A Week of Light Edits

So this has been my experience this week at work.

Along with something else: I thought it was seasonal depression sneaking in a little early, but I'm convinced now it's Ol' Mr. Satan coming in and stirring the pot while I'm feeling exhausted and overwhelmed.

So some prayers for me, folks, would be in order. Because I'm still a decade out of retirement, and I'm too damn old to find a different job.

Manhood for Amateurs

 

Currently reading Manhood for Amateurs by Michael Chabon. It's a collection of essays focusing, loosely, on the then-vs-now Chabon sees.

I don't know what I expected from this book, but I had hoped it was going to be less Old Man Yells at Cloud than it's turning out to be.

Not that I don't think he has a point, say, about the adultification of LEGOs, or the general absence of kids playing outdoors together these days. I myself have yelled at those particular clouds.

Yelling ought to engender solutions. I don't see any here.

A friend posted this on my Facebook thread wherein I raise the question:

There was only one response that seemed appropriate:

I have to confess that I've read more since my initial reaction, and this book is growing on me.

You Can Retire When You're Dead

My brother Albert retired this year, and I'm insanely jealous.

And I look at the calendar: Ten years. Maybe 8 or 9 years. But it seems like forever.

I guess there is some good news. We owe less than $40,000 on the house; $38,744 and some pennies if you want something more exact. We owe about $12,000 on a Honda Ridgeline, and aside from that, just incidental credit card debt. Only one of our three kids is living with us at the moment, and he's so low maintenance it's hardly noticeable.

So we could be in worse shape. Nevertheless, I feel a Violet Beauregarde song coming on:

I'm tired of being beholden to a boss.

I used to work for the weekends. Now I live for them, and the longer I can make them last, the better.

I was sick a few weeks ago and took two days off work. That, combined with the four-day Labor Day weekend felt like V-E Day. And we're headed into the holiday season, which means some more time off and the perennial favorite: Seasonal depression, which I sense is starting a bit early this year if my attention span and desire to do much of anything is any indication.

Could potentially be a long eight or nine years . . . 

20 September 2026

20 September 2026

Dear Isaac,

Coming at you with more exciting action from Dad Land. . .

. . .

I got to see three trees cut down and shatter when they hit the asphalt in front of Lexi and Keaton’s house. That was probably the highlight of the week. If you remember, they have that birch tree in the front yard, like the one we have. Except theirs was a lot older, thicker, and completely dead. They had a few members of their ward come over Saturday with chainsaws, some rope, and a four-wheeler so they could take the tree down, which had three trunks.

One guy was working on the trunks, one at a time, and the rest of us – Keaton, me, and two other guys – were in charge of watching the trunk he was working on for any wobbling. When he finally had enough cut through we hollered. The guy with the chainsaw ran and we all watched as the tree fell to the street and shattered. At least the upper, skinny branches shattered. The trunks themselves were heavy and wet and took a lot of cutting and lugging to get them moved around. I wish I had taken pictures, but I was a bit preoccupied making sure nobody got squashed.

So when they had one tree down, the guy started pretty much immediately on the next one. One other guy with a chainsaw started cutting up the fallen trunk while the rest of us gathered up the debris and occasionally cautioned neighbors about parking their cars too close to the death zone. There was one trunk that, when it shattered, I thought for sure was going to smack parts into a car parked nearby, but nothing happened.

After the trees were down and we were mopping up, I talked with the guy who was cutting the trees down and said, “Wow, looks like you’ve done this a time or two,” because the trees dropped perfectly and didn’t even hit their mailbox, which I thought was going to be toast at one time. He laughed and said, “Nope, first time.” So a very confident person, to be sure.

We had the trees down and the debris collected and stacked in Keaton’s driveway in an hour.

A week or to before that, I got a call – missed one, actually – from a lady that Liam and I are ministers for. I’ll confess when the call came in I was glad I missed it. She’s a nice enough lady, but a little needy. I think you went with me to her house once, Dottie Murdock. We gave her a blessing. And a few more after that. So when she called I really didn’t want to call her back. But because I’m trying to be a better person, I did call her back. Turns out she was stuck with her van with a flat tire, a couple of miles from home. Liam and I loaded up to go see what we could do, but all the way there I was wishing you’d been there as well, as you’ve got more automotive experience than Liam and I put together. We found her and got the tire lug nuts loosened, but she was getting a little antsy so I had Liam take her and her son home, because they had things they needed to do, while I stayed to finish swapping out the tire. Of course the tire hadn’t been off the van in ages so it was really rusted to the hub. I pounded on it with my fists and gave it quite a few good kicks, but it wasn’t budging. I called Liam to bring a mallet and some other tools, but I remembered how much you struggled with the tire on your Expedition.

So there in the parking lot of a church on 12th Street, I said a prayer. I was a little cranky, but I did say to God that I didn’t really know what I was doing and asked for help in getting the tire off. As I finished the prayer, I could see a guy walking up the street. I didn’t think much of it, and kept kicking the tire. Next thing I knew the guy was there and ready to help. He checked first to make sure I had all the lug nuts off – I guess I looked a little slow, and I don’t blame him for checking. Turns out he used to work at a tire shop. Gave the tire one kick and it popped right off, and we had the donut spare on in less than a minute.

He said he was running an errand, and that ordinarily he’d have taken his car to do so, but for some reason he decided to walk instead. I figured right there God had prepared him to help, either me or just Dottie had I not taken the call. I’m glad I was there.

So I drove her van to her house, and had Liam meet me there. On the way, I could tell there were more problems with the van than just tires – the tire we took off was almost bald, with some of the bands showing through the  rubber. As I was driving I actually stopped to make sure the emergency brake wasn’t on. It wasn’t, but I limped the van to Dottie’s house. When I got there, she said she knew she needed a brake job, and that was clear. So over the next few days I talked with Brother Shaw from the Elders’ Quorum, and he got us connected with a ward member who does repairs. He’s got her brakes fixed now, and we’re trying to find her some used tires.

Just goes to show that God uses whatever tools He has at his disposal, even if one of those “tools” is a cranky old guy who had to have help to get the job finished. I’m just glad I didn’t ignore the call; I would have felt bad, and I know I would have disappointed Father in Heaven if I hadn’t.

Anyway, that’s my amazing story. Hope you’re having a good mission.

Love, Dad

Again, Mr. Fixit

Today, Michelle handed me a sheaf of papers to run through the shredder and I remembered - the shredder was broken.

I don't quite know what happened to it, but the paper entry slot was jammed up with shredded paper and I couldn't get any more to go in.

So being the cheap bastard that I am, I unplugged the thing, took it apart, and poked at it with a small screwdriver until I got the jammed paper cleaned out.

Luckily, I got the thing put back together properly and it works. So I was able to shred.

I know, stupid story. But I have to take the little victories when I can get them.

"You Don't Need Regulation to Stop Typing"

Yanno, I don't know what to think when it comes to artificial intelligence.

I do know I'd rather not see my students use it to write every assignment they turn in. But part of me also thinks AI could have some good uses.

Where we run into trouble is where human neuroses and, well, that little green monster (Pugsley) comes into play: Greed.

So I love what YouTuber Patrick Boyle says in this video after he first explains how AI brought a bit too much ersatz human emotion into the mix and decided it needed to cheat before it was found to be "poisoned" and be shut down or whatever.

First, the video:

After this debacle, it seems the heads of three major US AI players have asked for government regulation. But Boyle points out a few things I thought were interesting:

"An agreement between the dominant firms in an industry to limit output and hold back competition already has a name: It's a cartel. And anti-trust law exists specifically to stop cartels, because restricting output happens to be the perfect way to protect the profits of the market leaders and pull the ladder up after them."

So sure. Regulation *could* be used as a curtailment. Or as a curtailment against any competition as these big companies figure out in a continued safe space how to be profitable outside of accounting tricks.

Just an interesting thought as AI companies seek "regulation" before AI does something worse that what's discussed in this video when, as Boyle says, "You don't need regulation to stop typing."

Also important:

This helps explain the problem.

The cynic in me has alarm bells going off.

Things That are Fun

1. Threads links showing up in Facebook that are unreadable in full unless I download another app. Which I am not going to do.

2. People who insist the oddities you're pointing out in their work weren't there when they sent it to you, but you confirm after the fact that yes, indeed, the oddities were there from the start.

3. Finding oddities in your own work.

4. Seasonal depression.

5. That dream I had Wednesday night that I will not describe further except to mention it started with me soiling my trousers.*

6. Finally getting a few nights where I had confirmed REM sleep.

7. Watching two of my children deal with identity theft. Thanks, JC Penney information technology folks.

*I kept pooping and pooping and pooping and had NO WAY of disposing of any of it. I tried to hide some of it in my coat and used some handfuls of it to repel the curious but eventually found a tall building I could poop from onto the populace below. The dream disturbed me so much I woke up to confirm a) I had not indeed pooped my pants, and b) The dogs had not pooped the bed.

Maybe Take Your Own Advice

 

So I finished reading Ben Carson's "Take the Risk," and I echo my previous comment that the book is strange.

He really does gloss over the value that assets and connections have in taking risks. Especially in the latter half of the book as he discusses his ideas of risk analysis (which I think is valuable, so the book isn't a total waste) I don't get the feeling that he considers the assets and connections he has in making his risk analysis a lot easier to answer than those of the unwashed masses in similar situations.

In part of the book he discusses the idea of taking one's self out of the middle of risk analysis to help some decisions be more rational. That's something he certainly needed to do more of as he wrote this book. Taking himself out and bringing in more real-life examples from people less advantaged as him might make his risk analysis look a lot different to him.

Anyway, this is a good book on the general concept of risk-taking and risk analysis, but it's got enough flaws I don't think I can really recommend it.

Google Can't Index! On No!

Google seems very, very concerned that some of the pages on this blog aren't being indexed.

So concerned they sent me an email with a link to all sorts of interesting and colorful charts that do a lot to show me how bad the indexing crisis is at my blog, and what may be causing the crisis.

One thing they fail in telling me: Why this is bad.

Oh, maybe it's there somewhere. I don't care enough to keep poking around in the charts and explanations to find out why it's bad.

Thing is, this blog is mostly a journal of things that happen to me, or things that I think, or things that I think happened to me. I don't really care if the indexing isn't being done correctly, and I certainly can't be bothered to find out why the indexing isn't happening or what their explanations of why it isn't happening are telling me about my blog.

Because, you know, they haven't told me why I should worry.

This is the Dacia Sandero of problems.

Take the Risk -- with Advantages?

I'm trying to read Ben Carson's "Take the Risk," and it's a bit strange.

While I appreciate his discussion of risk and how we should evaluate the risks we consider taking in life, I can't help but feel he's glossing over something else that plays in favor of risk-taking: Assets definitely make a difference.

Maybe he touches on this later in the book. But it's clear, for example, that his mother took risks in making decisions to raise her boys properly, she had advantages that other people in similar situations might not have had. When she needed family to step up to help with her boys, they were there. When he needed self-awareness, he had it. When he needed mentors, they were there. Yes, the risk still had to be weighed, but there was certainly more of a safety net in many of the cases he cites than others might have had.

As I mentioned, I'll keep reading. I hope he discusses these assets and advantages as part of the whole, because someone without those assets would look at the same risks differently.

13 September 2026

 13 September 2026

Hello Isaac,

Just to get you up to date: The Red Herring keeps sinking into a deeper hole.

We got it back from Kevin last week with instructions to get a wheel alignment done so he could continue working on it. Seemed sensible enough. Having the wheels aligned would help him know what parts were questionable.

I took it to Bybee’s Wheel Alignment on Friday, and they reported that the rear upper control arms were so worn out it wouldn’t hold an alignment. So I drove it straight back out to Kevin’s. He hadn’t mentioned the rear upper control arms in his list of items that needed fixing. When Mom talked to him later, he sheepishly admitted he was concerned enough with the front that he hadn’t even looked at the rear components. So he’ll get all of that stuff fixed and back to us, hopefully by the end of the week. We’ll see how much that is going to cost us, but it still seems worthwhile to fix it all, rather than try to replace the car with something that would have other problems that need fixing.

I did find a nifty Nash Metropolitan on Facebook Marketplace for only $12,000, though:

The photo pretty much shows the car as actual size. I imagine it would be a lot of fun to try to fold myself into this thing every morning, but wouldn’t it be a lot of fun to drive around until you had to repair it and can’t get the parts anymore. That’s the kind of car you have to buy two or three of so you have one that’s working and two others you can cannibalize for parts.

Mom taught her first Sunday School lesson today on the short schedule, and ended right on the dot, prayer included. She was pretty happy about that. I get to try to do the same thing next, week, but with the first 12 chapters of Isaiah. We both think we should just spend the next few weeks sharing highlights from Handels’ Messiah which, of course, uses Isaiah as inspiration. I’ll have to remember that as I prepare my first short lesson. Handel saw a lot of inspiration in Isaiah, so I should try to do the same.

We hope you and Elder Pixton are getting along and working hard. I remember my trainer, Elder Smith. He worked me like a dog. I remember we got a challenge from our mission president that we should just keep contacting and contacting and contacting until we could give away one Book of Mormon (France was a challenging place to be a missionary). As I recall, we worked hard for more than a month, skipping lunches and working as early and as late as we could, before we gave away one book. I remember being pretty dog tired and a little discouraged during that time, but I also look back on it as probably the most productive time I spent on my mission. We tried that trick with later companionships, and though we never really saw much “success,” we did plant a lot of seeds. I hope someday to find out one of the seeds I planted helped a missionary further down the line see the kind of success we were hoping for.

If, for some reason, you’re missing home, I’ll fill you in on the excitement so Arizona seems a lot better by comparison. This weekend, I accomplished five things:

1. Fixed the step in the garage. The particle board was starting to cave in, to the point even your sister noticed it when she stepped on it. I replaced it with some redwood I had left over from the back porch project.

2. Drained the fresh water from the camper. Now it won’t freeze come winter.

3. Stripped, sanded, and repainted the trim around the back door.

4. Took some junk to the dump.

5. Got a haircut.

I know. I am a wild and crazy man.

We look forward to hearing from you, and hearing your missionary stories.

We love you.

Love, Dad

A Constellation of Honey-Dos

This weekend, five items fell off the list:

1. Repair step in the garage.

This is the after picture. I always forget the before. But this step had a 40-year-old bit of particle board as a tread, and for the past few weeks it's been caving in. Finally replaced it when our daughter, a small person, said she was afeared it was going to collapse under her nonexistent weight.

So I fixed it, but not necessarily how I wanted to. Two of the boards are redwood, while the third is pressure treated lumber. I wanted to use wood I had rather than buying any more. So I had to do it this way. I may eventually replace the pressure treated lumber later, but not now.

2. Hazardous waste, gone.

Not that we had a lot, but it is nice to have that Body Armor bottle with about an ounce of bad gas in it off my shelf, along with an AC recharge bottle and a massive lithium battery from the camper.

3. Back door trim stripped and repainted.

Again, no before picture. But now the trim has two coats of primer, ready for the finish coat. I also replaced the threshold between the stairs and the house. That needs to be stained.

4. Camper fresh water drained 

A simple task, but one that does take time as the tank was nearly full and took a long time to drain.

5. Haircut.

Which I had not have done since May. So very needed. I had to go to a barber since I couldn't talk Liam into shaving my head. Would have been cheaper and lasted longer. Alas . . .

Remember September 12th

Remember September . . . 12th.

I remember people helping people.

I remember friends checking on friends, family checking on family.

I remember messages of hope and courage and resolve from politicians and pundits and ordinary people.

I remember people putting differences aside to unite in  prayer to whatever deity they deemed appropriate.

The messages didn't ring hollow. They were not filled with backhanded snipes, exclusionary talk, me-better-than-youing.

September 12, 2001, was much closer to tragedy.

Today, we are much closer to the ugliness that causes tragedy.

A Definite Weirdity

 

So a day or two ago, blogging along as I do, I was unable to upload photos to a post.

I eventually figured out a workaround -- I had to upload the photo into Google Photos in order for it to appear. I couldn't load it directly from my desktop.

That got me to thinking that since both Google Photos and this blogging platform are Google products, that they were forcing us to us Google Photos for photo uploads.

That theory was shattered today as I posted this and uploaded this photo directly from my desktop. But maybe it's already in Google Photos.

I just know there are strange happenings at the Circle K.

Nichification Proceeds Apace

I recently joined, and then left, a Facebook group touting the Scholastic books I used to read and enjoy and occasionally buy in elementary school.

Those of the Gen X vintage likely remember this -- getting a book pamphlet; some called it a catalog but that's a bit grandiose -- and trying mightily to convince your parents to part with a few bucks to buy some books. I recall buying a few. I still have at least this one:

Seeing some of the covers of books I read as a kid, remembering I have some of them on my shelf, and seeing a few I remembered passing over time and again was fun.

But the group was, well, a bit anal.

If someone posted a vintage book but it wasn't of a specific Scholastic era, the posts were removed. Someone made a post about Newberry Award winning books, and it was taken down as it was only distantly-related to the specific Scholastic books the page was dedicated to.

There were some fun discussions. A lot of potential to discuss books we enjoyed. But it all came with a rind of prissiness.

I guess I can see the reasoning -- open up too much discussion, not limited to these specific Scholastic books, and you'd lose the flavor of that specific niche. Maybe you'd have a fun page that a lot more people would like to visit and share and enjoy, but the message would be muddled, and in this day and age we can't have that, apparently.

So I left them to their niche. I can babble about books on my own. But it's a shame to see that political balkanization get into books, no matter the reason.

San Tan Valley

We heard from Isaac this morning!

He did indeed make it to Gilbert, or at least San Tan Valley, his first mission area.

First thing he did in the field was get sick. I remember something similar happening to me when I landed in France -- just the change in climate can bring things on, and of course he was at the MTC with a huge crowd of missionaries, which of course is a petri dish for illness.

He's in good spirits and walked us through some of the adventures he's had, including a long list of sacrament meetings they went to on Sunday.

Hoarder's Conundrum

Yesterday, our daughter stopped by the house and casually mentioned she and her husband are prowling the thrift stores looking for a filing cabinet.

I happen to have two four-drawer and one two-drawer filing cabinets at the house, and mentioned I could probably spare one of them if they were interested. I specifically mentioned the one in the garage because it's currently in an awkward spot that I'd rather have free for other items.

But as I thought about both filing cabinets - the other four-drawer is in the basement study - I thought it might make more sense to empty the basement one out as the one in the garage, though in an awkward spot, has some utility in that it stores tools and other random objects I don't really have room for elsewhere in the garage.

So today I thought I'd start looking at what it would take to empty the basement cabinet.

And ran straight into the Hoarder's Conundrum.

Specifically, how important is it that I hold onto receipts and other associated paperwork for bathroom remodeling projects completed in 2020 and 2022? I mean, if I need proof the bathrooms were remodeled, all I really have to do is go use them. It seemed important at the time to hold onto all the records. But I have not consulted any of it since I filed it away.

Specifically, is that Amazon credit card still active? (Pauses blog post to see if the cards themselves have expiration dates on them) Sweet mother of mercy they're expired so I can shred the paperwork and the cards and not have to deal with them anymore.

You can see the problem.

I read somewhere the Gen X is bridging the digital divide by accepting we can have digital copies of things but we also cling to paper like nobody's business. Add to that my general hoarder tendencies and, well, you can see why we have two four-drawer and one two-drawer filing cabinets in the house.

I've long been working to move the "important papers" to the two-drawer filing cabinet, and I have tried to be diligent to filter those, though my hoarder tendencies still insist I have to have at least a digital record of, say, our water and sewer bills from a decade ago in case the utility has an audit and they demand a poop payment proof from 2018.

But that leads to a filing mess on my computers . . . Good thing I'm still hoarding those recordable CDs and DVDs.

A Used Book Era Has Passed

I have slowly come to realize something:

The many fruitful years I've spent scouring bookshelves at local thrift stores is likely at an end.

I *might* find a few more books from my childhood, but it's more than likely that people donating books nowadays are donating books their millennial children and even older read as kids, and the stuff I read as a Gen Xer is going to be a lot harder to find.

Until, of course, Gen X bookworms start to die.

Take E.W. Hildick's McGurk mysteries. I used to find them regularly at the local thrifts. Then I kept finding copies of books I already had, though I mostly bought them so I could decide if the new one was in better shape than the old.

Now, I just don't find them at the thrifts anymore. And the one pictured above is being sold as "vintage" online for $12. I used to find these for 50 cents, and on good days, ten for a dollar.

No more.

I may need to expand my search of thrift stores, go further afield -- though I note in Rexburg the book choices are even more paltry than they are locally.

End of an era, I guess.

Writing Our Own Psalm of Praise

 

I'm teaching Psalms in Sunday School this week, and it would be the week we're starting on the 25-minute lesson, so the chances of me being able to play any of the musical renditions of these songs of praise are pretty slim.

So as I prepare, I ponder: How would it be if, as a class, we wrote our own psalm?

The psalms are pretty varied in form. They don't necessarily rhyme. Some of them contain many ideas and shapes and thoughts and praises.

We could do it. Start with a few basic ideas, but then really dig into what class members praised God for this week -- and if they maybe can't remember anything, maybe encourage them to write things down this week, or make efforts to praise God for *something* that happens in the coming weeks.

Vivaldi's "Nisi Dominus - Cum Dederit" is his setting for Psalm 127:

Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.

It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.

Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.

Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.

Their use of it in Bob's Burgers always confused me a bit:

But certainly Louise ate the bread of sorrows . . . 

Photographic Proof

Late last night we got this photo of Isaac with we assume his companion, send by members welcoming him to the ward:

Then today, this photo from the mission office, with his mission president and wife, the De Wets.

We don't know yet exactly where he's serving, but we hope to find out soon.

FIRST CONTACT FROM GILBERT

So today my Facebook addiction paid off as I happened to be looking at my phone when I got a friend request from a young man living in Gilbert, Arizona. His profile said he was associated with Isaac's mission, so I accepted the request.

Almost immediately, Isaac called. All business, needing someone to get to his phone so he could re-establish contact with us now that he's in the mission, not the MTC.

Hit a few bumps, but did get contact re-established. This is excellent news.

Now I jut need someone to tell me where Elder Pixton is serving . . . 

Favorite Child

I remember as a kid visiting Yellowstone Park but being forbidden to go any further than the Dragon's Mouth Spring in the Mud Volcano area.

At the time I didn't understand why I wasn't allowed, while most of my older siblings were.

This weekend we visited the area and I actually read the signs rather than complain about the stink, and I learned that further up the trail at the Churning Cauldron Pool underground activity changed a "cool" pool into, well, a churning cauldron after a series of earthquakes in 1978 and 1979, leading to a lot of changes in the area.

So not quite as violent as the recent activity at the Black Diamond Pool, but notable in the fact it occurred fairly close to when we visited.

So maybe Mom was being protective of her younger children by saying we could go no further, but figured the older kids had had their run.

#FavoriteChild #PureSpeculation

Today?

Last we heard from Isaac he said he'd be leaving the MTC for Arizona either on Aug. 31 or Sept. 1.

So here we sit, wondering whether he'll fly out today or tomorrow. . .

UPDATE: Tomorrow.

A Yellowstone Bloop-Bloop

 

The more I visit Yellowstone, the more joy I find in the little, unnamed features the park has.

This little bloop-bloop is in the same general area as the Mud Volcano and is highly likely connected to it. It attracted me because of the odd noises it makes.

I'm pretty sure the only way to record this noise without the accompanying human chatter would be to go there either very early in the morning or late at night. And even then . . .

More Mission News

An email exchange on Isaac's second MTC P-Day:

Isaac:

I was fortunately not picked as the DL. I prayed about it right before the meeting and basically told Heavenly Father that even tho I want to be a leader, I really felt like I shouldn't be the DL because I've already got so much leadership practice. Our DL is a good kid, and he's growing a lot, but he is pretty bad about being to bed at a good time. I will say I probably deserve the blame for that because I stay up studying pretty late every night.

From Dad:

Well, leadership comes and goes. It's good to get that experience to a wide variety of people.

I hope things are going well for you there. Staying busy is the thing.

We finally got the Red Herring back from Kevin, but it's still on the wounded list. He replaced both front and rear brakes and flushed the transmission. He also replaced some bushings in the front end. Now I need to take it in for an alignment, and then take it back to him. Both shocks in the rear are shot, and there's more work to be done on the front end but it needs an alignment first. Then he's going to replace the water pump and do a timing belt kit. I guess as it's older, it needs timing belt replacements more often. And it needs new tires. Still cheaper than buying another car. So *maybe* it'll still be around when you get home.

That's about as exciting as things get here.

I have been pooped on twice by Dottie this week, which is fun. This morning she did a Peter Pan off the bed and took a dump on the floor as I was trying to put my pants on and catch up to her. See what you're missing?

His response:

I miss all the excitement clearly. Glad the red herring is keeping it pushing. I think it's definitely worth getting the work done on it.

Glad Dottie is still trucking along.

No photos, alas. . .

Everyone Can Relax. I've Found A Car.

Michelle called as I was driving home from work with an overdue report on the state of our 2005 Honda Pilot, which I took to our mechanic about three weeks ago for an assessment.

I knew with it having 264,000 miles on it that it was likely there was some work that needed doing, but what I got was a list not unlike what Ray Stantz delivered as he drove the proto-Ecto 1 up to the fire station.

Here's what's been done:

Front and rear brakes replaced.

Some front bearings and bushings replaced.

Transmission flushed.

What needs to be done:

Wheel alignment.

Likely four new tires.

Then returned to the mechanic for the following:

Timing belt kit, including water pump.

More front end bushings and bearings.

Rear shocks.

So far, only about $1,300, which seems a lot for a car that old, but I've been watching the used car market and that seems like a bargain if we can squeeze another 50,000 or so miles out of the thing.

Still, I should probably get my tools and cigarettes out to see if I can do some of the work myself.

TRAPPED.

 

The Main Dog got herself trapped in one of our barstools this afternoon. I have no idea how long she was there, but there she was when I got home from work at about a quarter to six.

We have to be gentle with her. She's sixteen years old, and partly blind.

That doesn't mean she's not a dorcus, though.

Way too Late at the Movies: Driving Miss Daisy

 

I heard tell that this film, at the end, is kind of a tear-jerker. And I was PERFECTLY FINE until I looked at Michelle, crying as she watched Hoke feed Miss Daisy her Thanksgiving pie. Then I fell apart.

Thinking of her Mom, of course, and those last few months as she dealt with her own dementia. Damn, I didn't need to see that look on Michelle's face again.

But the movie is good. Interestingly light on overt displays of prejudice, but we knew it was sewn into every bit of the story so it didn't need to be overt; it was just how things were done.

I'd like to say we've come a long way since the '40s and '50s into the 2020s, but I'd be a rotten liar. The racism is still there, perhaps more overt now as we're not at all as inured to it as the nation once was. It's ugly.

I *Love* Sprinklers

Came home to this tonight.

Well, not necessarily this, but at least part of it, lying accusingly on the driveway. So we likely had a gusher for at least a part of the hour this circuit ran last night or this morning.

I shouldn't complain. It was easy to replace. The hardest part was driving to Ace Hardware to get the part. I had hoped I had one in my box o' parts out in the shed, but alas.

I also knew that replacing it now was going to be the best deal. Lately I've been putting off little repairs like this, but that's a bad habit to get into. So I had the part. Five minutes with a shovel and the new part was in and now I don't really have to think about it anymore.

Except I noticed as I was testing this circuit that the circuit that feeds the raspberry patch popped a seam. Good news is that one is aboveground. But it had run for an hour with a gusher part of the way through it, so it's really muddy back there. That'll have to wait until things dry out.

AI Continues Slopping

This one made me snort-laugh:

I didn't even bother with the text. The thought of Monanio really consumed all of my brain.

AI of course has opened cheaper avenues into ragebait. People comment on the slop, the sloppers earn income, and all is wrong with the world.

This one is worse, but in a subtler way:

I don't know what's worse: the thought of both Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown serving in 'Nam, or Snoopy's Bugs Bunny ears.

FIRST CONTACT

From Isaac:

Good Morning,

I have officially arrived at the Provo MTC! Yesterday was drop off day and day one of my in person MTC experience. It was a good full day to say the least.

Day one was really closer to day 1/2, as my district's arrival time wasn't until 1:00pm. Upon arrival I was given all of the MTC swag, shown my room, and then promptly left to my own devices. I am pretty much settled in, but the beds here do make me miss the scout camp mattresses...and the same goes for the showers. All in all, however, this first small taste of the MTC has been a positive and spiritual experience.

Unfortunately, there isn't much to report, seeing as we are only in day two and today is P-Day, but I would like to leave you all with this:

While our natural instincts are to focus on our own doubts, fears, and insecurities, I've found that as I redirect my attention to the needs of others, those same doubts and fears are diminished. We need to lose ourselves in our service to others, and let the Lord take care of the rest.

I love you all and miss you all dearly,

Elder Davidson

District 12-D (minus Elders Adam's, Monahan, and Ware)

It's Official

 

And he's gone. Plopped into a parking garage at the MTC, a hug for Mom, a few photos snapped by a missionary practicing Japanese, and we were off.

Almost home now. Happy for him but feeling like the car is a little empty.

It's (Almost) Official

We're lazing about in a hotel in Ogden, getting ready to drop Isaac off at the MTC. He has to be there to meet his district (and Elder Palmer, his companion, with whom he has merrily klonked heads for the week of home MTC). It's odd to think the time has come, and I think this morning the import of the moment is hitting Isaac a little hard. He's been subdued and quiet.

Or maybe just tired from the day before. We did a session at the Logan Temple, then had a $170 dinner at Maddox in Perry before we stopped in Ogden for the night.

Side note: The Logan Temple was much more modern inside than I was anticipating for a Pioneer-era temple. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but I certainly know the Idaho Falls Temple has survived remodeling efforts with much more of its 1940s Art Deco intact.

More to come . . .

Another Little Project Done

Michelle painted the stairwell and the stair rail last year. Just got the rail back up today. And I did *not* use drywall screws to fasten it to the wall, thankyouverymuch.

I did this scientifically, since she puttied over the holes in the drywall as she painted. I measured the basement rail height, figured out which end of the rail went where, and then with the assistance of Isaac, busily preparing to depart for the MTC today, got the rail put up and back into the actual studs.

That's one of those things you do when you're taking a much-needed day off work for a trip to Utah but need to burn off some nervous energy before the trip begins.

AI: Used Car Writing

More fuel here for folks like me who don't want AI to write or think for us.

It's the automated rush to mediocrity that bugs me. I mean, I can be a mediocre writer on my own; I don't need technological help to be so.

The worst part: Most AI acolytes don't care. Writing is a chore to be taken off a checklist, not anything to be done to help increase one's abilities or make their brains work.

I get it -- writing is hard. I've been working on a novel for years. Reading is one thing, writing is completely different. It's like saying "Hey, I like cars. I can drive them. I'm going to build one myself." Two completely different worlds.

But this AI writing for us isn't us writing, it's us going to the used car lot and buying the blandest piece of machinery on the lot. . .

Dear Elder Davidson No. 1

 Hello Isaac,

Thought you’d enjoy having a bit of mail in the mailbox when you got to the MTC. That is if this letter beats us there. We’ll see.

I imagine you’ll find your time at the MTC going fast. It went fast for me, as I recall, and I was there for 2 ½ months. You’re going to be busy there – and that’s a good thing.

If I can offer any advice, it would be this: Take what they teach you there seriously. I know you’re going into the mission full-bore; I expect nothing less from you. I’ve always admired your dedication and enthusiasm. Keep it up. There may be times, even in the two weeks you’re there, that you’ll feel discouraged. That’s normal. Just remember you’ve got a huge support group there, and we’re all rooting for you at home. More importantly, God called you to serve, and He’ll do everything he can to help you succeed as long as you’re doing your part. That you’ll do that I have no doubt.

Your personality and charisma will be tremendous assets to you in the mission field. God expects you’ll channel that into good. I saw charismatic missionaries accomplish great things. I also saw them lead other missionaries into things they shouldn’t be doing. Don’t do that.

I’ll get off the soapbox. You know what you’re facing, and you’ll hear plenty of advice from all sorts of people in the MTC and in the mission field. Just remember to listen to the spirit and you’ll do wonderfully.

As you serve your mission, you’ve inspired me to re-read my mission journals and letters. Maybe I’ll send you a bit of stuff here and there and you might relate (or not) to experiences the old man had on his mission. I won’t promise you any Naked Ninja moments, but as I recall my folks did build a new house and move while I was on my mission, so the opportunity was always there. Dad wanted to keep the new house a secret, but Mom was always bursting to send any news she could. Roles would be reversed for your Mom and I, as I’m the one who likes to blab.

Journal writing (soapbox comes back out): Do it. You’ll see the value in it as you go. I don’t know that you need to do it daily, but certainly record things that happen to you. Record promptings from the Lord. Record the good stuff and the bad stuff. I know when I re-read the entries from the days when I was feeling low and lousy it helps me keep perspective on how I dealt with the bad, and how I could certainly have dealt with it better. The more we record, the more we’re able to recall and ponder on. The Book of Mormon in many parts (I’m thinking particularly of Enos and Mormon/Moroni) are dudes like us recording their ups and downs. There’s a lot of value in what they wrote, and while what we record won’t necessarily become scripture, it can still hold a lot of value for us. And remember that the incidental things you write – emails, letters, etc., can double as journal entries. I haven’t journaled on paper in years but put a lot of stuff on my blog. If I have something significant I want to keep, I save the file on my computer. We’ll do what we can to preserve the emails and letters you send, so they can supplement your own journal writing. Just find a way to record your memories and thoughts (backs off the soapbox again).

I just really hope you enjoy your time, have fun with your companions, and can look back on your mission years with fondness. Missions are a lot of work, but as with life, they can be a lot of fun as well. I know you know how to find fun and how to make things fun, so as long as you’re doing things in a way that keep you and your companion safe and keep the spirit with you, you’re going to do great things.

I’ve babbled long enough. I’ll end this letter and let you get back to the MTC thing.

Love, Dad

Hey, I *Know* That Name

So I'm reading J. Golden Kimball by Claude Richards and learned an interesting interaction he had with James Kearl, one of my mother's relatives.

A few caveats:

There may be other James Kearls, but in looking at the timeline and genealogy, I can confirm James Kearl lived in the area Kimball lived in. They're also contemporaries, so the chances of this being my relative are good.

The event itself is not that exciting; I just thought it was fun than an ancestor's name popped out of the  book at me.

The story:

About 1887 my brother Elias and I loaded a sleigh with provisions and started for Evanston, Wyoming, enroute to Salt Lake City, where Elias was to attend the Utah Legislature as a representative from Rich County. We took our mother along. Elias was on crutches, as he had a severe cut on the foot. We had four fine horses. It was snowing, but we were accustomed to snow storms. We left our home in Meadowville and, after we passed through Lake Town, we wended our way to the canyon. A severe blizzard, with a terrifying wind, set in. We plowed our way through banks of snow. We reached the top of the mountain; night set in and we discovered we were traveling in a circle as the horses could not face the storm. We found a cabin, owned by our friend James Kearl, and entered. Tearing up the floor, we built a fire and camped for the night.

I can't imagine James Kearl was all that happy to know a cabin he owned lost a floor to some wanderers, but I'm certain he wouldn't have mind as it likely saved their lives. They did eventually reach Salt Lake, after other adventures involving other ranchers and other cabins.

A Few Updates

I offer a few updates after a busy week.

Update 1: Isaac sold his truck, thus the pile in this photo.

I was low-key worried we'd either be making payments on his truck during his mission or that some jerk would try to steal it away from him, but he ended up selling it to a missionary freshly-returned from Costa Rica whose Dad arrived in a vehicle bought at the same small dealership Isaac bought his truck from.

There wasn't even any dickering on price. I don't know how he avoided that. Maybe because it's a good truck, in good condition, and the used car market is so screwed up anyway.

Update 2: Home MTC is going well, though he's convinced it could be done in just a few days. There's a lot of slack time built in, and that's driving him nuts. He's so much like his mother in that he loves being busy. No matter. We'll take him down to Provo next week, where the real action begins.

Update 3: My car is still in the shop. Not the end of the world as we have a fleet to choose from at home, but I do miss it. Hopefully soon.

Verdict on The Gun Seller: Good.

A while back I wrote a post about this book, saying that if I found it was good or entertaining or some combination of both, I'd be upset at the polymathical talents of Hugh Laurie, actor, pianist, singer, writer, and novelist.

It's good.

So I am upset.

But in a good way. Though the book was a bit predictable in parts, the story is entertaining, and the last 30 or so pages I had to finish in a gulp because the tension built nicely and the bad guys get their comeuppance and it doesn't really matter all that much if there were so many characters, many of whom blended together, I kinda forgot who some of the bad guys were even at the end. That might be this novel's biggest fault, and something I should learn for my own writing. We don't need to make all of our characters zany and Gentry Lee-esque, but we should certainly strive to help them be memorable enough when their names are mentioned again long after they're introduced we remember who they are. And maybe that's my fault; sometimes I'm not the most observant reader. But this book is no Dickens character fest, either.

It's not the best spy spoof or whatever that I've read, but it was a fun read nonetheless.

I can't recommend it to my wife, to whom I pass many a book, because there's plenty of swearing in the story. I don't mind an occasional cuss, but this kind of went beyond the pale. True-to-life dialogue it might be, but it certainly makes the characters a lot less memorable when all they can do is drop an f-bomb rather than say something clever.

Farewell

Today, two momentous things.

Thing First: Isaac gave his farewell talk. He had me read a copy beforehand, and it was great.

As it's out in public, I'll put the text below so I always remember it.

But I love how happy he looks in this photo, sneaked in the chapel before his talk.

Thing Second: Brother Coletti almost ran out of No. 1s for the hymn list today. We've been endlessly entertained watching him sneak 7s into the list when he runs out.

 Nearly 30 years before I was born, President Spencer W. Kimball taught “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other in the kingdom” (December 1974 Ensign “Small Acts of Service”). The more I’ve thought about that statement, the more I’ve started to realize something. As the Lord gives us the opportunity to serve, the people we serve aren’t alone in receiving his blessings, he is blessing us too. Upon reflecting on the opportunities the Lord has given me to serve, I have quickly recognized the way each one has strengthened my testimony and brought me that much closer to Jesus Christ.

The first and most consistent opportunity I was given was the many years I have spent at Island Park Scout Camp. Mom hauled us up to camp one summer to work in the kitchen with a family friend, and it quickly became a huge part of who I am. As I spent my summers growing up at camp, I was exposed to numerous examples of leading, serving, and prioritizing the needs of those around me. At the young age of 7, I was welcomed and served by the staff of the camp despite not having a place among them. I spent a number of years watching the way the staff served those who came to participate in the camp, and I eagerly awaited my opportunity to do so.

When my time finally came, I ran with it. I spent nearly a decade teaching classes, serving the units, and serving the scouts and the camp. Whether that was in the form of welcoming units to camp, answering questions, bringing them to campwide events, or helping them complete their classes, I found great joy in spending time with and serving those scouts and leaders, so much so that it seemed like I spent August back through to May waiting for the opportunity to head back to camp.

Then, last year, something changed. Up until the spring of 2025, I had always been able to get the time off I needed from work to spend time up at camp. Whether that came in the form of my job giving me the required time off, a conveniently timed transition to another job during the summer, or altogether quitting my job, I always made my way back. Last year was different.

At the time I was working for Reed’s Dairy, in their production facility, and due to the nature of the position I was in, and summer being the peak season for ice cream sales, I was unable to take the time off for camp. This greatly impacted me. I lost the most present and consistent opportunity for service that I had been blessed with. By no coincidence, this is also the time at which my testimony suffered the most. It was small changes at first. Forgetting my nightly prayer, spending a Sunday with friends instead of at church, or skipping the YSA activities. Over time, things began to add up, and all of the sudden I found myself in a dark place.

This summer looked much the same, but due to some late subtractions and reassignments within the camp’s staff roster, I found myself with the chance to go back up one final summer before my mission. This opportunity and the youth, adult leaders, and staff that I spent the summer working with and serving taught me a few things. The more we serve and look after the needs of others, the happier we will be, and the greater we will be blessed. This thought was reinforced for me this week as I studied a talk by President Thomas S. Monson titled “What Have I Done for Someone Today”. In it, he says, “The Savior taught His disciples, ‘For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it’. I believe the Savior is telling us that unless we lose ourselves in service to others, there is little purpose to our own lives. Those who live only for themselves eventually shrivel up and figuratively lose their lives, while those who lose themselves in service to others grow and flourish–and in effect save their lives.” End quote. 

The thought that we will be better off and grow more when we focus on the needs of others is amazing, and as I look back I realize just how much my experiences at camp taught me to notice people the way Christ noticed people, and to love them the best way I know how, regardless of whether they seek it out or not.

Even within scouting, camp is not the only opportunity I’ve been given to learn to serve others. As many of you know, the Eagle Scout is the highest rank awarded within the BSA, and one of the final steps is to organize, lead, and complete a service project benefitting the community. This project aims to emphasize leading others to serve those around you, and from a more eternal perspective, it aids in shifting our focus from ourselves and our own learning towards the needs of others. As it says in Mosiah 2:17, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your God”. My Eagle Project was an opportunity to use my time and talents to serve the Lord by serving His children. By sacrificing my time and effort for others, I felt the Holy Ghost more present in my life. As we do this, we can become more like the Savior, whose Atonement was the ultimate sacrifice and service. 

This leads me to another aspect of serving others that has strengthened my testimony and forever changed my personal relationship with Christ: attitude. Another organization within the Boy Scouts that I was given a chance to experience, learn, and grow from was something called the Order of the Arrow. This is the honor society of the BSA, and exists to recognize those who best exemplify the Oath and Law, and to develop leadership through service to their local communities. Within scouting, it is quite often referred to as the “Brotherhood of Cheerful Service”.

Now, OA, as it’s referred to for short, is not about being noticed or recognized, but rather to cheerfully provide service that can positively improve the experience of others. This, again, reminded me of the way Christ spent his ministry on Earth. He spent so much of his time quietly serving others, lifting people one by one, without any desire for praise or recognition. He simply served them out of love. That doesn’t mean that my testimony is growing because I have worn an OA sash, or because I spent a dozen weekends up at Island Park, instead, every time I choose to cheerfully serve those around me instead of focusing on myself, I feel just that much closer to the Savior.

Additionally, the way we approach service can work wonders on our hearts and minds. As we become less concerned with our desires or the struggles of our daily lives, and start to focus on what we can do for the lives of those around us, we become closer to Heavenly Father and what he wants for His children.

While Order of the Arrow did in fact help me become a better scout, it did so much more than that. It helped prepare me to be a better disciple. I have come to enjoy service, with or without recognition, serve even when it wasn’t convenient, and find joy in helping others. These qualities are all vital to missionary work and bringing yourself and others around you closer to Christ.

However, scouting is just one of many ways I and countless others have been blessed to serve. Quite possibly my favorite form of service in recent months has been the chances I have had to serve in and attend the temple. In fact, temple work is the prime example of serving others without any recognition, and it is a form of service through which you are acting completely selflessly. Think about it, most kinds of service have some sort of tangibility to it. Whether that is building something within the community, bringing your elderly neighbor (or father’s) groceries in, teaching someone, spending time with someone, or even just making someone else laugh. The temple, on the other hand, is completely different. We give our time, attention, WORTHINESS, and love for people that we’ve never even met in this life.

Within the temple, while performing that service and those ordinances, whether it be baptisms and confirmations, or initiatories and endowments, we are instruments in the Lord’s hands. Those who we are serving simply cannot serve themselves, and as such rely on our willingness and active decision to serve in order to receive the same blessings we have the ability to receive. While we are by no means replacing the Savior, we are participating in His work, and as such we should do anything in our power to take advantage of this opportunity.

Personally, since receiving my endowment at the beginning of the summer, I have been able to attend nearly a dozen times in the leadup to my mission. These sessions have strengthened my testimony in a way that only temple service can, and has brought me so much closer to Christ, all the while serving as an opportunity to help those who won't have the chance to make those covenants on their own. Alongside these sessions, I was blessed with the chance to attend the temple and do baptisms for the dead 3 days in a row this past week with a couple friends. I quickly noticed the positive impact it had on my day, the peace I felt both in the temple and throughout the rest of the day, and found myself looking forward to the chance to go back the following morning. In his talk titled “Make Time for the Lord” in October General Conference of 2021, President Russel M. Nelson reminds us “Nothing will strengthen your spiritual foundation like temple service and temple worship”. Temple service isn’t just a blessing for those on the other side of the veil, it also changes us and allows us to come closer to Christ.

While our work in the temple consists of performing ordinances for those beyond the veil, missionary work is a way in which we can assist the living in preparing to receive those same ordinances. Again I am reminded of something shared with us by President Nelson who taught “Anytime you do anything that helps anyone–on either side of the veil–take a step toward making covenants with God and receiving their essential baptismal and temple ordinances, you are helping to gather Israel. It is as simple as that” (“Hope of Israel” Worldwide Youth Devotional, June 3, 2018).

Although missionary work is centered around the doctrine, I have learned that there is so much more to it. In Alma 17, Ammon traveled to the land of the Lamanites with the intention of sharing the gospel. As he was brought before the king of the Lamanites, King Lamoni, he was questioned on his purpose. He expressed his desire to dwell with the Lamanites, and King Lamoni was not only pleased with Ammon, but even offered up one of his daughters to Ammon to wife. However, Ammon instead asked if he could be a servant to the king. As he watched over the king’s flocks, he valiantly defended them from thieves with his sling, and ultimately smote the arms off of any who approached him. Ammon did this not to seek recognition, but out of love and through his faithfulness. In fact, while the rest of the king’s servants rushed in to the king to tell him about Ammon’s courage, Ammon returned to the stables to tend to the king’s horses and chariots, as he had been commanded previously.

Ultimately, the service Ammon provided to King Lamoni opened the hearts of the king and the his people, and they were willing to listen to his testimony of Christ and the Plan of Salvation. Through simple acts of humble service, Ammon earned their trust, opened the door to teach the gospel, and eventually witnessed the conversion of King Lamoni and many of the people around him through the power of the Holy Ghost.

As it turns out, that same principle has been true in my life. Whether that was my participation in scout camp, the completion of my eagle project, the service I completed in the Order of the Arrow, serving in the temple, or preparing for my mission, I have come to know that service changes not only the lives of those we help, it changes us. If we serve with love, our testimonies will be strengthened as we become more like the Savior.

Alongside the example of Ammon, I’ve witnessed firsthand through spending time with the missionaries in our ward that oftentimes, the most effective way to minister is to simply treat everyone with kindness, lend service, and meet the needs of those around you. As we minister to those around us, they will be more receptive to the doctrine and the love we want to share. So often in Christ’s own life and ministry, he too would first bless, heal, and comfort people before he taught. Such examples include the woman at the well in Samaria, the blind man, and Zacchaeus. In each of these instances, Christ saw the individual, met them where they were, and showed them His love. That love, in turned, opened their hearts to Him.

All of these examples, Ammon’s time with the Lamanites, and my time with the missionaries have all taught me a crucial lesson as I prepare to serve. Missionary work isn’t all about winning debates with those of other faiths, teaching lessons, or knocking a certain number of doors, but rather about loving God’s children enough to introduce them to the Savior and his Atonement. The things they learn and the gospel we spread will work wonders in their lives, but our charity is what opens the door.

The Lord continually provides us the opportunity to serve, not just to help his children, but to allow us to grow in our testimonies and become more like Him. The opportunities we are given to serve can be stepping stones in our path back to Heavenly Father, and have most certainly brought me closer to Him and his gospel, slowly but surely over time. And while scout camp, my eagle project, order of the arrow, service in the temple, and now my upcoming mission have been my personal stepping stones, the Lord knows each of us individually and as such carefully places those opportunities into our lives that he knows will best serve us and allow us to serve others.

I’d like to invite you all to think about the stepping stones the Lord has placed into your lives, and consider how your testimony has been and can continue to be strengthened. Consider how you can be drawn closer to him as you continue to serve those around you.

I know just how great the impact of service, and that the Lord blesses those who love, serve, and minister to others. I know that as we serve, our testimonies will be strengthened as we turn our hearts to the will of the Father, and that through this we can become more like Him. I know that this church is true. I know that Arizona is the place the Lord knows I will best serve His children, and that through His power I can help gather Israel. I know the Book of Mormon is true, and that when we study and pray with real intent that our testimonies will grow, and that we will come to know of its truth. I know my Heavenly Father loves me, and that no matter how hard it might be to leave behind my life, family, friends, and obligations, that this opportunity to serve the Lord and His children is one I cannot take for granted.

Amen.