mental vomiting

It is nice to have Christmas on a Friday. This allows for the day after Christmas to be one of choice and possible leisure.

I have stayed in bed longer than usual. I have spent the last hour or so wrestling, physically, mentally and emotionally with Ash over the concepts of "this is my bed, not yours. When did you climb in here anyway? Stop touching or curling your fingers in my shirt. You are pushing me off my own bed, I have been holding on to the edge for the last half hour with a constant state of tension in my back just to maintain my balance. Why don't you get back in your own bed or go sit on the new desk chair that Santa brought you. Go draw me a detailed picture with a hundred snow men or just lay still. Go play Wii with Cam, I hear him banging around by the TV. Let me read the rest of my book. Have you gone to the bathroom yet this morning. Don't you think it would be a good idea to try. Why are you ignoring me?"

Wife is back in bed for a moment having spent a good amount of the wee hours treating her body like a grocery store for the benefit of an 8 lbs grunting, squeaking, squawking bundle of pink fluff. It is really lucky for her sake that the fluff is kinda cute.

Christmas lesson confirmed again. Less is more and less is ok. The kids are content, happy with the presents received. No coments about less presents. No counting the number of gifts. No complaints.

I enjoyed giving gifts to Mom, Dad, Marleen, Joe (although I had no part in concept or compiling of that gift, I just handed it to them) Ben and Jayar. I hope that they liked them. Some thought actually went into the gifts with hopes that they might enjoy them.

I plan on having the neighbor rip a few pieces of door trim for me this morning. I will install them and begin caulking all the new trim in the basement. Then the only thing left to do is tile the bathroom floor, install baseboards throughout the basement, paint the basement, install trim around the doors in the bathroom, paint those, have the finish electrical installed, have the finish plumbing installed, carpet.

Read more

Hospital Times

7 lbs 7 oz
19 1/2 inches

Read more

We can shut the window again

It is freezing.

The sheet rock was hung today. We have walls of sorts. They should start the taping and mudding tomorrow.

The baby is scheduled to arrive on Sunday, December 6th.

I am taking two weeks off to sit around and hold the baby.... and paint and baseboards and tiling the basement bathroom and finish electrical.

Read more

Open the window and let me out!

I am still singing the wedding hit "Mermer" in my head! ARGHHHHHH! Make it stop. Make the off key voices stop. I can hear them. I hear tone deaf people. Why am I singing? Cursed Deborah and her catchy lyrics.

Basement update for anyone who cares.
(by the way, I am accepting donations to pay for this money pit by way of cash, money orders, gift certificates, food items, re-saleable personal assets)

The basement is "mostly" framed. The heating guy is adding heat runs along the ceiling that will have to be framed around.
The heating guy is working two nights a week to put in 8 heating runs and a cold air return. We are looking at a 2013 completion date for the heat.
The rough electrical is in.
The rough plumbing is in, including the tub/shower.

We are three weeks away from adding another bouncing baby expense to the strapped household. Merry Christmas!

The job front is looking bleak. But my initial application is almost ready to submit to Utah Career College. I will need to take the $400.00 CNA course either in December or January to certify as a CNA for the state of Utah. Now, how to earn a living and pay the bills my wife and seventeen children for the next two years.

I tried out as a male exotic dancer last week but caught myself in a painful zipper accident and then tripped over my hot pink Lycra short shorts and threw my back out during a overly energetic signature pelvic thrust move. I ended up on my head in the midst of a group of cat calling, blue haired retirees. Its hard to stay focused and dance anyway with them yelling "take it off Sonny" and waving their social security checks at me like I am just a piece of meat! "I am a person and I have feelings", I was telling Ida and Martha later that night when they volunteered to buy me a glass of milk at the bar.

So I am still pondering my employment options if the credit union job goes away.

It is our family's turn to clean the church building this afternoon.
I was released from my calling as Executive Secretary last week. Apparently Ida is the grandmother of one of the high councilors in the stake. Who knew... anyway, it got back to the stake about my collection of butterfly and little orphan Annie tattoos on my upper thigh that could only have come from those gossipers Ida and Martha.

Read more

As the head spins

I am the last one standing.

Wife collapsed this morning, she was put on medicine as of last night by her OBGYN. She is in bed from the flu as well as throwing up from the nausea of the medication.

Both girls are on medication and Advil. They feel well enough, during the day, as to not want to stay down but are more sick at night with deep coughs and low oxygen. I have had the opportunity to sleep on the floor under each of the girl's beds, the last two nights, with one eye on the oxygen saturation monitor. My 38 year old creaky body doesn't feel as good after sleeping on the floor as it did as a kid, my neck is fairly sore.

The oldest boy is still in bed most of the time with the flu symptoms.

The second oldest has been on the living room floor for the past five days, valiantly avoiding the whole mess. He is slowly succumbing. Yesterday and today he has developed the cough, the headache and the stuffy nose. He still stays on the floor though, no extra rooms left to store him.

I win! Wasn't it a competition? The last one standing wins? Don't I get some sort of golden virus statuette. Hey, where is the love and where is the girl in the skimpy black dress to present the award to me? Out sick! I will give my prepared speech anyway.

I want to thank a fairly strong immune system, I want to thank an exaggerated sense of laziness that has helped my avoid significant contact with the sick kids, I want to thank the members of the foreign press, without which we never would have learned of the H1N1 (swine) flu. And finally, my family, if not for their pitiful callapse and subservitude to illness, I might not be getting this award today!

I think I remembered everyone. Where is the press room?

Read more

Update

The youngest has now been diagnosed with H1N1 flu as well. She was seen on Friday morning. She is hovering between the low 90's and the mid 80's in oxygen saturations.

The older daughter is now showing all the symptomes including a 102 degree fever.

Wife is coughing but does not show a fever yet.

There are two of us left.

Read more

Interesting Week

The perfect storm of life.

May I unload and have a pity party for a moment. Someone cue the balloons.

Tuesday morning - My two bosses: the chief lending officer and the mortgage manager are both fired. The collection manager and the Hr manager are both fired that afternoon. It is believed that I might be soon following them. I am waiting for the president to show up in my office.

This news has sent my wife into preterm labor. She is experiencing sharp pain across the stomach, can't get comfortable and is doubled over.

My oldest son has just been diagnosed with full blown N1H1 flu. He is been told to be isolated for 7 days and my youngest is also to be kept from school for two weeks. My wife is also to be kept away from him so she doesn't get it. Being pregnant, she is at high risk.

Who knows, I could be an unemployed widow with two children left alive by November!!

Thanks for the pity party..... who is assigned to clean up?

Read more

Flooding

The basement flooded this afternoon. It came through the window and down the wall. The floor soon filled with water as it swept toward the stairs, the stack of new sheet rock and the boys bedroom. The water soaked the sheetrock, went under the walls to fill the bottom of the stairs, the first four feet of the boys bedroom and into the utility room surrounding the water heater and the furnace.

It was wet.

And messy.

I pulled out the carpet and pad from the bottom of the stairs, filled the wet dry vac a number of times and killed a black widow spider in the window well. A frustrating afternoon!

Splash

Read more

The weekend

The children had the day off for District Development day on Friday. I took the day off of work too. I mowed the front and back lawn in the morning.

The family then piled in the car and went up to Payson Lakes for an afternoon of fishing. The boys caught 7 rainbow trout between them and my oldest daughter contributed three more to the stringer. We cleaned the fish lakeside and threw the entrails to the ducks who devoured them.

Came home to watch a dance program put on in back of the neighbor's house by my daughter and her friends (the girls of the three families) It included tickets to attend and a tribute to the new Hanna Montana movie.

We put the kids to bed and went back over to the neighbors house where we played Hearts with six of us. We all contributed treats for the game night. I made "cake like" brownies. There was also apples and carmel, various cheeses with a sliced beef stick with crackers, cream cheese with pineapple jalapeno salsa, chunky nacho cheese dip with tortilla chips.

Today, I helped my second son and his broken foot get to his football pictures in his pads and crutches. He and I then went to watch his team play their Saturday game without him. We sat on chairs by the end zone with a third chair propping up his foot and watched his Cowboys beat the Sky Hawks 14 to 6. My son could hardly sit still, he wanted to play and be involved so badly.

We returned home after the game and my oldest son and I continued the framing project until we ran out of wood.

My wife has now left for the General RS Meeting with her sister and one of the neighbors. We are glad that she could go and enjoy the meeting and get away from us for a few minutes. She looked really cute in a pregnancy denim skirt and pink top layered with a white shade.

She had dinner in the oven for us before she left (Yummy chicken and rice casserole with green beans, apple sauce and pears). I hope that she stops for ice cream before she comes home (peanut butter cup blizzards)

Church will dominate my day tomorrow. I have to be at the church at 7:50 AM and am slated to be there until around 4:30 to 5:00 PM right now.

Read more

It has begun! (ominous organ music..da ta dahhh)

My son and I have constructed a rudimentary framework along one short wall of the basement. Those construction types might call this "framing!" I would not be so bold. Although, it does look a whole lot better then the "framing" in the boys bedroom. You learn.... you mess up... you learn....you mess up....you hire professionals.... you read a book. (The construction circle of life) I can almost see little pumba in a construction hat right now.

One short wall and window down, about 18 times the work still to go, including a bathroom.

Goal: Carpet installation before Thanksgiving.

Read more

Mooooving Days

I am moved again.

Officially back into the Springville branch of Family First. I still have 6 boxes to go through.

I am still pretending to be a mortgage lender as Family First is still not able to do business lending.

I am glad to be closer to home. I even got the chance to run over to my daughter's school and pick her up for lunch on her early day. What a treat! I took each of my daughters out this week for a few minutes of one on one time in the evening. This usually includes riding in daddy's truck and getting ice cream. I love the few minutes to watch and listen to them.

I am determined to begin buying 2x4's tomorrow so that I can begin framing the basement.

Chau

Read more

I'm slimy - Its working

The water softener seems to be a success. I am slimy!

Next on the horizon...... the dish washer, clean it out and see if the soft water helps to get things clean!

And finally, I will be buying lumber this week to start framing the basement. A living room, a extended bathroom, a large boys bedroom, a game room and a door to the cold storage.

It needs to be completed by Thanksgiving.

Read more

Water water soft and wet

Is it bad not to remember the beginning of the work day?

Oh thats right, I set off the alarm at the branch. I was the first one in today. No one told me that they changed the code yesterday. I spent the day driving to and from St George for work. Home after 9:00 pm.

Arrived home then spent the evening with the help of a friend installing a soft water system in the basement. I am still wet from the shower while cutting through the main pipe. I am crossing my fingers!

I am hungry.

Read more

Beginnings - And Her Blood Ran Cold……

Maggie placed the small cloth purse on her lap and held it in a clutch like a child would a rag doll. She wasn’t truly far from being a child herself. The metal bench was cold against the back of her bare legs, which protruded from a tattered black miniskirt like carrot sticks, thin and shapeless. She had always thought that her legs were her worse feature. This had been confirmed time and again by countless “johns” who cared less about her feelings then about getting their eighty bucks worth.

It was too cool for a late May evening and Maggie shivered involuntarily. She had been sick, a cold, maybe a slight fever, who knew for sure. There was no one to check her temperature and she had no where to go so she stayed on the street, huddling against the chill, sneezing and sniffing.

The thin cotton jacket was more for show then for warmth and barely kept out the wind. Underneath, a tiny sleeveless thing, designed to emphasize cleavage, gave no insulation to her narrow ribbed frame.

She waited at the bench for no one in particular, simply to give her feet a rest from the pinch of the cheap plastic high heels. Traffic was slow tonight. There was very little movement on the streets, just a few girls like herself, standing in little groups, waiting and wondering.

The night seemed heavy, as if pressing in around her. It whispered a message of foreboding as if the darkness was trying to warn the frail little girl of danger.

During the final years before Maggie ran away from home, her mother would often slouch on the edge of Maggie’s bed, late into the night, spewing forth philosophy on men and the world. Thinking back, Maggie had never given much credence to her mother’s bitter blusterings. Frankly, it had been difficult to even understand her mother through the thick slur of the alcohol induced stupor. One thing her mother said, though, had stuck with Maggie, something that her mother had firmly believed and repeated time and again.

She would suddenly become still, drunkenly lean toward her and then hiss in a hushed and determined whisper.
“Maggie, listen well to the night. It will talk to those who want to know. It will tell you the good and the bad. It knows.”

It might have come from her mother’s own mystic upbringing. The daughter of a backwoods bible thumper father who fancied himself “touched” by the spirit and a mother who claimed to read fortunes, good and bad alike, in the scattering of chicken bones, kept in a small dirty sack, which would be spread across the end an upturned whiskey barrel like rolled dice.

To Maggie, it didn’t make much sense but she still remembered. She strained to listen now, to feel the night’s warning and she thought of her mother.

The doctor stepped down from the van and adjusted the heavy coat. He wasn’t accustomed to such coats, thick and bulky, preferring the starched white clean lab coats that befitted professionals of his caliber. This subterfuge was beneath him.

The doctor walked quickly to the side door, slid it open and leaned inside. Everything was prepared and ready. He placed the bottle and the rag in the coat pocket and slid the door closed quietly, leaving it unlocked. This shouldn’t take too long. He had seen one sitting alone on the city bench, just around the corner.

He approached the specimen from behind, shuffling silently in hospital slippers hidden under the low cuff of the wool knit pants. All part of this “common person” disguise that he despised so. She heard his final foot falls as he reached for her throat. She grabbed instinctively for his hands. Too late, a wet, sour tasting cloth rag was pressed over her nose and mouth, cutting off the chirp that was to become a scream for help. Methodically now, he held her close from behind, fending of the weakening attempts to scratch at his gloved hands. Foolish girl, he thought with contempt, I will take you like the others before you. These vain and feeble attempts to struggle will afford you nothing but a more painful death.

Glancing from side to side for possible observers, he pulled her head against his chest and stepped backwards toward the shelter of a grove of pine trees. The movement lifted Maggie’s frail, barely clothed body up and over the back of the bench. Her purse fell from her lap and flopped into a muddy puddle of water. She became frantic. As the doctor continued to pull her backward, she began kicking and swinging like a grasshopper stuck to board of foam with a needle.

The doctor was tired of playing with this insolent girl. He had tasks to accomplish of which she was but one. Much more important tasks yet awaited him. As they disappeared from view between branches, the doctor lowered his chin towards the struggling girl’s ear and whispered.
“Do you know fear? Your blood will run cold before the night has ended!”

Maggie’s eyes widened for a fraction of an instant before rolling back into her skull. She became limp in his arms. A rush of accomplishment filled the doctor. But only momentarily, a doctor must remain calm, collected and in control at all times. He removed the cloth and lifted the body, cradling the girl in his arms. Walking through the trees, following the street, the doctor returned to the safety of the van. He opening the side door with two fingers and, unceremoniously, dropped the lifeless form onto a mattress lying on the floor. She landed with a muted thump, her thin carrot stick legs sprawling into very unladylike positions. The doctor huffed in disgust.
“Dirty Whores!”

Now, less concerned with discretion, he slammed the door closed and rushed around to the driver’s side, pulling off the coat and gloves as he went. Once behind the wheel, the doctor reached under the front seat and pulled from it a syringe filled with amber liquid. He turned in his seat, pulled off the needle guard and plunged the narrow shaft of steel into the pale white skin of the girl’s exposed upper thigh.

“Sleep, glorious sleep…..” The doctor rolled into high pitched falsetto song as the van pulled from the curb.

Read more

It will be an early Christmas

It will be a ..GIRL..
claims the doctor (right...Deb)

Due date: December 13th

Read more

Beginnings - Cement City

Lemon drops rained from the shattered glass dispenser along the back ledge, fronting the wall length mirror, and bounced in all directions across the Italian marble floor of the ancient corner candy and ice cream counter.

“The next one is in your head!” snarled the menacing yet clean cut hulk of a man in the midnight blue, hand tailored suit, holding a large black handgun. Smoke eased wistfully from the black eye of the muzzle. The man’s attire spoke of money and power, from the hundred dollar haircut to the four hundred dollar pair of black wingtips which glistened from hours of polish and buffing.

He spoke, like one who was accustomed to getting his way, to the smallish, frail old balding man in the red apron, cowering near the floor. In an angry yet controlled hiss he spoke again.
“Now then, we will try this again. Where is your boss, McCloud!”
The shrinking man, clung to himself and squeaked faintly but did not reply.

The large suit stepped around the corner and strode toward the quivering mass. In one gloved fist, he grabbed the old man’s shirt and lifted until the man’s tan loafers hung in the air above a scattering of yellow marble sized confections.

“Charles!” reading the name off a faded badge pinned to the crumpled man’s apron, “Charles, you don’t want to die, protecting scum like your boss McCloud, do you?” He waited, holding the man aloft as easily as if he were a holding a finger in the air to check for wind. “Now answer the question!” He screamed suddenly, shaking the man in the air.

“I….don’t…know where he is…” Charles finally sputtered. “I haven’t seen….him since…Saturday morning, Mr. Woods.”

“You know me? Huh!” Mr. Woods chuckled with more menace then humor.
“I’ve heard..a..heard of you, of course.”
“Well, then you know that I am not a patient man, Charles. Especially with people who are loyal to scum bosses and who lie to me!”

But..bu..bu” Charles stammered like a rapid spattering of hiccups.

But Mr. Woods was done chatting. He dropped Charles to his feet, with a thud by releasing the grasp of his left hand while instantaneously bringing his right around in a tight efficient swing. The swollen right fist, holding the gun by its barrel, came down against the side of Charles’s skull with a crack. Charles collapsed without further sound into a limp pile on the Italian marble among the scattered yellow lemon drops.

Mr. Woods stepped, dismissively, over the mess on the floor and walked with purpose towards the front door but not before stepping to the counter and, with one meaty arm, knocked every glass candy container to the floor, leaving the floor covered in broken glass and colored sticky sweets.

Read more

Frustration

Spent the day waiting.... waiting for the underwriters to look at the loan files and generate additional conditions or to clear them for loan documents.

I waited for clients who don't seem to be nearly as motivated as I am to finish up their loans. "No, I didn't get to it this week.... we had company over the weekend so I couldn't sign the disclosure..... my accountant went camping this week." Meanwhile when their locks expire and they can't get the same loan rate....are they going to blame themselves for it....NO.... Right here! The big bald guy. He's the jerk who couldn't get it done. The FAT man!

Waiting for a company to fill out some questions on a third of a page of paper about employment of one of their employees.....all day.....no return fax.... probably still sitting on someones desk while they pick their noses or talk on the phone about their plans for the long weekend.

Waiting at the church in a white straight jacket and tie, after wolfing down a wonderful dinner so that I could be on time for interviews planned at the whim and choice of the bishop..... only to discover that, after opening the church, the bishop's office and the clerks office and adjusting the air conditioning in the bishop's office so that he would be more comfortable, that after twenty minutes where no one showed, to call the bishop who is still sitting in the comfort of his home and have him tell me that he decided to move them back two hours. "oh, I tried to call you but no one was home. maybe I should have tried your cell phone." Or, I have an Idea, how about just leaving a message on that little thing I call the idiot box or the sifter of stupid phone calls.

Coming home from the church, to watch my daughter be oblivious to cars while she rides her scooter on the streets and to have some MORON, who obviously beats his children and wife, after stopping as my daughter dawdles by the front of his suburban, then lay into his horn for twenty seconds to prove some point or teach a lesson. If I had been close enough to yell at him, I would have taken his horn and performed an intimate colonoscopy, gratis, through his nose!

Now, I sit, knowing that I should be doing something productive, but, trying to let the day fall away.

Frustration!

Read more

Bread

The long green tubular veggy that grows inches overnight while you slumber has been the source of my focus for the past two days.

I shredded 6 cups of the stuff, which equated to 2 oversized veggies. This has become six loaves of bread. 4 on Saturday and two more on Sunday afternoon.

The nine brown frozen bananas in the freezer also gave of themselves to become 3 additional loaves. 1 last night and two more this afternoon.

I purchased two glass loaf pans a few weeks ago and I am having a ball using them!!

Read more

another day

Off to scout camp for the day tomorrow morning.

Spent today collecting loan conditions on various loans. Drove to Fillmore for more conditions, no lunch, left work at 7:00pm.

My headache continues for a third day. I don't normally get headaches.

My hands continue to twitch more and more consistently over the last six months. It was just in the evenings initially. Now it goes on throughout the day. I don't know what it is.

Read more

Payson Lakes

Returned yesterday afternoon from a fun but wet 11 and 12 year old scout fishing campout.

I camped with my boys and we had fun fishing on one the Payson Lakes. We used orange swirl and green powerbaits and landed 18 rainbows and 1 brook trout. We brought 12 home and gave the rest to the other boys.

It rained throughout the night but was clear both for the evening and morning fishing.

Read more

Changes at work

I was nearly let go from work two weeks ago. Family first is currently restricted from doing business loans.

The president of the credit union decided to let me try to pick up mortgage loans for the time being, hoping that the restrictions will be lifted soon.

If it is not and they want me to stay on doing mortgages then they will probably require that I move to commission only. I don't know this for a fact, it is just an assumption.

I am trying to pick things up.

Mean while I am having more business loans go bad, people not being able to pay their payments. This is not good to the tune of 1.3 million dollars today.

Fun in banking land.

Read more

Monday

Work was work.
I spent the day trying to complete a quarterly report due last Friday. This required a review of my tickler. (my portfolio of loans) I updated the payoffs in the tickler to help me with the report. I went with friends and coworkers Todd and Mark to Cabelas during lunch where
I looked at the fish and the rifles while they purchased ammunition and boots. The fish, I found out, are fed every evening at 6:00 pm and on Fridays and Saturdays at noon and 6:00 pm. I want to go back and watch them feed them.
I worked on the report in the afternoon and submitted it by about 4:00 pm. I also did other misc stuff for my boss and other members. I am working on a helicopter overhaul loan. Boring, tedious and something I don't want do. But I am stuck cleaning up a messy loan from someone else. snooze
Family home evening was a great evening. We had a group mile run for my oldest at the junior high for his pe class. He needed to run and be timed. We then hit the dollar menu at wendys, Dad's treat with a few extra dollars found unexpectedly. Then the meat of the evening was spent as a family canning in the basement. 150 cans of wheat, sugar, rice, flour........ They all pitched in, good attitudes and no fussing. Finished by 9:30pm to get the kids in bed and clean up. Tomorrow, fire line to put them all into the cold storage! yea!!!

I learned lessons this week from my second oldest son and Meridith. They both told me, in their own way, to back off with my typical teasing. I was teasing Meridith about eating many helpings...usual stuff, but she informed me that it was quite annoying. No more teasing Meridith. All grown up and too old for teasing from her older brother. I will put the picture thing to rest once and for all as well. I'm sure that is annoying too. I will try not to tease people anymore. My son thinks that I mock him too. I didn't realise but I probably do tease him too. Not a good week on that front. Or maybe a good revealing week on needed behavior changes.

I rsvp'd to go to a introductory seminar about the Nursing program at Utah Career College for Friday. We will see.

Mowed the lawn on Saturday and burned my head. My head will sure to be peeling by Friday for the seminar. My wife just says to tell them that it is dandruff. That will be much better.

Read more

Life Update

Just finished watching "Bedtime Stories" with the family. One of Adam Sandler's best movies. I enjoyed everything but a few very unwelcome and unneeded flatulance jokes and a gaggle of times where God's name was taken in vain. Oh and the villian was named Sir Butt kiss, a needless addition to an otherwise enjoyable movie.

I am in the process of reading one of my favorite authors, F Paul Wilson. "All the Rage" a Repairman Jack novel. Fantastic as usual.

I have also been intent on growing my facebook farm in Farm Town. So far so good. I have increased the farm in size twice and am growing primarily potatoes, both for value and speed.

I start again tomorrow on a new push to diet and exercise.

Read more

Beginnings – Someone to cry over me: The eggs have broken

(Sequel to “Battered and Beaten: Eggs on the run”)

She pushed my door open slowly, almost timidly. I could see the crimson colored dress through the blurred glass. I didn’t often have unannounced walk-ins and was surprised. Still leaning back, I pushed my ball cap up so that I could get a better view of my first visitor of the week. It seemed to take an hour for that door to swing open sufficiently to reveal the contents of that colorful dress. I waited, in a reclined, lazy, detective with a desk job sort of way, soda can in one hand, two cookies in the other, crumbs on the chin and shirt, sporting my best deer in the headlights expression. Her legs entered first. They rose like my blood pressure until disappearing underneath the swirl of lipstick red cotton pleats. Smooth, toned and golden, like a sculpted masterpiece, they moved, walking towards me like two quivering machines, tightening my shirt collar with every step, her skirt giving a teasing twitch.

As my eyeballs made the Everest like climb up her creamy thighs, my beloved wingtips slipped from the desk and smacked the floor, catapulting me forward. My soda went right, the cookies went left and I slipped off the front, down the slick vinyl, as my chair scooted backwards on rusty squeaky wheels. I landed with a thud on my rear. My arms, still up over my shoulders, clung desperately to the chair’s metal armrests.

I sighed. That was exactly the impression I was hoping to make to those legs! Dropping my eyes from the ceiling, I could look right under the desk. Two, small, perfect feet perched on top of four inch open high heels, stood together in front of the desk. I could see her tiny toes. They were the type that cried to be played with and tickled.

I had lost my hat in my little detective avalanche and now scanned the carpet for it. I found it by my feet, grabbed it, pushed it back down on top of my head, tried to straighten my tie, pulling it tight, and finally, sheepishly, looked up over the horizon of the desk.

She stood about a foot away from the front edge of the desk, at a slight tilt, looking down at me, a long curled, chestnut haired goddess. Her dark eyed gaze made my stomach buckle. Her smile was like dripping honey, so sweet that my teeth hurt. She looked down at me with a quizzical “am I in the right place” expression, her thin, perfectly plucked eyebrows curved downward into sexy little question marks. The dress was short sleeved and dropped in the front to a low v-neck.

I swallowed my embarrassment and, using my best, deep, testosterone laced voice, sputtered.
“And how can I help you?”
I knew that I looked and sounded foolish, peering up from behind my desk, my cap, off centered, pushed down to my ears. But you deal with the hand that you are dealt, so I pressed forward.

Her throaty seductive voice pricked at my libido and caused me to feel even more self-conscious.
“Are you the detective? Ah… a Mr. Jake…ah?”
I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. She had the cutest little wrinkle of the nose when she tried to remember my name. I felt so important.
“Just Jake is fine.” I assured her. “And, yes, I am the detective.” I said, deep voiced, giving it my best Bogart, while struggling to get to my feet, banging my hip on the desk and then smiling through the throb of pain erupting down my leg.

Read more

Quip's Corner - Breath of the Dead

Breath of the dead, yellow and muddled, choking and seizing with lifeless spasms
Chaos and terror, suffocating pressure of screams stifled to the minds echoed chasm
Light extinguished, impending pain on unabated paths, flames of fear ignited
Abandonment complete, sorrow drawn to mute the prayers of innocence repeated
With limbs leadened, desperate escape retreats to forgotten caverns of dread
Drowning in a haunted elixir, loneliness consumes the senses with the breath of the dead

Read more

Nursing?

Here is a great Nursing video that I found.

Read more

Beginnings – Battered and Beaten: Eggs on the Run

Jake Rudder, Private Detective. It wasn’t catchy, rather boring really, but it worked for the space allotted over the mail slots and that was all I needed. My office was on the third floor, which was also the top floor, of the oldest office building know to man. It claims to have been built in 1893, a rose in the hat of the upper west side of Springdale. I can only imagine what types of businesses occupied office number 308 before I arrived four years ago. Someday, I’ll pull up the burnt orange shag carpet, which sweeps through the entire three room office like an ocean of overripe fruit, and count the inevitable chalk outlines which must cover the old hardwood floors beneath.

They called the building The Chamberlain, after Mayor Alfred Patrick Chamberlain who pushed for, funded and oversaw its construction. “Bringing in commerce and industry – A healthy city’s life blood!”, was his reelection cry, a vision which had begun and ended right here on 1243 Brightenburg Avenue. He was never reelected.

Three square stories of mud colored brick with large windows and narrow ledges, perfect for the depressed who wanted a place from which to jump. Problem was, I doubt that they could kill themselves from only three stories up. To date, I have never heard of any legitimate attempts, but in this town anything is possible.

I advertise in the classified of two small local papers. Nothing fancy, just “Detective work – cheap, quiet, gets results 555-8808.” It works okay. Enough to pay the rent, feed myself and occasionally put something away towards the tropical island that I intend to buy. Something off Bora Bora maybe, who knows, I’m not really that picky.

My clientele is a funny mixture of kids with active imaginations, strange little men who think that some government agency is following them and lonely old gray haired ladies who want me to find relatives, friends or even the occasional extra pair of glasses. I take all kinds, an equal opportunity snoop, of sorts.

I spend most afternoons behind an old three legged plywood desk, originally painted beige. The desk apparently came with the office. I found it turned on its top, in the tiny back storage room, the day that I rented the place.

I usually flip on the old black and white which sits on a sagging metal shelf bolted into the corner between two walls of the front reception area. My desk sits out there as well because I can’t get it through the second door into the one nice office in this place. So I sit out front, perched in a squeaky high backed, second hand, olive green vinyl office chair which, if forced, leans back just enough to allow my scuffed four year old wingtips to clear the top of the desk.

I then loosen the tie about three or four inches, stretch back with half open eyes under the brim of my dirty yet loved ball cap, pulled low over an ever widening forehead and watch baseball while eating fig newtons and slurping down a concoction of Diet Pepsi and lime juice.

Today, I stuck my fingers through the slats of the window blinds and watched the dark grey clouds roll and build along the horizon like balled up dirty sweat socks. The storm was growing over the mountains. The news predicted rain and lots of it, turning to snow by late afternoon. The weatherman spoke in over dramatics about a low pressure front pushing across the state. Blah Ba Blah Blah Blah, I had lost interest after “We will receive rain.”

This meant that I would have to go down and move my rust red VW Bug, illegally parked, out front in a faded yellow disabled parking stall. But really, it was always the only one available, what should I do? I wouldn’t have to move it at all except for the fact that the car had become a perpetual convertible. The top had slowly rotted away in large chunks until, two summers earlier, I had to remove it completely. Now I am constantly running to move it out of the weather or throwing a tarp over it like a redneck’s lawn ornament.

I let the blinds fall back into place and turned back to the baseball game on television. It had been a slow day and a slow game. Brewers versus the Royals, not a season deciding game by any means. I am a Kansas City Royals Fan. I state that unequivocally. I have been one since I was ten years old. My little league team carried the same name and I’m nothing if not loyal. They are currently 48 games out of first place, a fairly familiar position in the standings. But I still watch the games and wear the hat, my contribution to fandom.

Read more

Beginnings - Stiff Winds

The night was black and tasted of rain. The wind whipped, in fierce whining gusts, along the muddy banks of the Torras river, tossing the rushing currents of water into a frenzy of swirling white-caps which crashed against the treeline, washing away the wet earth, undercutting roots, eroding the bank’s fragile barriers.

The bare light bulbs hanging from frayed and twisted single strand wire, strung loosely across the aging cinderblock bridge flickered on and off in a peculiar arrhythmic frequency, as if an unattended child were playing with the switch. Dimming suddenly, they paused, emitting a sickly yellow glow, before disappearing entirely, throwing the bridge into complete darkness.

The willow and birch trees lining the river’s edge fought valiantly against the squall, swinging their branches wildly, bending and weaving like punch drunk heavy weights. They cut and slashed at the torrent’s oppressive hands, battling to maintain the ranks.

A tall slumping figure huddled, with his back against the wind, in amongst the trees, approximately fifteen feet from the water’s edge. He was dressed for wet weather, wearing calf high gray rubber wadding boots and black plastic slicker pants with matching hooded jacket, which shrouded his head and the two weeks growth on his face.

Nervous fingers fumbled with the yellow BIC lighter and the package of unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Securing a single cigarette from the foil container, the dark form pressed the package back into a pants pocket, steadied himself against rogue gusts of wind and then bent forward slightly. Cupping his hands up into the hood, he protected the solitary flame as it began to lick at the white paper wrapper.

Taking a slow drag on the Camel, he straightened and adjusted his stance to ease the strain of stiffness in his legs. It wouldn’t be long now. The darkness and the ever increasing growl from the storm would provide affective cover. He pushed the jacket sleeve up and off his wrist, checking the time.

The trees began to glow as the headlights from a late model sedan pierced and illuminated the darkness, slowly guiding the car around a sloping bend along the gravel road which dropped gradually toward the dilapidated bridge and the dark figure’s position.

He flipped the cigarette towards the river, slowly dropped to a crouch and slid a hand into the jacket. The touch of the cold steel of the pistol sent a shutter down his spine. They had insisted that he use a gun, this gun.

Read more

Back to work

Had a great time with Dad, Richard and the boys watching baseball. Go Royals!!
Glad to be home to be with my 3 girls.
Need a vacation to recover from the vacation and prepare myself to return to work.
Glad for a little snow and cool breezes after the 90's in AZ. I like Utah weather.
Back to work on my "to do" list around the house.
Glad to have Suz back in Utah, can't wait to see her!
Back to the diet and the stationary bike. Do leather belts shrink with use?
I want a pizza.

Chau

Read more

Quip's Corner - what is black and white and red all over

Mary Margaret was a devoted nun
By day she served and prayed
But nightfall rang the party bell
She was out to have some fun!

Drinking till ten and dancing till three
All the boys knew her as Jill
She awoke with a phone call at eleven fifteen
They’d found her habit in a tree

Read more

Quip's Corner - married the first for love

She married the first for love
The boy that made her smile
She married the next for money
The boy that had the style

The third came quite by accident
The fourth and fifth were too
The sixth was in a drunken haze
A mumbled and slurred “I do”

She swore off men from that time forth
No need to add again
She could live a happy contented life
Without another man

She could certainly cut the grass alone
And reach to change a light
By her bed, she had a bat
For the creaks and bumps of night

Silence soon became the seventh
And solitude, the eighth it crept
A subtle ninth in Loneliness
Alone, each night, she slept

The first came by for old time’s sake
He missed her laugh and touch
He visited, they laughed and talked
The feelings came in a rush

As he stood, she said “don’t go”
She pressed a kiss and then,
She asked him softly, while in his arms,
“Can we make it an even ten?”

Read more

I need help.

I am diligently doing my "Search, Ponder and Pray" on the subject of going back to school in the subject of Nursing. Right now, I am knee deep in the searching and pondering phase with a little praying thrown in for seasoning.

This will show me if anyone actually reads this blog or if I am spouting into space.

I am wondering about pros and cons for going back to school and for trying to become and work as a nurse. I already know that the primary con would be how I am going to look in the little white skirt. So don't include that one.

Thanks, ahead of time, for your input.

Read more

Beginnings - The Price of Murder

The Price of Murder
Mathew Steeson Jr maintained a tiny clock shop on Turpine Boulevard in the center of Hidden Cove’s historic shopping district. The shop was unimpressive, one might even say forgettable. It sat, pressed between a chain convenience store and a seafood restaurant, called “Seaweed Pete,” the front of which had been constructed to look like the gang plank of an 1800's pirate sailing ship.

The clock shop was nothing more then a narrow room running lengthwise into the bowels of the building. The two side walls of the shop were adorned with clocks of every imaginable shape and size. At the far end of the room and running nearly the length of the rear wall sat a nondescript white Formica counter top resting on a smudged glass display case. Inside the display case sat additional glass shelves with more clocks scattered indiscriminately.

A small point of sale machine sat on one corner of the counter. A solitary wooden door painted white stood directly behind. The door led to a storage closet and a small bathroom which accommodated a chipped porcelain pedestal sink and toilet.

The front window was clouded a pale mud color from a weathered coating of sun reflective film. The frail wooden door held the same sun treatment which obscured a thin plastic sign displaying the store’s oddly random hours of operation.

Yes, Mathew Steeson, Jr. was rarely at the clock shop. If he were to be honest with the random window shopper who found him behind the counter, he would have admitted that he knew very little about clocks, cared even less. He had convinced the stocky yet diminutive landlord to agree to a ten year lease on the property by promptly producing a neat stack of crisp 100’s and placing them, ever so deliberately, under the landlord’s nose. The man greedily rifled through the bills like playing cards and agreed on the spot to the terms prompted by Mr. Steeson. He hadn’t been seen near the clock shop since.

The only constant visitor to the shop was the mailman. He had never actually met Mr. Steeson. He had never found the shop open when arriving with the mail. He couldn’t even say if the mail was ever received. He simply followed the same routine any time mail came for the small shop. He would step to the door and feed the letters one by one through a narrow slot marked mail well below the window. He would occasionally peer through the window for lights or movement or to see where the letters had fallen.

Over the years, the mailman couldn’t help but notice the widely varied post marks on the letters, all simply addressed to “the clock shop”. The letters seemed to come from all over the world. The letters were all uniformly thin but varied in size and color. None carried a return address visible on the face. None gave any hints to the secrets inside. And it was a good thing that the mailman maintained a fairly strong case of indifference. For if he were able to read one of these seemingly plain everyday letters, the letters that he delivered diligently, he would have learned significantly more about the absent Mr. Steeson and he would have discovered one more very curious piece of information…. The price of murder!

Read more

Beginnings - Tropical Concoction

The ocean breezes were light and cool. They passed over the top of the rippled surf, picking up moisture off the water and raced to the shore before losing themselves among the palm leaves. Thomas dozed in the warmth of the day, the breezes tickling his toes, blowing softly through the open mesh of the hammock. He rocked slowly. His weight caused the two young palms, to which the hammock was attached, to strain and bend inward toward themselves.

Tiger Island was a mere speck in the vastness of the southern Pacific ocean. It measured approximately 1.3 miles from northern to southern tip and about half as wide. Towering cliffs rose from the crashing surf surrounding the island on all sides. The shear face of the rock wall which guarded the island was weathered and cragged but solid except for a single small naturally eroded archway along the waterline approaching the southwestern corner. The arch way rose in the center to twelve feet from the ocean surface and extended approximately twenty feet across.
Through the arch way, the perforation led inward like a cave into the rock face, drawing thirty feet into the cliff until opening, like a dream, into a tranquil protected lagoon of pale blue.

Thomas extended an arm lazily toward the water and dropped the banana peel, which fell with a soft thud onto a growing pile in the sand. As if in response to the discarded peel, the thin black twoway radio tucked under his thigh, began squawking like a nervous cockatoo. He pulled it to his lips and pressed the respond button, silencing the noise.
“Yah….”
“Are you in the tower, 21?”
Thomas sputtered into the box as he struggled to sit up, “Yes sir.. I mean, almost sir..well, I mean, I am on my way back sir. I had to get the binoculars sir, from the landing pad.
You are not at your post, 21?
Trying to expel himself from the hammock, his foot caught in the mesh, flipping the hammock upside down, throwing Thomas headfirst into the sand. He rolled over slowly onto an elbow, brushing sand from off his head and face. Still clutching the radio, he yelled, “I will be right there sir. I am practically to the top now sir…..Sir?”
“Yes, 21. I can hear your excuses. We will be arriving in ten minutes. Deactivate the security system and prepare for our arrival!”
“Yes Sir!”, Thomas jumped to his feet and sprinted up the beach, glancing towards the towering peak above the tree line. He would never make it back to the tower in time.

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (11)

Way in the back!

Read more

Stake Conference Weekend

I have been assisting in the painting of the front living room, hall ways and down the stairs. This has been divided into a day for each section. My girlfriend will cut in around the edges while I am at work and then I muster the snippet of energy sufficient to roll the prepared spaces. It has worked sufficiently well. I am now adorned with beautiful streaks of brown across knuckles and arms.

I had been negligent in my duties from Thursday and Friday and by Saturday a large section of living space was ready and waiting the delicate caress of my paint roller! This included the sections high above the descending stairs where a uncommitted, highly distractable, bare footed bowling ball of a man could easily take one long, life altering step off a borrowed ladder and watch from a broken section of stairs as paint roller, paint can, wave of freshly exonerated brown paint and ladder come crashing down upon his baby smooth, kissable, soon to be freshly coated skull! This did not happen. I am focused, baby! or scared for my swollen and seam stressing life.

I began slopping paint Saturday morning as the second of two assigned Saturday chores. The first turned out to be the affixing of three coated wire rack baskets to the inside of the pantry door. I was able to use a drill and a hammer, create quite a mess, and still feel like a built something. Christmas in February. I began painting and painting and painting, all to eighties pop rock music blaring from a playlist on my Ipod through my son's IHome.

I soon realized that I did not have sufficient paint to complete the days assignment. I am dressed in a old pair of light blue, very worn and faded jeans, which refuse to nestle under my profound gut but repeatedly attempt an escape for my feet, and a equally old, once was double x now is a female small tee shirt and no shoes. I tell the girlfriend how lucky she is to have this....... no that's not right... I told her that I needed to run for more paint. She is obviously concerned because I don't run. ever. I stroll, I meander, I walk purposefully if I am getting help for some sort of accident, I crawl if I am on the floor watching tv and the remote is out of reach and all my efforts of Jedi mind control have failed, I roll it the remote control is to one side or the other, I shuffle if dinner is ready, but I don't run.

So I say that I need more paint. She informs me that the paint store closes in twenty minutes and is in Provo. I grab my shoes, squish my bare feet inside, lumber to the truck with the key ring around one pudgy finger and slid out of the driveway to a ear bending chorus of "Best of Both Worlds!" This is not the Hanna Montana version that I am ashamed to say is on my IPod, but it is the original Vah Halen masterpiece. I make it to the paint store in 18.3 minutes to discover that that don't close at 1:00 pm as otherwise warned but that they close at 3:00 pm. All is still well with my Saturday chores. I buy the stuff.... can of paint, roller brush, two disposable roller trays. I drive back and continue the work.

I borrower my neighbor's fancy ladder for the locations overlooking the crevasse and paint, paint, paint. It is 3:30. My first of four meetings for the stake conference weekend begins at 4:00, bless this church and their desire to get together. I run the roller over the final strip of bare wall and jump in the shower, offering up apologies to a son who does not like to be late and is waiting somewhat patiently in his suit, and to the girlfriend whom I inform will have to perform the enviable duties of washing out everything. This is the silverlining to the endless stream of meetings awaiting me this weekend. I won't bore you with the play by play of soap and washcloth as it scrubbed the endless vista of spongy, hairy flesh. Sufficeth to say that I showered.

Out of the shower, into the suit and back out to the truck to go to priesthood leadership meeting. Recognizing the seriousness and sacredness of where we are going, I change the music playing as we started the truck to "Jump" which I felt brought the proper spirit. This meeting then blended into the adult session at 7:00, which is not nearly as titillating as it sounds, which then blended into the 8:00 am morning side for youth and parents lucky enough to have procreated at least 12 years ago which then flowed effortlessly into the full unabashed family session from 10:00 to 12:00. NO MORE MEETINGS TODAY. Which is funny because I usually have nearly this many meeting every sunday. So nothing really happened this weekend.

Chau

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (10)

They keep falling out

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (9)

And yet more!

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (8)

More from the closet!

Read more

Current Instrument obsessions

I am currently obsessing with getting, collecting and playing these three instruments:

Fender American Deluxe Ash Stratocaster Electric Guitar.

Fender American Standard Jazz Bass

Fender BG31 Acoustic/Electric Bass

I am especially interested in obtaining the acoustic bass for my collection!

Read more

My wedding anniversary

Yes, #16 passed quietly by on Wednesday. We obviously tried not to do anything like celebrating for fear that we would disturb it. Mission successfull!

We did however receive an additional six hundred dollars in medical expenses in the mail for the month, fairly evenly split between myself and my youngest. Its good to be consistent.

I will probably be looking for a second job around the end of March. It's either that or get rid of the main drains to the cash flow, namely the same two aforementioned individuals. Although we have braces time coming again for two more of the children. We may just have to get rid of all of us.

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (7)

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (6)

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (5)

Read more

Weight Loss 2009 International Press Release

Attention: World
Time: 7:03 PM, Tuesday January 27th 2009.
Location: The Bowels of Humiliation
Announcement:
I could feel the bottom of the barrel with the tips of my big toes on the night I initially set up my Wii Fit character. You are put through a series of questions and skills tests to determine your weight and level of fitness. The program, when asking me to stand on the board for the first time, quickly chided me by saying that only one person could and should be on the board at a time. It then splashed the word "Obese" across the screen for all to see. I knew that all had seen it when my oldest son burst into fits of uncontrolled, lose the use of your legs, gasp on the ground for air, laughter! No use of the car for him when he turns sixteen! Finally, to add visual insult to emotional injury, the Wii fit promptly inflated my little innocent Wii Character to whale like proportions. That little guy couldn't touch his toes if a ham sandwich was sitting on them! All he can do now is waddle and lumber after the rest of the Wii characters before sitting down next to a Wii Tree to wheeze loudly like a 3-pack a day smoker.

We are starting WEIGHT LOSS 2009
Slogan: Think of my fat little Wii character!
Current Weight: Too embarrassed to disclose
Goal Weight: 215 lbs (that's right.... stop laughing... you would try to lose weight too if you had seen the alligator tears rolling down the swollen cheeks of my chunky Wii character as he tried to stand up to be picked for a Wii fit balance game. So Sad!
Procedure: smaller portions, less eating after 10:00pm or from the stashes in the closet or under the bed, weekly humiliations... I mean weigh-ins, exercise.... I don't mean JUST getting out of the bed to pee in the middle of the night, extra exercise.

I will post the weekly results (if they are positive) on this blog.

Wait..... it may be time for dinner? See ya!

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (4)

Still more from the closet! A Lakland bass and a Les Paul guitar fell out while I was sweeping.

Read more

news and notes

Saturday
Went with son to bass lessons, cut pictures of electric bass ads out of NAMM mags while I waited for him to finish!

Cleaned and vacuumed van with oldest son.

Went with family to open house for new Draper lds temple, Temple was beautiful but very warm, kid threw up in front of us half way through the temple, near sealing rooms, crowded - nose to nose, waited forever for bus to take us back to car. Family enjoyed the open house!

Family went to Red Robin for dinner - I had the blue ribbon burger without tomato or onion

Got kids to bed and played hearts with neighbors - I shot the moon with the first hand then got killed the rest of the game. I left wearing just a sock - in the pouring rain - strange because we weren't playing strip hearts! I really don't remember much after doing the third belly shot off the neighbor's cat. What in the world is in my teeth?

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (3)

Self explanatory at this point I do believe. If you are confused - see related posts then turn off computer, take a little white pain pill and lay down, the spinning will soon stop.

Opps.... Sorry, wrong closet!

Back inside girls......

Read more

Quip's Corner - Little Yellow Panties

Here you are Richard, my twisted play on the "yellow pansies" post in August. Since we both have always read it as panties anyway. Female and parental criticism may begin forthwith.

Little yellow panties
Little yellow panties dropped on the floor. Discarded and forgotten, kicked aside into yesterday’s laundry. On a nearby cushion, a girl nests, chin raised, shoulders back, quivering from laughter. A silver flip phone pressed to her ear, hidden by cascading waves of damp blond curls. She squeals and wiggles her burgundy tipped toes as she shares a juicy rumor between girls. A crisp pink cotton towel is wrapped loosely across a buxom chest and under cream colored forearms. It drapes down across a bare lower back, providing little cover, the ends flapping open and closed as the girl leans forward to dab at one last naked toenail. A sea of pinup posters blaze across bedroom walls, wolf eyed movie stars and lip syncing crooners flex and leer. A queen-sized canopy of pale violet ruffles cover mounds of stuffed pillows and a community of portly bears dressed for a slumber party. Wild royal blue and gold pom-poms, still weary from the big game, sit limply in a heap upon the surface of the dresser amongst tiny snow white porcelain figurines of ballerinas in repose. A stereo the size of a credit card spews throbbing electronic drivel into space, each artist mimicking the previous. The girl snaps the phone closed and drops it to the floor. In an elaborate pirouette, she rises from the cushion. Allowing the towel to spin and fall from its protective perch, she shudders as the cool air assaults her exposed skin. Without hesitation, she dashes for the closet, slowing just enough to snag the little yellow panties with a pinky finger. She can feel her heart begin to race in anticipation. He will be here in less then an hour!

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet (2)

I continue to blow off the dust from the closet. Here are a few more!!!!

Read more

Aaron's Fantasy Bass and Guitar Closet

I will start posting pictures from my fantasy bass and guitar closet. These are instruments from my fantasy collection. I hope you enjoy the fantasy as much as I do.

Read more