Dear Elder Davidson No. 6

Dear Isaac,

As always, good to hear from you.

I wish I had exciting things to report. I do not. Life continues to be boring, which I guess is a good thing.

When I left for work this morning, it was still raining. It had rained all night. The street up the road from our house was flooded curb to curb – we know now the house right on the curve is where our new stake president lives. John Adams was also flooded a bit, and the geyser at John Adams and Curlew was bubbling away. I hit a lot of standing water all over town as I drove to work. We may have to start figuring out what a cubit is and building an ark.

I’m sure Lexi told you that she and Keaton had a waterfall flowing into their basement from one of their windows. I went over and looked at it (that was about all I could do; all anyone can do until the rain stops, except for manning the pumps). Keaton and I think there’s a French drain in the window well that’s collecting water from somewhere else and is overflowing. Once the rain stops, he’s going to dig around in there to see what’s going on. I’d say not to worry too much about it as we’re getting some exceptional rainfall, except for they had some minor flooding in there in May after a few rainy days. Keaon caulked some, but the water was really flowing in, this time through the gaps around the window.

It did inspire me to go home and check our window wells. Everything looks good, but I do need to get up on the tall part of the house to clean gutters out. I either need a really big extension ladder or to borrow some scaffolding from Albert. That or Liam will have to hold the ladder for me as I climb up onto the house from the garage. But I gotta do something because the gutters overflow even in a moderate rain. Wish you were here to go up there for me. I promise to take pictures if I end up falling off the roof or through the roof into the house. I told Liam maybe he should stand on the ground with a mattress he could throw on the ground if he sees me falling and can estimate where I’ll splat on the ground. That or set up the trampoline again . . .

What I need to do is clean them out and then put some kind of lath over them to let the water in but keep the leaves out. Worst thing is that they’re really not our leaves, but leaves from the poplar trees next door.

This is:

1. The kind of high-quality Old Man Whining you’re missing out on.

2. Going to happen to you when you get hit by the Old Age Truck.

So, as Ernest says, “Yuk it up.”

This was part of our view on Saturday, in the rain, from the Conant Creek trestle on the Ashton-Tetonia trail. Up high where we were, fall had already passed, but in the gullies and valleys like this, there was still some color. When I look at places like this I think it might be fun to live there – but don’t catch me there in the winter. Way too much snow and wind.

But wouldn’t it be fun to own that property and build a little cabin on the flat with an outhouse and just a log stove for heat in the winter. Until you went mad having to dig your way to the privy after every snowfall.

I’m a fair-weather homesteader, to be sure.

We’re headed to Pocatello tomorrow for Randy’s sentencing. I’m grateful he’ll finally know what lies in the future for him, but I’m sure he’s nervous. I’m nervous too. I’m going into this not knowing what to think. Anything could happen.

We (Albert, Serena, Maaike and I) aren’t heading out until 11 am, so I’m debating going in to work for a few hours beforehand. I probably should, because I forgot to activate my out of office email and remind my boss I’m going to be gone. But frankly I’d like to go in so early I could disappear before the bulk of the others arrived. Maybe the dogs will have me up at 3 am again. 

That’s my ideal job right there.

Well, I can’t keep my eyes open any more. This old man is going to go collapse on the basement floor and start drooling.

Love, Dad

Way too Late at the Movies: Mr. Hulot's Holiday

I've long been aware of Jacques Tati's Mr. Hulot character, and the "modern silent" films he made, but I'd never seen one start to finish.

Remedied that this weekend by watching "Les Vacances de M. Hulot," or "Mr. Hulot's Holiday," on YouTube.

I want to watch more full films. Had this been my only Tati experience, I might not have bothered with any more. It's slow, the visual jokes come and go, but many of them are subtle; but not near as subtle as some of the jokes based on sound, and the story - such as it is - felt a bit choppy.

Nevertheless, glad I watched it. It's primed me for more Tati.

I marve4l at visual comedy, particularly that done without computer-aided special effects. Everything in the film is done practically, and I'm sure through a lot of effort. Watching that paint pot drift in and out with the tide then come back makes the film worth watching.

Hey, Donothings . . .

Sent to Sens. Jim Risch, Mike Crapo, and Rep. Mike Simpson

Please tell President Trump, and remind yourself, that you can't shake the Devil's hand and say you're only kidding.

President Trump seems to think he can fix the fuel problem by making a deal with Russia and sell out Ukraine, rather than stopping the idiot war with Iran he should not have started in the first place.

If you do nothing, you are complicit in shaking the devil's hand as well.

Fully expecting you to do nothing but toe Trump's line, I remain an unsatisfied constituent.

Sincerely yours,

Brian Davidson

Ammon

Soggy Hiking

Today as the remnants of Tropical Storm Rachel began dumping its load locally, we went on a hike.

We tagged along as the support vehicle for Troop 1010's 20-mile hike to finish up the Hiking merit badge. They opted to hike the Ashton-to-Tetonia Rail Trail State Park, which is a favorite of ours.

Michelle and I decided at one point to hike from Drummond to the trestle bridge over Conant Creek. It was a great hike, though we hiked during a pretty good downpour from the storm and got soaked.

Still, even in the rain, the views are spectacular.

Though fall is mostly over along the upper elevations on the trail, but down in the hollows and gullies there was still some color to be seen.

Begone, Bag O' Wipes

Story time with Brian.

See that bag of wipes flopped over in the hallway? We've had it since Covid Times. The hallway is where it lives. Though I know that is where it lives and occasionally use a wipe from the bag, I am also constantly tripping over it or kicking it and having to put it back into place.

Also, the wipes have dried out a bit, so they're more of a slightly abrasive pad than a wipe, but we do not throw things away in this house.

Today I took a wipe out of it, and noted there is only one wipe left.

I will be glad to see it go.

Super Intelligence?

I want to talk about the trickle-down we got at work today about having to say "super intelligence" rather than "artificial intelligence" but I'm still hung up on the fact that one of the forwarders of the message included what looked like a Donald Trump emoji in the email chain.

It's an Affront to not Use Affresh, and other Linguistic Musings

I've been amused of late reading the product names for various items coming out of Asia. I know they make fun of Westerners - and rightly so - when we get tattoos of their word characters that mean something along the lines of "giraffe pimp" and not what the tattoo artist says it means, but I think it's just as fair to mock their mangled English as they try to sell the output of their factories.

Here are some of my favorites:

I remember watching Bob Ross put paint to kamvas in PBS. I guess this is a digital thing.

This might be my favorite. My first thought is toxin, but if you feel it's more in the medicine field you're not far off, as the -oxin suffix is, in Greek, related to the heart. So maybe this is either heart-friendly or poisonous stuff.

Comedian Daren Streblow talks about a son with a speech impediment, who added -oy to a lot of words. I guess he's working in marketing Chinese products now.

It's an affront not to use Affresh. Some of the ad copy just writes itself.

Jackery. So close to hackery. And given this is Chinesium, the name is probably chillingly ironic.

 

From the Hudson's Bay Company to Parachuting Beavers

History, of course, is written by the victors.

And, in some cases, by researchers and writers who don’t hesitate to deliver a few delightful, backhanded gallantries at events big or small, at personages eminent or obscure, and at enterprises holy and grotesque.

Thus I read in Elizabeth Haroldsen Lovell’s “Benjamin Bonneville, Soldier of the American Frontier.”

Lovell takes some jabs at the Hudson’s Bay Company in the book.

On Page 66, this:

In their own bailiwick in Canada, the policy of Hudson’s Bay Company was to harvest judiciously, but of areas open to both Great Britain and the United States, company officials wrote “The country is a rich preserve of Beaver, which for political reasons we should endeavor to destroy as fast as possible.” Peter Skene Ogden and Joh Work with their Snake River brigades had obeyed orders, and by 1833 the results were painfully evident.

She also elicits a jab at the American mania for progress, seen today in the likes of SpaceX and Silicon Valley and such ilk. On Page 118:

The country had gone mad with railroad building. Earlier, it had been canals, but even before many waterway projects were off the drawing boards there was talk they would soon be made obsolete by the railroads. To get somewhere quickly was an obsession which grew in America as naturally as hickory and maize, only faster. It was a stylish thing to “go by the cars.” Engines glistened with bright paint; passengers cars made up a “brigade.”

Lovell tells Bonneville’s tale well, intermixed with an excellent smattering of history much more broad than the soldier/adventurer’s life.

I picked up this book at a local thrift store and enjoyed reading it, seeing as I live in a county that bears Bonneville’s name. The book may be a little dry at times, but Lovell does her best to bring in livelier bits and to help us see one man’s story in context with the growth and growing pains of a nation.

And her stabs at Hudson’s Bay Company were comic.

Puts the parachuting beavers of the 1940s into some interesting historical context.

 

That Devil Weed State Legislature

We're coming up on the November election, and I'm seeing some interesting things online.

One of the things to consider: A proposition to allow the state legislature - and the state legislature only - decide whether to legalize marijuana.

I might be in favor of medical marijuana. I'm not thrilled with the prospect of recreational marijuana. I'm totally against the state legislature getting any more power than they already have.

Earlier this year, they slashed budgets and, in part, cut mental health funding for in-home care. At least three people died as the result of this cut in funding, which they hastily restored after the deaths and the associated brouhaha.

What they want to do is carve out part of the citizen initiative process to allow only the legislature to make decisions on marijuana. I don't trust them. All it really is is a foot in the door in shutting down the initiative process, consolidating more power in a state legislature that's already pretty power-hungry.

Yes, we can contact our representatives to let our thoughts be known. I've done that a lot. But there is no guarantee they'll listen to anything but what they already believe or what they want to hear.

Handing this power to the legislature rather than keeping it within the direct purview of voters adds a level of gatekeeping I'm not comfortable handing over.

There are many in the legislature who are openly hostile to the initiative process. Give them a little power and they become emboldened to take a little more.

Who cares if the initiative process wasn't part of how the state set up its laws originally? That's a pretty weak argument to make. "Gee, you didn't have this power before you asked for it, so let's just take it away." That's all I'm hearing in that quarter.

Dear Elder Davidson No. 5

4 October 2026

Hello Isaac,

Do you know what’s fun? Taking a car in for an alignment and after it’s done having two of the dashboard warning lights that’ve been on for a very long time turn off.

I don’t know if it’s coincidence or what, but after the Red Herring alignment was done, the light for the VTM-4 and the evap system turned off. Maybe without the alignment and the suspension parts that got replaced it was just enough out of kilter to trigger the sensors to light up. But now I’m just down to the airbag light and, occasionally, the TPMS.

Also, we’ve had the Blood Brother to Kevin and back as well. There was an ABS warning light on the dash, and a message that the all-wheel drive system was, as a result, not operational. It seemed important to get that looked at before winter sets in, so when we had to pick up the Red Herring we left it there. As Kevin was looking around, he saw a sensor that had been taped up. He poked at the tape and the wire it was on crumbled under the pressure. So he replaced the wire and got things fixed up.

And hey, here’s some excitement: I finally found the part I needed to fix the Camp Chef. Behold:

I know. This is exciting stuff. And I’ll tell you the story. Liam and I went to Lowe’s to see if we could find what we needed. We found something we thought would work, but when I got it home I realized it wasn’t going to work. So the next day I went back to Lowes and got a different item. But when I got it home, it also no worky. Third time back to Lowe’s and I couldn’t find what I needed, so left defeated. I decided to try Home Depot one more time before I gave up. What worked there was finding a very helpful young man who knew right where to find the part I needed. AND IT WORKED. So the Camp Chef is now completely reassembled, just in time to stow it for the winter. What I’m actually going to do is store it in the garage so maybe we can use it later in the year. I still have the other one to repair, but as I’m not really sure what’s wrong with it, that may take a while. I’d like it to just disappear, but that’s not going to happen. By the way, some of my Facebook friends said I was making a bong.

I hope you’re enjoying Conference. We never got to see much of Conference when I was in France. It did get broadcast to certain chapels in our mission area, but they were typically pretty far away from where I was serving so we didn’t get to see much of it. Sometimes we got to see recordings of it months later, and that was nice. But mostly we had to wait for the magazines to come so we could read the talks. I’m sure missionaries and members all over get to see them a lot more live than we ever did. Technology has marched on.

I really liked Timothy Farnes’ message – he’s the Young Men’s President. He talked about ministering, of course, but what he said at one point really hit me: We just have to see the person God puts in our path. Seeing enables compassion. I’ll try to remember that as God puts people in my path.

You may need to brace yourself for this: Mom did a dog toy purge and Dottie’s tequila bottle is now in the trash. She (Dottie, not necessarily your mother) loved it to death, but it’s really dirty and slightly stinky. So I’ll be on the lookout at TJMaxx for a replacement.

Also, for some reason the clothing bar in your closet broke into three pieces. You’ll remember it was made of wood and they kind of stitched it together out of different piece of wood. The seams popped in two places. So I’ve replaced it with a metal bar. Hopefully that’ll hold up better.

As you can see, you’re missing a lot of high-level excitement around here.

For fun on Friday (speaking of excitement) I made a long chore list and thought I’d see how much I could get done from it. It mostly involved moving stuff from one place to a different place, but stacking things more strategically so I could cram more stuff in the same space. I swear people are smuggling things onto the property because I came across some stuff I’m not sure I remember ever purchasing. That did include clearing off your workbench so I could put Mom’s dragon mask back on it. I need to get it wrapped up in plastic again because it’s been moved around a bit this year and parts are starting to fall off. I tried clearing enough stuff I could get it put on a shelf in the garage, but that didn’t work. I’ll probably have to stow it in the utility trailer with Mom’s Jeep this winter . . . I am making efforts to preserve it, though. She put a lot of work into it, and it has been used a few times since she made it.

We had Lexi and Keaton over for games tonight. One of these days we’re going to do a game day on Monday and we’ll call you up so you can whoop us all at Five Crowns. I don’t know if that’s kosher with your mission president, so maybe don’t give him a heads up first.

I should probably end this letter now. It’s after 9 pm, past my bedtime, and I still have to prep my BYUI class for the new week.

So, be a good missionary. I know you will be.

Love, Dad

Finally!

Finally.

After a third trip to Lowe's, where I left defeated, I tried Home Depot again. Found a very helpful young man who took me right to what I needed.

So today, not only did I fix the manifold, I got it put back on the Camp Chef, just in time to put it away for the winter.

I'm happy it's fixed. So is Mrs. Tweedy.

Still Working on the Camp Chef

So yes, I'm *still* trying to fix the manifold on the Camp Chef.

Thought I'd hit the jackpot at Lowe's today when Liam and I found a brass tee with the requisite dimensions. But, alas, when I got it home, I could see it wasn't going to work.

So while on the home from another errand, I took the tee back and found one I thought would do the job.

Alas, no. The dimensions are perfect, almost. But the threads are fine, not coarse, so it won't. I get to go back tomorrow and see if I can find yet another alternative.

Scam Mathematics

Here's another reason to despise groups that post mathematical brain-teasers on Facebook: They don't care about your math brain, they just want you to spread their message so they can change it to sell to your friends.

Here's one, still in math form:

Because that 79 isn't a non sequitur answer. It legitimately (or not; I'm no mind reader or math whiz) answered the quiz question under a post that purports to offer discounts from Walmart on their crap, but goes, of course, to someone selling, at best, Chinesium, or at worst, nothing but they hope to get your money before you know it.

This is all that appears on the site from the first photo above:

They use the Walmart name in *some* of the posts, but this is more likely cutting out the middleman and sending you straight to Asia-based scammers.

Social media has become a cesspool of this kind of stuff because . . . they get engagement and eyeballs and probably money along the way, and waaaaaaaay down on their list of priorities is stopping scams, because hey, free dummy.

Bo Shooda

Michelle is in the next room seemingly free associating about O Cedar sponges. I came into the room and said I associated O Cedar sponges with Jabba the Hutt, because he says "Bo chooda" a lot, and it sounds like O Cedar.

I'm not really sure that's what she was hoping to get out of the conversation. But I never really know what's going on anyway, so what the heck.

A Little Catch-Up, A Little Hypocrisy

First, the catch-up, to keep order in things:

Every year at work, they scramble to have their seasonal facility plans in place by October 1. As with most years, it's put off to the last minute.

I was handed one last week, late last week, and it needed a major edit and absolutely had to be done on the 29th. It had been revised a year ago, and how it avoided the rewrite it badly needed then is a mystery for the ages.

I had the major edit and the revised document reviewed and complete on the 28th.

Thanks from the customer. But not from anyone else.

Not that I go fishing for praise. But it is nice to get once in a while.

Next, the hypocrisy.

I'll keep this vague. But I was called out - rightly - for some snotty behavior. No matter that said behavior coming the opposite way a week or so prior was overlooked.

Saw this in the wild:

"I believe everyone deserves forgiveness." [Goes on to immediately list a long list of people who, in the mind of the OP, do *not* deserve forgiveness.]

This is the world we live in. Motes and beams abound.

I'm working harder to keep my mouth shut.

Dear Elder Davidson No. 4

27 September 2027

Hello Isaac,

You’ll be happy to know the Red Herring is parked in the driveway, getting ready for the final phase of repairs. I’m supposed to take it in for a wheel alignment this coming Friday and then see about the tires. Once that’s done, it’ll go back to Kevin for the timing belt kit then, cross fingers, we should be good to go for awhile. We’ve spent close to a thousand dollars so far on repairs, but I still think it’s a bargain compared to shopping around for a different vehicle, particularly as we’re still paying Mom’s truck off. Good thing teaching at BYUI is back in swing so we can afford these repairs. But it does mean once the last round is complete, I can go back to getting buckets of sand and maybe finish leveling the back yard this fall. And I am looking forward to driving it to work in the morning. It’s funny to say, but I’ve missed it these past few weeks.

Yesterday we took a trip to Montpelier to see the last day of the temple open house. It took 2 ½ hours to drive there, and it felt like a long trip. But it was worth it. When we got there we waited in the old Tabernacle next door. The tabernacle was built in 1917 and has some Art Deco flairs, particularly on the lighting, that they echoed in the temple. All looking very streamlined.

As we were touring the temple, one of the volunteers there came up to me and commented on my “John Widtstoe beard.” I’m familiar with the name; he was an early apostle, scientist, and man-about-town as you’d assume if someone was commenting on a beardy lookalike. I Googled photos of him later and really couldn’t find a photo of him with a beard like mine, but perhaps this guy knows more than the Internet when it comes to old LDS apostles. Anway, he was pretty funny about it. As we were heading out he came up to me one last time and asked if the beard gave me any “extra authority” at home. I laughed and said, “Oh, you’re kidding,” and Mom echoed that: “Oh, not a stitch.” So even with my early 1900s apostle beard, I still don’t get any respect.

After the temple visit, we drove another 15 miles south to see the Paris Tabernacle. This one was built in 1888 and was used as a guinea pig for the foundation reinforcement they performed on the Salt Lake temple just recently, or so the tour guide says. I’ve always wondered why the early saints in Idaho didn’t rally to build a temple like they had in some of the far-flung Utah settlements. I suppose divine inspiration had some to do with the building of temples, even back then. And the Logan temple, finished before the tabernacle here, was not that far off. Sixty miles, per Google Maps, and only one valley over. So I’m sure the saints in the valley around Paris didn’t visit the temple much during the winter.

We had thoughts – at least I did – about going further south and visiting some of the sites from my family’s history in Laketown, Utah, but as it was we didn’t get home until after 8 pm and the dogs and made an unholy mess in the kitchen, even though we had Maaike come and let them out once while we were gone. We stopped for dinner on the way home, but waited until we got to Idaho Falls before we did so. As we passed Pocatello, Mom commented from way in the back “So we’re not stopping in Pocatello?” Liam and I responded that we were more familiar with Idaho Falls than Pocatello, so she called us cowards, which was right. Though I know there’s a great Chinese restaurant in Poky but have a hard time talking Mom into eating such food.

I’m sure you’re thrilled by all of this food- and poop-related news. I might be a little cranky with the dogs as they had me out of bed just after five this morning and we really whiny about getting breakfast straight away. That’s just entirely too early. They usually don’t get breakfast until after six, when I’m getting ready for work, the little twerps. What galls the most is now they’re napping peacefully in different areas of the basement and look at me like “Hey, why did you get us up so early” when I happen to make some kind of noise or movement that wakes them up.

Hey, imagine my surprise when I opened up Facebook yesterday and saw this on the Gilbert Arizona mission page. We’re watching you, Wazowski, always watching . . .

I mean, I guess y’all know what you look like so you don’t need to see this picture, but it was fun to see it in the wild. And you know, I know Elders are young these days, but they guy sitting in the middle on the couch looks like he’s about 14 years old. Tell him this 54-year-old who is regularly mistaken for a 78-year-old is jealous of his youthful looks.

Love, Dad

Borr-ing!

Back when I was a student at the University of Idaho, I submitted a short story to a sort of contest open to university students, the winners of which were invited to a writing conference at the school with Raymond Federman, a French-American "experimental author."

I was selected.

I attended the conference.

The only thing I got out of it was excuses from Federman that he had not read my particular piece, and he felt bad about it, but as far as I know he never read it.

After a few excuses from him, I figured attending and of the non-conference events tied to his visit were going to be worthless, so I didn't. That decision seemed wise when I listened to attendees of one of the events talk, with some awe, about Federman's preoccupation with sex at one of those off-course meetings.

I bring this up because as I struggle to read Michael Chabon's "Manhood for Amateurs," I kinda get the feeling that he's got that same preoccupation and that continuing to read the book is going to be pretty useless.

There exists a certain kind of author that thinks whatever they happen to think is gold and deserves to be shared with the world at large, and I feel Chabon is in that vein. Maybe he's better in person. But yeah, not a lot of value here.

So no, I didn't finish the book. It just wasn't getting any better 3/4 of the way through it. I don't like to abandon books, but this one deserved it.

I Love to See the Temple

 

We did a thing today.

Liam decided he wanted to see the Montpelier Idaho Temple in the last day of the open house.

So we did the two-hour drive, saw the temple, some fall foliage, and threw the Paris Tabernacle into the mix as well.

Odd to see a temple without an Angel Moroni on the spire, but the church is trending that way, and I'm fine with it. (And, according to this article, it's a more widespread practice than I previously thought.)

Tired now, though. A lot of time in the car. . .

The Red Herring is Back

Good news everyone! We got the Red Herring Back.

You may recall the car went into the shop a few weeks ago to see about fixing some of its many ills. We got it back briefly with new brakes and took it in for a wheel alignment, but parts were so worn out they couldn't get the alignment to stick. So back it went to Kevin, who has now replaced parts in both the front and rear of the vehicle so we're off again to the alignment shop.

Once we're past that, it's new tires, then back to Kevin for Round Three, which involves a timing belt kit and a run-through of some sensors sending out some distress signals.

In the meantime, we've dropped Liam's 1997 Pontiac minivan off to him to look at the anti-lock brake system.

The bill for the Honda has come to about a thousand dollars with more to come, but it's still better than shopping for a new, much more expensive vehicle to replace it.

Anti-Hoarding Activities Continue

What do you do when you're between student Zoom conferences, you're caught up with grading, and you really don't have time between conferences to do much of anything?

You watch a little Matt's Off-Road on YouTube.

You combat your hoarder tendencies by scanning water and sanitation bills for the last decade so you can toss the paper records.

You wonder if getting that masters degree was worth what you're doing with it now.

You research doctorate programs, because what the heck.

And I love how my phot captures an image of me on the computer screen taking a photo of the whole thing.

AI was Finally *Good* for Something

So today, doing the crossword at Vox, this arose:

Of course, I had no idea what it meant. But I'm not always au courant with the lingo, so I thought I'd do an internet search.

If It hadn't been for artificial intelligence, I think I would have come up empty. This is what I found out:

I don't know that AI really knew this was linked to a crossword -- maybe it does now, because I hesitate to believe I was the only one who searched the term today. So it could only do what it could: Guess.

Which led me to a startling conclusion: AI was finally *good* for something. Never thought I'd see the day.

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 . . . 

Dear Elder Davidson No. 3

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.

Dear Elder Davidson No. 2

 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.