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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.)

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.

O Ye Mountains High

It was quite an eventful week.

On Monday, my ward hiked to Ensign Peak. I went there the long way on Memorial Day, but this time around we went from Salt Lake. I found it very easy. The only other time I've gone that way was when I was thirteen, and I was the slowest person in my ward and huffed and puffed my way up the hill. I've come a long way since 2002.

I don't usually take picture-taking devices on my trail runs, but since this was a casual walk, I had my phone with me.

The Ensign Peak monument

I get views like this a lot from the Bonneville Shoreline Trail.

Looking north to the radio towers. I usually run north of them.

 Wednesday was the birthday of my niece, Allie. That means I have been an uncle for twelve years. Crazy.

On Thursday morning I had to pick up my car from the repair shop. They're not really sure why it occasionally won't start, but they fixed some corrosion, so hopefully I won't get stranded anymore.

On Thursday evening, I went to Bountiful's Handcart Days parade, since my sister lives next to the parade route--not because I'm particularly fond of parades, but because that's what you do for holidays. I was glad to see many non-Mormon participants, because I think sometimes Pioneer Day is too much of a Mormon holiday. The arrival of the pioneers is a historic (and not just religious) fact. I'm no Pilgrim, but I still celebrate Thanksgiving. I've enjoyed reading the accounts of the earliest July 24 celebrations. The first one occurred in 1849, when they raised a sixty-five-foot American flag, had a procession where participants carried copies of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution, and fired cannons. I had wondered why they didn't have a celebration in 1848, but then I realized: A few weeks after arriving in 1847, Brigham Young and many others went back to Iowa. They returned the following year and didn't arrive in time for July 24.

My family left very early on July 24, so I spent the holiday mostly by myself. Since I have come across North Canyon in pioneer documents, I thought that would be a perfect place to spend the holiday. I wanted to get to a place called Rudy's Flat, which I had heard about but never reached. (This was my third time at North Canyon, but only my first time at Rudy's Flat.) I wanted to run up there, but I ran out of energy (I think I didn't have enough breakfast), so I walked probably 80 percent of the way up. It was very enjoyable, although I wish I had been able to run the whole time. Once I got up to Rudy's Flat, I was expecting a sign identifying it, so I kept going; but since the trail was going down, I realized I had probably passed it. A tattooed cyclist confirmed that it was indeed Rudy's Flat. I did have enough energy to run back down the trail; it took me forty-three minutes (including when I let cyclists and horses pass).

There were lots of aspens, Utah's new state tree.

I will definitely have to come back in the fall.

I don't know what kind of trees these are, but they intrigued me.

I saw a cool metaconglomerate boulder. What is a little disappointing about the hills near my house is that they all have conglomerate bedrock, a relatively boring rock.

I was expecting Rudy's Flat to be a little more obvious.

I hear a lot of people camp up here.

The tattooed cyclist told me I could get a better view southeast of the meadow, but I didn't go up the mountain he described.

Lots of wildflowers, but unfortunately sego lily season is over.

On the way back down.

My grandparents invited me over to their house for lunch and then I had a good visit with them. My pioneer heritage comes from my dad's side of the family, but my mom's parents are pioneers in their own right.

Then I spent the rest of the day at home, alone. Fireworks are forbidden in my neighborhood now, and I didn't think it was worth it to go someplace else to see them.

I watched 17 Miracles. I like the movie, but some things bother me. What stuck in my craw this time was that they said "Chauncey W. White" was called on a mission to Siam. I've been working with that very missionary's letters, and his last name is West, not White! Even the most elementary research should have made that clear; Farr West in northern Utah was named (partly) for him. Also, I don't count that many miracles, even with a liberal definition of miracle.

I also watched "The Building of the Transcontinental Railroad" from This Is America, Charlie Brown--not the strongest offering from the Peanuts franchise. The driving of the golden spike is generally considered the end of the pioneer period in Utah.

I slept downstairs that night, since the AC broke. (Last year it broke on the Fourth of July.)

And thus Pioneer Day is over for another year. This year was an experiment for me on whether I want to formally add it to my canon of holidays. I want to try again next year, but I'm still undecided. It was relatively easy to celebrate, and it did feel like a holiday, and it's certainly more meaningful for us Utahns than St. Patrick's Day, and it was a good, valid extension of the Fourth of July season--but it still doesn't feel like it has the same status as the other holidays. For now, at least, it's unofficially added to the canon.

The repairman came to fix the AC yesterday, and I got to hear an authentic Cockney accent in real life! He wasn't overly friendly--not mean, just not super friendly. Which I suppose is how I come across as well.

My parents and sister and niece are off visiting several national parks, while I'm stuck here. I have thought I should put it on my bucket list to see all the national parks. But then I thought that before I do that, I should see all of Utah's state parks. And then I thought that first I should see all of North Salt Lake's city parks. So I decided to scratch one park off the bucket list and went to Fox Hollow Park. It wasn't much of a park, not even having a drinking fountain. It was, however, near the Legacy Parkway Trail, so I decided to run on it. The only other time I've been there was five years ago, when I rode my brand-new bike there. It's not a terribly pretty trail, and I've never seen so many rodents in my life, but it's nice to get a change. I ran across the pedestrian bridge over Legacy Parkway and went by the Legacy Nature Preserve. Again, not very pretty, but it seemed a little more trail-like (since it was dirt, whereas the other side was paved), and I ran to 500 South in Bountiful, and I saw lots of teasel plants.

Now I don't get another weekday off until Labor Day. And there's not another really fun holiday until Halloween.

Boys in cars

As a contingent employee, I don't have many vacation days, so I got a rare, short vacation this week.

My three nephews--Preston (10), Franklin (7), and Nathaniel (5)--were visiting us from California, but it was time for us to take them back home. On Tuesday we got up early and drove until we arrived at their home in the Bay Area. I sat next to Franklin on the ride, and he has a real problem with throwing up. After eating some trail mix, he threw up in a bowl, and he was delighted that he "puked a rainbow" because of the M&Ms. I was able to take my laptop and do some work in the car. But don't worry that I was doing boring stuff on vacation, because it was something that was interesting, and I found a few gems in these 1850s letters, such as "the sun hot enough to bake one’s brains" and"We came to a wet marshy place, and could discover marks of the feet of the lion and the tiger; having no weapons of war with us, we concluded to beat a speedy retreat."

On Wednesday, we considered coming back home, but we didn't. We went to Muir Beach and waded in the salty water and looked at various shells and barnacles.

We also went to an overlook and thought we saw a whale, but it was just a rock.

Then that night we went to the drive-in to see Minions, which I think was the first time I'd been to a theater this year. I hadn't seen the Despicable Me movies until the previous week. I thought the Minions weren't the best part of the movies; they were just there for marketing purposes (especially in the first one), so it's hard to have a movie all about them. It would be like making a movie about Olaf from Frozen. But props to Minions for throwing in a reference to Bewitched, the queen of all 1960s shows.

Thursday we drove back to Utah. It was a much quieter car ride. At a random rest area in western Utah, I did a quick run up a small trail in the desert.

On Friday, I had a work party up in Parleys Canyon. I know hardly anyone in the Church History Department, so I was sitting by myself. Then some employees' wives invited me to sit with them, which was probably more awkward then sitting alone. As I went to leave, my car wouldn't start! The battery was fine, so I recognized it as the same problem as happened at Halloween. I was annoyed that the rare time it didn't work, I happened to be up in Parleys Canyon, which also happened to be the time that my mom's cell phone was dead, which also happened to be a (not-so-rare) time that my parents ignored the phone because they were watching a movie, which also happened to be a time that our answering machine was full. I had to call my sister to go tell my parents to come get me.

At Halloween, we couldn't get it to start, but the next day my mom got it to work. Saturday we went back to my car and I couldn't get it to work, but once again my mom somehow got it to work! Although it was working, I still took it in to get repaired, because I'm tired of getting stranded.

Last night I ran the longest I've ever run continuously, an hour and twenty minutes.

Then I had really weird dreams last night: our cat taking a bath in the toilet, hanging Christmas decorations with a drone, watching a family video from the 90s in which a strong windstorm hurled a van over our family's vehicle, my mom driving a Jeep through a four-foot puddle, a trail with signs warning of a baby murderer, a bus driver who loved Boyd K. Packer, and a party game that consisted of picking up balloons with your teeth.

The Pioneer Day spirit

With this being the first time I've been formally celebrating Pioneer Day, I've been trying to do things to get in the Pioneer Day spirit.

I've been listening to Utah Pioneer Heritage Arts' CDs about Sanpete County and Sevier County, Saga of the Sanpitch and Valley of the Trails, and I pre-ordered the Kane County album, A Canyon Peoples' Portrait. For music that nobody knows about, it's surprisingly good.

I wanted to see sego lilies, so I went running where last month I saw tons of them. But this time they were all gone, even though they were abundant last month! They must be a June thing.

When I eat downtown, I usually go to Kneaders. I think Kneaders is overpriced, but they have the best selection of seasonal desserts in town, so I'm like, "Here! Take all my money!" I would have been satisfied with the patriotic sugar cookies they had for the Fourth of July, but this time they had beehive cookies, which are even better! Their sugar cookies aren't the greatest, but they have great designs.

On Friday I got to go to the funeral for Boyd K. Packer in the Tabernacle. From a distance I got to see the First Presidency and Apostles. I was thinking, "I see everyone but President Uchtdorf and Elder Andersen." Then they announced that they were out of the country, so I was right. I was happy that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sang a beautiful pioneer hymn, "The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close." I understand why we don't sing it often--it's a little long, and it's very Utahn, and it's a little hard to play--but it's nevertheless an underappreciated song.

Then yesterday my family went to Sugarhouse Park, where we waded through its stream. The location of the park is where Utah's first prison was built in the 1850s, and my great-great-great-great-grandfather Frederick Kesler was a prison warden at some point, I think in the 1860s. I wanted to see the park's historical markers, but I think the park was too big for me to easily find them.