Just Thinking Out Loud

Burning

2010-09-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

As the anniversary of attack on the Twin Towers approaches I am forced to pay attention to events this time by the over-hyped story on the burning of the Qur'an, Islam's holy book, by Reverend (and I use the term loosely) Terry Jones. Despite pleadings by U.S. authorities, the Florida preacher asserted his decision to go ahead with the burning of the book.

One part of me can understand the anger at the events that took place in New York nine years ago. It was a slap to our face to have a group of extremists create a terror wave that is still present to this day. Our lives have been forever changed (I was going to say "inconvenienced" but decided to be kinder) by that attack.

But this burning of the book is not about the attack on America, it is about demonstrating hate towards a religion. Ironically it is hateful demonstration by a religious extremist against a hateful act carried out by religious extremists. It is akin to the NAACP decrying racism while at the same time putting down the white man. There seems to be some kind of lack of logic at these extremes.

And then to add to the irony of all of this, the AP reports,
"In Pakistan, about 200 lawyers and civil society members marched and burned a U.S. flag in the central Pakistani city of Multan, demanding that Washington halt the burning of the Muslim holy book."
Really? You protest the future burning of a holy book by burning a sacred symbol of a nation? The irony is so thick I may not need to eat salad for a month.

So I suggest the following, don't give press time to crazy extremists. If the US press hadn't made such a big deal of Terry Jones and ignored his crazy rants then the international press would've followed suit. The same goes for Al Qaeda's rants, don't publish them nor report them on the press. Just ignore them and let the military worry about them. If we do this then the world will seem a little more normal.

There are 6.7 billion people on this earth and we are allowing the actions of a couple thousands to control our lives. Let's make a change and not give extremists free press. Imagine no Rush Limbaugh, Rachel Maddow, Glenn Beck, Keith Olberman, etc... Ah, what a wonderful world...!

Summer Summary

2010-08-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am in August and I just realized that I have not blogged all summer long. Maybe because it was a very strange summer and I have not felt normal most of it.

It started off with the Packard Family Reunion in Eastern Utah. It took place right at the height of allergy season AND the World Cup. Both of those are good reasons for me to stay indoors, but being the faithful and supporting husband I went to the reunion (toting a laptop to watch my WC games). I knew that it would spell trouble for my health but I tried it anyway. We arrived on Sunday afternoon, set up the tents, and enjoyed the family get-together. By that evening I was feeling the effects of the pollen. I began to wheeze. I loaded up on all of my medicine and hit the sack. By morning my wheezing got worse and I was struggling to catch a breath. Sara was miserable with her itchy eyes too. So we decided to head home and try to recoup. I returned to camp on Wednesday to pick up Jen and the kids. My wheezing never fully went away until three weeks later. At that point I should've figured my body was pretty beat up and needed rest.

Sara struggled, like most teens, deciding where to attend college. Her visions kept diminishing as her awards got smaller. Eventually she chose Southern Utah University. I reminded her of her responsibility to pay for her own tuition. She assured me that she had things under control. I am a veteran now of "things under control" after having gone through it with Allen. So as the days progressed I kept asking her where she was going to get the money without a job. She assured me that she would find a job, after her tonsillectomy. Well, it took her two weeks to recover from her operation and by then things looked grim for SUU. I told her that her best bet was to move to Cedar City and find a job there. So we began that quest. After a week of fruitless searching I told her that she had to face the reality of not going to SUU but staying home and going to SLCC. So now it became a struggle to get her a job in Murray. She finally found a very part-time job at the end of July and is now working.

These things, in addition to my regular stresses of being a husband and a dad, did me in. By the first week in August I was feeling run down. And on August 9th I asked Jen to take me to the ER to get my heart checked. They ran all kinds of tests and showed some plaque build up but mostly what they found was a spasm in the arteries around the heart. The cardiologist believes that it's stressed caused. So now I need to calm down and relax. My pain is still there.

So is this what heartache is? I guess stress in the family can cause this. But it only happens when you love somebody. So I must really love my family. Maybe I should love them less so it wouldn't hurt this much...

Funny Food

2010-05-17T09:01:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you just have to take a moment and enjoy life for what it is. Nothing fancy, nothing planned, just what is. Last week was a difficult week at work because of all the projects that I have going on at once. I just couldn't seem to keep them straight. As soon as I had one problem solved another problem would pop up elsewhere. So when Friday came around I was more than ready for the week to be done. I needed to get out of the office and just relax and do absolutely nothing. But the clock was playing evil tricks with me and it decided to slow down. Around lunch time I was just about ready to go crazy when one of my co-workers, Kali, came into my office with a box. She said that she was out with some of the other girls from the office and saw something that would put a smile on my face. I tried to smile but it was fake, I was too tired. She encouraged me to open the box and I could tell from her excitement that it was something she thought I would really enjoy. I began to wonder what would lift me up when I was in such a grumpy mood.

I opened the box and there it was, staring at me, as if it didn't care that I was having a hard day at work. There it sat, in all its glory, a butt-shaped sweet roll. I was taken back so I looked up and Kali was smiling from ear to ear, I asked, "Is this what I think it is?" She just smiled and at that point I not only smiled but broke out in a good belly laugh. That's just what the doctor ordered. After we laughed for a while she showed me that it was actually a peach-shaped pastry but she also saw what I saw and thought it would boost my mood. She was right.

So, if you're having a tough Monday, just take a second and study these pictures. They're sure to put a smile on your face:

Max Hall and Arizona Hate Me

2010-04-27T11:44:00.000-07:00

It's not news that Max Hall hates everything about the University of Utah including their fans. I'm okay with that. I don't know Max and will probably never run into him so it doesn't really affect my life at all. I can just shrug it off and move on.

But another issue that came to light last week does affect me. Arizona legislators, frustrated over years of inaction by the federal government in enforcing immigration laws, have taken the law into their hands and have made it illegal to be illegal. The law requires police to check the immigration status of anyone if there is "reasonable suspicion" that they are immigrants. Reasonable suspicion? The media asked governor Brewer the same question and her answer was, "I don't know what reasonable suspicion means, it may mean different things to different people." Really? You thought long and hard to come up with that answer governor, didn't you?

Supporters of this law tend to be the white, Anglo-Saxon, crowd. To them they are the people that "belong" in America. Everyone else is an immigrant. After all, isn't this country over 75% white? Well, mister Anglo-Saxon, you are also an immigrant to this country. Just because your race came here 400 years ago doesn't give you the right to consider yourself more American than me who arrived 33 years ago. My brown skin and my accent are outward reminders that I am an outsider to the majority race.

Arizona now wants to use my skin tone and accent as a tool for identifying illegal aliens. My wife will never be asked to prove her citizenship if she's stopped by the police. Her fair skin and blond hair will keep her safe from harassment. But I will now have to begin carrying documents to prove that I am an American when I visit Arizona. Why? Because if I don't have these documents I am subject to a fine and jail time.

Somehow this seems okay with most Americans. Some have told me that it's the price you pay in today's society. Just like Muslims are under scrutiny whether or not they are terrorists now Hispanics are under scrutiny whether or not they are Americans. So where does this slippery slope end? I'm sure it won't end with Muslims and Hispanics. Which group is the next target of our society? Mormons? Blacks? Lesbians? I don't know but I'm not liking it.

I can live with Max Hall and his hatred towards me, it's relatively harmless. But the hatred being stirred up by Arizona's immigration law is downright dangerous. Before you join the kool-aid-drinking masses with your American flags asking our state to pass a similar law think about it a bit, what if it meant that you would have to be persecuted in order to function every day in society? Would you still support it?

When any American loses some degree of liberty, we all lose.

RSLFM

2010-04-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

For the last few weeks I have been living with a bit of sad news that I was hoping was not true. But this morning I awoke to the harsh reality that Gabriela Da Silva aka RSLFM is dead.

For those of you who did not know her I will not try to explain who she was because words would not do her justice. But if one word could be used to explain her it would have to be ARTIST.

Her postings on rslfm.com and bigsoccer.com were legendary. She had a keen eye for seeing things as they really are and putting it out there for all of us to read. Privately, she was a soft-spoken friend who had very deep feelings and a very soft heart.

I will miss you Gabby...

A Grand Beginning

2010-02-26T08:24:00.000-08:00

I attended yesterday the grand opening of Pickett's Bambinos in Idaho Falls. It was a proud moment for my brother Ryan as he was able to bring to fruition one of his goals. I watched him proudly take his spot of honor and begin the journey of franchising my parent's product.

I couldn't help, however, to feel a little ping of jealousy and what-if-ness. I went back in my mind and remembered the conversations I had with my dad in 1992 about expanding our business to Idaho Falls and Rexburg. It was a different time for the business. My dad was 52 at the time and trying to line up his "ducks" for a retirement so the thought of expansion was not on his mind. I was a young, fresh out of college, enthused person who felt like I had the whole world ahead of me. But I lacked the capital to expand the business or even go out on my own. So I was stuck with a great idea and energy but with no funds. Now Ryan is able to do what I wasn't able to do 18 years ago and I am very happy for him.

I do hope that this is a grand beginning for him and a great retirement for my parents.

Really?

2010-02-23T14:48:00.001-08:00

Wow, I am still in shock over the news that I am about to share with you. But first, a little background. A couple of weeks ago we had our ward family history specialists give a presentation to the whole ward about the new familysearch.org website. If you haven't had a chance to check it out, you should. It basically allows you to input some basic information into the system and it quickly ties your genealogy to others who have similar ancestors. That way you very quickly find your genealogy that dates back to way back in history. I got all excited and went to the site and got myself registered and proceeded to enter some basic information. It wasn't long before I started following these endless lines back in time and little by little I began to learn that there is a lot of royalty in my family line. I found kings of Sicily, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Bulgaria, Hungary, Russia, Poland, to name a few. I even learned that I descend directly from the great Charlemagne, Julius Caesar, and Mark Anthony. That was pretty eye-opening, but not nearly as much as what I found today. Are you ready? Are you sitting down? Okay, here it goes. I am a direct descendant from Joseph and Mary. Yes, THE Joseph and Mary! The mother of Jesus and his step-father are my ancestors. I descend from their son Joses (or Joseph Jr.). That about floored me today.

What does this mean to me? I guess not much in the scheme of things but for a brief moment I felt like I was shaking hands with history. It also means that I am a literal descendant of Abraham. No adoption, no way, a direct descendant of Abraham. That is exciting. You always look at your patriarchal blessing and wonder if you are a direct descendant or adopted into the House of Israel. I now wonder no more.

Here is a screen shot of my discovery:

Talent and Knowldedge

2010-02-16T11:47:00.000-08:00

I have recently joined the Orwellian ranks of light rail riders and in order to fit in I have started bringing a book with me. It is an old college texbook from a literature class thats titled, "Confessions of Felix Krull, Confidence Man (The Early Years)" by Thomas Mann. I vaguely remember skimming the book nearly twenty years ago in order to gain some kind of substantial knowledge so as not to embarrass myself when we discussed it in class. But I did not gain the full advantage of reading it as it should be read.

I came across a line in the book today that may explain why I did not really read nor enjoy the book when it was originally assigned to me so many years ago. The statement is from the self-professed con man, Felix Krull, as he explains to himself why he did not finish secondary school:

"Just as a ship requires ballast, so talent requires knowledge, but it is equally certain that we can really assimilate, indeed have a real right to, only just so much knowledge as our talent demands and hungrily draws to itself in each urgent, individual stance, in order to acquire the requisite substance and solidity."

It's just a fancy way of saying you learn what you do because that's what you're ready to learn at that stage of your life. And you will seek knowledge to fulfill that hunger. Once that's fulfilled then you don't seek it anymore.

So that begs the question. Do people who never stop seeking knowledge do so because they are fulfilling a need to feed the talent? Or is it that talented people naturally seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge? Why am I so much more interested in this old text now than what I was twenty years ago? Is it because I am feeding a need, or just storing up knowledge?

I like to think that I am feeding a need.

Orwellian Moment

2010-02-05T12:58:00.001-08:00

So I've been riding the train to work lately, not in an attempt to save our polar caps and the cute & cuddly baby seals that will soon be devoured be ever-more hungry polar bears, but frankly to save some money. My company provides me with a discounted UTA pass and I decided to take advantage of that. This has proved to be a very entertaining venture.

I have learned that there are certain, although un-written, rules to riding the train to work. Some of them may just be social customs of this area while others are just plain common sense.

First of all, you must never, ever, run after a train if you're late because you are setting yourself up for failure. If the train conductor decides to wait the 15 seconds it takes you to catch the train you will enter the door huffing and puffing like a distance runner and be the focus of attention in your car. The other riders will not look at you kindly for making them 15 seconds later in their commute. And if the conductor does not wait for you then you have become the water cooler topic of conversation for everyone who saw your failed attempt.

Second, you must have some sort of distraction. I've noticed that these come in four different styles. We have the I-podders. These are the people that have some sort of earphone dangling from their ears the whole time and pretend to look right past you the duration of the ride. Then there are the book worms. They can sit down, whip out a book, and be engrossed in their reading in 3.1 seconds flat thus avoiding eye contact with you. They are tame compared with the cell phone talker. Yup, the one who doesn't seem to know what the silent or vibrate mode is on his phone. To compound things when he does get a call, which seems to be very often, he lets it ring way longer than he should. And more often than not the ringtone in some garbled version of a song that must've been popular in some punk night club in the '90's. Once he answers the phone he speaks as if the person were sitting across the train from them so that there is not a person in that car who is not aware of his conversation. The last distracting group is the talker. They want to talk. No, let me revise that, they NEED to talk. No matter who is listening, no matter what the subject, they have to speak.

And lastly, the Orwellian Moment. As you can tell, I observe people. So I've noticed the blank stare they have on their faces. I had a glimpse yesterday morning of a scene from the book 1984. The world looked gray outside, most of the people on my train were wearing black or gray coats, and the same people got off at the same spot as always. But the interesting thing is the way they walked to their jobs. It was almost a sullen march of doom. No, they weren't walking slow, they just weren't happy to be walking the direction they were walking. It's as if they were being moved on some conveyor belt of life.

When the train reached my stop I decided to do something different and not look like all of them. I wanted to get out and skip to my office but that seemed a little to far-fetched. Singing or whistling would be considered rude since I can do neither on key. What to do? I was puzzled. So I got off the train and got on the conveyor belt of life and joined the bleak coated people in our march of doom to the office.

I am Winston and I work and the Ministry of Truth...

Christmas Newsletters

2008-12-27T16:44:00.000-08:00

I know this topic brings out a lot of emotions for some people. Some love them, some hate them. I used to be on the side of those who mocked them constantly. I couldn't see the point of someone recounting their year to me. I just thought that if they were good enough friends I would know what they did during the year, and if I wasn't a close friend I wouldn't give a flying flip about their year.

Now, old age has mellowed me out. I now believe that the letter is more for the sender than for the receiver. The sender realizes that they need to connect with people who are and were important to them in their lives. I'm not sure why, but they do. In order to do this they have to write down their year's worth of events. Always focused on the positive, of course. I wonder what would happen if someone wrote a letter focusing on all of their negative events. I can just see it:

"Well, another year has passed and I have NOT lost those 10 pounds that I set my goal to lose this year. I probably will never lose them, in fact, as I write this I am snacking on fudge and chocolate covered pretzels. So the chance of me losing them is between zero and nil. But, I will set that as my New Year's resolution again this coming new years. My wife is still the same old naggy self, except with more wrinkles. She has begun menopause so she is always either too hot or too cold. And that new hairstyle of hers makes her face look fat. Bobby Jr. got straight C's in high school, despite taking an easy schedule. If it wasn't for the help he got from me he would've flunked his history class. I wrote most of his paper. Little Kathy is doing fine in school, if getting suspended for smoking is fine. She screams at her mother and I all the time and I honestly can't wait until she moves out."

I will never see this letter, but I sure would laugh if I got it.

Dema's Dog

2008-09-22T17:59:00.000-07:00

Few things scream Hollywood brat louder than a little yapper dog carried in a special, custom-made, bejeweled container. Images of Paris Hilton, Hillary Duff, and the myriad of others starlets come to mind when one mentions these tiny canine companions. It is this image that made it very difficult to picture what I witnessed last Saturday at Rice-Eccles Stadium after the Real Salt Lake game.

The game itself was atrocious. This was RSL's swan song in the stadium that gave it life nearly four seasons ago. An unbeaten streak on the line and the largest regular-season crowd were both shattered as Chivas USA scored on a defensive breakdown. And to make matters worse, the goal was scored by Alecko Eskandarian, a former player for Real Salt Lake who was traded earlier in the year because he was not producing goals. After the goal Alecko was grinning from ear to ear as he had just poured salt on the bleeding RSL. Disastrous. Humiliating. Oh, so many words to describe the loss, but that is not my focus today. I will let better minds discuss the reason for the outcome.

Amid the disappointment and the long faces after the game there was an unusually smiling one. One who hardly ever smiles, even after a victory, or a great play, or opening Christmas presents. But on Saturday he was smiling. It was Dema Kovalenko. It was so out of the ordinary that he caught the attention of most people. As Javier Morales walked past me, dejected and hardly lifting his eyes to say "chau," Dema comes strolling down the southwest ramp beaming.

The security guard stopped him and I could see her making a fuss about something. Then he turned and began walking towards our group which was standing in front of the locker rooms. And then we saw it. Dema was holding a bundle of fur in his arms. Upon closer inspection we decided that it was indeed a dog: a small, spoiled, very cute yapper dog. It's brown fur, huge eyes and floppy ears were enough to scream CUTE! If there had been a teenage girl in our group she would've let out an OMG scream that could've been heard from the press box. Unfortunately it was just a bunch of very tired game-day workers who were looking forward to cleaning up and going home. So Dema passed among us with a nod of the head and a smile, a very big smile.

It wasn't long before Dema was heading back our direction. He had visited the home team locker room but his visit was very short. I guess cute dogs don't make up for getting your rear end whipped by a bunch of goats. It did not seem to dampen Dema's excitement for his newly acquired friend. When he got closer to us one of the female workers let out a, "ahh" sound. That's all it took for Dema to stop and show off his dog. Like a proud new father he talked of how much he liked the little fur ball. I halfway expected to receive cigars from him. I was hoping mine was going to be a Seegar from See's Candy. Yum!

He soon put the puppy down and let it run around. I have to admit, it was cute. I was about ready to ask him where he inserted the batteries when the dog began to do a very familiar circle walk on the turf. After a lap or two around an imaginary spot he squatted his back legs and began to do what dogs do: doo! Our first reaction was to gasp. But after what we had all been through that evening we soon began to laugh. Dema broke into a nervous laughter that said to all of us, "Help, I don't know what to do." We let him suffer for a minute or two. But the show was about to turn really funny.

For three and a half seasons RSL has endured the marginal conditions of Rice-Eccles Stadium. The team had waited patiently for the day when they would play their last game and move into their own facility. During that time the team was fined thousands of extra dollars for anything that happened outside of the ordinary. So when fans threw streamers on the field, CACHINK, when the toilets clogged, CACHINK, and they were very happy to keep all the concession money. The team was very frustrated with the accommodations and the University of Utah was more than happy to take their money whenever they could. This faceless university which for so long has haunted the team had a representative on the field every game. This rep was a very strict woman who thrived in reminding us of all the little things we did wrong. It was this lady, privately referred to as the stadium Nazi, who happened on the field as the afore mentioned event unfolded.

We stopped laughing when she approached the group. It was as if Cruella Deville had just walked into the room and we were all hiding a Dalmatian puppy under our shirts. No one wanted to draw attention. Except for Dema. He saw the humor right away and continued his nervous laugh. This irritated the stadium Nazi. She told him that she failed to see the humor in the situation. Dema gladly volunteered to explain it to her: the dog was taking a s#!t on this piece of s#!t stadium. He laughed ever louder now as he realized the humor of his statement. His laugh was contagious as all of us began to laugh with him.

After exchanging a few more unpleasant remarks about their dislike of each other, I cleaned up the dog poop and the situation diffused. But not without leaving in our minds imprinted the picture of a little puppy expressing what most of us could not at the time: Au revoir RES! Hasta la vista RES! So long little buddy!

Like an ugly date to the prom, it served a purpose but now it was time to hide the dance pictures, never admit your first date was that ugly and move on to the prom queen: the Sandy Stadium!

Graduation

2008-05-31T09:09:00.000-07:00

I don't know, maybe it's because I'm cynical but I really think graduation ceremonies are way too hookie for their good. Marcos had his sixth grade graduation yesterday morning. Yes, you read it right graduation. Complete with speeches and "we'll miss you Horizon Elementary School" et. al. Now, don't get me wrong, I was there and cheered for Marcos, but the whole time I was thinking that this was totally wrong.

I think all of this goes back to the politically correct movement of "let's not offend anyone" and "let's make everyone a winner" mentality. This has led to my children receiving trophies after every season of whatever sport they played. Maybe I'm over simplistic but isn't this teaching the kids that they can receive something special for doing something normal? To expect an outward reward apart from the intrinsic reward of accomplishing something leads kids to ask, "what are we going to get if we do this?"

I have resigned myself to the high school graduation thing. They have taken the robes and mortar board from college graduation and adopted them as a rite of passage. There is no turning back. But to look at my 6th grader in a cap and gown is just wrong. Plain wrong.

I'm Movin' Out

2008-02-20T16:58:00.000-08:00

Billy Joel wrote about moving out, a time for growing up and facing the realities of life. His hit song, alternatively known as "Anthony's Song" speaks of a young man who has had it with life at home and he's ready to face the world. Unfortunately for him, everyone he knows that has done that has not succeeded financially. It is a great song to ponder the difficulties of life and the challenges that come to our rose-colored dreams.
Jen and I went to Santa Rosa last Friday to help Andy and Cindy move. Andy has been hired by Butte County Government to work in a position that is a significant step up in his career. His decision to take the job and the whole application and acceptance process has taken quite a long time. Unlike our friend Anthony from Billy Joel's song, Andy is very systematic and quite analytical in his approach to the move. But let's face it, a move is a move.
Think of the million of little things you take for granted in the place where you live. You know your neighbors, the garbage schedule, the postal delivery's patterns, the cloud formations, the way shadows fall on your lawn at certain times of the year and a million other things. All of those are now thrown in disarray after a move. Your senses become overloaded as you try to take in everything that is new. All while trying to assume a normal life so your children don't get worried that everything has changed. It's quite a responsibility.
I don't envy Andy and Cindy. They face a gargantuan task of establishing themselves in a new town. But unlike our friend Anthony, from the song, they are able to see the realities that come with the move. There will be no sergeant O'Leary walking the beat during the day to become a bartender at night. They have done this move the right way. And they will succeed, because that is the only way they know how to do things.

Parent-Teacher Conference

2008-02-13T20:38:00.001-08:00

I have just endured an agonizing four and a half hours of parent-teacher conference. Why do they do this to us? The parents of the problem students never show up and the parents of the good students come and expect you to lavish praises on their child. And I am not good at praising kids for doing what they should be doing in the first place. So I tried something new this year.

I gave each student a form to fill out. This form contained all of our classroom expectations on one column and the student's performance on the other column. Each student was invited to take it home and show it to their parents. If, after seeing it, their parent still wanted to visit with me I said I would be available at the seminary building during PTC hours.

I think my trick worked. I have 120 students and I only saw the parents of 6 of them! It was fantastic. Until I got bored from just sitting around. I spent an hour and a half without a parent to visit with. I then realized that I had interfered with mother nature. I had created an artificial situation. It started to feel weird after a while of just sitting there. Where was all the fun I was supposed to have with no parents around. Now I just waited and waited for the next set of parents to walk in. But none did, for a long time.

I need to tweak my system for next school year where I can balance parent time with me time. Ugh, this is frustrating.

American Idol

2008-02-12T19:10:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of masochists people on this planet. And I am watching a show full of them right now. I guess I just don't get what would drive someone to audition on American Idol. They are great singers, for the most part, that get torn apart unless they appeal to the three judges. Now, I am not referring to the audition part where there are a lot of fools allowed to go through to give us a laugh or two, I am talking about the Hollywood portion of the show.

All of these people are great singers.

They must not be good mathematicians. If they were they would realize that out of the 164 people there only 24 or so will advance to the live shows. That means that they have less than 1 in 8 chance of making it to the next level. Why do they cry when they are cut? Hellooo!! The odds caught up with you.

So after all of this whinning, why do I watch the show? One of my seminary students is on it. At least I haven't seen him get cut yet. David Archuleta is a sweet 16 year old boy who will get eaten alive by the Hollywood crowd. So I am watching to see the train wreck. If I don't watch and can't make an intelligent comment in class tomorrow I will lose the attention of my students. They are completely taken by the show and David's performance. So I endure the train wreck hoping to recognize one of it's victim.

So who is the masochist now?

Political Sport

2008-02-08T17:21:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that I am a political junkie. I can't remember another time when I have been so enthralled by the upcoming elections. I come home from work and turn on the TV and channel surf between foxnews, CNBC, and CNN. I am thrilled to see the country divided among the candidates. It's kind of a slap in the face to the good ol' boys club. I like Obama's freshness, Clinton's tenacity, McCain's high school jock humor, Huckabee's Southern sayings. But my favorite candidate was Mitt Romney. He was the high school class officer who talked his way out of getting beat up at lunch time. I'm saddened by the announcement that he suspended his campaign. That means no more punching bag for McCain and Huckabee. And since Huckabee is so far behind in the delegate count, I assume he'll drop out soon. So I turn my attention to the democratic blood bath. This will be fun to watch. Hillary has so many skeleton's in her closet that Obama will have a field day. Ah, who says there is nothing good on TV these days!

Has Been... In Pain

2007-09-13T07:03:00.000-07:00

I am not the most fit person on this planet. Actually, allow me to re-state that. I look as though I should be in shape but I am so out of shape that I get winded going up one flight of stairs. So I don't fully know what came over me last Tuesday when I accepted an invitation from my sister Angenette to join her pick-up game of soccer at a park near her house. Maybe it was illusions of grandeur, or the thought of re-living those glory days, or maybe it was just her incessant teasing that drove me to do the evil deed. Whatever the reason last Tuesday I donned my much-too-short soccer shorts, very dusty cleats, a pair of shin guards that had a few missing components and my old club shirt and headed to the park.

When I arrived I was relieved to see that the people who came to play were mostly amateurs who had not seen the inside of a gym in many years but could describe the latest addition to Wendy's menu in the minutest detail. I smiled confidently as I slipped my shin guards and shoes in place. I may just have a decent chance of not embarrassing myself. The park was crowded so we were pushed to the very small child-sized field in the corner, another obvious advantage for an out-of-shape player.

As I began introducing myself to the "regulars" one of them spotted an open field that was a little bit bigger than our kindergarten-sized battlefied. So we all grabbed our gear and walked to it while getting to know each other. I began to stretch and discovered that I had muscles that had not been used in a decade. They began to protest and I toned down my warm up. After all, I had to save my energy for the game. About ten minutes into the warmup someone else spotted a full-sized field that had just opened up on the other side of the park, and since we were not the only group looking to play they told us to run there so that we could claim it. I grabbed my bag and ran alongside all of them, for a few feet. Then I began to get winded but I could not, would not, lose this run to the Wendy's crowd. So I pushed myself harder and eventually made it to the new field. I threw my bag down, zipped open the side pocket and pulled out my water bottle. Oh, that drink felt so good! Until I looked around and noticed that no one else was drinking, or panting, or sweating, or dying!

I finished the game with my pride and honor intact, I was only beat by the Wendy's crowd about 15 times during the game. But I actually scored a goal or two and was invited to return next week. I think they were toying with me but I will be back: leaner, meaner and... more humble.

September 11th

2007-09-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

OK, so it's been a while since I've posted. But today as I drove to work and listened to the radio I was prodded into writing. Today is September 11th, the sixth anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center. As I listened to the radio host probe people's feelings about this day I asked myself the same questions... and the answer was quite different than most folks. I don't feel anything special today.

Now, don't take me wrong. I am not a terrorist nor do I support what they did. I condemn and reject anything that involves violence. I think that the terrorist attack on New York City was heinous and should be punished to the ultimate degree. But herein lies my problem. The attack was in New York City, located 2,180.1 miles (thanks mapquest) from my house. To me it is a world away. It is no more real to me than London or Paris. Mexico City is 400 miles closer to me, and at least I've been there. And while I think the loss of life is despicable, I knew none of them. This event is no different to me than the sinking of the Lusitania.

My life was not affected by this attack either. I am not a frequent traveler so all the aiport restrictions do not bother me. My job is not dependent on the economy so I did not lose any money. I thought this country was rather lax in security so I am glad it has stepped up.

I feel bad for not shedding a tear today, kind of. So if you were affected by the terrorist attack of September 11, my condolances to you. I will simply stand quietly on the sidelines while the ceremonies and observations take place. It is your moment to mourn and remember, and mine to stare at my watch to see when the next soccer game will be on TV.

Just Doin' Our Duty

2007-06-10T20:43:00.000-07:00

Real Salt Lake played the Chinese Men's National Team on June 7th at Rice Eccles Stadium. It was our first home match in 33 days. During the game many fans brought flags of Tibet and one flag of Taiwan. Some signs read "Defect Here" and "6-4" in Chinese in reference to Tiananmen Square Protest. The Chinese team stopped play in the second half to protest the flags and signs. I think they did it out of duty to the communist party. But then again, I think our fans brought those flags and signs out of duty to their freedom to express their opinion. In the end the RSL front office decided that the Chinese show of duty was more important than the American one and ejected a couple of fans. Interesting.

Sunburn and Wakeboard

2007-06-02T09:53:00.001-07:00

I did two stupid things yesterday. I went wakeboarding with my colleagues from work and I didn't wear sun block. Boy, was I dumb! How do I get talked into doing dumb things? I guess it's just my humanity trying to connect with others.

It all started when Justin Harper said that our faculty had to do a 3-5 minute video introducing our faculty for area inservice in June. We bounced around a few ideas but within a minute or two the boat and the lake came up. Justin, Troy Williamson and Spencer Knowles are avid boaters and wake boarders. It was over at that point. Three votes is the majority so no use resisting too much. I gave my, "I wish we weren't doing this" speech but it fell on deaf ears. So I put on a good attitude and showed up Friday morning with my swimming suit and towel ready for the torture.

I have to admit that as much as I dislike the sun I sure enjoyed the speed of the boat and the wind on my face as I waited for my turn with fate. Spencer went first and, as expected, showed off his incredible skills on the water. He even tried a jump or two just to have a good wipe out on tape. As soon as his turn was over Troy asked who was next. I decided to get it over with so I volunteered. I got a quick lesson from everyone at once on how to properly wake board. I listened to none. I strapped on the life vest (I was sure to make use of it) and Troy strapped on the wake board to my foot. There was no turning back now. I jumped into the chilly (70 F) waters of Willard Bay and started my torture. It took me about 8 tries before I finally got up. I had conquered the monster. After a quick lap around the lake I went for the grand finale and attempted to jump the wake... Splash! I hope they got it on tape.

At the end of the day I was sure that I did not want to own a boat nor do this very often. My trip to the lake may have seemed stupid to me at the time, but I was glad I went for a few reasons: (1) I did something that I had not done before, (2) I did an activity that my colleagues enjoy thus creating a bond with them, (3) I proved to them that I am willing to do unpleasant tasks to connect with them and unify the faculty. Now, my only regret was not putting on some waterproof sun block.... ouch!

Memorial Day Mayhem

2007-05-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

Family life is a funny thing. When we don't have family nearby we crave the love and support we receive from them but when you get together and feel that love and support you also realize that it comes with a price. Today we are hosting Jennifer's family for the annual Packard Family Memorial Day Picnic.

There is a set pattern for this event that no one dares to break. We get together at someone's house, we go and play a mock game of softball where everyone bats every inning, we go back to the host house and eat hamburgers and hot dogs with grandma's potato salad, shrimp dip, a usual fare of fruit salads, jello salads and a token green salad well smothered in some fattening dressing. After everyone has eaten and commented to grandma on her potato salad and shrimp dip we sit around and play card games. There will be tables playing Make-A-Million, Zarahemla, Settlers, Tricks, and the name of the game d'jour slips my mind. All the while the conversations reach concert level pitches as everyone tries to out talk the others.

I have done this for most of my 17 years of marriage and I am still not used to them. I am posting this during a lull in the storm. The group is at the park playing softball and I am supposed to be home cooking the burgers and hot dogs. So that's it. Family life goes on and memories are established.

Garlick Grill

2007-05-26T21:45:00.001-07:00

This was supposed to be a regular Saturday. No Real game so my mind is focused on my growing list of honey-do’s. I was doing pretty good at focusing on my tasks when something strange happened. You see, one of the things to do on my list was procure a barbecue grill for our family. I melted down my old one two weeks ago and have gone through some serious withdrawals since then. Remember, we Argentines live by our grills: no grill, no eat. But this was not to be an easy task.
I am a cheapskate by nature. I have never bought a new grill. All of my grills have been hand-me-downs that needed to be fixed and cleaned by me before I could use them. I’m OK with that fact. So I sat down today and searched the word "grill" on Craigslist.com. Up came a half dozen candidates for my grill replacement. I looked at the free ones and decided that I’m not that cheap. They were pretty scary looking. Then I found what I was looking for:
"This is a great grill, fully functional igniter, tubing and side stove top. However, the burner tubing rusted out this winter, so that is the only part required to make this grill work! This is a steal!"
It even included a picture. That sealed the deal. I called the person and made arrangements to pick it up. When I arrived the grill looked even better in person. I was set, I had found my grill without much effort. I could taste the great asado I was going to cook on it at home. I was thrilled and already in love with it. Then the girl who was selling it saw my Real hat and mentioned that this grill was given to her by her parents who live in Park City. She said that their next-door neighbor was a Real player who had moved to Florida a few months ago and didn’t want the grill anymore. She told me his name: Scott Garlick. I should’ve turned and ran at that point but naively I smiled and thought that the soccer gods were looking down on me. I bought the grill and she even threw in a propane tank. I loaded the grill in my van and as I drove off she said, "remember that it needs some repairs." I waved, confident of my grill-repair skills, and drove off.
I stopped off at Lowe’s to find the missing part. They didn’t carry it. It must be a fluke I said to myself. So I drove to Home Depot and searched for it in vain. By now I was starting to worry. Was there a relationship between this grill and Scott Garlick? I checked the brand and discovered that it was a Kenmore so I drove to Sears. There I was greeted by two clerks straight out of the Twilight Zone. They attempted to help me but did not have a clue about their jobs. They did connect me with another Sears store that said that they might have the part but since it was almost closing time I would have to come back another day. At that point my mind was set, I got stuck with a Garlick Grill and with the looming holiday and 40 relatives coming over I was doomed. I counted on Garlick to bail me out of my dilemma but it did not come through for me. It had the looks but not the internal parts necessary to perform the job. I was fooled by an old grill that looked the part but would not ignite. At least I had a propane tank, right? Nope, it was one of the old tanks that cannot get refilled because of the valve. The whole deal was worthless.
I’ve been had by Garlick… again.

Saturday Scramble

2007-05-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

You would think that after 18 years of marriage we would've figured out how to handle our Saturdays. But we haven't. They are hectic, loud and rushed. It is the day when we clean house, do yard work, prepare Sunday lessons and run errands. Today was no exception. The good thing is that we started off with a hefty breakfast.

I woke up to the smell of bacon sizzling in the kitchen. That was all the incentive I needed to get out of bed and go downstairs. I saw Jen cooking bacon and asked her what she wanted to go with them. She answered, "eggs." I had assumed that eggs were part of the bacon breakfast. What I meant to ask her is, "Besides eggs, what would you like me to prepare for breakfast." But since I didn't ask it that way I decided it was just easier to do what I do best, hash browns. That sure hit the spot.

After breakfast we mowed both lawns, watered the plants, swept sidewalks and walkways. Jen and Sara went to get their eyebrows waxed, Marcos joined his scout group in collecting money for the flags, Allen is mulling over how to do the same thing without actually doing any work and I am trying to get over the pollen overload as a result of the yard work.

Today we are going to make a D.I. run to drop off old, unneeded items, take Sara and Sophie to the library to return books and get new ones and buy a new BBQ grill (my old one melted with a grease fire two weeks ago). I also called the Solartube representative in town and left a message for him to come and see me about installing one in my bathroom.

So all in all, a typical busy Saturday at the PicnPac home.

Dizzy Friday

2007-05-25T10:33:00.000-07:00

Boy! I had a rough night of sleep last night. I was really tired and went to bed around 8 p.m. but Sara jumped on my bed and would not let me go to sleep. She is so funny. She kept putting her hair over my face and creating moustaches and beards for me. It tickled really bad. So after a few futile attempts at ignoring her I decided to get up and join the family. That was a mistake.

When I force myself to stay awake my body seems to slip into a pseudo second wind stage. By the time we had prayer and sent everyone to bed I was wide awake, yet tired. My allergies kicked into overtime and that was it. My night was shot. I spent the night on the couch trying to survive my asthma attack and the drippy faucet. I finally fell asleep after midnight. I woke up around 3 a.m. with a neck cramp (the couch is only 6 feet long, including armrests). So I dragged myself upstairs, turned off my alarm (so that I could sleep in) and fell fast asleep.

I woke up this morning when my nose began to run. I glanced at the clock and it was 6:08 a.m. Wahoo! I had slept in for 8 whole minutes. So I got up and got ready for work. As a result of last night I am dizzy tired today. I can't think straight.

Kindergarten Field Day

2007-05-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

Today I had the unique opportunity of going to kindergarten..., with my daughter. Her class was holding an end-of-year field trip to the Kennecot Nature Center and needed parents to help supervise the students. I have to admit that I usually play dumb whenever I am asked to go escort elementary school field trips. But this time I was trapped. I had my beautiful 6-year-old daughter give me those puppy eyes and say, "please daddy." There was no way that I could say no to her.

When I arrived to her classroom I met her teacher, a 29-year veteran and immediately felt secure. She had survived dozens of these trips and gave me some helpful hints. Funny how I can stand in front of teenagers everyday and not bat one eye, yet when I am in front of 24 kindergarteners I break out in cold sweat.

Our walk to the nature center was uneventful. I had braced myself for the worst but it didn't happen. The two boys, Keziah and Matthew, and Sophia behaved really well. They were very giddy and loved being out of doors. I quickly learned that Matthew was very independent and was not afraid of speaking out and saying what was on his mind. He asked me why I was bald, why I had "black hair" and Sophia had blonde hair and some other fun and interesting questions.

We enjoyed ourselves as I helped these three 6-year-olds discover our beautiful world and secured three more brownshirts to the cause of environmentalism.

Children and Homework

2007-05-23T14:23:00.000-07:00

I don't know if they come pre-programmed to make your blood pressure soar but children seem to do just that to me. No matter how hard my wife and I encourage, push, cajole and do everything in our power to get them to do their homework..., they always seem to fall behind. So now, with the looming prospect of the end of the school year hovering over us we have become like the Egyptian taskmasters who drove the children of Israel to finish their bricks without straw.

Pollen

2007-05-22T07:39:00.000-07:00

This time of the year is miserable for me. I struggle with seasonal allergies and it is really bad during grass season. In fact I just paused and sneezed three times between sentences. I have been receiving allergy shots for two years now and feel some sense of relief but I have a long ways to go until I feel normal.