Last summer, I spent a lot of my free time watching My Mother the Car on Hulu. (Apparently it's no longer on Hulu.) This show comes up a lot on lists of the worst TV shows ever. Having watched the entire one-season series, I can assure you that it is not the worst TV show. Yes, it was ridiculous, but if you watch it, you know it was meant to be. It was better than Mister Ed and My Favorite Martian, which took themselves more seriously, despite having equally unbelievable premises. (Horses' mouths and throats were not meant to make human sounds, and why have a show about a human Martian that can turn invisible and levitate objects? Why not just have a show about a wizard?)
Anyway, the premise of My Mother the Car is that a lawyer's mother is reincarnated as a car, and she only talks to her son. (I would provide a video of the very catchy theme song, but I couldn't find a good one.) Well, I kind of wonder if my car is actually a reincarnated person who has a preference for my mom. After all, my mom did once drive this car for years.
You see, on October 30 last year, my car refused to start for me. The battery was fine, it just wouldn't start, either for me or my dad. The next day my mom tried to start it and it started right up for her.
Then last month, I was up Parleys Canyon, and once again, it wouldn't start for me or my dad, but the next day my mom tried it (right after I had), and it started right up for her.
Well, guess what happened Monday night this week? I couldn't get it to start, so I called my mom to come pick me up. Well, she didn't need to pick me up, but she did need to start my car, because once again it worked for her immediately after not working for me.
I wish I knew why it did this. Last month I took it in to have it fixed, and they couldn't figure out why it did that, because it started for them every time. It's very frustrating not knowing how to fix that problem, because otherwise it's a great car. It's just a bit disconcerting that it doesn't start from time to time, leaving me stranded.
Now my dad and my sister have been trying to convince me--at times excessively so--to buy a new car--I think because they want a new car but can't justify it. I have toyed with the idea of getting a new car. But there are many advantages to having an old car. I don't have to worry so much about dings and dents, and I don't think thieves care about my car. I can park underneath fruit trees. And of course there's the sentimental value; we've had this car since 2000, and it took me through high school and college. I mean, it would be nice to not have to worry about getting stranded far from home, but it's not too big of a deal.
This week I was out trail running on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. I had run past the radio towers from Tunnel Springs Park, and after I had turned around to go back up the hill toward the radio towers, I saw something black behind me rapidly coming up the hill. It startled me, but it was an African man. This was a fairly steep hill, and he was booking it. As he passed me, he said "Good job!" I was kind of taken aback--he was zipping past me, and yet he was complimenting me? I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't say anything. I hope I didn't seem like a jerk.
On Friday I went to see the National Parks perform in Kaysville. I discovered them in Provo, but it was convenient that they were in Davis County. They were performing at Cherry Hill as part of a concert series put on by a stake. It was obvious that the stake used it as a missionary opportunity. It was pretty awkward, because it was a bit overly preachy. The MoTab Christmas concerts are less preachy. Also, at first they introduced them as the National Park, singular, and they mispronounced some of the members' names. And the man in charge kept asking who had traveled "furtherest."
It was a really fun concert. (I snapped a picture on my phone, but it's horrible and not worth sharing.) I was surprised at how big the fan base was so far away from Provo. I was able to buy their second album, Until I Live, which isn't as folksy as their first album. I haven't listened to the new one enough yet to know which one I like better. Two years ago, folk music was huge, but I think it's on its way out again. (Mumford and Sons made people mad for getting rid of their bluegrass sound, and as far as I'm concerned, the banjo is the only good thing about them, so what's the point? Of Monsters and Men had a decent folk-rock debut album, but their recent album is more alternative rock and is as boring as watching refrigerated molasses pour out of the jar.)
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Secondhand wildfire smoke
If you live in Utah, and most of you do, you know it was exceedingly smoky this week. I don't recall it ever being so smoky for so long--and yet, none of the smoke is local. It's all from other states. Crazy.
As the summer is coming to an end, I took the opportunity to go trail running three nights in a row, for more than an hour each time--the most I've done ever, really. It was interesting to see the blood-red sun as it was setting. I also saw lots of rabbits. Apparently August is the time that rabbits come out. Don't they know they should come out in April? (Fortunately, turkeys know they should come out in November.)
On Saturday me and two other people intended to hike the Living Room Trail in Salt Lake. (If you chafe at my pronoun choice, I'm a native speaker of English, so I can say whatever I want.) Unfortunately, we got confused by the multitude of criss-crossing trails, so we didn't make it there. But it was still fun.
As we were
coming back down, I found a goathead plant, so I pulled it up. Then as I was carrying it in my hand, a dog not on a leash came up and tried to bite it! I think it soon realized it wasn't what he wanted.
I also got to see the movie Once I Was a Beehive. While it was a little hokey at times, it was surprisingly good--one of the better movies in Mormon cinema, and yet it's about girls' camp, a rather random topic for a movie. It wasn't preachy. Of course, I have no firsthand experience to know how accurate the depictions were. Sometimes I felt like they tried to include too many pop-culture references that will someday make it appear very dated--like, in ten years will we still be talking about hipsters, One Direction ("1D"), Siri, The Hunger Games, and the expressions "totes" and "I know, right?" In the early 2000s, there was an abundance of low-quality Mormon films (I'm looking at you, Halestorm...). Things have gotten better--but my job has made me suspicious of the historical integrity of many of the "true-story" movies.
As the summer is coming to an end, I took the opportunity to go trail running three nights in a row, for more than an hour each time--the most I've done ever, really. It was interesting to see the blood-red sun as it was setting. I also saw lots of rabbits. Apparently August is the time that rabbits come out. Don't they know they should come out in April? (Fortunately, turkeys know they should come out in November.)
On Saturday me and two other people intended to hike the Living Room Trail in Salt Lake. (If you chafe at my pronoun choice, I'm a native speaker of English, so I can say whatever I want.) Unfortunately, we got confused by the multitude of criss-crossing trails, so we didn't make it there. But it was still fun.
As we were
coming back down, I found a goathead plant, so I pulled it up. Then as I was carrying it in my hand, a dog not on a leash came up and tried to bite it! I think it soon realized it wasn't what he wanted.
I am continually amused by our cat. I don't understand the widespread hatred of cats, because they are inherently hilarious. She had been rolling around on the ground, and I didn't want to let her in when she was covered with grass.
Then I found her sleeping in an interesting position on the couch.
I also got to see the movie Once I Was a Beehive. While it was a little hokey at times, it was surprisingly good--one of the better movies in Mormon cinema, and yet it's about girls' camp, a rather random topic for a movie. It wasn't preachy. Of course, I have no firsthand experience to know how accurate the depictions were. Sometimes I felt like they tried to include too many pop-culture references that will someday make it appear very dated--like, in ten years will we still be talking about hipsters, One Direction ("1D"), Siri, The Hunger Games, and the expressions "totes" and "I know, right?" In the early 2000s, there was an abundance of low-quality Mormon films (I'm looking at you, Halestorm...). Things have gotten better--but my job has made me suspicious of the historical integrity of many of the "true-story" movies.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
August reminiscences
It's August, which means that once again it's time for me to tell you all about how I used to hate August but I don't anymore. And I've been reflecting on how and why my perception of the eighth month has changed.
During my public school years, August was always the end of summer vacation, which is a little depressing. During both Augusts of my mission, I was in the hottest areas of the mission (East Wenatchee, WA, and Lewiston, ID), and we would ride our bikes around in the sweltering heat and up the steep hills, really wishing for a change.
(Speaking of missions, last night I had a dream that my old Provo bishop, Bishop Taylor, called me and told me he had a mission call for me. My first companion on this second mission was a sister. It was very nineteenth-century, since I was called on a mission without applying for one and it was a second mission.)
In 2010 and 2011, due to financial constraints, I left Provo in August and moved home for the fall to find work. Although I enjoyed those falls, I was a little depressed to have to leave Provo at the time when everyone else was in school, and I still was very anti-August.
(When I left on my mission in 2007, I weighed 250 pounds. When I got back in 2009, I weighed 190. A year later in 2010, I was down to 170. I've gained about 15 pounds in the last five years, but I'm not sure why. It could be that I have more muscle mass now, or maybe it's because I ran a lot more often back then, since I didn't have a job for several months, and when I got one it was a swing-shift job, so I could run during the day before my shift. But I think I'm in better shape now, because I can run longer and up steeper hills, although I think I'm slower. I regret that I'm no longer 170. I recall an episode of Bewitched where Endora threatened to turn Darrin into a 170-pound artichoke, and I'm sad that now I'm bigger than Darrin.)
In 2012, Augusts took a turn for the better. That year, I had taken summer classes but I was also taking fall classes, so I got a brief break between academic periods. I got to visit my brother's family in California. It was then that I really bonded with my youngest nephew, who was two and went around saying "You inky!" I had a relaxing week at home. I returned to Provo the last week of the month, and as I left the temple one afternoon, I looked up at the mountain and saw some fiery-colored trees near the top, even though it wasn't even September yet.
This week I had to eat a peanut butter Clif bar and listen to Lady Gaga's "Applause," which I associate with August 2013 and my geology field trips. I hadn't taken summer classes that year, but I was in Provo working part time, so I had a rather relaxing time preceding my field studies class.
And then came August 2014, which consisted of packing up all my belongings from my Provo apartment and moving back to North Salt Lake. For a week or so I worked from home, but then I got my own cubicle in the Church History Library. It's been a year now. I started my new position this week part time, and it's similar to what I was doing a year ago, but it's less interesting than what I've been doing since then--so it seems like I don't like it, even though I liked it before.
My Provo life and my NSL life collided last night, because my last EQP from Provo, David Jones, had a wedding reception in Bountiful. I left a Bountiful stake activity to go to it and parked at a church where I took my AP Calculus exam. I saw one Kelsey Blickenstaff, the last RSP when I was there, and Nathan Garlock, who unfriended me at Christmas, and a few others. It was weird to see all the people I knew from Provo up in Bountiful.
I used to spend my Augusts complaining about the heat and waiting impatiently for September, changing leaves, and Halloween. But now I spend them appreciating the extra light for outdoor activities, savoring the last popsicles and snow cones of summer, and marveling at afternoon thunderstorms.
During my public school years, August was always the end of summer vacation, which is a little depressing. During both Augusts of my mission, I was in the hottest areas of the mission (East Wenatchee, WA, and Lewiston, ID), and we would ride our bikes around in the sweltering heat and up the steep hills, really wishing for a change.
(Speaking of missions, last night I had a dream that my old Provo bishop, Bishop Taylor, called me and told me he had a mission call for me. My first companion on this second mission was a sister. It was very nineteenth-century, since I was called on a mission without applying for one and it was a second mission.)
In 2010 and 2011, due to financial constraints, I left Provo in August and moved home for the fall to find work. Although I enjoyed those falls, I was a little depressed to have to leave Provo at the time when everyone else was in school, and I still was very anti-August.
(When I left on my mission in 2007, I weighed 250 pounds. When I got back in 2009, I weighed 190. A year later in 2010, I was down to 170. I've gained about 15 pounds in the last five years, but I'm not sure why. It could be that I have more muscle mass now, or maybe it's because I ran a lot more often back then, since I didn't have a job for several months, and when I got one it was a swing-shift job, so I could run during the day before my shift. But I think I'm in better shape now, because I can run longer and up steeper hills, although I think I'm slower. I regret that I'm no longer 170. I recall an episode of Bewitched where Endora threatened to turn Darrin into a 170-pound artichoke, and I'm sad that now I'm bigger than Darrin.)
In 2012, Augusts took a turn for the better. That year, I had taken summer classes but I was also taking fall classes, so I got a brief break between academic periods. I got to visit my brother's family in California. It was then that I really bonded with my youngest nephew, who was two and went around saying "You inky!" I had a relaxing week at home. I returned to Provo the last week of the month, and as I left the temple one afternoon, I looked up at the mountain and saw some fiery-colored trees near the top, even though it wasn't even September yet.
This week I had to eat a peanut butter Clif bar and listen to Lady Gaga's "Applause," which I associate with August 2013 and my geology field trips. I hadn't taken summer classes that year, but I was in Provo working part time, so I had a rather relaxing time preceding my field studies class.
And then came August 2014, which consisted of packing up all my belongings from my Provo apartment and moving back to North Salt Lake. For a week or so I worked from home, but then I got my own cubicle in the Church History Library. It's been a year now. I started my new position this week part time, and it's similar to what I was doing a year ago, but it's less interesting than what I've been doing since then--so it seems like I don't like it, even though I liked it before.
My Provo life and my NSL life collided last night, because my last EQP from Provo, David Jones, had a wedding reception in Bountiful. I left a Bountiful stake activity to go to it and parked at a church where I took my AP Calculus exam. I saw one Kelsey Blickenstaff, the last RSP when I was there, and Nathan Garlock, who unfriended me at Christmas, and a few others. It was weird to see all the people I knew from Provo up in Bountiful.
I used to spend my Augusts complaining about the heat and waiting impatiently for September, changing leaves, and Halloween. But now I spend them appreciating the extra light for outdoor activities, savoring the last popsicles and snow cones of summer, and marveling at afternoon thunderstorms.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
A power outage and a reunion
Perhaps the most noteworthy thing from this week is the thing that really isn't noteworthy yet. I'm transitioning to a new job. I'll still be working for the Church History Department in the Church History Library, but over the next month I'll be transitioning from working for Reid Neilson to working on a different project. I know very little about this new project, as I won't actually start working on it until tomorrow. I don't even know if the project has been publicly announced yet, so I don't know if I can even tell you what it is, at least on the internet. I will be quite sad to quit doing what I've been doing. I'll still only be a contingent (contract) employee, but it could lead to something more permanent, which is why I'm doing it. But I will still be sad.
Perhaps the best thing about August is the storms. Friday evening was pretty calm until around 7:00--then it started getting really windy and dark. A rainstorm came in and knocked out our power for a couple of hours. It's been a long time since we've had a good power outage; I kind of miss them. I love August storms when there's no power and you can watch the water flooding down the street.
On Saturday, we had a family reunion with the descendants of my dad's paternal grandparents. My great-grandpa died before I was born. My great-grandma died right after I turned three. I remember seeing her in the casket at her funeral, and I remember that I knew who she was, but I don't have any memories of her alive. Anyway, family reunions can be a bit awkward, since I don't really know those from my great-uncle's and great-aunt's families (I don't recall ever meeting my great-aunt), and because I am an inherently awkward being.
Anyway, it was down in Fillmore, where most of my pioneer ancestors settled, and where a lot of the family is even today. Because of that, a lot of our ancestors' relics are in the Territorial Statehouse Museum. The curator for the museum was kind enough to show us some interesting things.
He showed us a family Bible that belonged to Reuben McBride, which had items such as a marriage certificate, birth records, and a "Temperance Pledge" in which he vowed to avoid alcohol. (The Word of Wisdom wasn't as strongly enforced back then.)
He showed us a boot-stretcher owned by Amasa Lyman. Other people there thought it was too small to have belonged to him and must have been one of his kids'; however, I suspect they just had smaller feet back then.
We saw various houses in Fillmore that belonged to these ancestors. We also went into Pioneer Market, a hunting store / grocery store / antique store / used book store / museum. The reunion was held in the Stevens Hotel, which isn't really a hotel anymore and which was built in 1929. We don't go to Fillmore as much anymore, since my grandparents died a decade ago, but it's fascinating when we do go. They may have spotty 3G and satellite dishes, but it still feels like going back in time.
This blog could have been much more interesting than it is, but I'm not feeling it.
Perhaps the best thing about August is the storms. Friday evening was pretty calm until around 7:00--then it started getting really windy and dark. A rainstorm came in and knocked out our power for a couple of hours. It's been a long time since we've had a good power outage; I kind of miss them. I love August storms when there's no power and you can watch the water flooding down the street.
On Saturday, we had a family reunion with the descendants of my dad's paternal grandparents. My great-grandpa died before I was born. My great-grandma died right after I turned three. I remember seeing her in the casket at her funeral, and I remember that I knew who she was, but I don't have any memories of her alive. Anyway, family reunions can be a bit awkward, since I don't really know those from my great-uncle's and great-aunt's families (I don't recall ever meeting my great-aunt), and because I am an inherently awkward being.
Anyway, it was down in Fillmore, where most of my pioneer ancestors settled, and where a lot of the family is even today. Because of that, a lot of our ancestors' relics are in the Territorial Statehouse Museum. The curator for the museum was kind enough to show us some interesting things.
He showed us a family Bible that belonged to Reuben McBride, which had items such as a marriage certificate, birth records, and a "Temperance Pledge" in which he vowed to avoid alcohol. (The Word of Wisdom wasn't as strongly enforced back then.)
He showed us a kettle that was brought over by Alexander Melville in 1852.
He showed us a boot-stretcher owned by Amasa Lyman. Other people there thought it was too small to have belonged to him and must have been one of his kids'; however, I suspect they just had smaller feet back then.
We saw various houses in Fillmore that belonged to these ancestors. We also went into Pioneer Market, a hunting store / grocery store / antique store / used book store / museum. The reunion was held in the Stevens Hotel, which isn't really a hotel anymore and which was built in 1929. We don't go to Fillmore as much anymore, since my grandparents died a decade ago, but it's fascinating when we do go. They may have spotty 3G and satellite dishes, but it still feels like going back in time.
This blog could have been much more interesting than it is, but I'm not feeling it.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Jenny and other wildlife
This week wasn't terribly interesting for me. I was still at home by myself.
The only other being at home with me was our cat, Jenny, whom we have had for nearly thirteen years now. Most of my interactions with her this week have been to let her inside or outside or to feed her, although I do think she may have gotten a bit lonely at times. One of her strange quirks is that she doesn't usually like to be petted by hands, but she loves to be petted by feet. Sometimes you can put your foot out and wiggle it around, and she will come right over. Most of you probably have never seen her, since she doesn't like strangers, and she hisses at children. (It's only been within the last year that she's quit hissing at my twelve-year-old niece, even though she has lived or practically lived with us her whole life.)
On Monday night/Tuesday morning at about 3 AM, I heard a strange noise outside, and I worried for the cat's welfare, since I knew she was outside. I turned on the porch light in the sideyard and opened the door and saw an animal moving. I figured it was Jenny wanting to come in, but instead there were raccoons in the yard! Our previous cat, Dinah, went missing in 2002 on the same night that my dad spotted a raccoon in our yard, so I worried for the Jenny's welfare. The raccoons were behind the air conditioning unit, so I couldn't see what was going on, and since it was the middle of the night I had paranoid thoughts that maybe they were attacking Jenny. I shined a flashlight on them and made noises; then three raccoons wandered off into the backyard. I don't know if they were scared by me or not, because they certainly took their time in leaving. I then worried that Jenny was lying mutilated somewhere in the yard, so I put on some flip-flops and went outside to find her. I hadn't been out long before she came trotting back. She came from the direction that the raccoons had gone, but there were no signs of her having even encountered them; she seemed perfectly calm and her tail was its normal size (as opposed to the poofiness it gets when she sees another animal).
I like the word raccoon. It comes from a Native American word describing a native American animal. I like words like that, since most of our words are of European descent.
I don't recall personally seeing a raccoon in our yard since I was probably 10, when one was trying to go into our yard, but other members of my family have reported seeing them on several occasions. I've also seen a skunk, mice, and lots and lots and lots of deer. I've seen foxes and squirrels in the neighborhood, and my dad once even saw a cougar in the neighborhood.
Last night I heard a weird noise outside again, and once again I worried about Jenny, so I got up but she was inside. I didn't see what made the noise, and I didn't feel like finding out in the middle of the night, especially since Jenny wanted out and I wasn't going to let her. After I went back to bed, I had a dream that there were foxes, baby porcupines, a beaver in a puddle, and an owl in our yard. (I've heard owls in or near our yard, but I've never seen one.) I was a little sad to wake up and realize I hadn't really seen all those things.
The only other being at home with me was our cat, Jenny, whom we have had for nearly thirteen years now. Most of my interactions with her this week have been to let her inside or outside or to feed her, although I do think she may have gotten a bit lonely at times. One of her strange quirks is that she doesn't usually like to be petted by hands, but she loves to be petted by feet. Sometimes you can put your foot out and wiggle it around, and she will come right over. Most of you probably have never seen her, since she doesn't like strangers, and she hisses at children. (It's only been within the last year that she's quit hissing at my twelve-year-old niece, even though she has lived or practically lived with us her whole life.)
 |
| Jenny in March 2015 |
On Monday night/Tuesday morning at about 3 AM, I heard a strange noise outside, and I worried for the cat's welfare, since I knew she was outside. I turned on the porch light in the sideyard and opened the door and saw an animal moving. I figured it was Jenny wanting to come in, but instead there were raccoons in the yard! Our previous cat, Dinah, went missing in 2002 on the same night that my dad spotted a raccoon in our yard, so I worried for the Jenny's welfare. The raccoons were behind the air conditioning unit, so I couldn't see what was going on, and since it was the middle of the night I had paranoid thoughts that maybe they were attacking Jenny. I shined a flashlight on them and made noises; then three raccoons wandered off into the backyard. I don't know if they were scared by me or not, because they certainly took their time in leaving. I then worried that Jenny was lying mutilated somewhere in the yard, so I put on some flip-flops and went outside to find her. I hadn't been out long before she came trotting back. She came from the direction that the raccoons had gone, but there were no signs of her having even encountered them; she seemed perfectly calm and her tail was its normal size (as opposed to the poofiness it gets when she sees another animal).
I like the word raccoon. It comes from a Native American word describing a native American animal. I like words like that, since most of our words are of European descent.
I don't recall personally seeing a raccoon in our yard since I was probably 10, when one was trying to go into our yard, but other members of my family have reported seeing them on several occasions. I've also seen a skunk, mice, and lots and lots and lots of deer. I've seen foxes and squirrels in the neighborhood, and my dad once even saw a cougar in the neighborhood.
Last night I heard a weird noise outside again, and once again I worried about Jenny, so I got up but she was inside. I didn't see what made the noise, and I didn't feel like finding out in the middle of the night, especially since Jenny wanted out and I wasn't going to let her. After I went back to bed, I had a dream that there were foxes, baby porcupines, a beaver in a puddle, and an owl in our yard. (I've heard owls in or near our yard, but I've never seen one.) I was a little sad to wake up and realize I hadn't really seen all those things.
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