For My Kids. Keep it!!

Contrary to what you may believe my children, I was once thought to be quite cool. What's more is I was once thought to be cool by children not unlike yourselves...Scary huh?

This week your mother and I were asked by a couple with five children to babysit. This was not your average babysitting gig. We were asked to stay overnight for three days and watch the children while staying in their home. We had a blast. We played and watched movies to our hearts content. On Saturday we took the kids to the broadwater athletic club and pool where they all tried to drown me.
I softened their wrath by acting as a human sled for the little ones who were too small/afraid to ride the big slide alone.

I played co-operative halo 2 on the X-box with a young man whose father sadly only enjoys destroying his son in the much less co-operative deathmatch mode. Your mother braided all of the little girls hair into her famous speed-braids. Guaranteed to make all little girls run faster.

On Saturday night when we left there were no tearful goodbyes just the promise of seeing each other tomorrow at church where the youngest tracked me down in the hallway to give me this...She held it out anxiously and simply stated, "keep it!" with a note of finality that would tolerate no arguments. As we left church the mother to these fine youngsters tracked us down to playfully berate us.

"You know you have ruined my children." she said "We hear no end of how cool Lisa and Adam are. We will never be as cool as you guys are. Thanks a lot."

So there you have it. We were cool. We have photographic proof. Ha!!!

The Call

I don't know how many of you have ever waited for over a year for a phone call. And how many of you have known that phone call would dictate fairly major aspects of your life for the coming years of your life?

Yesterday I finally got just such a call. Let me set the stage for you.

On a construction site in Big Sky Montana, a dashing and handsome young man is working hard carrying hod. It has been a frustrating morning. He has recently spent two hours performing a task he has performed several times in the past, on two fireplace faces. This is a basic task that has been exactly the same for the past three months on this job-site. His supervisor shows up and our hero gets to undo all that he has done amid belittling remarks that he "should not assume" that things need to be done. Hmmm. Well, our hero had not been told that a new strategy was to be implemented with regards to this task. All he had were prior instructions and an absent supervisor. Our hero chose the better part. But the first rule of hod-carrying is that the hod carrier is always wrong...sooo

Our dashing and tragically oppressed young hero resigns himself to some heavy work to work off some of his frustration. He hoists three ten-foot plank onto his shoulder, and moves deliberately, straining under the wait, to the next place the plank will be needed.

He feels a slight vibration in his hip. It is probably nothing, he thinks.

But then his phone starts to sing. It is a good song; an exciting song. "Fully Alive!!!" wails Lacey Mosely of Fly Leaf.

pause...

That is the song I have assigned to numbers with blocked caller identification...

The Department of Homeland security routinely blocks caller ID!!!

Quickly but gently the plank is set down on a nearby mound of dirt. His phone is opened almost violently, and he croaks..."Hello?!"

"Hi, This is Jill with the Department of Homeland Security, is this Adam?"

Jill...I think I'll name a daughter Jill.....

"yes," he almost whispers.

"How are you feeling today?"

Like I could Leap tall Mexicans with a single bound...

"really good... now." he answers with a little more of his typical manly baritone.

Jill goes on to offer Adam a final and official position as a Federal Law Enforcement Agent with the United States Border Patrol. One of the offers is at a station in Ajo Arizona. After some research into cost of living, housing availability, duty types, church times, and discussing these factors with the two most important people in his life, he calls back and accepts the Ajo Station.

Some interesting things about Ajo. Ajo is the Spanish word for "garlic." It is also the Japanese word for "stupid." However, given the extremely disproportionate ratio of Japanese to Spanish speaking residents in the area, I have reason to believe that Garlic was the original intended meaning...I have yet to hear any reports to the effect that the town stinks horribly(developing).

Ajo has about 4000 people, no hospitals, no movie theatre and no gun shops :(

Ajo has "no crime."

Ajo is extremely Border Patrol Friendly.

Ajo station has some of the more exciting patrol duty types. These include horse patrol, K-9 units, ATV patrol, drug-interdiction units, and ALOT of tracking duty. I can hardly wait.

But I can and must wait. I enter on duty on the 18th of September and will graduate from training on February 2nd.

I will continue to post as much as possible while in the academy but it will not be my top priority. Thanks everyone.

Country Music

Country music...

How to define it? One might also ask why...Cuz it's late, and definitions are easy posts.

I grew up in western Canada. I was aware of country music's existence, but it was always too un-cool to explore. Vanilla Ice, 2 Unlimited, and Lenny Kravitz were all acceptable. But if it even sounded like country you could not listen to it.

But then, in 1994, I moved to Texas. Country music was no longer off limits for anyone wishing to one day be cool. It was even likely that a cool person would listen to, and even sing along with, country music!!![/shock and horror]

Thus I was exposed for the first time to the influences of country music. In Canada; being exposed to country music was like having a man in a trench coat, throw it open and expose his "country music" to you. It was forbidden and appalling, and you did your best to avoid people in trench coats.

In Texas, however, exposure to country music was more like inhaling spores from a nearby fungus plant. It was almost un-noticeable because of it's commonness and subtlety. Yes, country music is like a fungus. It grows on you whether you like it or not, and once it is there, good luck getting it off.

I type before you today, however unwillingly it may have come about, a changed man. A true convert to country music. I love it with my wholly infected soul. Good messages, sweet harmonies and charismatic artists are easily found. If I had the cure I would not take it, for I like my disease, and will likely do so for the rest of my life.

For My Kids. Choosing to be happy

This post is not an announcement. I have come to realize that my children and grandchildren may not be overly excited to read 48 million posts about masonry and steak. I do however sometimes learn things about life. "For My Kids" is a post category that will contain words of what little wisdom I posses, should my progeny ever have the time to read this site.

A few months ago, your mother and I were called upon to speak in church. I was given my choice and therefore chose to speak on the importance of agency in our Heavenly Father's plan. I love that talk and you Young ones will, no doubt, be sick of it by the time you have the chance to read this site. Your mother however spoke on a specific choice that we have every day. She titled her talk, "We can choose to be happy."

You will surely know, having grown up in her house, that your mother has taken this message to heart in an awe-inspiring way. This weekend I was reminded of it again as we took a float trip that involved much disembarking to push our raft off of the rocks that were quite prevalent on the river this late in the season. With every skinned knee, twisted ankle, and bashed toe that were the inevitable results of this difficult float, Grandma and Grandpa Price, Aunt Kristy and your father were upheld and uplifted by the indominable spirit of your mother.

The lesson to be learned is this. When times are tough, we can choose to be happy. In our case, the best way to do that is find your Mom. She will always make everything better.

It was huge!!!!

I ate at my favorite restaurant in Big Sky today. Yup, the one with the moose. I had such good plans to be such a good boy. I know the menu by heart and had decided hours earlier to eat a marinated chicken breast with a Cesar salad and a baked potato. I was going to be satisfied and not painfully full.

That was the plan and I was resolved to stick with it. All that planning and the resolutions were undone with one word. We sat down to eat and my plans were fully intact until the owner walked over and said the fateful word. That word was... Porterhouse.


It seams that there were three leftover 18 oz. Porterhouse steaks from an event the night before. They were being offered at a discounted price with all of my favorite sides. Two of my co-workers spoke for two of them. My resolve melted instantly and I spoke the fateful word...Porterhouse.

It was huge.

It was juicy.

It was huge.

It was perfectly cooked.

It was huge.

It was marinated and encrusted with a salt and pepper rub that was to die for.

And it was huge!!!

I loved every aspect of this steak. I especially loved the hugeness thereof, if you had not picked up on that yet. I am still full and will likely be this full in the morning. I anxiously await any steak that would contend for the position of my most favoritest. One thing I know for sure. It will have to be huge.

Why me? Wednesday - Wrong numbers...

Kay..so. I have a number that is very similar to a hotel in Provo.

Every now and again the hotel has a promotion and for the next two weeks I will receive 1-2 calls everyday from people who abruptly hang up when I answer or wait for a second and then ask lamely..."Is this the Double Tree Hotel?"

To this I usually respond. "No Sir/ma'am. I am afraid you have the wrong number." However, this degree of civility is becoming more difficult to maintain.

This is my first experience waiting for a phone call that will decide some key aspects of the next several years of my life. So understandably when I receive a call from an out of state number I anxiously open the phone and try to keep my croaking, "Hello?" from sounding too eager.

I have received around a dozen phone calls from the above mentioned seekers of lodging in the last week since I received the letter. Frustration abounds.

I have a standardized response when I hear someone ask "why me?" I respond, "Because God is testing you to see if you will ask 'why me'....and you fail.

I recognize the test and have yet to shriek obscenities at the sweet little old ladies whose only sin was pressing a wrong button...but I am getting closer to asking "Why Me?!"

My Better Third. A woman with many names.

It seems to me a great oversight that I have yet to post about the single most important part of my life. I am a very blessed to have to love of a beautiful woman named Lisa.

I did however grow up in a home where spouses were seldom called by their real names. Lisa thusly has many names that do not appear on her birth certificate. One of my favorites references the fact that she weighs less than half of what I do. Thus it would be inaccurate to call her my better half. Better third is much more in line with our true weight ratios as a couple. Amusing and technically correct as this term is, it's not much for endearment. For that I have others...

Among my favorites are, sweetie, honey, sweetie pie, honey pie, sweetie honey pie, honey sweetie pie, peety swoney pie, peetie pony swie, schmoop, schmoopsie poo, honey schmoopity sweatsiepoo, etc. etc. etc and so on and so forth, for ever and ever amen.

And still there are others, but I am sure that Blogger has some sort of bandwidth restriction I would be breaking if I listed them all. I can however share a picture of the moose with you. No that is not another nickname. I spend a lot of time away from home during the week and once a week we eat at a spectacular restaurant. This is the moose that we touched the nose of when we ate there on one of our romantic jaunts (read business trip). I touch it's nose each time we eat there and thus reestablish our cosmic link across time and space...or ...something...

In short, I like Lisa a lot.

Why me? Wednesday: No super-sleuths allowed!!

I love signs. They tell me good things that I should do. I went to Washington over the weekend with my family for a reunion. I had a birthday along the ride as well. I was surrounded by signs the whole time. Open your eyes anywhere you are all day and chances are there is a helpful sign somewhere to let you know where to go, what behavior is currently appropriate, and what creatures you can expect to cross the road etc. etc. etc. For example, this one clearly indicates a snake zone up ahead.
But sometimes, there are bad signs. I went to a national park in Washington and saw this.

Now imagine you are a Chinese private investigator who spoke no English whatsoever. What would you think this sign was prohibiting. That's right!! The picture looks nothing like any dog I have ever seen. It much more closely resembles some sort of stylized detective outline. The only thing missing is the magnifying glass poised intently before the clearly pictured "Sherlock Holmes" large-billed cap. Thanks to this sign, some Chinese detective is likely to leave the park, dejected, and believing the US parks department to be anti-sleuth!! Most likely he would leave, muttering some Chinese dialect's expression that means..."Why me!?"

A few good trowels

Colonel Lowry: You want the trowel?!

Hod-Carrier First class Adam: I think I'm entitled to it.

Colonel Lowry: You want this trowel?!

Hod-Carrier First class Adam: I want the trowel!!!

Colonel Lowry: You can't handle the trowel!!! Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be covered in cultured stone! Who's gonna do it? You? You, Hod-Carrier Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for your calluses and you curse the Masons. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that laying stone while less physically difficult, is harder than hell!! And hod-carrying, while grotesque and detestable to you, is much easier!! You don't want the trowel because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like Mud, Rock, and Scaffolding. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent building something. You use them as a cussword. I have neither the time nor the inclination to lend my trowel to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the cultured stone that I install, and then questions the manner in which I install it! I would rather you just said, "Thank you," and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a shovel and carry a hod. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!!!

Hod-Carrier First class Adam: Can I lay stone on this wall?

Colonel Lowry: you can do the job you’ve been hired to do.

Hod-Carrier First class Adam: Can I lay stone on that wall?!

Colonel Lowry: (shouting) You're dog-gone tootin’ right you can!!

[stunned silence]

Hod-Carrier First class Adam: Please the jobsite, I suggest the foreman be dismissed, so that we can move to an immediate article 39A session. The colonel has the right to not see the mess I am about to make…

And whiskers on kittens

I am feeling grateful again today. These are a few of my favorite things.

Sung to the tune of Raindrops on roses:

Laying stone on pillars and temps below 60.
These things make my work day joyful and nifty.
receiving letters that promise me a wage.
These blow the top off my happiness gauge!

Playing rough games in the pool after working
Careful, cuz tough co-workers are there lurking.
If you're not careful they'll smash in your nose.
Then like a geyser it faithfully BLOWS!!

When the mud's stiff,
When my nose mocks,
When I miss my Dad,
I simply remember these great awesome things,
And I start to feel....So RAD!!!!

Getting off early to go see my "famly."
Long drives don't bug me, cuz I am so manly.
I'll be well rested, fresh from the hot tub.
These are a few of the things that I LUB!!

I am so happy to go see Seattle.
Famly's much more fun than Montana cattle.
When on vacation I feel like a king.
This is why I wrote a post I can SING!!!!

When the mud's stiff,
When my nose mocks,
When I miss my Mom,
I simply remember the wicked-sweet things,
And relize my life's....The BOMB!!!!


Dad was right. It is a rhyming blog. I had the mother of all bloody noses in the pool today during a rather energetic game of 500 alive with my co-workers. The kind of bloody nose that has covered your entire torso and is starting to stain your trunks by the time you can get to a towel. I love that. It has been a while since I've had enough fun to bleed that much.

I'll see the majority of my readership this weekend. I love you lots.