Abstract Goose by Evan

Band of Brothers

I Returned home last Sunday from a week long fishing trip in British Columbia (see slideshow at right) with my Dad and brothers. The trip was a gift from Dad to all of us, and a rare opportunity to spend real time together. Should we have taken him and paid for the whole thing? Hasn't he earned at least that? Yes to both, but he was smart to take matters into his own hands.

I knew it would be an adventure. I didn't realize it would be so educational. In my usual lazy prose, I'll tell you what I learned:

1) The Wright Brothers were really onto something.
As it turns out, Canada is not in the US. In fact it's not even close. Something we discovered twice as we made the mind-numbing drive from Boise to Ucluelet British Columbia and back again. 18 hours on the way up. 22 hours on the way back. (Thanks US Customs!) Note to self: When both friends and strangers express open dismay at your travel choices, reconsideration is in order.



2) Fishing is ridiculously easy.
I only fish rarely these days and struggle to catch anything when I do. This trip really opened my eyes to a better way. Always follow these steps: Have money. Hire an excellent guide. Have him do pretty much everything. Reel stuff in. Say cheese.



3) Fishing is incredibly hazardous
While we were there, both Mark and J. involuntarily lost longtime girlfriends... via cellphone no less. They took it way better than I ever could. Probably because they've already been through some really tough times. They are both good guys that deserve way better.



4) We need to keep a closer eye on the Canadians.
When they're not charging us to catch our own Salmon, they're coddling our national bird. They also sell gasoline in "litres"... intentionally disguising the real price.



5) The old man still has it
Whatever it is that's driven him to succeed to the degree he has is still alive and well. We can only hope that we've inherited a little of the same. Thanks Dad... for everything. We love you always.

The Big 40

On Sunday, Tracy turned 40.

Miscellaneous gifts. (non sexual, not a scooter either... sorry)
Christmas dinner. (in June)
Everyone here. (even our adopted kids)
One three foot candle (pictured above)

Tracy, I owe you more on this.
And everything else.
But for now, I'll just say I love you.

I'll miss you while I'm gone.

Sunday

Breakfast in bed.
Jambalaya for dinner.
Pineapple Upside-down Cake for dessert.
A new electric bass.
Everyone home.
Movies and music.
Mandatory appreciation.
Father's Day.

A tough act to follow.
Tracy's birthday is next week.
Yikes.

Eleventeen

Tracy and I picked up Ev from and end-of-school dance on Friday night. While Tracy waited in the car, I went to see if I could shake the boy from a crowd of kids still gathered outside the school.

What appeared ordinary at 100 feet was traumatic at 10. Uncontrollable sobbing... Prolonged hugs... both girls and boys engaging in the teariest 6th grade farewell I'd ever witnessed.

I toggled between amused and annoyed until I spotted Evan in the middle of the crowd. It didn't take a second to figure things out. He was hoping to join those carried away by the scene at hand. Trying to be in the right spot. Standing close. Leaning in just a little. It didn't happen. No hugs. No tears.

He was quiet on the way home.

We all go through painful moments growing up. Watching them happen to someone you're supposed to protect is considerably worse.

Two Steps Forward...

Eden went to prom on Saturday.



She passed her Driver's Test on Monday.


On Sunday... Oh well. You can't win them all.

Monster Garage

When I was young... maybe 12 or 13, I came home to find my younger brother in the garage tricking out his bike. As carefully as he could manage, he had painted in red and yellow letters the words "Sweat Lightning" across the top tube of his silver Huffy. Being a good speller and a lousy brother, it took me no time to identify the mistake. In spite of all available brotherly options, I was stupid and sarcastic.

As we got older... even just by a couple of years, the competition or contention seemed to subside. He may not even remember that day. I always will.

Nostradumbass

I found these watercolors in an old sketchbook the other day while Tracy and I were cleaning out the shed. (good times) I think I did them about 10 years ago, when Evan was just one or so... something that might explain why he looks like a six foot toddler. Guess I was trying to predict how they all might look in the future. Admittedly, I did get some things wrong. Evan doesn't wear hats. Hailey doesn't wear shorts. And Eden almost certainly has feet.

Lately.

Okay... I haven't posted for about 12 days. But rest assured, they happened. I even have the pictures to prove it. So just to catch you up....some events from the past few weeks... in no particular order.

Evan went swimming with his class.
Mom liberally (and with some satisfaction) applied the sunblock.




Eden had a week for the record books...
- was filmed in HS Musical III, played volleyball with the "stars".
- had 5 pieces in the East High Art Show. (one 1st place)
- was named to the high school All-Star Team in Lacrosse.





I went on a turkey shoot for Subway. In case you were wondering, this is what people with middling grade point averages do when they get out of school.





We said farewell to some close friends.




Ev's been playing the guitar. I wouldn't call him a prodigy just yet, but he has taken to it with the same intensity he does everything else. Anyone remember the lockpicking phase?



I "ran" in the Law Day 5k at the University of Utah.
Next time I will definitely not let anyone pushing a stroller pass me.

Crossroads

Today, Microsoft Word asked me a really tough question:



Honestly, I wasn't prepared with an answer.

What is "Normal" anyway?
And how could I possibly foresee the effects of replacing it?

There's a lot at stake here.

I mean... I'm pretty happy with my life. Tracy and the kids are great, right? Yeah, the house needs a lot of work and my job is sometimes a challenge. Wouldn't I be crazy to give all of this up? I should definitely just click "No".

Or perhaps... by clicking "Yes", I would overcome a comfortable but limiting status quo only to soar like a majestic bald(ing) eagle.

I clicked "No".

I knew the question was coming... I just turned 40.
I just didn't expect it from a word processor.

Her. Them. Us.

This is Her.
Also known as the only reason I am anything.
We've been married almost 20 years.
Yes, I am that lucky.
I am grateful for many things.
But maybe most of all.
I am grateful that she loves me as much as I love her.
And she knows everything.
If that isn't love, I have no idea what is.



This is Them.
The result of Her and Me.
They were all together on Sunday.
Mother's Day.
Yesterday they were demanding.
Tomorrow, expensive.
On Sunday, they were perfect.



This is Us.
Homemade pasta.
Hung on a broomstick.

What time would Jesus meet?

The other morning I attended a 7:30am meeting at our church. Sometime in the hours before or after, I honestly don't remember which... I began to wonder:

Would Jesus really want us to have a 7:30 meeting? I mean... He had long hair. Wore a robe. Spoke in parables. I don't want to assume to much here, but I think he might be more of a 9:30 guy.

Honestly, the meeting was fine... even uplifting.
They almost always are.

It just made me think.

96 Hours

I've seen my family very little.
Worked way too much.
Eaten at my desk.
Missed perfect weather.
Stressed out.
Failed to get a passport photo.
Failed to exercise.
Failed to sleep.
Forgot to lock up.
Played the martyr.
Sent ill-advised email.

Ate banana bread (just out of the oven).

All in all, it's been a decent week.

Just Like That

Hailey moved out this week.

She didn't run away. (like she did when she was 5).
We didn't kick her out (like we threatened to do when she was 17).

She calmly, and with as much forethought as an 18 can muster, signed a lease on an apartment, packed her things over a three week period and took a another sizeable step toward adulthood.

The most surprising thing? The complete and accidental lack of fanfare that accompanied the final moments.

It's a funny thing sometimes... trying to detect when the end of something really happens. Apparently, when it comes to moving out, the end comes when you move the bed. Of course, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this out... I'm just slower than most.

So on Tuesday night when I helped Hailey move the couch and bed, that was it. No big, final hug. No teary send off.

Why not?

It might have been because she only moved just down the street (she was here for dinner). Or because I have a suspicion she might be back. Or maybe because I am only now just realizing that something big might have just ended.