends their experts to train you on the operation, but there are dozens of little things that they neglect to mention, or flat out just don’t know.  This happens all the time.

So, it comes down to the primary operator to figure it out and deal with.

Now, something as specific as a chemistry analyzer is not all that exciting to talk about, unless you are a real geek.  So, knowing this, I decided to email my coworkers updates for the analyzers—little things I had learned to make things easier or to avoid major problems.  In order to make them memorable (and somewhat interesting) I put my writing skills to work and tried to make them fun.  Well, as fun as an email about a chemistry analyzer can be, that is.

Desert Sam is part of a large network of hospitals, called the Banner Health System.  For those who live in Phoenix, you will probably be familiar with it.  This company was using Desert Sam as a proving ground for this particular analyzer, with the intention of implementing them into the rest of the company.  Needless to say, they were working closely with us.

Imagine my surprise when a lot of the higher-up people in the company would stop me in the lab:

“Your emails are so funny!  I get a kick out of them!  Do you mind if I send it to some of my friends?  Are you going to write more?”

This was a surprise, because I did not send my emails to any of them…just my coworkers.  Evidently, someone had forwarded my emails on, those little stinkers!

This had an impression upon me, of course, but it wasn’t until one of my coworkers found a dirty body fluid cell counting chamber that I had an epiphany.  This coworker was disgusted that someone did not clean it, allowing mold to grow.

And the “Ode to Fungo” poem was born.  I wish I still had a copy of it.

This coworker loved it.  She took it home and hung it up on her refrigerator.

“Andy, you should think about writing as a career.  You could be like J K Rowling.”

Enter the epiphany.

I don’t know why, but I took her seriously.  Up till then, whenever someone made a similar statement, I was like: “Okay, whatever.”

But suddenly I was like: “Really?”

There is an incredibly powerful moment when a dream stops being a dream and becomes a possibility.  To say that it is magical robs it of its intensity and raw power.  I think it holds within it the essence of life.  It is awe; it is wonder; it is exciting.

Since then, I have had more people than I can count tell me that I have missed my vocation in life.  I do not share with most people my passion for writing—at least how serious I am about it.

Recent epic literature from the hand of Andrew M includes:

Romancing the Elderly, parts 1-3…4 may be in the works sometime soon;

Deep thoughts of self-affirmation (a whole story in and of itself);

Elbony Deathrage’s reasoning as to why his department is the best at ARUP;

A ‘Happy Birthday’ card from a serial axe-murderer to a coworker;

A ‘Job Wanted’ add for a jewelry counter attendant at Walmart;

An email from Douglas Q Merrell to himself (classic).

There are others, but I can’t remember what they are.

I know I have already talked about my writing.  I know I will talk about it again.  It is such a huge part of my life, and I love it.  I love my creativity—it amazes me every time I explore it.  People frequently ask me where I come up with stuff.  Honestly, I don’t know.  What I do know is that every time I sit down to write, there is something there.  It is cool.

Really, it's cool.

The difficulty I face currently for my writing, aside from time obligations between work and family, is chiefly that of the unknown.  You’ve got to understand that, as a writer, no one can really tell you how to write.  Sure, you will have plenty who would love to give you instructions, but they are just as apt to be full of crap as anyone else.  Bad advice is a disease, and it spreads like one, too.

For the sake of clarity, let me put it this way: my book, my creation, my writing—no one has ever done it before.  Thus, no one can tell me how to do it.  No one will do it for me—even if they did, they wouldn’t be as effective as I am.  That doesn’t mean that no one else can write—it simply means it is mine.  It is my blessing and my burden.

I have learned to trust myself with my writing.  Again, I am very creative, and the well has never been dry, no matter how many times I have opened the lid.  There is always something there, and there always will be.

But I have to find my own way.  I have to forge my own path.

I appreciate the support I receive and the faith I feel from those around me about my writing.  The development of this book has been a journey of self-discovery for me.  No, I have not given up.  Much of the creative process is unpredictable.  It is chaos, and so, seems very random to me.  But, I have to respect the process, because I have also learned that, if the process is forced, it is not as good as it could be.  Even when things seem dormant, there is an inertia that moves the whole thing forward.  It’s just that the progress is not very definable or measurable sometimes, and that is frustrating, even to me.

For those of you who are interested, stay tuned.  Things are moving in the right direction.

Thanks again for reading!

I usually do not require any instigation to get the ball rolling, but I often find inspiration in day-to-day life.  As such, if anyone is interested, I am ‘opening up the request line’.  Does anyone have any ideas for me to write on?  Writing is a skill like any other—the more you practice, the better you get.  Which is why I think this blogging thing is good for me.  But I am open to a good challenge.

Feel free to throw the gauntlet. 

BRING IT!

I’m afraid that I don’t know the ‘blogger etiquette’ when it comes to responding to comments.  I mean, I love it that people read what I have to write—it is one of the joys of writing for me.  I appreciate that people care and I have been very pleased with the comments I have received.  I just don’t want to goof it up and make someone think that I didn’t value their comment.

If this is you, cease and desist.  Your comments are valued here at Creating Chaos!  Thanks for the response thus far.  I am sure I would keep writing even if no one read, but it is that much more meaningful and motivational to know that I am not just blabbing into cyberspace.

I don’t really have much to say this morning.  It is about 30 minutes before I run out the door to work and we didn’t have that great of a night—Asher woke up at 4:00 am (as usual).  When he fell back asleep, I was wide awake for some reason.  I didn’t fall asleep until after 6…don’t ask me why.

That’s how it goes sometimes, I suppose.  I feel like I want to muse a bit this morning about life, if you will indulge me.

The more I live life, the more I realize just how complex, yet simple, this mortal experience is.  Just when you think you have something figured out, something else comes along to really blow your perceptions apart.

My current position has been one such experience.  I won’t bore you with details about my job, since I know most of it is not that interesting to the average person.  I would be the geek in glasses at a party talking someone’s ear off about the intricacies of my job while the other person is scanning the room, searching for a reason, ANY reason, to get away.  What I will share about my current job should be interesting as it relates to people more than science.

I run laboratory testing.  I don’t want to brag, but I am pretty good at it.  My supervisors recognized this.  They also recognized that (believe it or not) I have some really great people skills.  When a position opened at nights for a lead position, I applied for it, was interviewed, and offered the position.  I readily accepted as, not only was it a step up from being a bench tech, but it provided a new challenge and a greater opportunity to grow personally.

Now, I don’t run the testing as much anymore—only to fill in or help out.  Mostly, I am involved in verifying (or releasing to our clients) the test results and handling the ‘special problems’ that arise.  ‘Special’ in this sense can mean anything from questionable test results, to handling technical questions from doctors and clients, to dealing with personnel issues.

I set this up in this way for one simple reason: when I was on the bench, I didn’t have any serious problems with the people I worked with, nor did I have any issues with getting my work done in a timely manner.  Like I said, I am pretty good at what I do.

Now, it’s a different ball game altogether.  Sure, I can step in and run someone’s test for them, but then I don’t fulfill one of my job requirements: assisting employees to develop their own skills.  Loosely translated, essentially I provide assistance (aka, helping them actually run a test) only when absolutely necessary.  I can provide insight, suggestions, ideas, etc., but I am not really doing anything for them individually if I jump in and do it.

This is not something I am used to.  I know I have good work habits, and I know I can get things done if I can roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty (figuratively speaking).  It is much more difficult to motivate someone else to do their work, especially if their perception of me is that all I do is sit at a computer all night and watch them work.  Honestly, I have not had a night in three months where I have just sat at a computer and watched anyone work.

Oh, by the way, that is one of my responsibilities, too—observe my employees and see where we can make improvements.

I realize that I am rambling a bit, but the point I am getting at is this: as someone who is used to diving into a task and getting it done, it leaves me very little room to understand or accept that someone else can’t do it just as well or just as quickly.  I have a few employees who, although I know they are working hard, aren’t working fast.

As my current obligations have forced it upon me, I have had to take a step back and reevaluate things.

First of all, I have to say that my expectation is the same—if I can get a test done if 4 hours, then everyone else can, too.  I do not have some special talent/ability that makes me efficient.  I have the benefit of having analyzed my routine enough to streamline it and do away with inefficiencies.  In English, this means that I have found a very good routine to get things done.  This is not some superhuman trait—it is just plain, old science: observation, trial and error.

Second, there are those among my department that share this belief with me, but are not in my position.  In other words, there are some techs that are very, very critical of others who don’t get their work done as quickly.  The pressure that these individuals put on me to ‘do something’ about it is intense, as if I can simply stamp my feet, huff and puff, and magically these employees will start moving at lightning speed.

Third, I have taken the time to think a lot about this.  More than anything else, I feel like this is my primary job: to train my employees and to help them improve.  As such, I have taken time to get to know them personally.  Not one of them is in the frame of mind of wasting time or dragging things out unnecessarily.  Quite the opposite.  Every one of them is aware that they are taking longer than others and they feel a certain sense of frustration because they all want to improve and do better.

Whatever it is that I am doing, I finally feel like it is paying off.  I have not jumped down anyone’s throat and I have not just simply blown the whole issue off.  If I had to sit down and think about it, I guess I could tell you exactly what it is that I did do, but at the moment I cannot.

Last night, when I was leaving, all of my employees were wrapping up their testing.  Now, bear in mind, these same employees were fairly constantly staying until 1 or 2 in the morning to wrap things up.  Pretty impressive for me and something that made me very happy.

I expressed that excitement to each of them before I left and saw and felt their excitement bubble over as well.

I do not claim credit for this—my job is to support them in their job.  But what I do claim is satisfaction in acquiring a very valuable experience for me.

Wisdom holds back a negative comment that may do more damage than good.

Patience dictates that maybe there is more to the situation than you see.

Sincerity speaks louder than any other words.

Understanding frees people of frustration, allowing them to set it aside and do their job.

Optimism, although sickening when you are drowning in work, provides a buoyant force that lifts people above the grime.

I don’t want to brag, and, believe me, I am not.  I am not bragging because, from my perspective, I have had very little to do with the situation.  But what I do want to express right now is my intense gratitude that my prayers have been answered and that I have been allowed to have this experience.

The Lord is pretty cool, if you think about it.

For those of you who don’t know, I work at ARUP Laboratories in Salt Lake City.  It is a good company and I have been with them for 5 1/2 years.  For about 3 1/2 of those years, I worked at the University Hospital, which is located across the University of Utah campus from the central facility.  Parking at the hospital was always a nightmare, but, when I was working during the day, I had the luxury of a free bus pass and riding the bus to work.  It took a little bit of time, but, no gas and no hassle.

When I transferred over to the central facility, I was on days as well.  So, I could still take the bus.

So far, so good.

Now, I have taken a position that is a bit of a promotion, but, as with many advancement opportunities, it was at the cost of working nights.  Loosely translated, this means I can’t take the bus anymore.

BOO!!!

Aside from dumping money into gas and adding the miles onto the car, I have also been introduced to the fiasco that is parking at ARUP.

Now, let me make it clear—it is not ARUP’s fault that parking is so horrible.  The company is located in Research Park, which is a very crowded area to begin with.  ARUP has grown so quickly that there is literally no space to expand.  And, the rate at which they hire new employees to keep up with our growing workload has left our parking options a bit famished.

That being said, let me charge into the heart of my complaint.

I get to work around 11:30 am.  This is in the middle of the day, so that everyone who works in the morning has already arrived and taken most of the available parking.  What do you do, right?  If all the parking spots are gone, there isn’t much you can do about that, right?

Well, here is where the irksome aspect begins.

It isn’t that there isn’t any parking around ARUP…it’s that ARUP is not allowed to use any of the empty parking lots surrounding the buildings.

I kid you not—where I have to park is about 3/4 of a mile away from the building.  No big deal for me—I like walking and the exercise is good.  But, in traipsing into work, I literally walk through empty parking lots.  There are several spots that, in 3 months time, I have never, I repeat NEVER, seen a single car parked.

What’s up with that???

I don’t know if you have seen the hit series MASH or not, but I grew up with it.  I still watch it, mostly as a reminder of growing-up, watching it with my family.  There is a particular episode that this parking situation reminds me of.

In the earlier episodes, there is an episode where Trapper John and Hawkeye decide they need an incubator.  This is a device that allows a person to grow bacteria, mostly for the purpose of culturing and identifying harmful bacteria, as in the case of an infection.  Sounds like a reasonable thing for a hospital, right?

They set out to find an incubator.  One of their first stops takes them to a supply sergeant in Seoul.  What luck!  The sergeant has two in the box and one open and on display.  Hawkeye and Trapper are ecstatic and start to make plans to get it back to their unit.

Here is where the sergeant steps in:

“You can’t have one.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because then I’d only have two.”

This is the attitude that I get from the University of Utah.  Sure, it is a good school and all, but when it comes to parking, they have the strangest philosophy.

“You can’t park here!”

“But, there’s no one here!  There’s no one within 100 feet of this spot!”

“This parking is for this building over here.”

“But, they never use it.  They don’t even have enough employees to use this spot.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“This building could throw a party where they set-up booths where supermodels gave away free kisses to whoever wants them; they could hand out chocolate-covered hundred dollar bills, and they still wouldn’t fill up this parking stall.”

“Still.”

“They could offer to come out to your house, in a brand new car, pick you up and bring you over here.  They could park the brand new car for you (which is yours to keep, by the way), and then escort you into the building where you can pick up your new plasma screen tv, surround sound, video games, movies—all for free.  They could then pack all this stuff up in a truck and follow you home in your new car…and they would still not fill up this space.”

“Here’s your ticket.”

For some reason, it is important to have empty stalls, a phenomenon I can’t quite understand (obviously).

Let me give you a bit of perspective here.  Each night I walk out to my car, I feel like I need to take a GPS and some trail mix.  Based on the number of deer I see and pass, I should probably start dressing in camo and packing heat…I would be eating venison for a decade….

I shouldn’t be afraid of dumb deer, right?  Well, I wouldn’t be, except I made the mistake of watching an episode of When Animals Attack, in which I saw some guy get the crap kicked out of him by a deer.  Every night I walk out to my car, I think to myself: “Is tonight the night where a doe works me over with her hooves?  Will they find me with a terrified look on my face and brown pellets all over my face?”

I have a vision of the brutal attack…cornered by three rabid does.  Somewhere, they got a taste for human blood, and they have that fluorescent glow in their eyes.  They have been watching me for weeks now, and they have memorized my patterns.  They know I don’t work on Fridays or the weekends.  They know just where to ambush me—the grassy hill between parking lots.  Very little lighting.  My clumsy man hooves can’t quite keep a hold on the iced over grass on that slope.  That’s where it will happen.

One will take off in front of me, as a diversion.  Then the other two will come in from the flanks and I’ll be caught in a cross-fire of flailing deer feet.  I’m sure one of them will be wearing leather, for some reason.  One has a baseball bat in it’s teeth.

Then, what’s left for poor Mandrew?  Nothing but to crawl in a bloody heap towards my car, trying to get a hold of my wife who probably left her cell phone in the car.

To make matters worse, someone told me recently (like within the last year) a mountain lion was spotted in one of the parking lots close to ARUP.

I guess I need to take matters into my own hands and prepare for the attack.

I wouldn’t mind being beaten up by wild animals—it happens.  But, how would you live-down a beat-down by deer? 

My only real hope is that they finish me off and that my wife is creative enough to make my demise sound heroic.

Even though she is giving me crap for losing a doll that allegedly was placed in my lap several minutes ago (but ended up on the other side of the room while I sat in this here chair), I want to take a few moments to say a few words about the inspiration in my life: my wife, Brooke.

Every time that I stop and think about my life with Brooke, I end up being overwhelmed by just how blessed I am.  It makes me laugh to think about it, because if I was totally responsible for choosing who I would marry, I would have screwed it up.  No, we were not a part of some queer arranged marriage.  Yes, I did choose Brooke, but I believe in divine intervention…even more so when I think of what my life would be like without her.

It’s actually a pretty scary thought for me.  I would probably be on some corner somewhere, with a sack full of dirty clothes, a cup of Ramen noodles and a lost look in my eye.  My shirt would be buttoned all funny, my hair would be messy, I would have holes in my socks, and if I owned a dog, I am sure someone would have kicked it recently…twice.

Strangely enough, this is the mental image I get when I think of life without Brooke.  Oh, and there would be violin music, so I guess I would have to hire someone to follow me around and play the violin.  And I am sure whoever that is wouldn’t be cheep, so I would have to have a good job.  Which means long hours at the office, coming home late to a cold diner and having the violin player be all like, “It was warm TWO HOURS AGO!!!”.  Then, I’d have to make it up to him by taking him out for a nice meal somewhere.  But the prices would be, guess what?  Right.  Expensive.  Then the violinist would cheat on me, making sweet, sweet music with a cellist….

You know, this post just suddenly got awkward.

So, my point is this: I love my wife and I am a complete loser, and even though she loves me, I probably don’t deserve her.  But, I do have one thing going for me: I am starting to get it.

What’s it, you might ask?  Well, if I knew, I would say that I got it.  But I am only getting it at the present time.  Once I have it, I will let you know.

So, since I can’t describe what it is, I will try to describe what I have gotten thus far.

Brooke and I don’t really have any genuine fights.  It has been one of the blessings of our marriage that we don’t scream and yell at each other…just the kids.  No, whenever we start to get on the other person’s case about something, one or both of us usually starts to laugh, and then things end peacefully.  I think we do understand one another well enough, and understand our own faults just enough to acknowledge fault and commit to do better.  True, Brooke is better at it than I, but we don’t need to dwell on that.  But one of the things that Brooke has told me multiple times that at once broke my heart and at the same time made me want to improve, is that she needs me to be a source of strength for her.

Of all the things you could tell a man, this has to be one of the worst.  She did not say it with an intention to hurt me—she was expressing something that she could no longer do without.  Moreover, the truth does hurt, especially those whom it condemns the most.

Brooke, my love, I have thought about this a lot.  I think I get what you are saying.

And, I hope you have noticed how I have actively been strong for you.

I am a selfish person, but not because I don’t care about other people.  I just don’t think about them.  I love my wife, but sometimes I just don’t stop to think about what she needs.  I assume that, since she doesn’t complain often or say anything, that I don’t need to worry.  So, I don’t.

If you haven’t read The Five Love Languages, I would highly recommend it, because it will make this next part make sense.

I am a Words of Affirmation fella.  Yeah, surprising, eh?  An aspiring writer placing a lot of stock in words.  Brooke is a Quality Time gal.  She expresses her love by Acts of Service, and does feel loved through this same medium.

This has been a difficult thing for me.  I don’t mind work and can even be talked into house work, but it is not an expression of love to me.  I know, I know—you can certainly make an airtight case for it being an act of love, and I would whole-heartedly agree with that.  But it just doesn’t make me feel loved.  I would rather hear it from someone’s lips or have some kind of acknowledgment.  That is how I feel loved.

Brooke is just the opposite.  I think she could go through life without once telling someone that she loved them.  Now, that’s not to say that she never verbally expresses her love to anyone, because that ain’t true either.  But, words are not as meaningful to her as, say, doing the dishes, rubbing her feet, or doing a crossword puzzle with her.

I love those people that surround me, but I realize that I must truly suck at expressing that.  So, I am making a concerted effort to express my feelings to those around me.  If there is one thing that I have learned, and am continuing to learn, about life is that you should never pass up the opportunity to say something meaningful to someone around you.  Yeah, it may seem cheesy; it may feel awkward, but life turns on little pivots.  These pivots are simple things: words, small acts, a smile, a frown, an obscene gesture, etc.  These things can easily be written off by the offender as worthless or necessary (when they are rude), but I wonder just how shocked we will be, at the Judgment Bar of Christ, to see what amazing power those little things have, either for good or evil.

Okay, so, enough preaching.  I just want to close this post by expressing a few words that have haunted me for some time, but for which I have been too afraid to say to my beautiful wife.  Why?  Well, because I am shy.  Because I am afraid of being vulnerable.  Because, deep down, I am afraid that she does not feel the same.  Because I don’t know if my opinion really matters to her.  But, I reread a book recently that has really influenced my thinking.  It is called Who Moved My Cheese?

The story of this book is simple: change is inevitable.  Those who plan on it and react to it survive.  Those who don’t, flounder and waste away.  One such individual was named Haw.  Faced with starving to death when he and his friend, Hem, discovered their cheese was gone, they decided to wait it out and see if whoever moved it would soon bring it back.  As time passed, Haw realized it was not returning, so he ventured out to search for it. 

From time to time, Haw would write self-realizations on the wall, to remind himself and, hopefully his friend, what he had learned.  One such phrase was: “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

I would tell my wife how proud I am of her—how she amazes me with her creativity, ingenuity, intelligence, compassion, love, open-mindedness, conviction, strength, sense of humor and all-around awesomeness.    Brooke, I love you and respect you so much.  There is a depth to your soul that few have seen and even less appreciate.  I think of how strong and amazing the pioneers had to be to survive, and although we do not have to face those same challenges, I do not doubt that you would have the strength to walk those same paths.  Thank you for being brave enough to be you and for filling my whole life with light.  You have shown to me that life is beautiful and wonderful and full of joy and excitement.  Thank you for nine amazing years and I look forward to an eternity more.  While I cannot offer you much, I can offer you myself. 

Myself, a violinist and a cellist! =)