tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60979228636976421432024-03-05T21:39:01.465-05:00This Isn't HappeningSomething Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.comBlogger162125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-82364356515544904072011-12-28T02:33:00.001-05:002011-12-28T13:59:48.691-05:00Trapped<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Today Lois <strike>and I</strike> did some work in the basement. When <strike>we were done</strike> she was done we drove out to the land fill and disposed of some </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">much unwanted stuff. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> As we left we decided to drive up the street to see if there were any blue herons nesting in the tower we discovered last year at one of the nature reserves. I got a new </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">camera for Christmas and we wanted to try it out. We have been here a number of times. They have a couple roads with signs that say, "Open from 8:00 to 5:00" and the </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">gates are always closed. This time they were open and we decided to go in and drive the designated roads. We saw many blue heron and swans and other wild fowl. We </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">had just made the loop and drove back to the access road we came in on and noticed the gates were locked. It didn't take us long to realize we were locked inside a state</span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">-operated facility and that it was 4:00 in the afternoon and if we were going to get out we had to work fast.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> I called a friend of mine who was familiar with the area but he couldn't find a phone number for the Department of Wildlife Resources. I also wanted to connect with someone who </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">knew where we were and could help if things got bad. We then had Aly get online and google the phone numbers of the bird reserve where we were trapped, the landfill </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">directly across the street and the Division of Wildlife Resources. I called the Wildlife Resource number first and got a voice-automated menu with a number of listings </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">that I couldn't hear because Lois was in a full panic. I was laughing at how funny it was while she was yelling, "This is not funny!" Turns out she needed a restroom.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> "Oh come on," I said, "You've got to admit this is pretty funny."</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> "No," she said, "This is not funny at all."</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> I finally handed her the phone because I couldn't hear anything the operator was saying. Eventually she reached someone and we waited for what seemed like an hour </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">while he tried to get us some help. At 4:30 he got back on the line and told me a game warden was coming and it would take about a half hour. He wasn't lying either; </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">about 4:55 a guy showed up and pulled out his ring of keys and fumbled around. Lois got out of the Forerunner and said she was going to go talk to the guy. I said, "He's </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">probably going to give you some grief."</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> "Oh no, he's not." she said. And sure enough he did. He wanted to know what we were doing behind the locked gate and how we got in there. "Well, I just picked up </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the truck and lifted it over the fence," she said in her head. Out loud, she said, "The gate was opened -- and said it would stay that way until 5 p.m."</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Mr. Game Warden was less than pleased and told her, "This gate is suppose to be locked at all times and I need to be somewhere at a quarter 'til 5."</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> "Then you're already late and you might want to get someone to change your signs," Lois told him. "But you're not going to leave us in here." I'm not sure if he noticed </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">she was casually stroking the place on her jacket embroidered with the name of her newspaper employer.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Mr. Game Warden fumbled around in his truck, after taking a minute to read the sign -- which said, basically, we're open 'til 5, so come on in. Seeing nothing that </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">would let him challenge her further, he pulled out a bolt cutter and clipped the locks. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Ah, sweet freedom. Did I mention that the landfill across the street smelled like a -- well, like a landfill.</span></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-87724682274785685982011-12-07T01:19:00.000-05:002011-12-07T01:19:44.041-05:00Cassie 2000/2001 to 2011<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> We had to put Cassie to sleep today. It was very hard for all of us. The vet called me a couple of hours after we dropped her off this morning and explained that the tumor had already done extensive damage across her palate. Cassie started bleeding shortly after the tumor was opened and wouldn't stop. The vet said that with or without the biopsy, Cassie wouldn't be able to lead any quality of life under the circumstances. He recommended that we euthanize her and suggested we wait no longer than a week. Because the tumor was so rapid, the damage would only worsen and she would be in pain.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Lois and I talked about it and decided we should put Cassie to sleep. There was a good chance that the wound in her mouth wouldn't even heal within the week and it would only prolong her misery. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The last week has been very strange. Lois received a letter a week or so ago saying Cassie was supposed to get her rabies shot and at the same time I saw her jowl was a bit extended on one side. I brought it to Lois' attention and she was going to have the vet look at it. When Lois and Aly took Cassie to the vet, they discovered Cassie didn't need her rabies shot until 2013. Odd? The visit was not unwarranted, Lois had the vet look at Cassie's mouth and he discovered the tumor. When we tried to look at it beforehand, Cassie would whine and move away. We figured it would be best for the vet to look at it. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> All day long Lois and I both felt like maybe we could have done something different. That we should have noticed her mouth sooner. We wondered if we as pet parents were doing our jobs. Even the veterinarian's wife made a remark that, "I can't believe you didn't notice it." As if we didn't feel bad enough already. But they said it was fast-growing and just wasn't noticeable until about a week ago. We all agree that none of us noticed her mouth until we received the rabies shot notice in the mail. It almost seems like it was a forewarning. Like we had been led to vet.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> We will miss you Cassie.</span></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-46554688387441697862011-12-06T01:19:00.000-05:002011-12-06T01:19:10.466-05:00Cassie<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBavqb6-uU6AFgY1hC_KjG0cx9HTxbLl8A92pArvsSn1U8q-QDxiApM_3U970ESO5KpL5MACLvRDGfzx8YXS36OcARToxVbhH9sansm5xgNy1stB9yBa0xa-GcqjGfwSpyG_lwMOSTjsk/s1600/Cassie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBavqb6-uU6AFgY1hC_KjG0cx9HTxbLl8A92pArvsSn1U8q-QDxiApM_3U970ESO5KpL5MACLvRDGfzx8YXS36OcARToxVbhH9sansm5xgNy1stB9yBa0xa-GcqjGfwSpyG_lwMOSTjsk/s400/Cassie.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Cassie</b></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> On Saturday, Lois had to take our pound puppy Cassie to the vet for a shot. It turned out that she didn't need the shot after all. She did however have a sore puffy lip and we wanted to get it checked out. I thought that maybe she had a splinter or a bone fragment in her cheek. Maybe it was an abscessed tooth. Aly called me at work when they were done and I could tell by the crack in her voice that something was wrong. The vet had just informed them that Cassie had cancer. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-S0-x-QnJrSzac4LNNtjsoKRXJ9Qrqa4bPd0-1AMCX-RM5lvsC7UPqbvFKvsoQXl5JVVQeS4lX6qY-pCwujJUo17oUdYrHhNiA-62xBNxVtepIkmOusDmUxykrgXjsEpuSBBb-HyuPU/s1600/lucy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-S0-x-QnJrSzac4LNNtjsoKRXJ9Qrqa4bPd0-1AMCX-RM5lvsC7UPqbvFKvsoQXl5JVVQeS4lX6qY-pCwujJUo17oUdYrHhNiA-62xBNxVtepIkmOusDmUxykrgXjsEpuSBBb-HyuPU/s320/lucy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Lucy</b></i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ENzyNqo4DwzbniSna9KiMYT9eedOXSWUSAvmljmJvrihmHFHCM2wRgSOX2M6TBR0h5HhvBG2uLJ0FR8784_2ZnxmdNu2kzY-yvjJmCutJxotP2eg5lI3KGUKHGPinD6Uge58hHP7nck/s1600/cass.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ENzyNqo4DwzbniSna9KiMYT9eedOXSWUSAvmljmJvrihmHFHCM2wRgSOX2M6TBR0h5HhvBG2uLJ0FR8784_2ZnxmdNu2kzY-yvjJmCutJxotP2eg5lI3KGUKHGPinD6Uge58hHP7nck/s320/cass.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">Cass</span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> We have had Cassie for 8 years now. We brought her home shortly after we got our black lab Lucy. The two of them have been loving members of our family and are about 10 years old. Lucy grunts and groans and age has clearly left its mark of gray on her fur. Cassie on the other hand has always been agile and her white and brown fur makes it hard to distinguish the color of gray. Lois and I have talked frequently about Lucy growing old, but I don't think either of us ever gave much thought to Cassie's age because she behaves so much like a pup. She still digs in the trash and steals food off the counter. When I heard that Cassie might have to be put to sleep, my heart sank. We have all been having trouble dealing with this news. Tomorrow morning we are taking her to the vet for a biopsy and then we'll have to make some choices depending on whether or not it is malignant. If it is benign, she could still lose some teeth. If the tumor is malignant, we will have to figure out how to handle it rather quickly. The vet says that it is fast acting and can be very painful.<br />
The girls weep and I have not had such a heavy heart in a very long time.<br />
<br />
</span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-29106502825124378782011-10-18T12:56:00.004-04:002011-10-18T13:14:24.081-04:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title"><a href="http://beaux24.blogspot.com/2008/10/mile.html">The Mile</a></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is a re-post from two years ago. I wanted to write another Halloween story, but I just didn't have it in me. If you are a new follower, I hope you enjoy it.</i></span><br />
</h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"> </h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"></h3><div class="post-header"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGx8-C4lhc4HYPHxA31VTDc60RwG4kQzE1uximxQq1bjqhB52a0iaW-9T4Mv0iajNly7aLo-yqpiQp0tYWrL7Ne_D1dGHq5pG72Q5r7-ekMBT9NtS47SoW2SaetWdXVrqdgG09LEkW-_c/s1600-h/corn.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261339757541149826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGx8-C4lhc4HYPHxA31VTDc60RwG4kQzE1uximxQq1bjqhB52a0iaW-9T4Mv0iajNly7aLo-yqpiQp0tYWrL7Ne_D1dGHq5pG72Q5r7-ekMBT9NtS47SoW2SaetWdXVrqdgG09LEkW-_c/s400/corn.jpg" style="display: block; height: 250px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Billy Larue rushed up to his bedroom window. Grabbing the cuff of his shirt sleeve, he rubbed away the condensation and peered outside. He could just now begin to see the full moon rising, silhouetted by the maple trees as the last of the autumn leaves lightly fell. They slowly floated to the ground before they came to rest on the dew-covered lawn. Dying they were, he thought. He desperately wanted to go outside and play in them one last time, before winter claimed them. But he knew it was already too late. They had already begun to wither once they had touched the ground -- death decaying.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /> <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Remembering then why he had come upstairs, he half jumped and half climbed up onto his bed. And sitting there, he waited. Soon the sound of wood hitting wood made soft thumping noises out in the hallway. The woman made a low gutteral noise as she entered the room. Almost, he thought, like an animal. Setting her cane aside, she smiled at him and held out her long flailing arm.</span> </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Here, Grandma," he half whispered.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "I'm too old for those stairs," she laughed.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Never," he said, "Just take two at a time and be done with them."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Oh world," she said, "Two stairs! I'd certainly be done with them then."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Here," Billy said, holding out his hands, "Right here I am."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "I see you," she chuckled. "Now give me those bandages. We'll have to hurry; it's almost dark."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "How do you know when it's dark, Gram? You're blind."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Oh, well ... that's my secret now, isn't it?" she said.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Well I suppose..."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Give me your hand -- the one you'll use."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "This one I'll use." Billy said, giving her his left.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Let's begin then." she said.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Twenty minutes later Billy was standing in front of his mirror admiring himself. "The best ever!" he said.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Let me see," his grandma said. Reaching out, she found his wrist and slowly started patting down the young boy's torso. Yards of bandages covered Billy's upper body. "The best ever!" he said again.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "How are your legs?" she asked.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Perfect," Billy replied. "But how?"</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Pins and needles," she said, "That's why you'll walk like this."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She stumbled forward with her arms held out, imitating a mummy. They both laughed.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "You didn't," he said, "Nary a one. I was watching you."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Another secret." she said, "Just a grandma's touch."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Will you go with me this year?" the boy pleaded.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "You don't need an Old Witch walking you around." She started, "This cane of mine has seen too many miles already. Besides, you and Bessie will be alone this year. It's time. Somebody's got to light The Mile."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Billy walked over to his window. From the second floor of the house he could see the faint outline of the old rickety fence that skirted the property. Letting his eyes follow the driveway to the very end, he could barely see the gate. It was as tall as the cornstalks that lined the road. And, it was exactly one mile from the house to the gate. Along the driveway, Billy could see the jack-o-lanterns that they had placed there three days ago. There were over a hundred of them. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "We've got to hurry!" he said, turning to his grandma, "It's almost time."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Go get your sister, then." she said, "But don't forget these."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The room had darkened considerably, and only the wick of one flickering candle danced in the twilight. The old woman's hands seemed to disappear into the folds of her dress and then they reappeared with a box. Just like magic, he thought. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She handed him the box and then smiled. "Go now then," she whispered. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Billy seemed to vanish from the place he once stood. Candlelight bounced off the walls and he was gone. His footsteps could be heard as he took to the stairs. Yelling over his shoulder he said, "Thank you, Grandma." </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Outside in the courtyard, Bessie danced with excitement. The night was warm but the wind had picked up since the afternoon. There was a storm coming. "Hurry Billy!" she cried out anxiously.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> "I am," he said. Carefully holding the box that Grandma Mabel had given him. Every motion was almost reverent.</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> The moonlight shined down on the silver clasp of the box as he unsnapped it. Inside were two candles and a single wooden matchstick. One match, he thought to himself. What if it takes two? He gave the box to Bessie and he let his mind wander as he summoned up his nerve to strike the single stick. Bessie looked at him with wild anticipation. She held out one of the candles and waited.</span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> An eerie howl swept across the cornfields and they both turned to look at the horizon. Lightening flashed in the far distance. The storm was moving away from them toward Barrow County.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> "Now," he whispered. Bessie leaned in close with one hand cupped around one of the candles as Billy struck the matchhead against a stone that lay on the ground. Fire lit up and briefly danced and then the flame disappeared.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> "No!" they both screamed. And as they stopped to look at each other, the matchhead jumped again and a tiny spark lit the other side of the matchstick. The two held their breath as they leaned in close to light the candle Bessie held in her hands.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> "Now the other," Billy said. Bessie's hand disappeared into the long black cape that she wore and then reappeared holding the other candle. Just like Grandma, he thought.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Lighting the other candle, the two flames jumped in the night as they quickly moved from jack-o-lantern to jack-o-lantern, bringing life to the haunted house behind them. They turned to see Grandma Mabel standing in the doorway, waiting for them to finish. </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> One by one the jack-o-lanterns came to life. Ghouls and goblins shined through the hollowed out pumpkins. Images of Dracula and Frankenstein danced in the night among witches and warlocks. When they had finished, they stood at the gate. The first Treaters had arrived. Billy unlocked the wrought iron gate and he and Bessie slowly pushed them open.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Trick or Treat," the first guest said. And they all ran down The Mile toward the old haunted house, back from where Billy and Bessie had just come.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">By Beaux Kyle</span> <span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">© 2008 </span><br />
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</span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-12585686118487076642011-08-28T20:48:00.000-04:002011-08-28T20:48:29.328-04:00Open note to Lois (or how I got my crush)<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was the first weekend in July. We were a day late. We'd missed the wedding. There was a cacophony of laughter coming from inside the house and soon the voices made their way outside on to the lawn to greet us. <br />
"Where were you?" and "What happened?" echoed among all of us. After explanations there was a brief round of introductions. I had met your family before. Another time. Another place. Another occasion. One less friendly. Not hostile, just mournful.<br />
You said, "Hello" and it resonated with laughter. Your smile made me smile. I remember it well because it gave me goosebumps. Then there was that pitter-patter your heart does when it has a crush. That weekend we became inseparable. We laughed and smiled and shared things people just don't generally speak about. <br />
Later there was the brushing of skin when our hands found each other. And towards the end of that weekend we managed a hug under the pretence that we were saying goodbye to each other.<br />
Days went by. My heart ached like no other. You were in my head all day. You were in my sleep. And then one day there was a call. Later I was at the airport. When I saw you we smiled and there was that "Hello."<br />
I will never let that go.</span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-48911420936864406992011-08-08T00:19:00.000-04:002011-08-08T00:19:32.098-04:00Riddle<div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Aly gave me this riddle.</span> </span></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Question:</span></div><span style="font-size: large;">How do you get out of a room if there is only a mirror and a table?</span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Answer:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">˙ǝןoɥ ǝɥʇ ʇno ןʍɐɹɔ noʎ ˙ǝןoɥʍ ɐ ןɐnbǝ sǝʌןɐɥ oʍʇ ˙ɟןɐɥ uı ǝןqɐʇ ǝɥʇ ʇnɔ puɐ ʍɐs ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʇ noʎ ˙ʍɐs noʎ ʇɐɥʍ ǝǝs noʎ ˙ɹoɹɹıɯ ǝɥʇ uı ʞooן noʎ</span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-36208856858653121342011-07-01T23:47:00.000-04:002011-07-01T23:47:59.653-04:00Giants<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwTjoF8oOQSFjFYyt9vXgVHmyN1mCG94LKBW4WzIPJr1_gTnoXAfPlVZ3_DgdbY-ugovgMIi0kPTTQ7tVzPD19nQ2ROaTXHphPj7N5w4h6-9kfRLoUsjrVqedk8u7lSqzXqhqvsjl7JI/s1600/Wild+and+Crazy+Gals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwTjoF8oOQSFjFYyt9vXgVHmyN1mCG94LKBW4WzIPJr1_gTnoXAfPlVZ3_DgdbY-ugovgMIi0kPTTQ7tVzPD19nQ2ROaTXHphPj7N5w4h6-9kfRLoUsjrVqedk8u7lSqzXqhqvsjl7JI/s400/Wild+and+Crazy+Gals.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> We went to the Redwoods last week for our vacation. I have never been there before, but I was amazed by the size of these trees. The funny thing is, back in the day I used to cut trees down for a living. The girls enjoyed the Redwoods too, but Jenifer seemed to feel that once you've seen a couple thousand, then you have seen them all. I think they enjoyed the ocean more. Aly spent as much time in the water as she could. I'm not sure how she survived the frigid temperatures. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> We left Salt Lake and drove to Sacramento on Saturday morning. The following day we headed off to Santa Cruz and got a motel a few blocks away from the beach boardwalk. Aly and Jeni started out by swimming, and then Aly and I went on some rides while Lois and Jeni hit the stores and walked the boardwalk. When we met up later, the girls were ready to go swimming again. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> The following day we drove up the beach toward Leggett, California, and only made it 55 miles. How we did that I'm not sure, but we vowed to make up for it the following day. We did that by driving 110 miles on Tuesday. Eventually we made it into the Redwoods and we did a lot of stopping. We drove through a couple trees and visited some gift shops. When we left there we drove all day long through Oregon from Grants Pass to Ontario and then to Nampa, Idaho, where we spent a couple of day with friends of mine that I have known for 30 years. It was fun to catch up and be among friends I haven't seen for years. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> On Saturday we went to Boise and visited another friend of mine who has always been like a father figure to me. He is very ill and it was part of the reason that we decided to travel back to Salt Lake through Idaho. It was nice to visit him.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> It felt great to take some time off. I have been wanting to go on vacation for a long time. I was so happy when the girls got out of school for the summer. I am posting some pictures of the redwoods and I will post other picture on my Reflections blog later.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9lh6re5vX4mcjaOQ4OVIJH3Oj0IShpbRdPgzeqzhbXpFFUEed5mgtUbBvaF9Kyp6PXlu9alMhSpww336TU5U_yApSkRZ9gjOuK4M_OwsT6pnTVRxyQNlva-V843g7rgK9HHSsARlnFs/s1600/Early+Morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9lh6re5vX4mcjaOQ4OVIJH3Oj0IShpbRdPgzeqzhbXpFFUEed5mgtUbBvaF9Kyp6PXlu9alMhSpww336TU5U_yApSkRZ9gjOuK4M_OwsT6pnTVRxyQNlva-V843g7rgK9HHSsARlnFs/s400/Early+Morning.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Early Morning</span></i> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IpeVBVa-t-4a6Pi7eXIUd769RZ9NYxXGFBULwYSSKkNDr51TQGUSpxdf3ftQggukPopAm_bYKcrisFMk1KfdYVSRkb3_OxsMzG10jtUbIkmatoOm0OkI8eZNzQOu9GNsWhbxQDhJgwg/s1600/The+Catherdal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IpeVBVa-t-4a6Pi7eXIUd769RZ9NYxXGFBULwYSSKkNDr51TQGUSpxdf3ftQggukPopAm_bYKcrisFMk1KfdYVSRkb3_OxsMzG10jtUbIkmatoOm0OkI8eZNzQOu9GNsWhbxQDhJgwg/s400/The+Catherdal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The Cathedral</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TgUX5ZUC2gfBYPZ1pDq6gun-i081TY-Sjsi8U-nb6SCs2vD-WzQ8k4nQhDlKDRQ81iTka5oPllY3N0CwmvpdCgvnzRyy7I3tGQoSDV_P16eGqxfLRQiOwANVCzV1oZfp367Wuu9Ah1M/s1600/Some+Very+Tall+Trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TgUX5ZUC2gfBYPZ1pDq6gun-i081TY-Sjsi8U-nb6SCs2vD-WzQ8k4nQhDlKDRQ81iTka5oPllY3N0CwmvpdCgvnzRyy7I3tGQoSDV_P16eGqxfLRQiOwANVCzV1oZfp367Wuu9Ah1M/s640/Some+Very+Tall+Trees.jpg" width="427" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i> Giants</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggco-KLlRBW0WildJkpkOxpFivGNlZerNqjFozyqWUn96GB9Dp4P3XKIFR2WZ7NGHdsg3kNGsOzTGgdLDIiYAk9ynr_t2o80x6KcaQzi111x3P5j2q2nQ6y8upfFEOGDzFSRu0jy8TMw0/s1600/One+Big+Round+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggco-KLlRBW0WildJkpkOxpFivGNlZerNqjFozyqWUn96GB9Dp4P3XKIFR2WZ7NGHdsg3kNGsOzTGgdLDIiYAk9ynr_t2o80x6KcaQzi111x3P5j2q2nQ6y8upfFEOGDzFSRu0jy8TMw0/s400/One+Big+Round+Tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i> The Dyerville Giant</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i> </i> </span></span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-8050402782416979972011-05-22T14:38:00.001-04:002011-05-30T13:39:27.372-04:00Looking Back<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">What if everything you were told was a lie?</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All of my life I have been held hostage to the notion that I was all alone. My parents signed emancipation papers for me when I was 16 years old. Even my blood sister I grew up with seemed like a stranger to me and remains so to this day. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What if everything you believed was a lie? My parents never liked to talk about my adoption. When my blood sister and I found out that we were adopted, naturally we had our own questions.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Who am I? Who are our parents?"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These were some of those first questions that came up. They were ones my sister asked. She is 21 months older than me and at the time those questions were not anything I ever thought about. When she asked them my parents froze and they immediately set up a wall. From that time forward any questions that were asked were like much guarded secrets. The subject was taboo.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the time I was too busy growing up and being a kid. I was in the back yard climbing a ladder so that I could jump off the roof into the deep end of the swimming pool. I was busy climbing our 40 foot flag pole to see if I could touch the top. And all I got from that was a blistered butt when my dad got home. He took punishment pretty seriously.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My sisters questions drove her crazy. So crazy that she ran away from home when she 12 and ended up in a group home. We would drive over and see her on the weekends and she would always refer to our parents by their last name. It was all kind of sad really, watching a child disown her family.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Who am I?" I could hear my sister asking this in my head.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What kind of question was that? You are the same person you were before you found out that you were adopted. Nothings changed.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later I had my own questions. All I ever wanted to know was who were my natural parents, what were they like and whether or not they loved me.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mom could never talk to me about my adopted parents, at least not until we met later in life when I was in my 30's. And even then it was a sketchy story. She said that my mom had given my sister and I up for adoption at a very young age. We went into foster care and were passed from home to home for a couple of years because nobody wanted us. She said that all she knew was that we had it very bad according to the case worker. But there was always an indication that maybe my mom knew something she didn't want to share. Her voice would always change when she spoke to me. She would physically shudder as she spoke about it. This from a woman who endured life in Nazi Germany and had horrible memories and scars from there. As much as I wanted to know about my adoption, I could never bring myself to push her too hard. And besides that, she had a firm line she would stand on and if you tried to cross it you would lose. She could be a lot more stubborn than me sometimes.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I am talking to my sister on the phone a month or so ago and she is almost screaming, "That adoption was not supposed to happen. Those names on the court records are made up names. They weren't going to let it happen. Dad had to fight to get it to happen."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And you really have to know my sister to get the whole effect, "Sweety," She says, "Dad told me what happened. He had to get some Senator in Arizona to push the thing through. Barry something or another. The whole thing was a whitewash!"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Wait a minute," I say, "Are you talking about Senator Barry Goldwater?"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Yes!" She screams, "Barry Goldwater."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Now she's talking to her husband in the background.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sister: "Honey. It was Senator Barry Goldwater wasn't it?"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sister's husband: "Yes, I believe it was."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I am hearing a story that I have never heard before and I am suddenly having an out of body experience. I hand the phone to Lois and we pull off in a parking lot because we are driving and I say, "You have got to hear this."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Twenty minutes later.</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "That is insane!" Lois says.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Is it?" I say.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Well what do you think?" She asks.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Dude, I don't know what to think anymore."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>One month later.</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> My wife calls to tell me that we have finally got my original birth certificate.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"You are not going to believe this. This is unbelievable!"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "What?" I ask.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "This birth certificate shows two different names than what are on the court records."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My whole life I always believed my natural mom was a minor and that because she was too young to take care of us so she gave my sister and I up for adoption. I believed this because this is what I had been told.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My birth certificate showed that my moms name was entirely different than what was on my adoption records. It also showed that she was 29 years of age at the time of my birth; instead of a minor. It revealed that I had other siblings. And that my birth fathers first name was also different than the adoption records said.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After we received the adoption records and I did the math while considering my mom was a minor when she had me, I figured she would be in her mid-sixties right now. But this new age of 29 would bring her to around 77-79 depending on birthdays.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know if we will ever find her but I still hold out on hope. Today I miss her. Today I wonder what happened back there. Today - like so many others - I still don't have my answers.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">~September, 2009</span></i></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-90330640258826294902011-01-01T03:06:00.003-05:002011-02-18T00:13:28.559-05:00Sara's Dog<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>I</b>t was the juice that caught the dog’s attention. She had been sniffing the odor all night long. But when she heard it dripping on the duck, she opened up her eyes and looked at Sara. Sara was looking directly at her and she slowly wagged her tail. She wasn't allowed to eat duck unless Sara first had sawed it off the bone. That was a rule. Gypsy had learned the bone rule long ago. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>S</b>ara didn't have to speak to Gypsy at all. Her eye was her command. She spoke to Gypsy with smiles and nods and stares. So it was that Gypsy laid on the floor, tail slowly wagging, waiting for the bell. It delighted Sara that Gypsy played the game. Each night, a while after dinner, Ivan would enter the kitchen with the bell cupped in his hand to prevent the dog from hearing it. Gypsy would look at Sara, who stood back and smiled. Ivan, who'd done the feat each night for weeks, would look at his wife and give the nod. Sara would place the bowl off in the corner where the dog generally ate and stepped away. Ivan would prepare the bell and then shake his hand.<br />
<b>R</b>ing-ring the sound came, and Gypsy would look up at Sara with one eye while the other focused on Ivan. Once, early on, Sara tested her theory and gave no nod and Gypsy sat on the floor staring at Ivan and the bowl. The whole time Ivan rang his stupid bell. Eventually he spoke rather loudly and said, "Gypsy!" To this the dog slightly stirred and then Sara smiled and ever so gently moved her head. Gypsy trotted to her bowl and began to eat. Ivan gave a “harrumph” and showed a bit of satisfaction and left the room. The bell now nestled in his hand.<br />
<b>S</b>ara decided that that was probably enough and never did it again. She would spare both Ivan and Gypsy any grief. Of course the bell trick at home was always between Sara and the dog, but Gypsy would also respond to Ivan’s bell whenever Sara wasn't around. It had become animal instinct thanks to Sara. And Pavlov never knew.</span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-2618041789853899672010-12-31T23:45:00.002-05:002011-01-02T20:23:10.677-05:00MMXL <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: 130%;"><big><span style="font-size: 180%;">"<span style="font-size: 130%;"> <span style="color: red;">Wishing Everyone A</span> </span></span></big></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: 130%;"><big><span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"> <span style="color: blue;">Happy</span> </span></span></big></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: 130%;"><big><span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: yellow;">New Year!</span></span>"</span></big></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-60826801200749488812010-12-12T17:49:00.000-05:002010-12-12T17:49:49.196-05:00The Emperor's New Clothes<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs98xpIzh5Qtv9y5cx-u5IrS65ewyGRk_qdCVxiJs2S2lEIRB5A0EgHRggtEpOMcjTX_0AarjRsV_PT8ietKLncujKja_N2ieQesGZ73QqOFgVF8bkG18VuG3S9f1q6gaWG2RwT3i8jXE/s1600/the+emperor%2527s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs98xpIzh5Qtv9y5cx-u5IrS65ewyGRk_qdCVxiJs2S2lEIRB5A0EgHRggtEpOMcjTX_0AarjRsV_PT8ietKLncujKja_N2ieQesGZ73QqOFgVF8bkG18VuG3S9f1q6gaWG2RwT3i8jXE/s400/the+emperor%2527s.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-82274065287589322762010-12-02T22:33:00.005-05:002010-12-03T00:35:10.486-05:00Can't Touch This<div style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Did you catch Jimmy Fallon and Bruce last night? This was pretty funny stuff.</span></div><br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="382" scrolling="no" src="http://www.fancast.com/tv/Late-Night-With-Jimmy-Fallon/102993/1647951477/Neil-Young-and-Bruce-Springsteen%3A-Whip-My-Hair/embed?skipTo=0" width="420"></iframe>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-89784868422788827242010-12-01T18:42:00.001-05:002010-12-01T20:11:23.374-05:0012/1/2010<div style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Normally this post would be something you'd read on my other blog, but because time and this illness have steadily moved forward, I thought I should post something here.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have slowly moved up the list, despite that my numbers have dropped a little over the past couple of months. In two weeks I will know if any of that will change. What won't change is the illness. I feel different these days. The soreness in my muscles constantly ache. The physical aspect of it all seems rather moot really; it has been going on for so long. What bothers me is that it is difficult to write. It is hard to keep a blog when the words don't come. I can go through the motions and blather all day long, but I don't seem to be able to finish anything. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Part of my illness is that with it comes confusion. They say that it all gets better...eventually. I would love to continue writing, but for the moment I don't think that is possible, not with any regularity. Hopefully after transplant all that will change.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have been quite fortunate over the past couple of years. I have a loving family who have kept me strong through all of this. On my good days they have shared their love and laughter, and on my bad days they have done a good job at ignoring my sour attitude and trudged along.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have also met a lot of people who for the most part are strangers, but have shared with me their compassion and kindness. I thank you all. There is nothing better for a bruised heart and soul than a warm greeting and hello. Somehow words always lift a smile.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For now it seems unlikely that I will be doing any posting over here. I will try to keep up with the other blog and my photo blog, but even those seem to take some work.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In the meanwhile I seem to have messed up my template over here and I can't figure out how to do any editing. Blogger refuses to let me change, add or show me anything. It's a conundrum. I may have to take some drastic measures. Advice is welcome.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Wishing you all a wonderful new year.</span></span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-25756525750537903702010-10-31T23:56:00.003-04:002010-11-01T03:59:16.990-04:00Pretty Penny: Part 3<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pretty Penny (Part 3)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thomas Mason, Billy Larue, Bob Sanders and Molly Carver stood in a drain pipe beneath the city of Astoria, Oregon, right off the mouth of the Columbia River. They carried flashlights and weapons. After the street lights went out they had all gone to Bob's house to gather flashlights and to arm themselves. They were going after Pretty Penny.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The kids had pulled the metal grate back where Penny had been digging and slipped down into the tunnels. The sounds of dripping water echoed through the pipes. Somewhere in the distance they heard Penny barking and the strange noise that they had been hearing all night. Thomas took the lead as they walked into the tunnel. At first they weren't sure where they were going, but when they saw a street name painted on one wall they realized that the layout was similar to the streets above where they all lived.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"What is that awful smell?" Billy asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"It smells fishy." Molly said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Dude, it really reeks." said Bob.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I think I know what it is!" Billy exclaimed. "Maybe it's a sea monster."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"There's no such thing as sea monsters." Thomas said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Just think about it! How far is the river?" Billy asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"We live in a city that's only a mile across one way and less than two miles the other. I'd say it's not very far." Molly said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"What if this is something new, like a new species?" Billy offered.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Dude, there's no sea monsters." Molly said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They walked for a little while longer until they heard Pretty Penny yelping again. She was much closer to them now and the smell was getting worse.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"What if it is a sea monster?" Bob asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They all looked at each other and shrugged.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I just want Pretty Penny." Molly cried. "I want her to be safe."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"When we see her we're going to grab her and we're going to run," Thomas said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Does anyone know how to get back?" Billy asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I do," Molly said. "We follow it back to Kensington Street and stay left."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They moved into anothet tunnel and the sound bellowed out.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"What is that?" Billy whispered.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I know!" Molly said, "I know what that is."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The sea monster loomed over Penny. It's fins flapped along its side. The group tried to comprehend what they were looking at, but what they saw made no sense to them at all. Down here, below the city, this creature seemed impossible and out of place. The three boys looked at one another while Pretty Penny bounced and jumped and barked and yelped. She was playing with the creature and it was playing with her.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Is that..." Thomas started.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"It's a sea lion." Molly finished, "It's been missing for two days now. They had that show at the museum and that night it disappeared."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"You mean it's been stuck down here?" Billy said, "It must have found a way in through the water ways somehow."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"We have got to go get help. We need some sort of rescue crew," Thomas said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Yeah," Billy replied, "I'm thinking that will cost a pretty penny."</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">###</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">By Beaux Kyle</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">© 2011</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-73143140115113272622010-10-31T16:53:00.004-04:002010-11-01T01:31:11.230-04:00Pretty Penny Part II<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pretty Penny (Part 2)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bob Sanders stood frozen in his front yard. Thomas and Billy waved at him as they approached.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Hey, guys," Bob said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Did you just hear something weird?" The two boys asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I'm not real sure what I heard, but I think it's underground."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Dude," Billy looked at Thomas, "There's no way I'm going down into the sewers."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"How do you know it's underground?" Thomas asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bob looked at him and he appeared to be a little frightened. "I know because I stood right here in this yard and I heard the noise when it started way up there and ended when it </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">got way down there." The boy pointed at one end of his yard and then to the other.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"It's Pretty Penny!" Billy said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"We don't know that." Thomas replied.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"It wasn't Pretty Penny," Bob Sanders slowly shook his head.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Why do you say that?" The boys both asked.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Because whatever it was, Pretty Penny was chasing it."</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Pretty Penny was sitting on her haunches in front of a storm drain. She had her head was cocked sideways and she was whimpering.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The boys had only gone another block when they saw her. She turned and looked at them and bared her teeth.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thomas got off of his bike. He squatted and took one knee and called her, "Here girl. Come here Penny." Pretty Penny whimpered and ran to Thomas. She jumped up into his lap </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and he picked her up.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"What is it, Penny?" Bob asked. She wagged her rear and looked at the boys. Thomas thought he saw her smiling.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I can hear it!" Thomas said. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The three of them moved closer to the storm drain and listened. They could hear running water and the sound of heavy breathing.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They all stepped back.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"I am definitely not going down there now!" Billy said.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">From the time when Thomas stood on his porch; to when Molly Carver came up behind Billy and him, and to when the three boys gathered in front of the storm drain listening </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">to the heavy breathing, only 15 minutes had passed. Since then ten more minutes had passed and three things had happened. The first thing was that they had all managed to </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">scare themselves. Secondly, Pretty Penny was going crazy and was trying hard to access the storm drain and the third thing, which was perhaps the most important of them all, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">was that the Trick or Treaters were all coming out.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The sound of laughter and high pitched screaming began to fill the night.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"We have got to warn them." Billy said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Really, what are you going to tell them?" Bob asked, "Hey, we got a heavy breather out here."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Just then, they all heard a loud whimper and turned toward the storm drain.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Guys," Thomas said, "Where's Pretty Penny?"</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">They all started looking around and were frantically calling for the pug. And then something awful happened. Molly Carver was standing in the midst of them. She looked at them </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and her face was full of panic. "Pretty Penny?"</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"We had her," Billy said, looking at the drain. "But I think she went down there."</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The hole that Penny had been working on was bigger, just enough for the small pug to slip through. Molly Carver was about to scream, but she heard a strange and familiar noise </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">coming from the drain pipe that made her jump and suddenly Pretty Penny was barking. The noise coming from out of the drain sounded like terror. And as if it were all on cue, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">lightning struck and the street lamps all flickered and went out. The only light there was came from the jack-o-lanterns on the street.</span></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-30293695992284646072010-10-30T16:27:00.009-04:002010-11-01T03:58:50.758-04:00Pretty Penny Pt. 1: A Halloween Tale<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">This is my favorite season. The turning of the leaves. Halloween. Scary movies. The color of the world. For about a month it stays this way and then it turns to winter.</span><br />
<br />
Pretty Penny (Part 1)<br />
<br />
A light rain fell as the clouds began to part. Thomas loved the smell of dirt and rain. He could just see the glimmering moon as it came over the horizon. From his front porch he could hear two sounds clearly. The first did little to bother him. It was the sound of an owl hooting. The second sound ... well, the second sound sent a cold shiver down his spine.<br />
"There it is again," he told his friend, Billy Larue.<br />
"I heard it!" Billy whispered.<br />
They quickly jumped off the porch and wheeled their bikes out onto the wet asphalt of Madison Street. There they waited.<br />
While darkness slowly engulfed the last bit of day, Thomas could hear the reverberating sound of thunder as the storm moved east, streaks of lightning following it. The shrill, ominous sound pierced the silence once again and the boys jumped.<br />
Billy buried his head in his hoody and pointed down the road toward Lexington Street. In unison the boys pedaled to the corner and stopped. For a full minute neither of them spoke. Thomas was about to open his mouth when they heard the sound again.<br />
"Geez," Billy said, "What is that?"<br />
Even before Thomas could answer they were pedaling again. They headed west toward 10th Street. This time neither of them stopped when they neared the next block. They crossed 9th and kept going. "One more?" they both said at the same time. Nearing 8th, they slowed down. A street light buzzed and flickered on. A glow of halogen slowly lit the street and they suddenly felt exposed. Thomas and Billy coasted under a canopy of maple trees and waited.<br />
"It sounded like a lady." Billy whispered.<br />
"It sounded like a tortured lady," Thomas added.<br />
"It sounded like a tortured lady being tortured." Billy said.<br />
Thomas looked at Billy and leaned in closer, as if he had something very important he wanted to say.<br />
"What?" Billy asked.<br />
"Do you know how stupid that sounded?" They both belted out laughing. Their laughter bounced off the night and seemed to echo down the street going nowhere. <br />
"What's going on?" A voice from behind them made them jump. Billy Larue turned and looked toward the voice.<br />
Molly Carver stood behind them staring at the night. Her long black hair lifted off her shoulders just as a gust of wind came swirling down the street.<br />
"Wow! You look awesome," Billy said, to the eighth grader.<br />
Molly glanced at the boy and then at herself. She frowned. "I'm not even dressed up, you punk."<br />
"Oh," he said, realizing the mistake he made seeing her in her goth like - I'm not Goth - look. "How incredibly stupid of me." He wanted to say. Instead, he muttered, "What are you doing?"<br />
"I've lost Pretty Penny."<br />
"Excuse me?" The two boys said.<br />
"My dog, Pretty Penny. I've lost her."<br />
Just then the night filled with a screech and the three of them looked at one another..<br />
"What is that?" Molly raised her voice.<br />
"I thought it was a woman," Thomas said, "Now I'm not so sure. It almost sounds like an animal."<br />
"Oh please tell me that's not, Pretty Penny." Molly whispered.<br />
"I don't know what it is, but we're trying to find it." Thomas said, "What does your dog look like?"<br />
"Pretty's like this," Molly moved her hands around to form her shape the best that she knew how, "And, so tall. She wears a purple scarf."<br />
"I know that dog," Billy smiled, "It's a pug."<br />
"Pretty Penny," Molly nodded.<br />
"We'll find her." The two boys, said. Together, they rode their bikes to Kensington Ave.<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span><br />
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</span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-72432659003714874052010-10-22T02:06:00.002-04:002010-10-23T20:28:24.741-04:00Be Still My Beating Heart (or her heart)<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We just spent 4 hours in the emergency room at Primary Children's Hospital with our youngest. Lois called around 5:30 tonight and said that Aly was having deep chest pains and that she wasn't feeling well. She says she took her pulse and it was racing. All of this was very scary.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When Lois was a teenager she had to have open heart surgery and when Jeni was 11 months old she had to have heart surgery as well. They both were completely opposite things. One of them had a valve that should have closed, while the other had one that didn't open. We later found out from a heart surgeon that Jeni's condition was most likely related. Our first thought raised suspicions that maybe Aly had some sort of inherent condition. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We spent the first hour waiting to get admitted and then they did an EKG. The results from that turned out great and even though she was still in some pain that kept waxing and waning, her pulse and vitals were perfect. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lois and Aly and I had already run through a bunch of questions trying to pinpoint some other problem even before we arrived at the hospital. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The pain it seemed, had started earlier in the week. I asked Aly if she had injured herself and Lois realized that they had almost been in a car wreck on Monday. A woman had cut in front of her and Aly while they were driving and Lois had to slam on the brakes. They both had mentioned it on Monday but I had forgotten about it. It turned out that even though there wasn't a wreck, Aly could have suffered some injury from the seat belt as they both flew forward. The pain had slowly been growing over the week and today she got sick and threw up. The doctor did an x-ray and they didn't see anything unusual. So the end result was that she had two things going on. One was a viral infection and the other was some chest trauma. Something like that. They ended up giving her some Ibuprofen and that seemed to work. We were told to keep an eye on her and see her doctor on Monday, but if there was any more of the rapid heart beating over the weekend, then we needed to bring her back.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sigh...now I can't sleep and it's after midnight.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xIrypVpkCEnhFVZRWA6BOnmBhbHA0_02QdimYOjLS9_cX6puwz3Ja3PiGwBzpmiYRCDvtIo5NOy12D5SerGHWoYrIN0sa2fmzeVeZU7M6pTyTnModAo86SJiwcnusRmn7Df1GQjJMnQ/s1600/1021102102a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xIrypVpkCEnhFVZRWA6BOnmBhbHA0_02QdimYOjLS9_cX6puwz3Ja3PiGwBzpmiYRCDvtIo5NOy12D5SerGHWoYrIN0sa2fmzeVeZU7M6pTyTnModAo86SJiwcnusRmn7Df1GQjJMnQ/s400/1021102102a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-17440375003970643152010-10-04T13:49:00.004-04:002010-10-05T12:19:23.314-04:00It's Nice to Have a Day Off.<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I ripped up the living room carpet last week and we started installing a hardwood Brazilian cherry floor yesterday. It required getting up and down all day long and I am sore and tired. I'm sure Lois feels just as bad as I do.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everything is now packed into our kitchen and it looks like a giant mess. The animals of course are freaked out. We are hoping to minimize the dander problem we have and make things easier with the cleaning. But then, we have the kids so I'm not so sure how that's going to work out. You would think there was a win-win in there somewhere, but I just feel sticky stuff on the bottoms of my feet.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This stuff is pretty easy to work with provided you have the proper tools. Unfortunately my table saw is little small and using the guides is kind of hard because the wood is too wide and it is even harder doing the angles. Did I tell you there were 127 angles? The bay window, the stairway and the entry way to the kitchen all have different angles. Not easy ones like 45 degrees, but more like 41 and 67 degrees. What's up with that home builder? There is also a pantry closet and I predict a couple days inside of there. There are only 4 boxes left and the plan is to finish today. If I have time I'll post a picture.</span></div><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">...Laughs</span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">(3 hours later...) </span></span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztaKn99FJsdd-UfjU_nTFvi1WB2y5FxQv0tmlQSRuTrBapFsmkLXqQAU_-sqzLfXM_pUK9fGUjVCmkHRjOt2pp50PNjb0Cykq8AyC-yzkf247DlihuGn6kdKSn2bM3FJZ0t9bblA0pSc/s1600/livingroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztaKn99FJsdd-UfjU_nTFvi1WB2y5FxQv0tmlQSRuTrBapFsmkLXqQAU_-sqzLfXM_pUK9fGUjVCmkHRjOt2pp50PNjb0Cykq8AyC-yzkf247DlihuGn6kdKSn2bM3FJZ0t9bblA0pSc/s320/livingroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We're going to need some paint here. And some half inch molding. And a little stain. And a new back.</span></span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-13850345620759737132010-09-20T00:39:00.002-04:002010-09-20T01:11:56.916-04:00"You need to get out of the water and carry your raft!"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> On Saturday, Lois and the girls and I went river rafting. We floated the Provo River from below Deer Creek Reservoir down to an area above Bridal Veil Falls. We were worried about the weather being too cold, but as it turned out it was very warm and sunny. Perfect weather for river rafting. We stopped at Bridal Veil Falls and took several pictures.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_DsxhyCBK009wYDTU1tDMDKcwIxrQTDVYA61kiSDKL7bTOUVEAJzdd9UEI9u7QIBtjlNbqLOYyqKKr9TDVmxMUyAyMqfgdHswlyMmsjNJt949I9gCk9U9TMJcgwpeqgQfppvS4RqDcc/s1600/rafting+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_DsxhyCBK009wYDTU1tDMDKcwIxrQTDVYA61kiSDKL7bTOUVEAJzdd9UEI9u7QIBtjlNbqLOYyqKKr9TDVmxMUyAyMqfgdHswlyMmsjNJt949I9gCk9U9TMJcgwpeqgQfppvS4RqDcc/s400/rafting+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mountain crop just below Timpanogos Cave</span></span>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbesSwxMLentdfCGg-mIhOg6GMb_ekC5Py6M7NEBM5t02hr0ihhbYb9bhZ_Ly6eYx0NwYlxDCoRpHsruW169R8jtSecs5S1vYl9MErMKIj-VGSbd3cseK4H8VShA750DR7TVHluX74RY/s1600/rafting+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbesSwxMLentdfCGg-mIhOg6GMb_ekC5Py6M7NEBM5t02hr0ihhbYb9bhZ_Ly6eYx0NwYlxDCoRpHsruW169R8jtSecs5S1vYl9MErMKIj-VGSbd3cseK4H8VShA750DR7TVHluX74RY/s400/rafting+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Burned out observation deck above Bridal Veil Falls</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> As I was taking pictures, I kept noticing a structure at the top of the Falls. I pointed it out to Lois and the girls thinking it was an observation deck and told them that there was probably a trail that led up there. Later after I did some reading on the area, I learned that there was an aerial tram that led up to the deck and that there used to be a restaurant. It was built in 1967 and the only way up there was by tram or helicopter. The tram was destroyed by an avalanche in 1996 and then was rebuilt. There was a second avalanche in 2008 that left the place in ruins and a fire later burned the ruins. A month later the tram lines were cut down and removed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeW9_f1j0dPRqmm1LZFyJdWxkkW_AePPcZ3Ko9FJgnShyphenhyphenrWSqMnNNINNpN0XJUAnuYYHofwVOxelADnUwS-3nEACs7gK9OAn88BtzwXrD_VT8AGBCEJDdEJUp_VYVBEhnpf9RRQ6mLEI/s1600/rafting+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeW9_f1j0dPRqmm1LZFyJdWxkkW_AePPcZ3Ko9FJgnShyphenhyphenrWSqMnNNINNpN0XJUAnuYYHofwVOxelADnUwS-3nEACs7gK9OAn88BtzwXrD_VT8AGBCEJDdEJUp_VYVBEhnpf9RRQ6mLEI/s400/rafting+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Jeni discovers there is another way of exiting a vehicle.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM512_1AVV6VdCKWr_2EyuMdEc-q_OEYy1GxVF2HaBAKTgQZWJRpnN55GXzIA6ePQWV4mH1QYsMJs_BnQ3xoA0_8QdZCB9jFT_zAWKRspK3k_ZvIFhuJ0jQkToJ8D3y9VR5P79N8gs-mk/s1600/rafting+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM512_1AVV6VdCKWr_2EyuMdEc-q_OEYy1GxVF2HaBAKTgQZWJRpnN55GXzIA6ePQWV4mH1QYsMJs_BnQ3xoA0_8QdZCB9jFT_zAWKRspK3k_ZvIFhuJ0jQkToJ8D3y9VR5P79N8gs-mk/s400/rafting+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> This is our third rafting trip. Our first was up at Flaming Gorge when we did the Green River and a couple of months ago we did Henry's Fork of the Snake River up by Island Park, Idaho outside of Yellowstone. We are starting to get pretty good at it. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> This company actually told us that we had to get out of our raft, lift it over a fence and carry it past two bridges. "It's only 50 yards people!"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> "You want us to do what?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnscB3cnytzBs8e5cx4AvtpPfcxxCvMJIFMxe_8xzk4ZiPgxG87J3jSatlnDzx2Ygrcj_BT7cAdcuBECp-rKBwbUrj3vPcE16yBGQWIkslVPm9V90xnQdfoncoE-OvUIhyTJ8XsWF8ku0/s1600/rafting+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnscB3cnytzBs8e5cx4AvtpPfcxxCvMJIFMxe_8xzk4ZiPgxG87J3jSatlnDzx2Ygrcj_BT7cAdcuBECp-rKBwbUrj3vPcE16yBGQWIkslVPm9V90xnQdfoncoE-OvUIhyTJ8XsWF8ku0/s400/rafting+6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBbYhyphenhyphenP0sea5TuiPcaFpAdk4M7PuhK0gf-HjaKA2Og4fw4qPiNoVDV0KCzNoQO0cUMKM2AOGL_lSHUTi1pUl-H_KEaoAveOUE4EOdEG1IMjwD20vdS1pM8ljMbMEr5gIOLewHPiSBqnw/s1600/rafting+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBbYhyphenhyphenP0sea5TuiPcaFpAdk4M7PuhK0gf-HjaKA2Og4fw4qPiNoVDV0KCzNoQO0cUMKM2AOGL_lSHUTi1pUl-H_KEaoAveOUE4EOdEG1IMjwD20vdS1pM8ljMbMEr5gIOLewHPiSBqnw/s400/rafting+7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is a part of the old Heber Creeper Railroad line that is no longer in service.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Xuo5i8sIRnajRuHdBQn0i_vpwSTZyHoHVKdfK80iiJUOfojbGAuOJFe18VRlYTCt_nAvIgvkPbTJJVxa96FsskNrrHMwkwSKhQ8HkQKdmzReJ55gzPyqn_blfEUsNhBzw8M22kr9NhE/s1600/rafting+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Xuo5i8sIRnajRuHdBQn0i_vpwSTZyHoHVKdfK80iiJUOfojbGAuOJFe18VRlYTCt_nAvIgvkPbTJJVxa96FsskNrrHMwkwSKhQ8HkQKdmzReJ55gzPyqn_blfEUsNhBzw8M22kr9NhE/s400/rafting+8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Fall colors were so beautiful that Lois and I got up around 6:30 this morning and drove up to Park City and Heber to take some pictures and then came back around through Provo Canyon. I am going to be posting them over on my </span><a href="http://reflectivelens.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Reflections</span></a> blog tomorrow.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> We also went out to the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge and took some other pictures that I will probably post later on. Great day for a road trip. </span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-67824701186953770492010-08-27T02:00:00.000-04:002010-08-27T02:00:50.482-04:00One salad, please. Hold the grease<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Remember that time when I said my daughter was a vegetarian? And I said that I'd play her silly game? Well it turns out that it wasn't so much about her being a vegetarian at all. It was more about her hating fast food. </span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She really dug her feet into the ground on that one. In the past four months, she has not ordered one single thing off a fast food menu. Nary even a fountain drink. Not that that surprises me. This from the girl who boycotted Miley Cyrus for being...well, Miley Cyrus. It's kind of funny, whenever the oldest gets something in her head, she doesn't back down. She's not stubborn, she just has very strong convictions. I find this quite admirable and even a bit scary. I already have an image of a much older daughter chained to a barricade or carrying around a picket sign in front of some major corporation.<br />
So, out of respect for Jeni's new found way of life, we have basically stopped going to drive-throughs. I have personally lost my taste and desire for the double cheeseburger. But that only depends on where I go. Today I had my first cheeseburger in weeks and it was to die for. I am a big fan of Crown Burger. Yes, that's right. That's C-R-O-W-N B-U-R-G-E-R in case you missed it. <br />
But back to the fast food stuff. My intake of grease and cheese and quasi-cooked meat has been the bare minimum. All right, I had a Wendy's single a week ago, but I didn't like it. I am willing to guess that since Jeni's crusade started, I have only had about 4 burgers and none of them tasted good. Until today. Today was like a dream. But after I got back to work all I could smell was the after smell of raw onions and meat and whatever secret sauce was on it and I had to wash my hands a hundred times and brush my teeth. But that did nothing for me once I had to burp. Then the whole brushing of the teeth thing was over. And even popping in the three Eclipse breath mints only hid it for a moment. I finally had to admit to myself that even the To-Die-For burger wasn't worth it. It just sat there in my stomach and it frightened me. <br />
Thank you, Jeni, for helping me see the light. I am totally with you on this fast food thing. I have lost my taste for said fast food and I think I am going to join you. I won't, however, be chaining myself to a tree or be out there boycotting whatever it is you'll be boycotting. Not any time soon. At least I don't think so. </span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-25465529373493015392010-08-25T02:39:00.003-04:002010-08-25T09:42:38.102-04:00Full Moon Rising<span style="font-size: large;">Tonight we went to Park City and saw three great legendary musicians of soul and blues.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Under a full moon B.B. King inspired the women in the audience to reach out and kiss the man they were with. The King had no idea the moon was rising when he said it. It just magically worked out that way.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Buddy Guy opened the show and played some wild music and the audience was truly captivated by seeing the performer let it all out. I have no doubt in my mind that the 74-year-old Buddy Guy would have played all night if he could have. After playing a half dozen songs or more, Buddy ran up on to the hill where everyone was sitting and played to the crowd. He played a couple more songs and then turned the stage over to Al Green. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mr. Green played some old yet familiar songs and just about every woman who had already had more than two glasses of wine was up on her feet swaying to the music. I was thinking to myself then what Lois mentioned to me later. "You never ever really forget a concert." This was indeed the memory of a lifetime. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was just a teenager when most of these songs were written and in some cases just a baby boy. Our girls were with us and it is likely they will never understand what they saw tonight, perhaps three of Rock-n-Roll's most influential figures playing together for the last time.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At night's end B.B. King had most of the audience on their feet. We sang with the musician and listened to him reminisce. With the full moon rising and that kiss, how could it not be a perfect evening?</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-55049176987352438022010-07-24T01:25:00.001-04:002010-07-24T01:30:35.275-04:00Yellowstone (as promised)<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So...I had hoped to show some pictures of some bears, moose and bald eagles, but unfortunately that isn't going to happen.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The day before we left on our little trip I told Lois that I needed to get another SD card to take with us. She said, "Well, why don't we empty two cards on the home computer and delete the cards and take them with us?"</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"That works for me." I said.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And 48 hours later I filled one card that had less megabytes then I realized and we had brought along a card that was already defective and wouldn't read when it was placed in the camera. So we decided to empty the working card onto Lois' computer (a Mac) and just use it. When we got home we found that it had transferred more than one file repeatedly to her computer and there was a large file and a small file. In some case only small files and the transfer had repeated itself as many as 4 times. I have no idea why this happened (maybe because it was a Mac), but it was too late to fix because the original card was already deleted. Sigh.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyhow, I have one picture of a blue bird and an assortment of pictures Aly took.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(be sure to click on the photos to enlarge them)</span></span></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjPQfUr6jnbdNn6wdprJF3wOj7WUnfvkw__rNxVuYX13WEYo-MiH9RJTaTU23LA0cH-c54VHFFmDwEafBKQKX6yC4nar1Ziiq6luy1pjq5cKNHTK8YYj7DEUoHSTImTF_YFwf_IYxHI0/s1600/blue+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjPQfUr6jnbdNn6wdprJF3wOj7WUnfvkw__rNxVuYX13WEYo-MiH9RJTaTU23LA0cH-c54VHFFmDwEafBKQKX6yC4nar1Ziiq6luy1pjq5cKNHTK8YYj7DEUoHSTImTF_YFwf_IYxHI0/s400/blue+bird.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpTDgjC1s3Hm_oughuonz7eJKBzpyGpUDK-Uqa6GZbd2QvYsOzJOvZQWFLXOm2bbfj3EYOT1EZ7o5eTleJJKWCLWavSZdvM0-QZIWBuKQ36pOhTgDfT9jWUSajaOcEUnJVt5vJiOXGZ0/s1600/fuzzy+wuzzy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpTDgjC1s3Hm_oughuonz7eJKBzpyGpUDK-Uqa6GZbd2QvYsOzJOvZQWFLXOm2bbfj3EYOT1EZ7o5eTleJJKWCLWavSZdvM0-QZIWBuKQ36pOhTgDfT9jWUSajaOcEUnJVt5vJiOXGZ0/s400/fuzzy+wuzzy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On our second day into the park we saw the same usual suspects, there were bison and elk and a number of eagles. Later in the day we finally saw our first bear. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The first grizzly we saw was a long ways off -- too far for any good pictures. The next bear was a black bear and I couldn't get a good picture of it through all the high grass. Aly, however, had better luck. Later we saw another grizzly and her two cubs.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgm_1oXxfWDiLHt2st7O9burHFj6Id8BNJyqDsviKhdqS7mVtXhNFaHQfQw2VlevT4YMCm_5lLAEf1tNerZNpeW9QS-qtuJoyEW5FKH_Dfx4RAewHTCFsktZFQBlzNcB-nGs1VqInvjw/s1600/black+bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgm_1oXxfWDiLHt2st7O9burHFj6Id8BNJyqDsviKhdqS7mVtXhNFaHQfQw2VlevT4YMCm_5lLAEf1tNerZNpeW9QS-qtuJoyEW5FKH_Dfx4RAewHTCFsktZFQBlzNcB-nGs1VqInvjw/s400/black+bear.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We saw at least 6 or 7 bald eagles and a couple of osprey. That is the most I've ever seen in the park. I also think I am getting a little bit better at spotting them.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy92k_0A8rRxkR8VllXP2gcN_lkj-WB7UihZfHMHqHrTDL7cOPGPALorAIiwG7sH_5fPkcj-C3iLRvfEWvMOrWvDCLZCSYpNJ3g8mGiWIiGvVlfqwkO3X2xTlGMFo393vZIIwTUg347l8/s1600/bald+eagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy92k_0A8rRxkR8VllXP2gcN_lkj-WB7UihZfHMHqHrTDL7cOPGPALorAIiwG7sH_5fPkcj-C3iLRvfEWvMOrWvDCLZCSYpNJ3g8mGiWIiGvVlfqwkO3X2xTlGMFo393vZIIwTUg347l8/s400/bald+eagle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This year we went to a place near Fishing Bridge that we've never been before. We've been on Fishing Bridge before and just a little past it, but there was another 19 miles of road that we hadn't seen before heading to the east entrance. We didn't go the whole distance because it was late, but we drove to a place above Yellowstone Lake just before sunset and watched two-foot swells skim across the surface. It was like looking at the white caps on the ocean. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dxGMszx9H9JOBDlAFdd3LtlLdN68CoET_273z6KSuhGriXnjfUhnw3oD9-TiZhDdnDyfDeceteDYqjI0fuu8WmU_ls862ZYvnnpYEbeT53C2yO97aRpY0JmOj4y6mJ_yFiT5ojq67AM/s1600/Yellowstone+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dxGMszx9H9JOBDlAFdd3LtlLdN68CoET_273z6KSuhGriXnjfUhnw3oD9-TiZhDdnDyfDeceteDYqjI0fuu8WmU_ls862ZYvnnpYEbeT53C2yO97aRpY0JmOj4y6mJ_yFiT5ojq67AM/s400/Yellowstone+Lake.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After that we hurried off towards West Thumb and went to Grant Village and ate at a restaurant overlooking the lake from the other side. We got there just as it turned completely black outside and were relieved to get some food before everything closed up for the evening. </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The following day -- Aly's birthday -- Lois' brother Ken took us down Henry's Fork of the Snake River in canoes. It turned out to be another windy day and even though we were headed downstream, for a while there we kept moving back upstream. After hours on the river the girls and their cousin eventually got tired of being in the canoes that they all got out and started wading downstream. In all we spent about five hours on the river that day. I was happy to be able to go this year.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaot2QwiV6lv01rJIfH17L-iplj6sCMzH4yPukFPCrwF-e9HyWrvdE2RyATOqusbk3h_zN2pc9h1PXU8pqrvSNdqrspE77wcmUj7mcyPJplPo0BWxTYMf3ij49fTs-hF3kArLNJ59p6jQ/s1600/canoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaot2QwiV6lv01rJIfH17L-iplj6sCMzH4yPukFPCrwF-e9HyWrvdE2RyATOqusbk3h_zN2pc9h1PXU8pqrvSNdqrspE77wcmUj7mcyPJplPo0BWxTYMf3ij49fTs-hF3kArLNJ59p6jQ/s400/canoe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MOQgw5nuq4qpW6ZEjmjR-W__b46GI196my9t_j-GKp65HfhEhmZoCEIS5GBUEmWlvcuw7wBBdvWjYQu-pPJCUNSkYlwYmd5vQzz_gvSEcpelEGIpAT2YQAQZR0fzkarOXUpeCejnwrc/s1600/canoe+rider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MOQgw5nuq4qpW6ZEjmjR-W__b46GI196my9t_j-GKp65HfhEhmZoCEIS5GBUEmWlvcuw7wBBdvWjYQu-pPJCUNSkYlwYmd5vQzz_gvSEcpelEGIpAT2YQAQZR0fzkarOXUpeCejnwrc/s400/canoe+rider.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We stayed at my brother-in-laws cabin and we had a great time. At night you could turn out the lights and see the Milky Way and just about every star there was up in outer space. I had forgotten how much I missed the mountains. Next time I'm going to have to try taking a picture of the stars.</span></span>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-21689684891055289552010-07-16T01:39:00.001-04:002010-07-17T00:31:59.632-04:00"Wait! What?"<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Overheard from the backseat of our Toyota as we headed to Yellowstone.<br />
<br />
(Girls talking)<br />
Aly: "Do remember the time when mom gave us that chap stick and we both ate it?"<br />
<br />
Jeni: "Yes! Dude, that was so gross."<br />
<br />
Aly: "Why'd we finish it?"<br />
<br />
Jeni: "I don't know?"<br />
<br />
(Me)<br />
"Wait! What?" I asked. <br />
<br />
"Mom gave us some chap stick that was Tootsie Roll flavored and we thought it was candy so we ate it."<br />
<br />
"So you just kept eating it?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"Yes. We didn't know any better."<br />
<br />
"And the taste didn't give you a clue?"<br />
<br />
"Um..not really. (long pause) Why did we finish it?"<br />
<br />
<br />
Our road trips usually divulge certain things about ourselves. This conversation shows that the girls don't always use their heads. But in their defense, I don't really know how old they were when this took place. However, this one sentence -- "I'm leaving now." -- bounced around the cab of the Forerunner for a brief moment before we all chimed in and said, "Wait! What? Where do you think you're going? We're in a moving vehicle." <br />
We had more conversations that went a lot like this but I'm not at liberty to talk about. They may be considered a little incriminating for some of us. We did however make it to Yellowstone and back and nobody was wounded or left for bait. We saw plenty of animals and I will post a few pictures when I have a chance to retrieve them off my wife's computer.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the meanwhile I wanted to say a few words to let everyone know I'm still here. I've had a couple of inquiries and I thought I should at least respond. So...I'm still here.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I also wanted to say thanks to a couple of new followers. It's funny how you can not write and still gain followers. I'm not sure how that works but it makes me happy when it does happen. So thank you and to you over there in Lisbon. Thank you also.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I promise to write more on Yellowstone. </span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-68200377826765194822010-07-05T15:56:00.000-04:002010-07-05T15:56:48.535-04:00In the Moment<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Each Fourth of July weekend the family has usually gone to Ogden, Utah, for the big Hot Rockin' Fourth of July Festival thing that they have going on. The last two years the girls have gone without us and spent time with the family. This year was a little different. The girls were invited by Lois' niece Tracy (and their cousin) to go camping in the mountains afterward. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This has been one of the things that they have been dying to do for a very long time. I am anxious to hear the details of how the night was spent sleeping on the cold ground, slapping mosquitoes and using the facilities of the great outdoors for an outhouse. I have been somewhat reluctant to take them camping anywhere for this very same reason. It was just this year that Lois proposed the idea once again of maybe taking the girls on a camping trip. We had just spent a morning up Millcreek Canyon and the thought of spending time in a nice manicured campground didn't seem like a bad idea. And besides, I was once a child and I remember having that same desire to go run and frolic in the woods. At least if I get cold and tired and scared from the thought of catching West Nile Disease, then I can just curl up in the Toyota Forerunner (which is where I'd be sleeping anyways, I'm sure). </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I suppose I could handle this. Just because I'm almost 50 doesn't mean I should deny the girls this kind of opportunity. And there are no rules when camping. Just because the girls would be sleeping on the ground doesn't mean I have to.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyways, what I really wanted to say had nothing to do with camping. I just got sidetracked.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lately Lois and I and the girls have just been taking things slow. We've kind of developed this free sense of adventure. Most often we have been taking a lot of short road trips and wandering around the valley taking lots of pictures. I'm going to have to find a place where I can download them because all my cards are starting to get full. We have also found a lot of cool things around the valley that we otherwise would be oblivious to. It's a lot like stopping to smell the roses.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everything seems less important these days. We seem to take one day at a time. It is not always that easy because you still have to plan, but for now it seems to be working out between work and doctor appointments and time off. We are hoping to make it to Yellowstone again this year. That would be fun and I know the girls would love it. My only worry is that there's no cell phone reception where we go and that is not good when you are on a transplant waiting list. For the time being, we are living in the moment and things are good there.</span></div>Something Happened Somewhere Turninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17897631770669843340noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6097922863697642143.post-83039446139022758292010-06-20T11:45:00.000-04:002010-06-20T11:45:56.515-04:00Happy Father's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8NUPoBXFh2K-hCLDzal5rUqOohxRgAmtab8ENV8tATKAgNMiSCDC2OnTFp37TX6UY_c2-pSU_BpWP7UA6wZxY-LFtkOE9EQ_a1u1033hZPkdHyZSgfPCygtXDJrHJ7Lz_Ercw8Em-jY/s1600/DSC_0400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8NUPoBXFh2K-hCLDzal5rUqOohxRgAmtab8ENV8tATKAgNMiSCDC2OnTFp37TX6UY_c2-pSU_BpWP7UA6wZxY-LFtkOE9EQ_a1u1033hZPkdHyZSgfPCygtXDJrHJ7Lz_Ercw8Em-jY/s400/DSC_0400.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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