Sunday, June 26, 2016

BLBB

The most exciting thing that happened this week was that my YSA ward went to Bear Lake--a state park I haven't been to. We called our event the Bear Lake Big Bash, or #BLBB16. I saw Bear Lake when I was a teenager, but I didn't actually go to it.

Now, my ward has a lot of rich people in it. I'm not poor, but I certainly can't afford a boat or own a fancy cabin to rent out to other people. But people in the neighborhood can. And they are generous with their goods, which works out well for me. Last year we rented a cabin out in eastern Utah, while this time people "donated" rental cabins--and I think this one was funner.

We went up later in the evening on Thursday night, so I took Friday off. I feel a little guilty about that, but I feel guilty about everything. (I also feel guilty that I showed my mom a spider this week that looked a little bit off, so she smashed it, and lots of little baby spiders scattered. If I hadn't shown her, those poor little orphans would still have a mom.)

We slept poorly the first night because we got there late and people were talking--and in the middle of the night someone woke up screaming. I asked him about it the next day and he said he couldn't wake up, but I still don't really know what was going on.

The next day, there were many activities planned, and I wanted to go to a hiking place. Now, if I'm going to consider myself a trail runner, I will have to go beyond Bountiful and North Salt Lake, so I wanted to do a trail run. But this nature trail we went on was only slightly over a mile, which is tiny, so I ran it twice, then ran up again to meet the walking group. It was a fun little hike, but there were lots of caterpillars hanging from the trees, and they stuck to our clothes. Others called them silkworms, but I don't think they were silkworms because they were hanging from coniferous trees, not mulberry trees. But I'm not an entomologist, so what do I know?

There was a tree with two 90-degree angles on it. I completely missed it the first time I ran the loop, and I didn't notice it until I read the interpretive sign my second time up.
 It was a lovely, but short, trail. I saw some wild columbine on it, and there was still a lot of arrowleaf balsamroot, even though that flower has died out at the lower elevations.

Later in the day, we went to a beach of Bear Lake, where I swam around for a time. When I accidentally swallowed water, I figured it was a calcium supplement from all the limestone dissolved in the lake. But the water was a bit cold, so the group moved to a pool instead--and indeed, my arms and feet became a bit tingly after a time in the cold water. I wanted to backstroke a bit further than I was doing, but I got a little freaked out when my toes could no longer touch the bottom.

I didn't sleep well the second night either--not because of screaming, but because I had a stressful work dream about footnotes. Why do I have to have stressful dreams when I'm on vacation, and on nights I'm already having trouble sleeping!?

The next day I did go out on my bishop's boat, but I didn't do anything in the water. I considered tubing, but I knew I'd be freezing if I did. I also worry a lot. I once read an article that said intelligent people worry more, so I hope that means I'm intelligent. (I say I'm intelligent, when I initially put an apostrophe in the word "means." Smh.)

We were sunburned, but I wasn't as bad, just a little bit on the peripheries of my sunscreen. This is because (a) I wasn't in the sun too long and (b) I wore a shirt. No skin cancer for me, thank you.

It was fun to get a small vacation in a lovely place, and cross a state park off my bucket list. It's also nice to know that unlike most of Utah's water state parks, this one was a real lake.

And I somehow went to Bear Lake without getting a picture of the lake. Phones and water don't mix.

***

(I separated this post so that people who only care about Bear Lake can quit reading here.)

In other news, I'm still trying to get my nephews to be like me, because I'm an awesome role model. I shared some of my seasonal treats with them, such as my America Mix Skittles and my patriotic Tootsie Roll Pops.

I also took them trail running a few times, although they couldn't run the whole time because they get side stitches. On one trail, six-year-old Nathaniel warned a biker that there was a stick in the path that he might trip on. This was right after we met a person I know named Tayson, and Nathaniel said he was named that "probably because he's tasty." He's so cute.





I also wanted my mom to see a sego lily, because she had never seen one, so she came on the trail. She saw one but just barely, as there were hardly any left, even though they were abundant a week or two ago.

We went to the homecoming talk of my cousin Quin. I'm sure it's different for them, but I felt like those two years sure went by fast. And the brother of one of his companions was in my mission. We shared a car for a transfer or two.

The next thing I need to get my nephews to do in order to be like me is to like cheesy 60s sitcoms. It hasn't happened yet. Maybe I can convince them to watch the episode of Lost in Space I watched this week, where a carrot alien turned Dr. Smith into a vegetable. "Ergo, I am a real stalk of celery."

Vegetables are inherently funny. But that's a topic for another day.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Monkeeing around

This week I got to experience full-time unclehood. My sister-in-law brought my nephews here, but then she went to Taiwan, at the same time that my parents went on a trip that had been planned before there were plans for my nephews to come here.

It made me appreciate parents, as it can be hard to balance cleaning and entertaining and cooking and other things. But I had fun with them. My bucket list is to go to every park in North Salt Lake, and I think there were only two I hadn't been to, so I took them to a new one I hadn't been to before. (The other one is under construction.) It had a spinning device they loved so much that they asked to go back the next night. They didn't like all the mosquitoes, though.

My grandparents really pitched in and watched the boys while I was at work, and on Thursday they had them the whole day, because I had tickets to see the Monkees on their fiftieth-anniversary Good Times! tour.

I don't go to a lot of concerts (I mainly see local artists), but when I happened to see the Monkees were coming through, the site I was on said they hadn't been in Salt Lake City since 1968. I realized that if they hadn't been here in forty-eight years, and one of them is already dead, it was probably the only opportunity I would have in my entire life to see them. And since I exclusively watch terrible 1960s sitcoms, I had to see them.

(Surprisingly, I had barely seen the Monkees TV show; I was more familiar with their music. After I got the tickets, I figured I should know more about them, so I ordered the DVDs of the series's first season, and I've watched the first six episodes. It's not a great show, but it's growing on me.)

My first experience with the Monkees was in high school, when I got a compilation CD in my Christmas stocking. I wasn't thrilled with the gift, as it looked really cheesy, but I listened to it and quite liked it, so much so that I got more Monkees music in the coming year. At that time, I subscribed to the old-fashioned notion that older music is somehow better than modern music. I no longer believe that, but I still do feel like music was at a high point in the 1960s. (Music from the 50s and 80s is mostly an embarrassment.) While I recognize that the Monkees didn't have great music, mainly because they were a made-for-TV band, I still like them--and, in fact, it takes me a lot longer to get bored by their music than by the Beatles, even though I know the Beatles were higher quality.

As for the concert--well, it was enjoyable to see them, but it was a little sad to think about how they're still the Monkees, yet they're not. Davy Jones died four years ago, and Mike Nesmith isn't touring with them. (Which is a shame, because he's my favorite.) They are in their seventies, and it's a sad fact that artists generally aren't as good when they get older. (I recorded forty seconds of them singing "(I'm Not Your) Stepping Stone," but it's an awkward video with lots of strangers getting in the way.)

They squeezed in a lot of songs, including my favorites "What Am I Doing Hangin' Around?" and "Papa Gene's Blues," so there wasn't a lot of talking. But they had some witty comments. Micky Dolenz said they were in their archives and they found a dog with a pet boy named Sherman--although he didn't look like a boy, because he looked more like 70--and they used their Wayback Machine to get the voice of Davy Jones. They had Davy "sing" while they played "Shades of Grey" and "Daydream Believer" live. Peter Tork said that there had been reports that they didn't play their own instruments--which was true, as all their instruments were rented. Then he said, "Everything we touch is rented. Even our fame. I just came up with that, that's quite witty!"
Micky Dolenz is on the left in the black hat, and Peter Tork is on the right in the orange. I like that I snapped my phone at the time the screen was showing the mannequin Mr. Schneider from the series.

And here are Micky and Peter together.
This concert was in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of their show this year, and also in honor of their latest album, Good Times! Their album is surprisingly good--but I think it's mostly good when you consider the fact that it's a record made by senior citizens. But they did manage to get all four Monkees on the album, using archive recordings of Davy Jones.
 

Then my family returned, and I was no longer a full-time uncle. The only souvenir my family got me was a tin full of red, white, and blue M&Ms. (I categorize seasonal candies, and these are a category 3, because the colors are seasonal but the taste is identical to their nonseasonal counterparts. Unique flavors are better.)

Yesterday I ran to Rudy's Flat (in Bountiful's North Canyon) again, which I did three weeks ago. It wasn't as special this time, since I've done it recently. But in its own way, that makes it more special. Three weeks ago it was an accomplishment, but I'm glad that I'm at the point that it's not as big an accomplishment. I went on this trail because it's mostly shady, making it better for a summer day. I went slightly farther and slightly faster this time.
Where I turned around
First we had fields of yellow arrowleaf balsamroot flowers, and then they were replaced by fields of yellow mulesears flowers. Now that the mulesears are dying out, they are being replaced with yellow onehead sunflowers--although I don't think they cover fields as well as the others do.
I also saw some thimbleberry blossoms.
As I was coming down the trail, there was a man off to the side with his dirt bike or motorbike, smoking a cigarette. I don't know about you, but if I'm up on a mountain trail, I'd rather be doing something healthy (like running) than something unhealthy (like smoking).

Last night, I had a dream that we had killed a snake, and we put it in a tart. I was nervous to try it, and when my mom and brother said they didn't like it, I decided I would not try it. Last year I had a dream I was making carrot cake with chicken and mouse meat. And another time last year I dreamed I baked a cake full of bees. Apparently my subconscious is telling me I should kill pests and make them into dessert.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

June attention hogs

During the month of June, there are lots of things that compete for my attention.

When Utah's lovely, historic state flower is out in abundance, how can you not spend time with it? And to think I'd never even seen a sego lily until a year ago. June 14, 2015, to be exact. (I always thought that I'd seen one in September 2000, but looking back I doubt that, because they don't last until September.)





However, along with beautiful sego lilies, June is the month I selected to pick horrendous goathead plants, and it's hard to have enough time for both of them. I only picked goatheads twice this week.

Oh, by the way, here is a cat in a garden. Because cats.

However, the biggest attention hog this week is my three nephews: Preston (11), Franklin (8), and Nathaniel (6). (Nathaniel calls his brothers "Pleston" and "Flanklin.") I have been spending a lot of time with them, and I will be spending even more time with them this week. As they have gotten older, they have become better behaved and easier to watch. Well, Nathaniel hasn't, but he was practically perfect to begin with. These kids are half Chinese (well, Taiwanese), both biologically and culturally--they love eating seaweed, which I don't care to try again. They are also into gross-out jokes, which was not how I grew up. But I want to corrupt them into becoming like me. It's a longshot, but I'll see what I can do. They're cute kids. Think how awesome they'd be if they were little versions of me!

While my nephews were jumping on the tramp at my sister's house, my sister-in-law and I picked cherries from my sister's tree. I'm pretending there aren't any worms in them. (Preston asked me how worms climb from the ground up trees into cherries. Oh, the ambiguities of the word worm! At least it doesn't mean snake, dragon, or pus, like wyrm did in Old English.)

With these cherries, I made a cherry-chocolate "sorbet," which wasn't great (and had a very vague recipe), and I made a cherry crisp, which was not popular with the boys. I ate about half of the pan myself, mostly for the crust. (Sometimes I get a little dessert starved, since I only eat seasonal desserts, but "seasonal" includes things made with fresh fruits that I pick myself.)

When I came home from a long day of church meetings, my nephews had strung up a bunch of patriotic balloons. They're doing better than I am, because I don't have most of my Memorial Day/Flag Day/Independence Day/Pioneer Day decorations up yet.

Last night I had another dream about Lady Gaga at church. You'd be surprised how often that happens.

***

Wait! Wait for me! I posted this but forgot something. I have a family history calling, and at one point today I looked at my phone when I got a one-word response from my high councilman over family history. [Insert crying-while-laughing emoji]




I decided not to share with you the picture of the dead bunny I found in our backyard. You're welcome. [Insert sad-face emoji]

Sunday, June 5, 2016

New carpet, new month

It was a fun week.

Memorial Day involved taking the remainder of the furniture out of my room so that we could take out the old carpet, which was probably forty years old. I had to sleep on my mattress on the floor downstairs for a few days. It was kind of like sleeping in a hotel.

On Memorial Day evening, I wanted to accomplish my third (and final) trail running New Year's resolution, which was to go to a new trail where I hadn't been before. I technically fulfilled the goal, but it was less epic than I had hoped. I decided to go to Holbrook Canyon, which is right by the Bountiful Temple. I started on this trail, which passes a lovely cascading stream.

After about a quarter of a mile, I came to a stream crossing, and I didn't think I'd be able to get across with dry feet, and running with wet feet sounds awful, so I turned around. I'll have to go back later in the summer or fall when the runoff dies down.

But since I was already there, I decided to go up a trail on the other side of the parking lot. It had some nice views.

 However, I didn't find this trail much prettier than the trails nearer to my house--and it was exceedingly steep. I ran up it a ways, but by "ran" I mean I would run a bit, then stop to drink and catch my breath, then run again. Steep hills are exhausting to run up, but I can only walk down them because they don't seem safe to run down. However, the next two days my legs were quite sore, in a good way. So maybe I should take up steep running--not for running's sake but to strengthen my muscles.

On Tuesday, my superiors asked me to go to the state archives, where I had never been before, in the Rio Grande Station. I didn't think they were overly helpful, but I found what I needed. On Tuesday night, I went to get a haircut. (I don't like talking about hair or haircuts because of my perpetually hideous hair, but it's the setting of this story.) I was talking with my stylist about small towns and how my dad's family is from Millard County, etc., when another customer getting his haircut said, "Wait, what's your last name, customer getting a haircut?" When I told him, he said that he had a book called The Melville Family of Utah in his car at that moment and he wanted to talk to me. So I waited for him to finish and he showed me his book. He said that just the previous night, his Melville grandpa was worried about the Melville name dying out and said he'd never met another Melville. I've met a few other Melvilles around here, so that surprises me a little bit. But the very next day, there I was! He said he almost fell out of his chair.

Wednesday welcomed June. I don't like heat, but I am looking forward to late sunsets and popsicles.

My family visited a place with a cliff that was popular with rock climbers, but you could also take an elevator or a side road to the top. We drove to the top, and as we were leaving, my dad was backing up, and I was just about to warn him not to go over the edge when he did just that! As we plummeted down, I thought, "It's too late! This is the end of my life! There's no other possible outcome." I didn't consider the possibility that it was only a dream and that I would wake up, but that's exactly what happened.

That got me wondering--when you dream, does your brain plan out the storyline in advance, or does it come up with things spontaneously? If a cliff shows up in your dream, it seems likely you're going to fall off of it, but the cliff appeared in my dream long before I even got to the top of it. (I also had a dream this week that I was back at BYU in a new apartment, which obviously did not fit BYU standards, as it was coed and didn't have enough beds, so I had to sleep on a couch. I didn't know my roommates' names, even though I'd been living there for a time, except that I knew one girl's name was Alyssos.)

On Thursday evening, I went out to Best Buy to have them look at a laptop battery. I ordered a new battery for my three-and-a-half-year-old laptop, and it didn't work, so I wanted to make sure it was the battery and not my computer. (It was indeed the battery.) While I had traveled that far, I decided to go do things that only I would do. I had to go to Shopko and See's Candies, since there aren't ones closer to me, so I could get their selections of patriotic candy. See's had these sour red, white, and blue stars, which are my favorite Fourth of July candies I've had so far.

I also went to a place in Sugarhouse where I picked some goatheads last year, and I picked some this time around.
 For those of you who haven't known me long, or who need a refresher, I hate the invasive weed species known as goatheads. If they were a person, they would deserve to be dipped in boiling oil. They grow as vine-like plants on the ground and produce lots of sharp seeds, which look like heads of goats. These seeds become impenetrably hard, and the "horns" pop bike tires, stick in shoes, and stab skin. I hate them. So. Much. But rather than simply complain about them, I do something about them during the month of June where I try to find them and pull them up. Why June? Because they are just starting to come up, so I hope I can catch them before they pollinate other plants and produce new seeds, and if I wait until later, the seeds are sharp enough to be dangerous. But so far I've only pulled them that one day. I will have to make more time to find them if I am truly on a crusade against them.

Then on Thursday night, I was delighted to see another June plant, but this time one I love. Sego lily season has begun!

On Friday, I saw even more sego lilies, and ones in better bloom, than I did on Thursday, but I didn't have my phone with me. They are less striking than, say, a field of mulesears:
However, I love sego lilies for their delicate, simple beauty and their pioneer connections. When I run past them, I have to stop to take a look at them because they fill me with such joy.

Thursday was also when I got my new carpet.

On Saturday morning, I ran a half mile past Elephant Rock in Mueller Park Canyon, since it's the shadiest trail around. (No pictures this time, because it's more commonplace now.) When I got to the trailhead, my old boss (who is indirectly my current boss) just happened to be there too, so I talked with him a bit, as he was hiking up. We talked about various things, including the book we published together, before I ran up. I ended up running 7.5 miles.

Yesterday was also apparently National Hug Your Cat Day. Jenny the cat wasn't too keen on the idea.