Monday, December 14, 2009

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

I woke up to a balmy -32 degrees Celsius this morning. For my American relatives, and those with an aversion to the metric system, that converts to -26 degrees Fahrenheit. Our van wouldn't start and Kathy walked to work. That is two blocks from our house with a -50 windchill, but she is a tough as nails, ironclad pioneer woman. Having the extension cord plug packed with snow wouldn't allow the block heater to work properly. I also had to bring my battery charger inside to thaw it with Kathy's hair dryer so it would run. I got it thawed and the van started. My car is plugged in and hopefully should start before I head to work this afternoon. My truck battery is dead, sulfated and needs to be replaced. The frozen extension cord is upstairs thawing over a heat register. This is truly a Canadian winter morning.

My work cell hasn't started ringing yet, which is good. It is usually colder in Medicine Hat than in Lethbridge, so I have had issues to contend with recently due to the extreme cold. I maintain the truck fleets for Waste Management in both cities and have worked to ready the trucks for use in the extreme cold. So far, so good.

Life has been busy lately. As usual, my sausage fingers and subconscious mind typed busty. Life has not been busty, just busy. If anything, it is less busty, with my steadily shrinking man boobs.
That is too much information, but is true. I have stuck with my work out program. I am getting results at a slower pace than I had hoped, but they are results.

Scott will be home on Friday for Christmas break, which is great. I am really excited to see him.
Katie's birthday was on the 10th and Kathy's was yesterday. They both got I-phones and are both very happy with them. I inherited Katie's phone and old number. It works for what I need it for, but I feel uncomfortable getting text messages from Katie's 14 year old friends. Katie is working on alerting them to her new number, but it is still kind of funny. I tried texting once and was soundly mocked for it by my eldest daughter. I am glad texting prowess is not a sobriety test as yet. My text looked like I was completely plastered. I still like talking to people when I need to communicate. I am getting old, I guess.

I still have yearnings for Hawaii. They just won't go away, especially on days like this one. I would like to go in July, which corresponds with my life change goal of July 1st. It may be hotter there, but I don't care. I want to go scuba diving as a reward for my effort.

I need to go be a father again. Bye!

Jason

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Don't let it get me...

It has been a good week so far. I have been fighting a chest cold for the last couple of days. I seem to be winning, so far. Kathy and Grace were sick with the flu today. Whatever bug this turns out to be is a nasty one, or many. It seems to change symptoms each day.

I had a really good night at the gym. I really enjoy using the elliptical trainer. Using it doesn't hurt my knees like the treadmill does. I was able to go really hard for a half an hour tonight. (That's what she said!) (Sorry, the Office has corrupted me) Anyway, I got through my work out but had to sterilize and wipe down the ENTIRE machine when I was done with it. Oh well, it just means I worked hard.

I am back in my work out and eat better groove now that I am feeling better. Who knows, I could wake up tomorrow with double pneumonia. Nothing would surprise me.

Christmas is fast approaching. We decorated our trees on Sunday. One upstairs and one down. It may be a little early, but we had our Thanksgiving a month ago. Also, Halloween is over, so I need something else to look forward to. Kathy watched Elf with the kids tonight. That is on my absolute must see list for Christmas. I also love watching " A Christmas Story". I will not officially declare the Christmas season underway until I watch it. It is amazing how they were able to capture the absolute joy and humour of the Christmas season. I am able to reminisce about my own Christmas memories when I watch it.

My mom and I have always shared a special bond when it comes to Christmas. She has always been as excited or more about it than I have. I, in turn, am like that with my kids as well. I am really excited that she will be spending Christmas Eve with us. I am 38 years old and still have just as much trouble sleeping Christmas Eve as I did when I was little. The pattern is the same, I will wake up every hour on the hour until the kids wake up. If it goes too late, I have no problem waking the kids up. I am supposed to say that I don't think of myself and that I am happy to give and see what the kids get. The first statement is a pile of crap. I do think of myself, but I also am happy to give and see what the kids get. That is as close to selfless at Christmas as I can muster.

Scott will be coming home for Christmas, which will make this one extra special. I really miss him and look forward to sitting in his room, or wherever we have a working stereo, and listen to music with him.

I need to go to bed.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

One Flu Over The Cuckoo's Nest

It has been a rough week. I have had a flu for about a week now. It is not the much heralded H1N1, but it is bad enough to have shut me down for a few days. I know I am on the mend, it is just taking longer than I want it to.

I am about a week behind with my exercise program, but that is underway again, so that is good news. The elliptical machine is my new favorite cardio device. My body is not built to operate it with much grace, but I got through it. I am still trying to get used to it. I hope to be able to take a drink from a water bottle without falling off or spilling all over myself. I do take comfort in the fact that I am alone most of the time while working out. There was sweat flying all over the place. I may have celebrated every quarter mile with an exertion fart or two. Everyone rewards themselves differently.

My body is a funny contraption. I have always been a little oddly proportioned. I carry all of my weight above my waist which, in addition to my family history of heart problems, does not help my blood pressure. My arms and legs remain relatively slim compared to my torso. My arms and legs are also the first things to show weight loss when it starts to happen. That is where I am noticing a difference now. I have to tell myself that I am not an apple with popsicle stick arms and legs, and that my torso will follow suit soon. I feel stronger and am able to lift more weight every time I go to the gym, so progress is being made.

I have another trip to Edmonton on Wednesday for union business. I am only up there until Friday. I am flying again, so hopefully it will be uneventful this time. I didn't mention the groin pat down I got in the Edmonton airport on my way back last time. There is only a slightly smaller amount of discomfort having a male attendant do the pat down. My first instinct is to make a joke to break the discomfort, but I kept my mouth shut and stared at the wall. I probably would have been tasered and declared a flight risk if I would have said anything stupid.

Anyway, another week is almost here, so I had better go get some sleep before it punches me in the face tomorrow.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Feel the burn

I am happy to report that my newly resurrected exercise/weight loss/ take care of myself so I don't die plan is starting to work.

I joined the new Flex Fitness gym here in Stirling about 3 weeks ago. I have been doing a rip off of the Body for Life program that I really quite like. It consists of a 3 day rotation of upper body weights/ cardio/ lower body weights. I have combined that with the Weight Watchers online program, which is cool because I can track my food intake at work and wherever else I go. It has been a struggle to change my eating habits, but that is coming along nicely.

I noticed a difference in my leg strength tonight, which is really neat to see. I am now able to lift and do multiple reps with the whole 200 lb stack on the leg press machine. I couldn't do that when I first started. I am prone to becoming impatient with my progress. I have to keep reminding myself that this will take quite a while to do.

There is something really important that occurred to me before I started again with my weight training. I have started and quit dieting numerous times in my life. I figured out what it is that I was missing in my previous attempts. I always thought and told myself that I was a worthless piece of crap unless I was thin and healthy. What it different this time is that I have forced myself to believe that I am a worthwhile and a good person before I started this again, and that my self worth is no longer dependent on my weight. That has been really difficult to do, but is really what drives me to keep going when I get tired or feel stressed.

I still have people say really hurtful things about my weight. At least now I can deflect those comments and not internalize and bludgeon myself with them. I have a clear goal and picture in my mind of what I want to look like and how I want to be. I am already a good person who is undergoing some renovations at the moment.

I still have a list of my perceived deficiencies and weaknesses. I am very proud to say that I am working on all of them at the same time. I feel hope and optimism for myself that was not there earlier this year. Things were extremely dark there for a while and I am not willing to go back to that.

I was in Edmonton last week for union contract negotiations. I took my exercise clothes with me and went to the fitness center at the Mayfield Inn where I was staying. I am a creature of habit. I like working out when I get off work in the little gym in Stirling when no one is around. Being in Edmonton in a crowded gym with a bunch of people I didn't know wasn't easy, but I went anyway. It was awkward holding the gaze of a Russian man with a perfectly round head as his face went crimson due to the pectoral exercises he was doing. I avoided eye contact with anyone after that.

I need to go find what I did with my I-tunes card. I got it to reward myself a little bit.

Good night...

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Jay Jay the Jet Plane

It is 1:10 a.m. and I am sitting in the business center at the Mayfield Inn in Edmonton. I am wide awake and sharp as a tack, since I fell asleep at about 8:00 last night reviewing collective agreements from Ontario, in preparation for another round of pre negotiation union meetings this morning.

I had the choice to fly or drive up here at chose to fly, thinking there would be less hassle. NNNNO DICE!!!!!

My flight from Lethbridge to Calgary went without incident and I felt a real member of the jet set, seeing how my local member of the legislative assembly, Rick Casson, was in a seat not two rows ahead of me. There was also a general authority from our recent stake conference on the plane whose name escapes me, seeing how I woke up at 11:00 a.m. on Sunday and missed the meeting. I do feel bad about that one.

The flight from Calgary to Edmonton was not so special. It was aboard Air Canada Jazz flight 8158. Leaving the airport happened without incident. We were above Red Deer when the pilot made what I thought was a course correction, as the plane banked hard left and then straightened out. It was dark, and since I had not been tasked with the job of navigator, I didn't pay full attention to how far we had turned, until I noted that the sun was setting on the wrong side of the plane for us to be still headed to Edmonton. It was shortly after that that the pilot called to speak to the flight attendant.

He then announced over the public address system that the plane had a suspected case of smoke in the baggage compartment and that we had turned back to Calgary for an immediate landing. He did his best to sound calm, saying that it was probably just a faulty sensor and that we were returning for precautionary measures. It was at this point that I began to realize that our flight attendant was not the most kind, or calm, person aboard the plane. While on the phone with the pilots, she repeated barked at them because she was having a hard time hearing them.

We landed safely, which is good, but were forced to shut down the engines and wait on the tarmac with multiple fire trucks parked on either side of the plane, with lights flashing. I did a good job of remaining calm, but others did not. I don't like the thought of being in a flammable cylindrical tube loaded with people, jet fuel, plastic and narrow walkways. Adding to that, the cylindrical tube is a DeHavilland Dash 8 turbo prop commuter jet that has been grounded recently in certain American carriers for landing gear failure and occasionally crashing into the earth.

The tension got to a woman sitting near the rear of the plane, which is where the baggage compartment is that may or may not have been on fire. She wanted off the plane right then. Out the emergency exits and onto the tarmac of the super busy Calgary airport which is not the safest spot to wander, but better than being inside a plane that may or may not be on fire. I have watched enough reality TV to know what happens to frozen chickens and air craft carrier staff that have the misfortune of getting sucked into jet engines to know that we were probably better off staying on the plane. For some though, terror does not breed logic, tranquility or reason.

Enter the Florence Nightengale of the stewardess staff of Air Canada. Instead of calmly reassuring this passenger that everything would be fine, she asked quite sharply for the woman to read a book or something because she was stressing her out. The stewardess became increasingly agitated with all aboard the plane. This part of the story is where I can sympathize with her though. Instead of opening the baggage door on the outside of the air craft to look for fire, which reason would say should be done by a firefighter, our stewardess was told to open the cabin baggage door to see if she could see anything.

If there was a fire and smoke, there are some things that I don't like about this scenario. If she opens the door and finds fire, the rush of breathing air filling the cabin would only add as an accelerant to the flames in the baggage compartment and to the panic and fear of the passengers, seeing as how the smoke and flames formerly contained in the baggage compartment would now be free to mingle with the 50 passengers and one very flammable flight attendant. Also, since the fire would be confirmed as a yes, the flight attendant would no longer have the moxie to legibly tell the pilots there is a fire as she is being trampled by those of us who no longer want to sit in the back of the plane.

Happily though, the flight attendant and firefighters worked together to confirm that what we were facing was indeed a faulty sensor and that we would be returning to the terminal to have the air craft checked out and to de board the plane. That was o.k. with me, since I much prefer sitting in the terminal to being on fire. I do have to say that our flight attendant may need some crisis or stress management, as she became increasingly agitated before we landed with those of us who wouldn't turn off our electronical ( direct quote) devices. One very funny French Canadian gentleman shared with some of us ,once we de boarded the plane, that he kept unbuckling his seat belt just to "stir the pot" with the flight attendant. She finally asked him if there was something wrong with him that he kept doing that.

I was lucky enough to get on the next flight to Edmonton, but my luggage was not so lucky. I had to fill out a lost luggage form at the baggage claim and was given an Air Canada overnight bag for my trouble. I got here to the hotel and opened it, happy to find toiletry items I desperately needed. I am still perplexed by the plain white t-shirt that was included in the package. It is too small for me, for one thing, and is a little sheer for my standard of dress. I have always been leery of salesmen or anyone whose nipples, moles and skin are visible under a dress or t-shirt. Maybe they provide it as a clean barrier between you and the top half your day old clothes. If you have to meet with anyone who has a curious dog and you are not your freshest downstairs, however, you may still be subject to an uncomfortable sniff of the midsection.
I do fear what selection of underwear they would provide. If those are also too small, your protruding eyes and purple face may frighten the dog away anyway.

To me though, it seemed that all it would prepare me for was the rare chance that I would be challenged to a wet t-shirt contest. If that happens at any time this week, I am covered. Maybe there is a 50's night at the Legion that I can go to, since I do now have jeans and my leather jacket with me.

I am happy to report that my luggage arrived and I now have all the clothes I need. I am grateful that things turned out as well as they did.

Good night...

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Lament


I have been saddened with the news of the tsunami in Samoa. It is a sacred place to me, not only because of my Dad's experiences there, but because of my own life changing associations with the Samoan people. My hope is that those who have lost their lives are at peace, and that those left behind are being helped and comforted. My thoughts and prayers are with them. I am really glad to hear of aid being sent so quickly from Hawaii and from other parts of the world. I wish I could be there to help as well.

The title of my post is the name of a song by Midge Ure's former band called Ultravox. The reason I chose this title is because my sister Karen is leaving today to move to Halifax. We had a nice gathering at her husband James' parents home last night to see them off. I am sad beyond what I had expected to be.

The song "Lament" is what I listened to the morning that Karen left to go back to BYU after being home for Christmas, or some other break, when I was in high school. I was the last child at home, as my brother Jeff had left 2 years previously and was still on his mission at that time. I felt alone. It was tough when Jeff left, and even harder when Karen was gone.

I was able to get through that initial separation when she left for school and again when I left on my mission. It was Karen that really got me through some discouraging times when I was there. I loved getting letters from her. She took good care of me by sending packages, tapes and the funniest letters I have ever read. Not only was her literary artistry enough to make me pee my pants laughing, but also her gift of sketching what was happening at home that would really bring such joy.

My parents and Karen lived with my grandparents in their basement during the early summer of 1992 before moving to the acreage at Harrisville. My mother had the misfortune of slipping while she was descending the stairs into the basement. I was lucky enough to get a letter containing a full description along with a picture penned from my Grandpa's view at the top of the stairs. I can still see the drawing of my mother's buttocks as she "cascaded"(direct qoute) down the stairs. My mother was fond of stirrup pants at that time, so Karen kindly sketched the distressed worn crotch area of her favorite pants. It always helped me feel at home when I was sitting in a mission apartment in Utah.

Karen is someone who "gets" me. She understands how my mind works and has always been able to help me, and most importantly, has always made time for me. My grandmother Lucille Bevan is who Karen gets her middle name from. My grandma always made me feel good about myself and I loved being around her. Karen has that same gift. We have been through a lot together and I will miss her while they are away.

I am sad because I know how life gets busy and fear that we will drift apart. Jeff has been away since 1986 and I really miss him. I have gotten used to being apart from him, but I still really dislike it. This summer was really nice since we got the chance to all be together as a family. That closeness we had as brothers when we were young has been gone of late, but feels like it is returning. It takes work to keep people close and I hope that we all can keep from drifting apart.

I am supposed to say that I am happy that everyone is going to places where they can provide for themselves and that we will be fine. In a way I am, but I really cherish those times when everyone is close and laughing together. I really look forward to what Karen has to send me on Facebook.

My nephew Ayden is someone I am really going to miss. He was the first baby I had any involvement with. When he was born I went to see what the nurses were doing when they had to take a blood sample from his foot. He started to cry when they pricked his foot. I turned away from the window and bawled like a baby when I got back into Karen's room. I got to bless him in our ward when he was a baby and that is something very dear to me. He has always been extra special (good special) to me. When he is at our house I still love being around him to hear his funny stories. Read his blog.

When I picture what heaven will be like, I see everyone together laughing about something. No one has to leave to go anywhere and everyone is safe and happy. Now to make that picture celestial, it would all happen in a fale in Samoa with the breeze blowing and more Samoan food than we can eat.

To my family, I love you dearly and am hoping for your success. I can't wait until everyone can get together again. To my Samoan friends in Samoa and abroad, my prayers are for you and your families. I love you and hope to see you soon.

Jason

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Busy bee!

If I had not corrected my spelling the title of this post would have been busty bee, which is not at all what I am planning to talk about. Besides, bees are not mammals and that would just be silly. I have been a busy bee this summer, hovering clumsily just above the ground.

I don't think we will be submitting any heart warming stories to the Friend from Joshua B., age 4, in Alberta, Canada anytime soon. He asked if Jesus' middle name was jack ass, because that's what Jesus calls people. I told him that all I knew from the scary people I have heard cussing at rodeos is that Jesus has a middle initial of "H". We tried to assure him that Jesus would never call anyone a jack ass. I had a hard time balancing shock and horror while trying not to pee my pants laughing.

We now have to monitor Josh on the computer. He likes to play free online games and has tried with no success to try and log in to games of a rather bawdy nature advertised by scantily clad medieval wenches. It is a good thing he can't read or spell yet. I also caught him staring at a picture of the Kardasian sisters on one of Kathy's People magazines. OH DEAR! I thought I wouldn't have to contend with this kind of issue until he was much older.

Despite his early onset of love for the female form, he is such a great little boy and I am proud to be his dad.

Scott is now in school at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. He started his classes this week and is loving them. I am sure he will thrive. It has been an emotional week since he left. I have had some really nice spiritual experiences this last week regarding him, me and our relationship as father and son. I feel like I have done and am doing a good job at being his dad. It has been strange having him gone and I have had to contend with feelings of insecurity that I did not expect. My fear was now that he was no longer living here with us that my role as his dad was somewhat threatened and in some way redundant. I have never tried to replace his father, but I feel a love for him as strongly as I do for my children born to me.

Scott was the first child I ever babysat. He may have fallen down the stairs when I watched him that day. It was only a few steps until his leg got caught in the banister. I can still picture him the first time I ever saw him. He came around the corner in Kathy's little apartment looking at me with his big brown eyes framed by his blonde bowl cut hair. I still remember how his chubby little feet looked in his sandals.

He would say "Ooomph!", which was an all purpose word that described whatever he pointed at. My job was to figure out what he wanted.

I remember the day I was sitting on the couch and he climbed up beside me and handed me a book to read. I hadn't yet learned the art of alliteration and story telling, so the story took a bit of a somber and grey tone thanks to my monotone reading. I have got alot better with that, and it is because I had him to read to. He would call me Yay Yay, then Jay Jay once he got a little older.

I remember sitting in the tub with him after Kathy and I were married. We were playing with some foam soap and made huge santa beards. He did look good with a moustache, even if he was just three. I would lay with him to get him to sleep and he would hold onto my thumb and rub my thumbnail with his thumb and fall asleep. Josh has done the same thing since he was really little. That is one thing that has bonded my little boys together in my heart.

It took a while to figure out how to be a dad. I was overly hard on him those first couple of years, which I feel bad about. It was and has been a difficult process to learn where I fit in. What was absolutely huge was the day he started calling me dad. He had been to see his cousins in Utah and just started doing it when he got back home. I remember how good it felt to hear him say that, and it still does to this day.

Now I sit here and wonder if I have done enough for him. I sit and wait to hear what he is doing. I get tears in my eyes because I miss him, but I am so proud of where he is and am so happy for him. I believe in tender mercies. I believe that one blessing was when Josh was born, and with having my boys look so much like their mother, is that I got to see what Scott would have looked like during the first two and a half years of his life that I missed.

After Scott left for school, I was comforted by the spirit and it was was confirmed to me that I have done a good job in being a dad to him. That knowledge is precious to me.

I need to go to bed, otherwise I can look forward to a migraine tomorrow.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Weekend Update

It's been a busy week leading up to Scott's graduation. It was last night and was really great to see and be a part of.

Scott's girlfriend Kelsey has been here for a few days with him and is a really nice girl. Scott's dad Byron and step mom Inger were here, as well as Kathy's dad, my parents and siblings from both sides. I think we represented and supported him quite well, and although we weren't the loudest cheering section, we were there.

I was honestly amazed by him. He looked very distinguished in his cap and gown, with the added bling bling of the valedictorian sash. If he was nervous when he spoke, I couldn't tell, because he spoke with conviction and what I can safely describe as power. It is so strange to see him looking all grown up when I remember him as the little two year old with the bowl cut that he was when I first met him. I do feel very lucky to be a part of his life and I am glad that he calls me Dad.

I am having a difficult time with the fact that he will be leaving for Virginia in a couple of months. The time will fly, as summer always does, so I hope we have some time to spend together before he goes. I really enjoy listening to his music with him and seeing what bands he has found. That boy will excel in his life and I am excited to see where his journey takes him. I have watched him grow and mature a great deal in a short time. The only thing I have to do to see that is look at pictures and it is surreal how drastically he has changed physically over the past few years.

His intellectual maturity is quite something. As he grows, he sees his parents differently. I hope that he doesn't consider me a doofus, but that is my own insecurity talking. I know I have faults and I am trying to be accountable for them.

Seeing him with Kelsey is really cute. I can tell they adore each other and it is really fun to watch them together. I have kept my mouth shut, for the most part, while she has been here and haven't said anything stupid.

One side note that I need to mention before I go is that public displays of affection should NEVER take place, ANYWHERE! I have seen them at church, at school, and the most obvious was last night at Scott's graduation. A very muscular fellow was sitting in the bleachers and was joined by his very pregnant, tanned, rail thin wife. She sat on the seat below him and leaned against him, which in itself shouldn't be construed as an inappropriate PDA. What was disturbing was seeing him repeatedly cup her breasts with his hands. She in turn massaged his hands while he was assisting her brassiere, so to speak. I will end the description there, but wonder if the the conception of the pregnancy occured at another public event somewhere, like a parent teacher interview or church pot luck supper.

Affection in a marriage is good, but not in front of others....

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Father's Day

I know that I am a good dad. That may seem a bit arrogant, but I really think that this is true. I love my kids, I have a great time being with them. We watched Paul Blart, Mall Cop this afternoon, as that is one thing the family got me for father's day.

I know that I have taught them things by my example. Some good, and some not so good. The case in point for the latter happened while we were watching the movie. Josh was drinking an A&W root beer from a can. When it was empty, he chucked it over his shoulder and behind the couch. He punctuated his accomplishment with a rich, throaty burp.

THAT is my son!

I failed the "concerned parent" reaction after it happened, as I was laughing so hard that I started choking. I am in trouble for that, but I am what I am. Who figured I could work in an obscure "Popeye" reference.

I may not be what some would consider a perfect father, but I am a REAL dad. Warts and all. Well, skin tags mostly, but warts in a more figurative sense.

Scott, Katie and I played Bananagrams today. Scott started by saying that he has never lost a round of Bananagrams. Well, he did lose, TO ME! TWICE! He disputes it, which I expected, due to a controversial word I used. No profanity, just Rainier. It is a proper name, which excludes it from being used, but I fight dirty. If I can't cut you open with a multi-syllabic, I'll reach into my vast vocabulary and get you where it hurts. Here's a quick flurry! A, an, the, this, that, these, those, each, every, several, some, my, your, his, her, its, our, their....AND ALL NUMBERS!

Life isn't a fair fight, and that is what I am trying to teach my kids. I actually don't teach that, but it seems to fit with this post. I just know they like to spend time with me and I am trying not to mess them up too bad. I love my kids and they love me. That is good enough for me!

I have the flu. That's all the detail needed for that...

Jason

Friday, June 12, 2009

In home day surgery

I am not one to usually get too political, but I do really see the merits of a universal health care system like we have in Canada. I know how expensive procedures can get otherwise. Perhaps that is the reason I was able to find an article entitled "removing skin tags at home" while surfing the net. There is also an astounding picture library of all kinds, shapes and colors of skin tags, moles, rashes, hammertoes, bunions and my personal favorite, dandruff.

It has been an added blessing in my life to be the host of several skin tags, moles and other skin anomalies. I would be the "it" guy at a dermatologist convention. I suppose that has added to my extreme discomfort of taking my shirt off in front of people. In appropriate settings, I should say, like at the swimming pool.

Anyway, I do have the option of performing my skin tag removal at home, operating under the safety net that " if the stalk of the skin tag is too thick, you shouldn't cut it yourself". Those are words worth living by. It truly has become a real touch stone for me in the minutes I've lived since reading that. As long as I sterilize a sharp pair of scissors with alcohol, some of the newer skin tags will snip off with little to no pain. Why haven't I started yet?

If that doesn't work, any over the counter wart remover should work after applying it regularly for a few weeks. That seems like a long time, but I guess there will be a real sense of accomplishment when the treated tag finally falls off. I also learned I could tie them off with dental floss, which may result in discomfort when the tag is deprived of its supply of blood. That also would take a while before they fall off too, which would probably make me even more sensitive to tight, awkward hugs. Saying, "Excuse me, hugging me that tightly may jostle and untie some of my skin tag tourniquets" would probably guarantee that I would never have to worry about being hugged again.

For those hard to reach areas, it would be awkward to find a willing assistant. Asking would be the hard part. If telling them that they look like someone you can trust doesn't work, I don't know where to go from there. Perhaps asking if they care enough about you to help you be beautiful everywhere would be the sensitive way to go.

The more I delve into this, the more I know that this falls with in the realm of things you should ALWAYS see your doctor about. For those as vain as me who want that perfect beach body, having ragged scars from home surgery would make for a bummer of a day in the sun.

Anyway, home surgery should never be a money saving option for anyone. EVER!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Ewwwwww!

We are more than halfway through tearing all the basement carpet out. It has turned out to be a more complete time capsule of pet accidents and "what the h$#%! is that?" stains than I had anticipated. We found some funkified 70's carpet in the hallway under the old berber we are tearing out. All we would need to complete the 70's experience for the basement hallway are some macrame plant holders and maybe a velvet painting. Elvis would be nice, or perhaps a scantily clad woman riding a unicorn. I would also need the hair helmet I had when I was a kid in the 70's.

I did have an impressive thatch of hair when I was young. Old women in church would run their fingers through it quite regularly. Perhaps that contributed to the personal space issues I have. It could also have contributed to my baldness, although no one ever tore out a handfull of hair for a souvenier. I am o.k. not having hair and am fine not trying desperately to get it back. I do wonder what possesses some men to purchase a toupee. I think it would be less subtle to wear an "I'm Bald!" sign on a balsa wood frame on your head than to wear a rug.

Whenever I see someone who has one, the toupee seems to consume my thoughts. All features of the person wearing it seem to disappear. I am drawn to touch it or even lift a corner to see how it is attached. The crowning acheivement would be to turn it completely around while still on the head to see if it still offered the same coverage in both directions. I watched a lot of 3 Stooges films when I was young where the toupee would be constantly lifted in mock amazement, or shot off completely. I have always wanted to see if I completely baffled a toupee wearer if it would raise off his head.

I would like to wear one to church one week to see how people react to it. I think a nice blonde one accented by a burnt orange colored spray tan would be SO hot!

I am not sure what that has to do with the stained carpet, but I do find it equally revolting. I could make a nice toupee out of the shag we are putting down. The green fibres interspersed with the brown shag would really bring out the color of my eyes. The only thing that could bring more distinction is if my exzema flare up around my nose. Talk about a classy gentleman!

Good night...

Jason

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Leaning tower of power

It's been a while since I've been able to post anything. I guess that means I've been busy.

I got to play with some heavy equipment in the yard recently. I borrowed a John Deere 544 loader from one of our neighbors. I used it to move a heavy wooden play set into the back yard for the kids. I also moved a whole bunch of wood chips in the yard and moved a dirt pile in the back yard. Moving the dirt pile was done mostly because I could. I haven't changed much since I was 8 years old. I still like playing with in the dirt, it's just that the Tonka toys are a lot bigger. I got to show off my heavy equipment operating skills, and everyone knows the ladies love that. My wife loves it because I got the play set moved and I didn't drop it on her. I've got game.

The wheels are turning for this years list of renovations. We're getting a new garage door Friday morning and getting the basement measured for carpet tomorrow. I will miss seeing the stain in the corner where Bootsie, our deceased mentally challenged cat, pooped on the floor. We scrubbed that spot like crazy, but our dim bulb kitty must have eaten a Sharpie or something permanent. Boots was a good cat, but he didn't care to groom himself that often...or ever.
Kathy once denied to a neighbor that he was our cat, as he looked particularly haggard after one of his feline benders. I am afraid of what other memories will come cascading out of the old carpet along with the dirt when I have to remove it.

I am making huge progress with the '67 short box. The truck is still in Helena, but I acquired a 225 slant six that is currently getting rebuilt. It has a custom ground cam, 10 to 1 compression ratio and is a perky little motor. It has a four barrel manifold with a new Holley carb and a really cool six into one header with a cut out plate to bypass the exhaust. I also got a 904 transmission to go with it that has a stage 2 shift kit. There are more parts for it and all of them are in great shape. I have access to a fuel tank, brake parts and seat from a big mid 70's New Yorker. I have most everything I need to get the truck running once it gets here.

I need to go cuddle Josh, so this blog can wait...

Friday, May 1, 2009

Fun at church

I should preface this by saying that I'm not sure if everyone "gets" my sense of humor. I am sure those that know me well enough understand how my mind works. When I get bored in public settings it doesn't take long before my mind starts to wander, and I start creating "what would happen if" scenarios. It always involves me humiliating myself or saying something devastatingly stupid to see how people would react to it.
I am always asking Kathy different "What would happen if?" questions when we are at church, shopping or anywhere else for that matter. Most stay safely in the hypothetical realm, but a few have crossed over. Those are the most fun.
I haven't tried many of the things I've thought to do at church. Often times during testimony meeting there is a lull between those who choose to get up. I wonder how it would spruce up the meeting if I were to get up from my seat and hop like a frog either up to the stand or out into the foyer. It certainly would invite discussion. My other thought was to skip merrily up to the front, while clapping my hands between my legs between each skip.
I enjoy singing in the choir. With my calling I am usually unable to attend choir practice which renders me unable to participate in the choir numbers. One Sunday Kathy asked me if I was going to sing in the choir. Instead of simply saying "no", I told her "not yet". I then told her that I would be rising from my seat during the song and strutting to join the choir in full and glorious song.
That would not be the first time in my life that I've disrupted the choir. When I was about 10 or 11, Dad, my brother Jeff and I were in the Leavitt ward choir. Jeff and Dad were there because they wanted to be, I was there because I needed the opportunity to mature and give of myself. That was right in the hey day of SCTV. For those that aren't familiar with SCTV, it was a Canadian sketch comedy show that is similar, and far superior, to Saturday Night Live or Mad TV. Needless to say, we watched it religiously. One character was a mentally unstable lounge singer named Lola Heatherton. One of her catch phrases was " I love you all, and I want to BEAR YOUR CHILDREN!"
I won't name the saintly choir director I offended, but she would always end each choir practice by thanking everyone for coming. As she was wrapping up her testimony one afternoon after choir practice, she closed by saying "I love you all!". I leaned over to my brother Jeff and whispered " and I want to BEAR YOUR CHILDREN!". We were both snickering uncontrollably during the closing prayer, which began immediately after I blurted that out.
It was a silent ride home. I had humiliated my father in front of the entire choir. He never said anything, but I could see that his neck and face were an uncomfortable shade of red as we rode home in the van. The years have taken my recollection of what he said or did to us, or me, more specifically. The next week in choir practice I had to get up and apologize to the choir for disrupting the meeting.
I am the executive secretary in our ward and have a bad habit of telling people that there is a $50 charge for interviews with the bishop that are payable directly to me. Most people laugh, but a few have looked at me a little funny. I have told a few kids awaiting baptism interviews about the gruelling interview process and doctrinal interrogation they were about to endure. If that one doesn't work, I have asked a couple of kids if they new of the baptism "rinse cycle". Messing with the minds of 8 year olds is fun, but something I need to stop doing. I do assure them that I am just joking, but I am not sure if they get it.
Anyway, I should go attend to my young son I have been ignoring, while on the computer...

Monday, April 27, 2009

Automotive Archeology




After climbing around this truck, most sensible people would probably need a tetanus shot. The only thing I have been infected with is inspiration. Inspiration of this nature is a close cousin to delusion, but for me this truck is beautiful.

When I was in high school, my first vehicle was a 1968 Fargo short box fleet side truck that was built by Tyler Higgins and his dad in Cardston. I bought it when I was in grade 12 from Central Service where it had been traded in. I loved that truck. It had a 383 big block and a ratchet shifted automatic. It was all engine and had crappy brakes. I sold it when I went on my mission to Randy Blackmore, but bought it back after Kathy and I got married. I sold it for the last time when we lived in Olds, because I was a starving student and needed the money.

I don't know where that truck is now, but have always wanted another short box Sweptline (as Dodge named this bodystyle) truck. I acquired this one in a trade for my Fury convertible. Not straight across, mind you. I also have the 2001 Chevy Silverado in the upper photo. That will be my practical, fuel efficient, kid friendly daily driver.

I am really excited about the Dodge. It has been sitting since the early 70's and has been used to store items in, on and around as is evident by the photo. The truck has 56,000 miles, a 225 slant six backed by a 4 speed and is rust free. Dodges of that vintage were prone to alot of rust in the doors and rocker panels, so finding one in this condition is rare. All the pieces are there. The truck was hit in the front end and parked. There is a new rad support and fenders that aren't shown which are also really straight.

My first task is to extricate it from its resting place, which includes cutting down a tree and moving a bunch of parts, but I love doing stuff like this.

I will keep the slant six, but would eventually like to put a four barrel manifold on it with headers and cherry bomb mufflers. Slant sixes have always got really good fuel mileage, but are a cool engine to build as a performance platform.

I have also included a picture of what the 67's look like when they are done.

I have to be to work early tomorrow, so I need to go to bed...

Monday, April 20, 2009

Josh Broadhead- Motivational Speaker


I have been working really hard on eating well and exercising over the past month and struggle sometimes with discouragement. Despite the assurances from Clayton (my life coach/nurse in charge of my health program), I want to lose weight faster than is possible. I get impatient, to put it bluntly. I can motivate myself quite easily to keep going and not give up. The reason for that is the misery and worry involved with being overweight feels worse than the temporary discouragement when I can't see the results I want when I want them.

I was getting Josh dressed this morning and had him laying in front of me on the bed so I could get his pants on him. As he was laying there he pressed his feet into my stomach and told me that I have a big belly and that I am going to explode. That really made me laugh. I have been smiling about that for most of the day since. I really hope I don't explode, especially in front of him.

The only person I have ever seen explode is on Monty Python, which is where the above photo hails from. "Just one wafer thin mint!"

I think the best ways I can survive worry and discouragement is with my sense of humor and by just enjoying the ride. I have a really funny and wonderful family that make me laugh all the time. Josh is 4 and calls things as he sees them.

All I can do is be consistent with my exercise and eating habits and the results will come.

Good night...

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Montana


This is a shot of my 1962 Plymouth Fury convertible where I found it last year. It is a rare car. It is one of about 1500 made that year. It is a Sport Fury with a 361 big block engine and a push button automatic transmission. I got it running, did some suspension and drive line work and had a lot of fun driving it around last summer.

The car is a good runner, but needs a total restoration. I don't have the time or the resources to do that, so I am trading the car to Steve Celar in Helena, Montana. I am getting a 2001 extended cab Chevrolet truck that is in really nice shape. I am sad to get rid of the car, as I am sure I will never run across another one again. Steve runs a body shop and is a hard core hot rodder, so I know the car is going to a good home. It still really sucks though.

I really enjoy going to Montana. The scenery on the way down to Helena is one of my favorite things to see. I would like to take some more time to explore some of the old mining towns down there. What I love the most is looking at old cars. Steve Celar and Kurt Rose are two friends of mine down in Helena that have amassed an amazing collection of old cars. The cool thing about Montana is that no one throws any old vehicles away, so they are to be found almost anywhere.

I went with my friend Craig to a Wal-Mart in Helena looking for Cherry Coke Zero, that can't be found in Canada. I had never travelled with 22 cases of pop, but I did today. I know that I am not a fashion model, but I am positive that the beautiful people of the world weren't gathering at that Wal-Mart yesterday. I feel bad saying this, but if I was 30 years younger I would have been terrified to the point of crying at the people I saw. I have watched a lot of "Night of the Living Dead" type movies in my life, and wondered if perhaps Craig and I were the only ones shopping there who weren't one of the undead. Luckily there were enough values to be had so the people we saw didn't try to eat our brains.

I know I am shallow and judgemental, but I spent a few minutes during my people watching honestly wondering if one man in front of me was an albino or not. The next time I start feeling down on myself and doubting my looks, all I have to do is remember the Helena Wal-Mart.

I am a sinner, I need the Lord...

Friday, April 17, 2009

Hawaii


I can freely admit that I am obsessed with going back to Hawaii. So much so that I dream about returning or being there at least twice a week. I do find it somewhat unsettling at times, but I guess I have been desperate to recapture the feeling of being absolutely stress free and truly at peace.

For me there was more than just the beautiful scenery and cool snorkeling. The reason we went was to see my Dad perform songs he had performed in Samoa as a missionary. When he was in Samoa he travelled with three other missionaries around the islands performing songs they had written, as well as other traditional favorites. Dad toured with them until he became extremely ill and couldn't continue. He was replaced by another elder until the tour was finished.

The surviving members of the group had planned some concerts around Oahu that was attended by members of the Samoan community living in Hawaii. I was lucky enough to go to 2 shows while we were there. It was amazing to see my Dad singing in Samoan and even more amazing to see how the Samoans reacted to the songs. One song Dad had a hand in writing is entitled Masi Samoa, which is still very popular in Samoa 45 years later.

Dad had always taught me about how wonderful and kind the Samoan people are. My first missionary companion was a Samoan elder named Fagatoele Seumanutusa. He had great faith that seemed almost second nature to him, and was a good example to me. Before that I became friends in the MTC with a couple of Samoan elders I met and had the experience of playing volleyball with them. I learned NEVER to try and return a spiked ball by trying to set the ball with my fingers in front of my face. The ball blasted through my fingers and changed direction only after flattening my nose and lips. They are powerful and strong people. I also have learned never to make them angry.

When I went to the first concert Dad and the other Eldares ( as they called themselves) were setting up for the show. I was sitting by the wives of two men in the group that I didn't know very well. I felt alone, as Kathy didn't come because she felt ill, and it was odd to feel that way.
It didn't last very long until a man named Tua came over and sat beside me. He took care of me the rest of the night and made sure I wasn't by myself. He showed me a book from Dad's mission, and best of all kept giving me different Samoan desserts to try when the show was over. He introduced me to his wife Rocketi. She is named that because she was born during one of the Apollo moon landings. Kathy and I saw him at one of the swimming lagoons at the Ko Olina resort a couple of days later with his family. I was able to introduce her to them. What floored me is that after we left to come home he gave Dad a bunch of gifts to give our family. He wrote a really nice note and called me his "Canadian brother". What is amazing is that I can still feel a real bond with him.

We were able to go to a Samoan ward to church on the Sunday we were there. It still remains one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. The Samoans hold missionaries in very high regard. We were given leis when we got there and were given the chance to speak. One of my favorite things is to hear them sing. They sing loud and in all four parts. I couldn't understand a word they were singing, but I could sure feel it. I was able to speak for a couple of minutes and greeted them with "Talofa, brothers and sisters". Talofa means hello. It is tradition for the congregation to repeat "Talofa" back. When I heard that I couldn't speak for a while. I had always wanted to hear that, as my Dad had described it when I was young.

When the meeting was over, the congregation stood and all came to the stand to give us a hug and to thank us for being there. I was overwhelmed by their kindness and still am. I didn't want to leave the church that day and didn't want to leave Hawaii because I loved the feeling of being with the Samoan people. It may sound cliche', but that experience changed me forever. I hope that at some time in this life or the next that I can work with them as a missionary in Samoa or wherever else.

Being with them felt as much like being in heaven as I can imagine. If I make it there, I hope they put me with the Samoans. I'm sure the food and music will be really good.

Goodnight...

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Sleep?


It is 2:10 a.m. and I just got finished on the treadmill. I should probably go to bed, but am sitting here listening to Ozzy Osbourne on my I-pod. Ozzy will probably rot my brain, but it is part of my cool down after my work out.

I promised myself I wasn't going to miss a day on the treadmill. I really look forward to this now. There are things that happen most every day that I can't make sense of, but I have really been able to face and defeat the anger and anxiety of the day while working out.

Just so you know, the guitar solo in Ozzy's " No more tears" song is one of the best I've ever heard.

Just being active has awakened my goal setting ability. I really miss playing the drums regularly. I used to be really good at it when I was younger and want to get another drum set and knock the rust off. I also want to learn how to play the guitar and the piano.

I also want to get a really good sketch pad and some sharp pencils. I can now trust myself not to jam them into my face. I have mastered not running with scissors as well. I used to draw almost every day and miss that creative outlet. Finding the most disturbing pictures I can find on the internet and posting them as my Facebook profile picture has been and is fun, but I need to do more creative things.

Welding and fabricating things out of metal at work is something I love doing. That is why restoring old cars is so fun for me. In the 50's and 60's cars had so much style. I love looking at what some may consider a worthless piece of junk and making it cool. I have an idea of what I want it to look like and then plan the drive train, suspension and body work accordingly. I have plans to restore my 1954 Dodge panel truck that I hope to begin shortly. I have a Dodge Aspen station wagon in the back yard that will provide the suspension and drive train. I should be able to get it moving under its own power, for the most part, with parts and components that I already own. I've never built a low rider before, but my panel truck will be. The interior is still up in the air, but I would like to go with a Hawaiian theme inside, if I can pull it off.

I have a goal to drive that truck as far south on the Florida Keys as I possibly can, jump in the water for a while then turn around and drive home.

I have owned my 1962 Plymouth Fury convertible for almost a year. That is one cool car, but I need to part with it soon. I got it running and clamped on a pair of Cherry Bomb mufflers and have been having a blast driving it around. The kids and I took it in the Stirling parade last year and won a second place ribbon. There were two of us with classic vehicles. I lost to a 1937 Studebaker pick up truck. It is a beautiful truck, so I was happy to concede defeat. It really surprised me how people react to that car. There were only 1300 or so made that year, so it is really rare.

I really need to go to bed now...

Monday, April 13, 2009

"T" and Fergus


This is a shot of T and Fergus which was taken last fall after bringing Fergus home. We've had T for over a year now. He is a Chow and Labrador cross that we got from our former neighbor. He is a really good dog. Before we built the fence last summer, he got out and became intimately acquainted with our neighbors Akita dog. Fergus is a consequence of T's actions and is his son.

Our daughter Katie learned an awful, yet unforgettable, lesson on reproduction the day Fergus was conceived. She chased T over to Davisons to bring him home. She had to separate the lovebirds, so to speak. She hasn't spoken much about it since, and I don't blame her. At any rate, we now have two dogs and they are really fun to have around. Fergus is as big as T now and may surpass him in size.

I have always enjoyed having animals around and have loved spending time with them since I was young. When I am playing with the dogs, I feel just as happy as I did when I was little. Most of my youth was spent on an acreage in Leavitt. We always had a dog around and a whole mess of cats. There is a picture of me somewhere that was taken when I was about 11. I am wearing some camouflage pants, a bright blue BYU Fun Festa shirt and a really sappy smile that was aimed at our cat, Kitty.

Kitty was rather old by that time and was a bit of a floosie. She was missing most of her front teeth, but that didn't seem to bother any tom cats that happened by. As a result, there was always a new batch of kittens to love, play with, and grow attached to. There was a time there where some of the older kittens were still around, which muddied the gene pool something awful. To avoid being too graphic, Kitty's family tree didn't branch too cleanly, if at all. Before the pride was thinned, we had some distinct "special needs" kittens stumbling around.

Whenever I would enter the barn, I remember one kitten running to greet me. It ran well, but didn't have the greatest sense of balance. It would always veer to one side as it ran. There was never much of a gleam in its eyes when you could get it to focus on you. One side effect of the shallow gene pool was a rather high mortality rate. That was rather disturbing, but was fairly frequent.

My sister Karen had a favorite cat she had named Scratch. Scratch went missing one winter and we looked everywhere for her. One of our passtimes was to go walking on the gravel road out in front of our yard. It was cold that day and we were playing on the smooth sheet of ice that filled one rut. When we cleaned the snow off the ice, that is when we found poor Scratch. She had met her end trying to cross the road and was now flat and very much two dimensional under the sheet of ice. Nature had created a rather morbid piece of art for us to discover. I have started writing a song called " Flat Scratch Fever" but haven't finished it, mostly out of respect to my sister, who, like me, still bears the scars of more graphic and traumatizing pet demise experiences that I won't relate here.

Anyway, time goes on and Karen and I both have healthy, living pets to help erase the trauma of the past.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Is that spandex?


Something happened yesterday that I never thought would ever occur. I bought some spandex running shorts. What is different from me and some other husky spandex wearers is that I have actually used them for exercising.

I apologize if there is an unpleasant mental image associated with this story, but please try to cope with it.

I have never worn spandex before and I can safely say that this will be my only foray into the world of slippery fashion. If I can ever run fast enough to where wind resistance becomes enough of an issue, I may have to soften my stance and go with a full body suit. For now, they shall remain hidden under my sweat shorts as I trundle my way to fitness.

I am quite proud of myself. On most Easter holidays and special occasions I can be found devouring whatever treats I can find. I behaved myself this weekend and walked a total of 5 miles on the treadmill at the hotel yesterday. I walked 3 miles on Friday, and I am really enjoying being active.

I had a great time with the family and really enjoyed playing with the kids in the pool. Being in my swimming suit in front of people still bothers me, but I did it anyway.

We brought my mom with us to Great Falls this weekend. Scott had to fly out to Tulsa to visit his dad, so we took the chance to have a bit of a holiday. I have been really trying not to take my Mom for granted. She is really fun to be around and I enjoyed spending time with her. We've had some good talks lately and she is a great example to me.

Josh is hounding me to get off the computer, so I had better listen to him or face the wrath...

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Are you our teacher, you big fat man?


I thought I should jot down a few notes about what has motivated me to become healthy. It's been a lot more realistic to start and stick with my goal since I've got my depression under control.
I have struggled with my weight for most of my life. The fruits of this have been, and not limited to, low self image and low self esteem, which have fueled my depression until just recently.
I've had some rather harrowing doses of reality lately regarding my health and what would happen to me if I didn't do something about it. Most have come from the health professionals that I've been working with, but others have come through most of my life. I will talk about the professionals first.

I have been meeting with Clayton Witbeck at the Raymond clinic and am part of his health program there. In addition to measuring weight, he measures body fat percentage, total body mass, water weight, etc.

When I first started, we were talking about obesity, and my fat percentage was only a few points below what is considered "morbid obesity". That was and is really embarrassing. All I could think of to say was to ask if there was any type of obesity club card that I qualified for. It would hopefully be good for a few dollars off a motorized cart or to get a free box of Twinkies, while I could still bear my own weight.

There would be nothing more flattering than having to remove the wall of my bedroom and hoist me from the house with a fork lift and flat bed truck to go to the doctor, or a fat farm, as I watched in a documentary. This happened to the gentleman being featured in the show. He told all about the day he was cooking breakfast and could no longer walk. They followed him on his journey via flat bed truck, covered in a sheet, into the fat farm and through his struggles with his weight. His wife was an enabler of the worst kind, as one scene showed the nurses discovering his stash of Little Debbie's snack cakes and potato chips his wife had brought him. I watched for a while and turned the channel, hoping that when I next checked in it would have been a happy ending. Not so! He had passed away and they were just discussing the difficulty of cremating him when I stopped watching.

That is a rather drastic and unrealistic comparison to my situation, but it is the sum of every fear I've had about what could happen. Luckily I am now losing weight and exercising, so this fear is diminishing. I have had to write down and be accountable for what I eat and am making healthier food choices.

One thing I find odd is that in an era of supposed political correctness, that fat people have earned an exemption, in that every jack ass on the planet can and will comment on their weight.
I'm not sure what power is given them by exercising their command of the obvious, but they do it with great effort.

I ran into a former coworker while I was getting some stuff for our renovations. He leaned right into the window of my car, quite sure that I still wanted to hear what he was up to. I was staring into his mouth at all the recently vacated tooth sockets and wondering where his teeth had gone. I wondered that to myself, but probably should have done that aloud, as he then told me that I had gained a lot of weight. I have a problem with close talkers, with or without teeth, and felt like rolling up the window and pinning his head in it, but his subsequent screaming and cursing would have opened his mouth a lot farther and closer to me than I wanted to see.

The title of this post is in reference to the earnest question of a young primary girl when Kathy asked me to sub in primary at the last minute when we lived in Olds. That was really quite funny. I gave her class the greatest lesson on new swear words and the benefits of smoking.
Not really, but I felt like it.

If it sounds like I am bitter, I am. But it is helping to motivate me, especially when I am on the treadmill. I think of any smart ass comment about my weight that I can remember and I get angry. I use that anger to push myself farther and faster. By the time I am finished, the anger and tension from the day are gone. It has been really therapeutic.

I am feeling and starting to see a difference. That is really exciting. I have set a date to reach my goal on my birthday of this year. To reward myself, I want to get certified as a scuba diver and go on an offshore boat dive on my birthday in Hawaii. Whenever I get discouraged, I think of how fun that will be.

Good night. That is enough ranting for now...

Jason

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Flat cat

This happened a while ago, but is still worth mentioning...

My wife Kathy was doing some laundry and had a large pile of clothes in the hall that we needed to take downstairs. I probably should have taken the laundry downstairs when I saw it, but I decided to walk over the pile and go somewhere else.

I stepped on what felt like a warm, soft towel. I am quite confident it was bearing my full weight when I looked down and realized it wasn't a towel at all. I had pinned our cat Mittz to the floor.
There was no sound, as I am sure there was no air left in his lungs. I also don't remember feeling any of his ribs when I stepped on him. All of that stuff had to have been displaced somewhere, but he immediately got up with no ill effects. I checked him over, and was quite astounded that everything was still intact and that the only body parts I had to stuff back in were his eyes.
Gentle, but firm, pressure with the moistened eraser on a pencil were all it took to pop them back in.

I am lying about his eyes. There really was nothing wrong with him.

I wish I could say that was the only run in I've had with cats, but it isn't. ALWAYS check before you sit down on the couch. I didn't, and only knew I was sitting on the cat when I could feel his limbs quiver beneath my buttocks. Poor cat...

Welcome to my blog

I have had this blog for a while but have never used it. Since it is my blog, the rules I follow will be my own. I enjoy ambling through life at a relaxed pace, so my blog will be much the same way.

I am a rather cerebral person and quite self aware. I look forward to just being myself. I have a rather warped sense of humor that helps shape my view of life, but I enjoy looking at life from where I stand. Recently I feel more anchored and comfortable with being me. Having self confidence is something relatively new, but I really enjoy having it. Some may take that for granted, but it is something I have worked at all my life.

I have made mention on Facebook of being my own latest restoration project. I have been working really hard at changing how I treat myself and others. I have battled depression for longer than I have realized. That is a work in progress, as everything else is, but I have had a lot of success and growth along the way. I also have started eating better and exercising regularly. I am really excited about that and am enjoying the energy it gives me.

I hope to post things fairly regularly, so feel free to stop by...

Jason