Thursday, April 30, 2009

Second verse same as the first.

Oakley, CA

Still having ear problems.

Gosh I have a lot of grey hair.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009


Antioch, CA

Back in December I had a doctor tell me my ears were full of wax. He told me to start using Debrox. So i do, but it doesn't seem to be cleaning them out. So today I did what my mother used to do - I used Q-Tips. That didn't do a whole lot of good either. Not only did I pull a whole bunch of wax out - but now my ear feels clogged. I would say I'm open so suggestions, but it may fall on deaf ears.

(BTC - Neon on my forehead)
(BTC - Enjoying Swine Flew)

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

sun setting flag.

38 03' 56.59"N 122 13' 49.74"W

I helped Shell and Mel remove their stuff off of the Bear tonight because the semester is over. I took this from the stern.

Tonight was filled with references to Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog. For those that have not seen it, enjoy.

(BTC - more from The Bear)

Monday, April 27, 2009


Antioch, CA

Don't mind me - I'm just trying to be part of the "In" crowd. (Example 1 & 2)

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Inverted watering

Antioch, CA

I have the weirdest rabbits.

(BTC - Zoe and cheesecake)

Getting to the sunrise

“One foot in and then the other.” Jim thought. He hated this part. He proceeded anyway, slipping the shorts onto one leg and then onto the other. He rocked back and forth and inched his the shorts over his calves and eventually let the waistband snap onto his hips.

He looked over at his chair. He growled in his head. He didn’t enjoy this part.

Once transferred to the chair he unlocked the brakes and rolled out to the garage. “How many people are going to ask me questions today?” He pondered. It never ceased to stop. He has lived in this neighborhood for going on three years now. He thought he could have told at least every person by now.

Down the ramp he slid, steering and sliding up next to the trike. Jim locked his breaks. “One more transfer.” He slid out of the chair and got onto his knees and crawled over. He got situated on the trike and backed it up. On the back seat of the trike’s chair was the garage door opener and with one click the world opened up to him.

He started cranking. With each crank he felt the muscles in his arm scream out in complaint. He always felt like a Texas oil rig as he brought the pedals around pushing the crank down. As Jim took the corner he felt the right back wheel pop up. “Need to slow down.” He thought. He hurried down the block. “Oh Crap!” he mumbled. The light turned red at the block’s end. Waiting at the corner was a family out for a morning walk. Let the interrogation begin.

“Whoa Kids, check out that cool bike!” The father starts. The children all turn and look. “That’s right – start the freak show,” Jim thinks.

“How fast do you get on that buddy?”

Jim assumes he’s talking to someone else. This guy ain’t no buddy of his.

“Maybe he can’t hear honey. Maybe he lost that when he lost his leg.” His wife says quietly into the husband’s ear – but still loud enough for Jim to hear. It’s not bad enough he’s the crippled on the cycle – now he’s the deaf. “I hope I don’t become a mute as well.” Jim thinks.

“I say there Buddy, how fast do ya get on that thing?” The husband says louder. If you talk louder to a deaf person that doesn’t make them any more hearing – not any more than buying a pair of socks for him brings his leg back. But to play along “I can get up to about 60 miles per hour on a good day,” Jim yelled back at him, as if he was riding a hog and not a tricycle.

“Do you hear that kids? He can get as fast as your momma on a freeway.”

“And they call me disabled.” Jim thought. He was going to respond, but gosh darn it, the lights green. Jim drops the pedals down and puts the trike back in motion. The next two intersections are green and he whizzes through. The bike path is on the right halfway down the last block. As he took the corner and this time the left wheel picked up. “Need to slow down.” He reminded himself one last time.

About a quarter of a mile in he noticed a woman running from the parking lot right for him. “Not that woman! She always tries to talk to me. Pedal faster Jim,” he told himself.

All of a sudden she is standing right in front of him and he is slamming on the breaks to avoid taking out her legs. He would find the irony in that if he wasn’t so angry at her jumping in front of him.

“What are you doing lady? I could have killed you!” He shouts a her.

“I …needed…to ask… you a … question.” He tells him as she tries to catch her breath and talk at the same time. Between her pants she’s trying to get her words out.

“What do you want to ask? Do you want to know how I lost my leg? Do you want to see the scars where they sawed the rest of my leg off? Do you want to know how I do it? How I get up each morning, slide on these damn shorts and eat? Do you want to see if I need help? Or do you want to try to carry on small talk while you try to catch glimpses of my legs, my fake leg and the one the damn Iraqi’s didn’t get to? Or maybe you thought it was a drunk driver and you want me to join MADD. Well? Well? What is it woman? What did you want to ask?”

He fires questions at her as he releases it all on her. He tried not to but he just couldn’t hold back this time. Every morning she watches him. Every morning her accusing eyes follow him as he attempts the trail. And surely she’s just like everyone else. They all want to know how it happened. Then they want to tell him how grateful they are that he served. He didn’t go for them. He didn’t pick up arms and try to kill insurgents because he wanted them to pat him on his head and say thanks. And he sure as hell didn’t want this – the crippled in the special tricycle getting a million questions when all he wanted to do was ride.

“Actually none of that,” she started, “I wanted to know if my daughter could ride with you.” She points over to the parking lot where he sees a beautiful brunette sitting on a similar trike putting on her gloves and helmet. “She doesn’t like to ride next to me because I’m on a bicycle. She says she feels like I talk down to her. Anyway – she’s tried to stop you a few times but usually by the time I see you to try to stop you you’re going so fast I just watch you go by.”

Jim hadn’t taken his eyes off of the brunette. She was the most stunning girl he had seen since he got home.

In the background he could vaguely hear her mother carrying on about Afghanistan and both - right above the knee, - but he wasn’t listening. He was just watching the beauty oilrigging her bike closer to his, as each stroke was taken in slow motion and he could just capture each snapshot image in a carousel of slides to be recalled later. In not enough time she slid up next to his trike and came to a stop.

“Hello Captain. I’m First Lieutenant Susan Watson. He began to question her but then he realized his shirt said “Army Captain.” "Do you mind if I ride with you this morning?” She continued.

Jim didn’t know what to say and simply nodded. She took the lead and started pedaling away. He followed, as a voice in his head screamed at him “Marry her.” That’s not a bad idea” He said as he followed her, the sun rising higher and brighter over that once dark park. As the sun shone so did a smile that most thought was cut off in Iraq with Jim’s leg. And it was a good day.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

I belong in a wax museum.

Vallejo, CA

Sadly - I took only three pictures today and this is the best of the three.

Friday, April 24, 2009

bad apple

Oakley, CA

I was cleaning behind my monitor at work today and discovered this. I guess I brought it to work and forgot about it. It was hard at the bottom, mushy toward the top and molding on the very top.

dipping sauce

On Fridays there is a woman that usually brings in donuts. I am on a two week yogurt challenge where I am committed to not buying donuts. This morning I walked into the kitchen looking for donuts, though.

Jan asks, “Aren't you on a 2 week yogurt challenge?”

"Yes, but I need something to dip in the yogurt, don’t I?”

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I hate this bridge

38 06'28.63"N 121 42'00.94"W

It's a wire grate bridge that is hard to drive over because you're constantly losing traction. When John got us evicted last July we looked at a place in Rio Vista, but the idea of taking this bridge every day - occasionally in the rain - was enough to convince me to stay in Antioch.
The only reason I traversed it tonight was to make sure my Fastrak was working.
(BTC- sleep)

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

more camping stories

My father's camping experience last weekend involved him driving to his girlfriend's place, walking up her drive way and climbing into the tent trailer parked near the garage. I think that is the type of roughing it that even Katie and I could handle (Especially if Katie knew there is a Starbucks just a few blocks away).

As he told me this last night it reminded me of a time I went camping as a boy scout. It was one of the preparation trips for the 100 mile bike trip we would be taking during the summer. We went to the top of Mt. Diablo to sleep over and would be would be biking down. There were five of us going: Michael, Brian, Alan, Russel, and me. I think this is an important time to mention that Alan and Brian are brothers. Brian told Russel that he was going to bring the family 2 1/2 person tent. Alan told Michael that he was going to bring the family 2 1/2 person tent. I told my self to bring the super easy to set up 3 person tent for myself.

Almost as soon as we got to the top of the hill the fun started. We left late (evidently there was some sort of argument at Brian & Alan's house that made them late) and arrived after it was already dark. As Brian and Alan set up the family tent, Mike & I started dinner. Mike was put in charge of the stuffing. He decided to skip reading the directions and instead of waiting for the water to boil before adding the bread crumbs he just dumped the seasoning, crumbs, & butter into the water. That night we feasted on liquid stuffing and burnt chicken.

As we were eating, a teenager in black clothing and black make-up crawled out from under the picnic table and said "You guys aren't very observant. I've been down there for 20 minutes. Let's go guys." At which point one guy drops out of a tree and another comes out from behind a tree. It was one of the weirdest camping experience I have ever had. I locked my tent that night.

As the evening drew on, we prepared for bed. At this point the rain was coming down in buckets. I put a towel on the out side of my tent to wipe my feet on and a towel on the inside to dry. I hung up a close line and got into my sleeping bag. About 10 feet away the other four got into their tent. Do you know what happens when you touch the side of a nylon tent when it is raining? As those four boys cramped in the tent started pouring in water. And then the yelling started. "Mike stop touching the sides - you're letting water in." "Me? Well if you didn't take up so much room in the center I wouldn't be pushing on the sides." "What do you mean you're pushed into the side? Brian and Alan are pushing me into my side - you should have it easy!"

And so on for about 20 minutes before I figured out they weren't going to stop. So I yelled over, "Hey. Each of you think of a number between 1 and 20." Numbers were drawn and Alan came out the closest. I unlocked my tent and told him he could come over. I told Alan to sleep by the door while I slept near the window. (I didn't tell him it was because I thought the black make-up guys were going to open the door and kill us in our sleep - but that was the reason.) He thought I was being secretive because I had the clothes line up. I just let him think that.

In the morning it was decided we weren't going to ride down because of the still pouring rain. After that was decided our scoutmaster gave us two options: make breakfast as planned or pack up in a hurry and go home. We were on our way home in less than 20 minutes.

Except for the time Jed almost got hypothermia - it was my worse time camping. The time the bears came and ate 1/3 of our food and brushed up against my tent was close, but still not as annoying as this time.

However there is one highlight. My mother bought me a donut when I got back. Life is always better with a "mom-bought" donut.

A rose by any other name

Antioch, CA

Back in November My father and I went to Santa Cruz. As we were walking on the pier there were several homeless people asking for spare change. Then we came upon a guy that was taking leaves and making bracelets, crowns and roses out of them. We asked them how much and he said it was up to us - it was our own donation. We talked to him for some time before he eventually just tried to give us one. I insisted on paying. I was going to send it to Melinda but I never got around to it and now it has become a permanent member of my dash board in my truck.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Over the Costco parking lot

Antioch, CA

I went to Costco tonight to buy Fastrak for my truck and this was waiting for me out side. It was 95 degrees today so I don't have a clue where all those clouds came from for a sunset.

Crawdad memories

In less than a month I will be on the road again. It has been over 18 months since my last road trip and the trip involved seeing the same girl that I saw in September 07. The weekend of my departure will be Memorial Day weekend. This is customarily my weekend for adventure. Last year I adventured to Utah to say good-bye to a dear friend as she left for a mission. The year prior to that I was in Boise for a friend’s wedding. However, as this coming holiday is almost upon me I’m reminded of time in high school and the Memorial Day traditions of then.

I do not come from a family of campers, but when invited, Chad and I would go. Members of my church often went to a favorite campground in Central CA called Turlock. Barbara and her family were there. Alan and his family (which consisted of 7 kids at the time but eventually ballooned up to ten kids. Kenny and his family were there (This is who we often traveled with.) There were other but I don’t remember who except one. Katie and her family were there. This last family is important to my memory.

The memory I have is a day spent walking the river. There was Kenny, Chad, Matt, myself and then about 4 or 5 other people. We had a little raft with us that each person towed in turn as we traveled down the river. At times it was 4 feet deep and at others it was only a foot. The rocks below your feet were slippery with algae. There were large forests of “sea weed” that you had to jump over or swim over (or convince your brother Chad to pull the raft over with you in the raft).

At some point Kenny (who had wooed us with his cup burning/water boiling show the night before) figured out that in those “forests” there were crawdads. So we started collecting them. If you were younger (cough cough me cough matt cough) you pointed them out to Chad and Kenny and they would pick them up for you. By the time we got back to camp, the raft was nearly full. There were 20 or 30 in the raft. Most of us had no clue what we were going to do with them. Kenny had a plan though. He towed the raft ashore and Chad and him carried the raft over to Katie’s Dad. Katie’s dad pulled one out of the raft and proceeded to show Chad and Kenny how to prepare and where it would taste good to eat.

Soon a big pot was found, filled with clean water and put on a stove for boiling. In case you have never boiled crawdads, this next part might interest you. The first one out of the raft went quite easily. When dropped in a pot of boiling water the crawdad goes from a dark red to a light red color. After listening to 25 fellow crawdads sizzle the last few did not go so easily. All the time Chad and Kenny were sizzling the crawdads, Katie’s dad (who is Hawaiian and has a name I can’t spell right now) whipped up a dipping sauce from scratch. Chad and Kenny feasted well that night.

There are a million other memories that relate to that place, but the crawdad cook off is the most prominent.

gateway Yogurt

Recently Alyssa has been talking on Facebook about how much fun she is having running. At school last night Amanda talked about the joy she was having now that she was eating right and lost some poundage. A few other friends have also been commenting to me about their new found healthy lifestyle. Then in class last night, right before I learned that female humans are the only female mammals that have orgasms, our teacher talked about the three best ways to reduce stress: sleep, exercise, and good diet. Okay. I get the message. I should be eating better.

So this morning I skipped the donuts and the sugar laced cereal. Instead I bought a yogurt. I took it to work and started shoving it down my throat. Maureen looked at me in shock and Celeste simply said “You know Sean, Yogurt is the gateway drug of eating healthier.”

Great. I’m getting the gateway drug of good eats. What’s next?

Monday, April 20, 2009

shorts in school

Pleasant Hill, CA

This won't mean anything to most of you, but I went to class today in shorts. The last school I attended I signed a contract that prohibited shorts on Campus and in the classroom. It's a very freeing feeling to be able to wear shorts on a hot day.

Those BYUI Guys

Sometimes I forget about the sense of humor that the BYUI Tech guys have.

This morning I was looking at the BYUI Web Cameras when I noticed the Temple camera was only showing the top 5 feet of the temple which was pretty much the Captain Moroni capstone. I wrote to the IT guys with the following:

I was just looking at the camera shots and the temple camera looks like it got moved. Will it be move back at some point or is this the new angle?

BYUI responded:

Hi Sean,

While it may be appropriate for the Temple to cause us to look towards the Heavens, this was not our desire here. Apparently it got bumped while someone was cleaning the windows. We should have it refocused before the end of the day. Thanks for taking time to write to us. We appreciate the reminders and hearing from our Web cam viewers.

Thanks again,

Sunday, April 19, 2009

chocolate life

Antioch, CA

This is all of the chocolate I've gotten in the last 10 days.

(BTC - Yesterday's to-do list )
(BTC - Muir Beach's other photos)
(BTC - Muir Beach Panos)
(BTC - The camera Eyeball)
(BTC - Bathroom Murial)
(BTC - A bike picture for Robin and Amy)

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Muir Beach revistited.

Muir Beach, CA

Shell, Robin, Joe and I went to the beach tonight to take pictures. I took over 50 shots and these are the top five that all tie for the prized Photo a Day shot. I'll load the BTC one's in a few days as I process through them all. Enjoy these until then.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Why the long face

Oakley, CA

I could not get him to stay still long enough for a decent shot. Why are birds so willing to pose for me but not dogs, horses, cats, centipedes, snails, spiders, lizards, peacocks, cows, and raccoons?

Only you can prevent forest fires and my hungry dad

My father is going camping for the first time in 15 years on Saturday. If you do pray please pray he doesn't get mauled by nature. I'm really fearful of the shock he is going to experience when he finds out that the sun doesn't have an alarm clock and there are no donut stores open in the woods. I guess you could pray for donut stores for him too.

Feeling irresponsible

For the last several days I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to be irresponsible. I’m trying to determine if it is a good feeling or a bad feeling. I tend to err on the side of being responsible. I always have. I’ve long thought that my word and a handshake should be as good as a contract. For the most part it is and that has lead to a very responsible life.

Tomorrow I really would like to go hiking or go to the beach (or both), but it doesn’t look like it is going to happen. My list for tomorrow is as follows: clean rabbit cage, build better rabbit pen, fix broken rabbit hutch, build compost bin, level garden, pull weeds, hoe rows, connect water to garden, return stuff to Lowe’s, finish up at Brian’s place, write up bills, do laundry, clean room, clean bathroom and go hiking. Because these are all things that either need to get done or I said will get done – I need to do them. What I wish I had the ability to do though was to say – Screw it, I’m going to Angel Island.

And that’s really what I’ve been thinking about – why can’t I do that? Why can’t I let go of the consequences and just do? I don’t drink alcohol or date girls that drink because I may be allergic. I don’t smoke because it will probably cause lung cancer. I don’t drive fast, switch lanes erratically or blow past red lights because I might lose control and I might hurt someone or myself. If I say I’m going to do something I do because if I don’t I might leave someone in a bind. In high school Lanae and I used at least one if not two forms of birth control because otherwise we might get her pregnant. I don’t pick up girls at bars and sleep with them because they might have a disease that I would then give to my future wife. I don’t screw around with married girls because it might cause a divorce that would affect the children or I might get her knocked up and then what would we do? I obey the posted speed limit in residential because there might be a kid and, as much as I like having new clients, I do want to hurt a kid. I think it’s really unfair that while I’ve always paid my bill on time and never missed a payment, my credit card company keeps raising my interest rates to help offset all of those people that are defaulting on their credit cards. But do I keep paying – heck yeah. Why? Because I might buy a house or go to grad school some day in the future and I don’t want my credit score screwed with. Also, they agreed to loan me the money and so I agree to pay it back on the crappy terms we agreed to at the time of the loan.

Why can’t I just say screw it and walk away? When others seem to be able to do it so easily – what is it about the maybe’s, the might’s and the possibly’s that have such a hold on me.

Last night I was talking to a friend about God. She was talking about her desire to give up on God. What has He done for her lately that she should trust Him to do anything for her? Knowing the house I grew up in, she asked me why I never gave up. I told her that I had thought about it. I’ve weighed the options: Do I get home safely because in every closing prayer of every meeting I go to someone says “and please bless we all get home safely” or have I gotten home safely because I’m a good driver, my parents taught me how to drive defensively and I obey most traffic signs? When I pray for His spirit (Christlike persona) to be with me and then on some weeks I don’t pray at all and I for the most part feel no different – then why not just forget about Him and go on living my life as I want to? All I could tell her was that there is a God and He probably is in charge and if He is and I give up on Him – then that wouldn’t be very responsible of me. So for now – I put some of my trust in Him on some things and others not so much. Because I said I would (to my mom) and because it is the responsible thing to do. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering what it would feel like to say Screw it and not care if there is or is not a God. I wonder if it would feel anything like it would to say screw it to my credit card, or my reluctance to pick up girls in the bar or my reluctance to blow off my household responsibilities and go to the beach.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

No one to bother you

Knightesen, CA

Except being on well water - I would love to live right there.

the week of terrorists

Each year I feel a need to repost this because every few years it grows.

This week has been filled with tragedy. Not just in 2007, but for several years. It amazing how two single events have led to a whole bunch of events.

Adolf Hitler was Born April 20, 1939. Several years later he managed to orchestrate the killing of 6 million Jewish people. (Of note - Hitler was Married on April 29 and died on April 30.) (Hitler's friend Benito Mussolini died on April 28)

This event led to 12 students, 1 teacher and 2 terrorists being killed on April 20, 1999 in Columbine, Colorado as the terrorists celebrated Hitler's birthday.

This tragic event led to a psychotic killer killing 32 people in Virgina.

That alone would be a very bloody week in April. But this week is also sees the anniversary of two other horrific events. Sadly they were on the same day.

On April 19 1993 86 people in Waco, Texas were killed during an exchange with federal agents. Their leader, David Koresh, had a warrant out for his arrest at the beginning of the experience, 51 days prior to the April 19th blood bath.

2 years later, on April 19th 1995, Timothy McVeigh used the Waco Texas events as an excuse to kill 168 people in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He then waited 4 days and celebrated his 27th birthday on April 23.

This really is a bad week in history.

**As someone pointed out last year, A lot of people commit suicide over drepression related to taxes. April 15th is Tax Day so this could almost be called the 15 days of bad history making.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A real balancing Act

Oakley, CA

The customer I worked on tonight has a hen house.

The other title I was going with was going to be "Not a cock among them" but I thought maybe that was inappropriate.

Trying to get dating again

After seeing my father have a successful experience, I recently adventured onto a dating site called Plenty of Fish. I’m not a big fan of dating sites but I’m not having a whole lot of other successes. When KNJ-P left 5 years ago, I took the advice of several people and strived to be happy by myself. I developed hobbies that I could do by myself (photography, gardening & hiking – though my father would prefer I didn’t do that last one by my self). Now that I’m pretty happy being independent, suddenly meeting girls has come to a collective stand still – and so it is into the world of internet dating I proceed.

Internet dating is weird. I’m not sure I fully understand it. For instance, there was a girl who was e-mailing me constantly for about three days with all sorts of questions about me and insights into her and then she was gone…never to be heard from again. Then there was a girl who told me she liked this picture of me with a dog. I sent her to this picture of the dog that has better lighting because she seemed really interesting in the dog. Haven’t heard from her since. One girl told me ten minutes from her house was too far even though I was really cute.

Another weird thing is the intro. I’m never quite sure how to start a conversation. For example, I always feel weird suggesting that in their posed and photo shopped picture they look hot when they probably look totally different in person. I don’t want them to think I’m only interested in the pictured (albeit photoshopped) girl. As a former English major, I try to read each profile carefully to find a way to start a conversation, but some girls rely so heavily on their photo shopped image that they don’t even really include a profile paragraph and so you are stuck trying to figure out if there is something to them beyond looking hot on the internet. Also, how do you come off charming, none stalkerish, goal orientated, laid back, intelligent, interested and everything they described in their “About my date” section?
As a final nail in my coffin I’m sure there is a set of rules that no one has told me. How long do you talk through the world wide web before you meet in person and talk? Me personally, I’d rather just get to the date. Talking through a computer is mind blowingly boring and time consuming. I miss the days in my life where I could meet a girl in the Galley at BYUI, have a bite to eat with her, ask her out to a hike, drive (dorm girls without cars always loved going for drives), or even another meal. That’s how Sara and I happened. We met in the galley. I ask her out. She said sure. We went to a Jazz thing, then two other dates and then on a bowling date and then we were “dating.” There was no lengthy interview process through e-mail and instant message. How long do you have to do the e-mail thing when it comes to Internet dating?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Learning the hard way with mole crickets and sprinklers

I'm not a quick learner most of the time. Despite Nina's claims that I am brilliant, at times I'm rather dumb. Yesterday and today has been spent fixing a sprinkler Valve system for a customer. Before I go any further I should probably describe a "customer."

I used to own a landscape company where in I charged people large sums of money to pull their weeds, mow their lawns, trim their trees and work on installing or modifying sprinkler systems. I loved every aspect of it but that first part. I don't really like telling people what I'm worth. I would rather have people tell me what I'm worth to them. This is one of the big reasons I don't work in sales. Some people treasure their lawns and so they pay handsomely. Other people see their lawns as a burden and only want to pay me what they absolutely have to to get the job done. I really don't care either way.

Now that I have a full time job that I love, I usually tell my customers to pay me with food. I HATE grocery shopping, meal planning and cooking (yet I love baking). So in barter I work, and I get fed. I have several vegetarian customers that are opening me up to a world without meat (I never really knew it existed).

Because I don't charge customers, I often tell them the truth. I am self and father taught. I don't guarentee my work and there is a strong chance that I might be wrong. (Though I never am.) (Usually). If you want a professional trades person or a college landscape person - go hire them.

That said - I still try to provide the best work I can.
On Saturday, after the game, I was telling my father of my plans. I told him I had a hard sprinkler job coming up. Knowing how much Icharge customers, my father asked me if I needed the job and if they were going to feed me or pay me. If they weren't paying me, why do the job. I told him I needed to do this job to learn. Eight months ago I had the same customer and I did the job and I screwed up. I needed to do this job to teach me about my last screw up.

In October of 1999 I met a man who had just talked in General Conference a few weeks before. This man left such a huge impression on me in October conference that year that I remember the talk today. Then a member of the Seventy, Elder Niel L Andersen related the following story.

Let me illustrate with an experience. Our family lived for many years in the state of Florida. Because Florida has a high concentration of sand, lawns there are planted with a large broadleaf grass we call Saint Augustine. A formidable enemy of a Florida lawn is a small, brown insect called a mole cricket.

One evening as my neighbor and I stood on the front steps, he noticed a little bug crossing my sidewalk. “You better spray your lawn,” he warned. “There goes a mole cricket.” I had sprayed the lawn with insecticide not too many weeks previously, and I hardly felt that I had the time or money to do it again so soon.

In the light of the next morning, I examined my lawn closely. It was lush and beautifully green. I looked down into the grass to see if I could see any of the little bugs. I could see none. I remember thinking, “Well, maybe that little mole cricket was just passing through my yard on the way to my neighbor’s yard.”

I watched my lawn for more than a week, looking for signs of invaders, but none was evident. I congratulated myself that I had not overreacted to my neighbor’s warning.

The story, however, has a sad ending. I came out the front door one morning, about 10 days after the conversation with my neighbor. Shockingly, as if it had happened overnight, brown spots covered my lawn. I ran to the garden store, bought the insecticide, and sprayed immediately, but it was too late. The lawn was ruined, and to return it to its former state required a new crop of sod, long hours of work, and large expense.

My neighbor’s warning was central to my lawn’s welfare. He saw things I could not see. He knew something I did not know. He knew that mole crickets live underground and are active only at night, making my daytime examinations ineffective. He knew that mole crickets did not eat the leaves of the grass but rather found nourishment in the roots. He knew that these little inch-long creatures could eat a lot of roots before I would ever see the effect above the ground. I paid a dear price for my smug independence.
Yesterday I spent 2.5 hours digging up old pipes and valves in wet rotting sand. Tonight I spent 3 hours building a new manifold and installing as much as I can. I didn't get done and will have to come back on Saturday to finish the job. I was planning on going hiking on Saturday. I was planning on working in my garden on Saturday. I was planning on sleeping in on Saturday. Instead I will wake up and go fix my customers' valve system.

I should have listened to the lessons of old bosses, my father, and my own past experiences. But I didn't. I didn't do any of that 8 months ago and now I get to do it all over again. Hopefully, after Saturday is over I will have learned.
Elder Andersen continues:
We live in a wonderful day. The blessings of our generation are lush and beautifully green. With faith in the Savior and obedience to the commandments, our lives can be full of satisfaction and joy.

Yet in these days of much beauty, our challenges in choosing to serve the Lord are more subtle than those of former days, but without question they are as spiritually pervasive. There are spiritual mole crickets that burrow under our protective walls and invade our delicate roots. Many of these insects of wickedness appear small, at times almost invisible. Yet if we do not combat them, they will do damage and attempt to destroy that which is most precious to us.

The warnings of the Prophets and Apostles lead them ever and always to speak of the home and family. Let me demonstrate the warning voice of the Prophets. On February 11 of this year, the First Presidency, with the support of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, sent to every member of the Church a letter of counsel concerning our families. Let me read you just two sentences from this letter:

“We counsel parents and children to give highest priority to family prayer, family home evening, gospel study and instruction, and wholesome family activities. However worthy and appropriate other demands or activities may be, they must not be permitted to displace the divinely appointed duties that only parents and families can adequately perform” (“Policies, Announcements, and Appointments,” Ensign, June 1999, 80).

What is our reaction to this prophetic counsel? What has been my response and your response to this First Presidency letter of nearly eight months ago?
The cost to my customers will be more of an annoyance than an abundance (About $75). However, there are lessons to be learned that are more costly when not learned. I haven't been myself lately. I've been sad, depressed and overly not enthused. This time last year I was excited about putting in the garden, taking great pictures and being generally happy. This year, I'm not. One big difference is my lack of tithing payments, scripture study and personal prayer. These are tiny things. It doesn't take more than 10 minutes in the morning to read a few verses and say a prayer. It doesn't take much to write a check on Sundays or to read a chapter of scripture at night. But I still don't. And being not myself is the lesson I am learning. This is a lesson 25 years in the making. There are some things in particular (thorns in my flesh really) that the Lord has been trying to teach me since I was 14. But I listen not. I ignore His advice and His counsel and lean on to my own understanding. And just like the sprinklers, I'm constantly having to come in, repair some damage, and make a new attempt.
One of my good friends has been doing the same. She too has been leaning unto her own understanding and not the Lord's counsel. I often wonder when she will start listening and stop letting her own actions destroy her life.
Experiences like today can be of great value or they can be worthless. Only when I learn can they be of value - and they will be a value beyond measure. But if I allow myself to forget about the hassle of this job, well then it will be for nothing and that - that would be really sad.

good to know

Oakley, CA

from my life.

I have a five year-old client I see regularly. Today we were working on getting his heels to do something when suddenly he looks up and says “Mr. Sean. I have big heals. They are almost as big as your hands.”

“Is there anything else they are almost as big as?” I asked.

“They are as big as – oh wait no – your belly is bigger.”

The lesson of today: My hands are big but not as big as my belly.

Yesterday I was at a customer’s house fixing their water manifold. A neighbor was over catching up on all the gossip. Evidently Neighbor A (let’s name her Joan) was having and affair with neighbor B (Let’s name him John). John’s wife got pregnant and so Joan decided that she didn’t think John should be double dipping and so Joan cut John off. This did not make John happy and he took the skills he learned in Iraq to bust down Joan’s door (during her family dinner, with her kids and husband) and try to kill her.

As I listened to my customers and their friend I listened to the morals of the story suggested (Don’t make John mad. Buy heavier doors. Get to know your neighbors better.) After a while I couldn’t resist offering up my suggestion of a lesson to learn. “Don’t have affairs.” They responded “Oh yeah – good idea. We should avoid having affairs too.”

Over Dinner on Sunday we were discussing temple worship. One of the children talked about doing Baptisms for the Dead. I mentioned that I hate that term and wished we would call it Baptisms for the previously living. “Baptisms for the Dead” make it sound like we are digging up graves to do the baptism. Jim (the dad of the family I was with) chimed in and said, “Yes, that would be like baptizing Zombies.” I couldn’t resist “Yes and you know the hardest part about baptizing zombies – getting their arms underwater.”

In May I’m going up to see Nina in Oregon. We dated for 6 months a few years ago. We’ve remained friends over time. I told my father I was going and he asked if he could come. When I asked him why he said he wanted to drop some stuff off at one ex-girlfriend’s place and have lunch with another ex-girlfriend. “Isn’t this the ‘ex-girlfriend trip’?” I told him it wasn’t. Oh, he responded. Evidently he’s been craving a road trip and thought that this would kill two birds with one stone: see the open road and unload stuff on ex-girlfriends.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Not Jem

Oakley, CA

A few weeks ago I you met Scout. Well this is Scout's brother, who is sadly not named Jem. I actually can't remember it's name because every time I see it I just want to call it Jem.

(BTC - I can be an idiot at times)

Sunday, April 12, 2009


Oakland, CA

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Swing batter swing

San Jose, CA

My dad and I went to a San Jose Giants game tonight. There were three broken bats and a whole bunch of sucky pitching going on. Giants won 5 to 0 against the Stockton Ports.


Over dinner tonight, a friend who I have been friends with for well over 15 years commented on how she missed reading some of my old poetry. The other friend at the table didn't think I really wrote poetry all that much. The truth of the matter I used to own a publishing company for young authors called The Bob & Fred Poetic Association (or BFPA for short). Tonight I dug up some of the stuff published under that company and bring it to you. I hope you enjoy it.

Poor Boy - Story
Lanae Verse Four - Poem
Flower - Poem (My father's personal favorite)
Die - Poem (One of the poems that led my parent to believe I needed therapy)
The Bean - Poem
Angel Baby - Poem

Angel Baby

Rocking my baby
Back and forth
Back and forth

You sleep so quietly
Not a word exits
Not a worry enters

Your blond hair rests on he head
Shortly above your scrunched up face
And closed eyes

If only you knew what stood before you
You would stop sleeping to start crying
For this shall be a bad life

Born to a dead father
Who died as he jumped from a bridge
Upon learning of her becoming of birth

Next, my angel baby, you lost your mother
Who had lived with me
After her shameful parents gave her a box

But this is history
For now my baby is at a lost
Since I watched your mother pass away

This, only moments after giving birth
To you, angel in my arms,
Fighting to keep you, angel baby, alive only to die herself

Now angel, you are mine
For this your mother requested
If, by chance, all went wrong

Which by my shear sorrow
This has happened
And now you, Angel baby, sleeps

You sleep not knowing of your future
Not a word
Not a worry

For you know not
This life will be hard
Hard as a rock

You only feel warmth in this white blanket
As your body shifts positions
And my hand-made blanket turns

Oh you're so lucky
While most teens abort
Here you are in my arms

We rock some more
Back and forth
Back and forth

I hold you tighter
Softly singing many lullabies
That tell of a perfect world that shall not exist

How lucky not to realize
How bad your life will be
Not good as in my notes of song
You do not know
That you are poor
Or that you are rich

This matters not to you
All you feel is the fabric
Of your soft blanket

Tomorrow you will see
As your dear mother's coffin
Kisses the ground

And, my poor Angel,
You shall feel nothing
Only the rough wood of the black box

You will never understand
The love you were washed in
By just that one person-being your mother

You are still washed, though
This love flows all over you
This comes from me

But who am I
Only a 17 year-old boy
Without a future

Not a plan to my name
No ideas of fatherhood
Only a roof to put over your head

How lucky I'm to have my wonderful parents
To keep me
And allow your mother

Now they say they'll help me
With what ever I need
To keep you, my beautiful baby,

But this won't last long
With my parents money spread thin
We'll soon be poor

No matter what
I'll always love you, Angel,
No matter what

We continue to rock
Not a worry enters
Not a word exits

Now I cry for I know
I know that you are my baby
And I cry for I know nothing about being a parent

I never learned which was which
Between Gerber
And the Pampers

How am I to know
Where ever do I place them
Where from your head to toe

So now you sleep
Both hungary
And also unclothed

Oh my Angel
I'm so sorry
Please forgive me

Your mother loved you so much
I shall never be able to show you
How much I love, too

I'll never be home
I'll have food on the table
At the cost of love

But believe me
I love you, Angel
I'm so very sorry

You were and are loved so much
You deserve better
You have rights to so much more

You've lost so much
Not even the true parents of your mom
Are willing to partake of your beauty

"Not a child of teen pregnancy!"
They shouted as your mother came to them
Only to be casted out with sure hate in their taste.

Never again did they allow her near them
So I found her in the rain
Asleep in her "Toys-R-Us" box

She slept cautiously
Not more than eight feet near her
Before she awoke with club in hand

She cried when my face became clear
She knew I came in peace
For she had heard that her sister had broken off with me

She knew I had come for her
She knew I had come to help
She was pregnant with you for two months

Your new grandparents gave her love
She too was washed
She was washed 'till the day of her pass

Her joy was high
We gave her your new room
Which she decorated blue

She never thought you,
My Angel,
Would be a girl

You were to be Bob
Maybe Fred
Timmy or Tommy

Now as you sleep in your warm blanket
You sleep silently
You sleep a girl

You are just an Angel
Angel Baby
My baby of no name

Rocking in our chair
Back and forth
Back and forth

Not a worry
Not a word
Silently sleeping

Do you realize that this is it
I can offer no more
This is all I have

Your crib is a donation from my parents
Not a "daddy" made as I wanted too
Which I sweat with pain making

The only cloths are for your older years
All to wear now is a half knitted sock
Which your mother tried at

This is all you'll ever have
Only donations
Others used stuff

Just this
For my sleeping Angel of no name
Nothing more

No stuffed animals that didn't come in covered wagons
All from others
All donations

I'm so sorry baby
I'm so sad for you
You'll never have what I had

So lets rock some more
Lets not worry
Lets not release our words

We'll feed you later
Maybe even a diaper, too
But sleep now, Angel

Back and forth
Back and forth

-- written 1995


" May the world have his peace!
The world and peace..."
The little boy's mother asked
As birth begun

While far far away
The peace had ceased
And a war had begun
Over a missing bean

It seems that a bean was missing
And caused a quarrel
Between two governing countries

This was first cease for both
The tearing had just begun
At the hearts of man
Over a bean.
A missing bean

So all the soldiers got in their tanks
Armed themselves,
Ready to fight
They started their charge

When they stopped to admire
An infant boy who crawled out in front
Of that on coming pain
To end the day

He carried with him a seed and flowery things
He dug up this ground
And deposited the seed
He then planted his flowery things.

All the soldiers were amazed with this
That they ended their day on a joyful note
By leaving the metal beasts
And leading the way to the supper games

Hands shook hand in hand
In amazement of how a child could end
That amazing day
Which could have died
Because of a single bean.

Many years passed
And died the flowery things
And seed grew until its bloody end
When the soldiers chopped down the tree

On this day the peace once again ceased
The war had begun
Over a bean
One single bean

It seams another bean was missing
And caused an argument
Between two great presidents

Round two for both
The tearing had begun again
Mans' heart on a silver platter
Over a bean
A missing bean

The presidents sent the soldiers to their tanks
Now armed with A.K. 40-7's
All ready to act out a bloody fight

They began their religious throng
When they suddenly stopped to notice
A 15 year old

A boy who stumbled into their way
Stopping that horrible day
Blocking their rage
Blocking their hate.

The boy carried with him a small brown seed
And many pretty flowery things
And he dropped to his knees
And planted his seed and flowery things

The soldiers gazed
And when finally done he got up
And was quickly gone again

At this the soldiers finished the day
Going to feed
In a happy mood for which could have ended

Then it happened it again
After many nonviolent years
The peace was ceased
As died the flowery things
And lightning hit the tree to kill

Quickly was a bean missing
Getting many upset
Making a new argument

This time a day was waited
Before starting a war
To see if the bean
Chose to return

And one day later
No bean did appear
So off to the tanks
To make the enemy disappear like the bean

And once they arrived
In this place to die
They halted and stared
At a dead body which chose this place to rest

Which was a old man
With all grey hair
And a wrinkly body
So fragile and frail

Here he laid dead
With flowery things
And hands clasping a precious seed
Which resembled the bean

The soldiers in awe
They didn't see the enemy's bullets
Forth coming
To start a war that day

Killing millions
And striking fear
This war traveled on
For many years

With the warriors dropping left and right
And bones of the old man
Crunching at the end

When suddenly all the men
Stopped the world
And a mothers plea
Was finally given

For all of man was destroyed
And with them went the animals
And ended the blood shed
And earth beheld her peace
As plants grew endlessly

Never arguing
Never killing
Only ever lasting growth
As peace showed itself in everything

And all this happened because of
You and me
And a bean

-Written 1995


Screw today
Let me die
Forget you all

--written 1994


A flower
Be a flower
Bloom flower

Oh flower
Oh flower
How can I be thee

Let me frolic like thee
Let me fly like thee
Let me "pollinate"

Thy beauty
Over come all
Wrap me in it

Nah! Forget it
I'll be a rock
Yeah- a rock

- Written 1995

Lanae Verse Four: Maybe

If she told me were through
I swear I'd die
Couldn't live without her
That's for sure

Or maybe

If she told me it was over
I'd go climb in a hole
And cover up with a rock
Yeah; a rock

Or maybe

If she told me to forget it
I'd cry the night on
I'd become dehydrated
Shrivel up like a prune

Or maybe

If she said that she wished we never had happened
I'd tell her she was wrong
And go and date
Possibly her best friend

Or maybe

If she broke all the promises
I'd lose all sanity
Ride the padded wall
And screw society

Or maybe

If she returned the ring
I'd recycle it
Forget her
And live on

But screw the maybe's
I'm always hers
Or maybe

--written 1996

Poor Boy

They lowered the casket into the ground ever so slowly, careful not to drop it. The wet eyes and endless sobs echoed throughout the cemetery. How had he been led to his eternal resting place? Why had the gates of heaven swung open so eagerly? His friends sat silently reminiscing about how great he was. They remembered the calls to service he had more than filled. He was always there to help them with their chores and activities. He loved this service. He was so unselfish, they reminisced. He was their tutor when they needed help or their ride to the weekly dance when no one else would drive them. He had been their friend and they loved him. What had happened?
The casket gently rested on the dirt beneath it. The Pall Bearers backed away from this sacred ground to go stand with their families. Over four-hundred people had come to see the boy go to his final resting place. The local flower shops were all out of flowers. These flowers covered the grounds of the cemetary like a colorful carpet. The bulk of them were roses, his favorite to give to others. So many people he had lifted from sadness with those, they couldn't be counted.
His brother sat by the hole gazing down. This would be the last of his immediate family he would bury. His parents had died in a hit-and-run two years earlier. He had kissed his brother good bye moments before he was lowered down. He was alone now; very alone.
This tragedy came unexpectedly. No one had been able to foresee this. It just happened. He was doing a service, pulling weeds the day before and was found dead the next day. It just happened in a flash, then he was gone. Many began to wonder why it had happened to such a boy as he. This boy had good grades, a blessed heart, and a spirit of love for others. To many he was the ideal boy. He tried to never say a cruel word to people, though he did slip once in a while. He never cursed and was always one to open the door for the women of all ages. Few got the opportunity to go on a date with him, but those that did would say that he was a perfect gentleman. Never a better boy, many said.
The Pastor began his words of peace for the ground that this boy would rest in. Many drifted back, remembering what a great speaker the boy was. They remembered the talk he had given the week before, during church. He had talked about how much everyone should remember to always cherish life, because one never knows when it will end. Never was any part of America cherishing what they had had, more than this group today. The fall leaves had never looked so great nor the air smell so good. Many were inhaling deeper than usual.
Many students from his school had attended out of respect for him, because of the respect he had always shown for them. He was always willing to share his worldly possessions with them, such as binders, pencils, pens, his locker and other things. In fact at one time he had seven different occupants in his locker because the school was out of lockers. He also almost always gave smiles to strangers in the halls if they looked weary or sad. For these rare acts of kindness from others, these students came.
His swim team also came to see him buried. He had never won a race, but he never stopped cheering for his teammates. He was always there when they lost, with a good word to keep them from getting down. He was always the first one at the meets and the last to leave, once everyone had gotten safely home. After training all Summer, he was a contender for the championships this year. Oh how they would miss him!
The Pastor finished his remarks, followed by a moment of silence. Many of his friends thought back to a time when the boy's turtle had died. This turtle was his favorite among all his others. The friends began to giggle as the silence lingered. When the turtle had died, a ceremony was held. At the end the boy had asked for a moment of silence. The boy was the first to burst laughter, followed by his friends. The thought of looking down at a pile of bricks that covered the final resting spot of a turtle had seemed somewhat funny. Who would ever pay tribute to a rock that moves? The "moving rock" was becoming fertilizer. As the friends giggled about a last moment of silence for fertilizer, they noticed the disapproving looks of those around them. They quickly hushed themselves.
When the seemingly long moment of silence was over, the Pastor walked over to the open hole and threw his own flowers in on the casket. The Pastor remembered how great the boy was. He thought about how the boy would come to church early just so he could sit by the door to welcome the crowd. He would offer to help the elderly with their wheelchairs so that they didn't need to use up their scarce energy. He remembered the boy, also, saving seats for the elderly and the disabled so that they could see and hear the speakers during church.
The Pastor asked his brother to talk. The deceased's brother stumbled to the microphone and opened up a book. He flipped it to an already marked page. He began in a quiet, calm, mourning voice, "I was reading my brother's journal last night, looking for a reason for his death. I found this page:

'I woke up today still crying. I miss Mom and Dad. They seem so far away now. I try to feel them near me, but all I feel is pain. I watched the old video tapes last night. I looked at the old photos last night. I saw how much they loved my brother and me. Oh how I miss them!
'I miss the nights of games and mom-made dinners. My brother tries to cook but is constantly messing up. I wish that alcohol would have never been invented. That way I could still be with my parents. I miss their love. I don't feel very much love, now, except from my brother. I go to church early so I can meet new friends and grow new love. I try to help the elderly so that they might love me. In both situations, I feel that I come up short. Most of the elderly are too old to remember me; just a boy who pushes their wheelchair and gets them good seats. I yell and scream for swim team, but it seems like when I enter the waters the yelling comes to a close. I try to help them feel better when they lose, but I only do this so my tears of failure don't show. I don't feel the love even from my friends. I give them rides places and when they're at their destination, I'm lucky to get a thank you. I'm going to take one last effort to find love.'

"It goes on." His brother said. He flipped the page. Then he flipped another. The whole cemetery remained silent. Almost all the four-hundred people were examining their shoes and the leaves on the ground below them. It began to sprinkle, but not one person's thought went toward the umbrellas next to them. His brother began again, "This next entry is from a few days later and also a few days ago:"

'The day has once again come to end. I went up to at least twenty people the past two days, asking for a date for this weekend. Not one said yes. It's amazing how many people wash their hair on Friday nights. I never realized a date was so much to ask for. This was my last-ditch effort to find love. There is none. The world is lost. I doubt they'll miss me. My brother is the only last love. God bless him. I hope he may live, still loving, without me. This world will need him if it is to survive. I don't think it will. I only hope that people have enough love that the few that come to my funeral will remember my request to have Amazing Grace hummed as they leave. Where I'm going, I think that will be the only thing I'll be able to smile at. Dearest journal, I love you for listening to me as I complained and now I must leave you. I have some bullets to load and fire.'

His brother closed the book and set it on the pulpit. He walked over to his chair, picked up a single white carnation and threw it on the casket. He then started to his car. As he walked, the crowd at first hummed, then sang, "Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I'm found...". It was heard through out the town and for about three-hundred miles around.
Never, was another act of kindness forgotten or unnoticed.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

slug me

Antioch, CA

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

sprial play

Brentwood, CA

So for 6 months now I've wanted to go photograph this new playground in Brentwood. But until just recently there was a big fence around it while they worked out some plumbing issues. It opened last month and so I went today at lunch to go photograph it. When I got there there were 2 classrooms of kids eating lunch. So to not be the weird guy taking pictures of the playground with children around, I left and went to another park to take pictures (because, gosh darn it, I was going to photograph some playground equipment today). I photographed at the other playground (The Caboose Playground). Then after work, I happened to be driving past the first park and saw it empty. I ended up taking about 20 shots and 15 were PAD quality. So I'm posting this one, from the after work play ground. And on BTC I'm publishing two others - one from the first playground and the other from the caboose playground. I don't want to publish too many on the off chance I'm in a PAD pinch sometime and need a shot - I'll keep this location in the back of my head and post other cool shots some other time.


thoughts and feelings

One of my "friends" runs a blog where she dscusses things that have been on her mind lately. Please indulge me with the same topic.

Last night I saw "Bolt" on DVD. I was supposed to see that movie with a friend six months ago, but she got sick. It being as long as it has I'm going to assume most of you that wanted to see it, have. During the course of the movie, Penny is watched over by her mother. Where is her father in all this? The place they are living at the end of the can they afford the property tax?

Recently I also saw "Taken." At the end of the movie - who is driving the boat? How long does it take to have the electricity turned off if it runs constantly and no one pays the bill?

A few days ago, Nina said I was a brilliant man. Why didn't I believe it until she said it? Why does her saying it both make me giddy and surprised?

My SIL recently talked on her blog about what she would do with three hours in her day that were uninterupted. She mentions that she wonders what each of us would do? I think I would nap or go take pictures.

On a blog that I read (it's a chick blog, I know), today they are discussing what being a single chick in the church means. I wonder why as a church we choose to see ourselves through the labels others create for us and not the labels God creates. I like "son" or "daughter" over "single" or "menace to society" or "convert." Because no matter what someone else's label says about us - I think our own real label should be "Child of our Heavenly Father working hard to see Him again." I wonder why we need any other labels.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Pilgrim Rain draining

Oakley, CA

It was 80 yesterday and today we had a cold, wet storm blow in. It was nice to get a dose of pilgrim rain after 11 months without. But it totally caught me off guard. I had a customer scheduled that I had to cancel on. I didn't even have a rain coat. (Mind you that didn't stop me from not going out at lunch and getting fastfood - I'm keeping to my once a week goal pretty darn good.)
To my friends in Idaho, Utah and Nevada - stock up - this storm in probably going to hurt.


Monday, April 6, 2009

The State Flower

Oakley, CA

Ah, the California Poppy. Whenever I feel like being just a little naughty I always think of three options:
1. Get a horse and go to Philadelphia and ride up and down the city screaming "The British are coming! The British are coming!" Just to freak them out.
2. Get a Harley and drag Sturgis revving my hog just as loud as I can.
3. Pick a California Poppy. It's illegal you know. I could get a fine or up to three days in jail. Naughty me.

(A fourth option of course is to pump my own gas in Oregon, but I almost got a ticket doing that once in Ontario and I swore to the nice police officer I never would again.)

(BTC - an Orange flower kind of day)

Sunday, April 5, 2009

A Saint Bernard Rock Star

Antioch, CA

Yesterday, in between the morning session of conference and the afternoon session, the family went out and collected rocks so that tilling the soil would be easier. One rock gathered was this one that was first initially thought to look like a pig - but we have since decided it looks like a dog. I think it looks most like a Saint Bernard - but I'm open to discussion.

(BTC - I merged three images together to form one. Not a bad looking rainbow)

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Swing ride

Antioch, CA

I haven't been on a carnival or amusement park ride since John and I went to Train Town 6 years ago. Deep down, I've always wanted to be an employee of a traveling carnival. My mother suggested college instead. Some days I regret it.


Thursday, April 2, 2009

third finger from the thumb

Brentwood, CA

I had lunch with some friends today and one of them was sporting her new left hand hardware. It was very pretty to see.
** Edit - Music for the background - Shell's comment just made me think of this song.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


Oakley, CA

I found a new setting on my camera thanks to help from Stacy.