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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...