Nanny's Three Dakotas

My great grandma (we call her Nanny) just turned 92 years old. Despite her age she is still as fun as ever. She recently got a new dog- a white poodle named Dakota. A few years ago she adopted a stray cat- which she named Dakota. About the same time that she adopted the cat, her black poodle that she had had for about fifteen years passed away. Its name was Dakota. She had it cremated and it now resides in a pot on the coffee table. She lives with three Dakotas- a dog, a cat, and the remains of what once was a dog. Love you Nanny! Happy Birthday!

SPEAKING OUT: my story

I've been out of the closet, or on my way out at least, for over two years now (yeah, I'm talking about the "gay" closet). These two years have been more challenging than any other period of my life, but they have been equally invigorating and rewarding. For the most part, I have been quiet about my personal struggles and feelings during this time, only sharing them with a few very close friends. However, with the passing of Proposition 8 in California, I've decided that its time to talk. History has shown that majority populations generally do not stand up to discrimination until it becomes personal to them. The majority of Americans were indifferent to the civil rights movement until they were able to witness the brutality of the Jim Crow South first hand on television. Recently, I read a quote by Nobel Peace Prize winner and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. He said, "I swore to never be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." Like Wiesel, I've made the same commitment to speak out against oppression, injustice, and human suffering. Many of you who read this may not agree with my opinions and beliefs. Understand that my point is not to offend. All I want to do is share some of my own experiences and the reasoning behind my beliefs.

I've always been gay. Even as a kid, I knew that I wasn't like the other boys, and anybody who grew up with me can attest to that. As a young teen I became aware that I was attracted to guys. In fact, I had absolutely no interest in girls other than as friends- and most of my best friends were girls. None of that really mattered too much to me at the time though. My main concern was doing well in school and preparing to go on a mission for the LDS Church. I told myself that if I served God faithfully that He would bless me with the capacity to fall in love with a nice girl and live happily ever after. So I served God. I gave it everything I had. For two years I devoted every ounce of energy I had to being the best missionary to have ever stepped foot in the state of Georgia.

It was as a missionary in Atlanta that I became personally aquainted with a gay man named Anthony Nunez. He was the first openly gay person I had ever really known. Anthony invited us into his home to discuss our message of God's love. He was one of the kindest people I got to know in Georgia. The first things I noticed about Anthony were his hollow face and eyes and his pale skin. We found out that he was dying of AIDS. His liver was failing and he didn't have much life left. His entire family had disowned him and left him to die of this terrible disease alone. I'm ashamed of how I reacted to his situation. My companion and I were kind and did what we could to relieve his lonliness, but in my mind I told myself that God had allowed me to meet Anthony so that I would know what could happen to me if I didn't suppress my own homosexuality. I now believe that if God had in fact set up our meeting, that it was to show me the face of suffering among gay people in this country. It was to show me that first and foremost, gay people are people. They have families and dreams and when they suffer, all of humanity suffers with them. Now, when I think of what the oppression of gay people has done in this country, I think of Anthony Nunez.

Well, I gave my all to the Lord, came home, and everything was still the same. I still wasn't attracted to girls, but now it actually mattered. I was expected to date, to fall in love, and start an eternal family with no delay. I eventually became frustrated and stopped trying. I didn't feel that it would be fair to any girl to pretend to be in love just so I could be married in the LDS temple. Pretending would have been the only way- seriously, how can you fall in love with someone you are not even attracted to in the first place? I think it is important here to make the point that when I speak of attraction, I don't mean only physical attraction. Any of you who have been in love should know that when you love someone, you are attracted to body and soul- the entire person. It's not just physical. When I speak of attraction, this is what I'm referring to. I would ask any of you who are straight if you can imagine yourself falling in love with someone of the same gender. I'm sure the answer would be no. Likewise, falling in love with someone of the opposite gender is something that I have never been able to imagine for myself.

I went to my bishop in August 2006 seeking help to overcome my same-sex attraction. He had no idea of how to help me, so he sent me to LDS Family Services. I worked with a very kind therapist there for a couple months, but eventually she admitted that she didn't feel like there was anything she could do to help me. She told me that she was torn between her profession and her faith on the matter of homosexuality and she suggested that I see someone else. So my bishop set me up with a friend of his who was a therapist. This man claimed to have worked with over 500 gay Mormon men like myself. He told me that his experience had taught him that you can't change a person's sexuality. He believed, like most researchers and mental health professionals, that nobody chooses to be gay. Gay people are born gay. What he wanted to do, he told me, was to help me deal with homosexuality in a heterosexual way. It made no sense to me, and to this day, I think that he was just as ignorant about homosexuality as anyone. His method was for me to make a list of all of the girls that I knew. From there, he wanted me to tell him something that I liked about each of them. At that point, I was to try to convince myself that I was attracted to those qualities. Then I was supposed to pick one of the girls and ask her on a date. I've often wondered if this method would be at all effective on straight people. Make a list of all of your same-gender friends- think about what you like about them- turn those qualities into attractions- ask them on a date. My guess is that it would never work. One day I cancelled my appointment with this therapist and never rescheduled.

About this time my bishop was becoming just as frustrated as I was. He told me that I needed to try harder- I needed more motivation. So he convened a Church disciplinary council. It was by far, the most humiliating experience of my life, and it, more than anything else, turned me away from the LDS Church. I wasn't excommunicated, but I was told that I was standing on the edge of a cliff and if I proceeded to jump off that cliff, I would be excommunicated. I was instructed to hang out with girls more often. This showed me just how out of touch my bishop was with my struggles. I had been meeting with him and discussing these issues for ten months, and now he thought that if I just made some friends with a few girls I could be fixed. He didn't get it! My problem wasn't making friends with girls! I had TONS of girlfriends! My problem was falling in love. That summer I decided to never go back to the Mormon Church.

During this time I was an emotional disaster. Suicide was on my mind almost constantly. I felt lonely and alienated. I remember one cold night, I was sick of life. I just wanted to get away. I hopped in my Jeep and started driving. I had no destination in mind- I just wanted to run. I drove west from Salt Lake on I-80. I eventually got off the freeway and drove out through the dried up lake bed to Stansbury Island in the Great Salt Lake. I climbed up to the top of the peak and sat there gazing out over the lake with the city lights in the distance. It was like I was looking at my life- trying to decide if I had the strength to go back to it. Sitting on the top of that peak, I was the only human being around for miles as far I could tell. I cried. I prayed. I screamed. I yelled. For a few minutes, I went completely crazy. But then I told myself that I could do this- I could go back and face life. I hiked back to my Jeep and drove back to Salt Lake. Throughout this time, I had one friend who I knew I could trust. I knew that I could talk to her and she wouldn't tell me I was right or wrong. She would just sit there and listen- then she would hug me and tell me that my life was worth living. I will never forget her compassion, understanding, and support.

At some point I fell in love. We were together for about ten months and it was a journey through heaven and hell that I will never forget. In the end, things didn't work out, but I will always cherish the love that I felt for him. It was because of him that I decided to come all of the way out of the closet. Things were difficult. I didn't expect my family or most of my friends to ever want to see me again. I was wrong. While things were rocky for a while with my family, we've been able to maintain the loving relationships that we have always had. For my friends, it didn't matter if I was gay or straight. I was their friend and that was all that they cared about.

Well, that's my story- the short version, at least. Now I've enlisted myself in the struggle for equality and human rights for all people. I've been inspired by the work of two great human rights activists, Bishop Desmond Tutu and Coretta Scott King. Bishop Tutu has spoken out against homophobia saying that it is a "crime against humanity." He has also stated that, concerning gay people, "we treat them as pariahs and push them outside our communities. We make them doubt that they too are children of God- and this must nearly be the ultimate blasphemy. We blame them for what they are." He has also expressed his view that homosexuality has a place in God's plan: "the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?..... A parent that teaches a child that there is only one sexual orientation and that anything else is evil denies their humanity and our own too."

Likewise, Coretta Scott King emphatically supported the gay rights movement. She said that, "gay and lesbian people have families and their families should have legal protection... a constitutional ammendment banning same-sex marriages is a form of gay bashing and it would do nothing at all to protect traditional marriages."

In the recent campaign to ban gay marriage in California, I have taken issue with the involvement of the LDS church in support of Proposition 8. I have taken this position for a number of reasons, none of which have to do with my personal feelings about the Church. I believe it is just to single out the LDS Church's role from among a coalition of churches and other organizations because the Church was the single most effective actor in raising money and supporting erroneous propoganda in support of the Proposition. It is estimated that around 22 million dollars was donated to the Yes on 8 campaign by members of the Church after being instructed by Church leaders to give of their time and means to support the Proposition. This accounts for upwards of 70% of the entire volume donated to the cause, much of which came from out of state donors. Without the Church's involvement, the so-called "coalition" would have been nearly powerless to change public opinion.

The Church has recently stated that they feel like they have been unfairly targeted for participating in the democratic process. They seem to forget that by accepting 501(c)(3) tax exemption from the IRS that they have forfeited their right to participate in the democratic process. The IRS Tax Guide for Churches and Religious Organizations says specifically that this status may be jeopordized by "attempting to influence legislation" which it states includes action "by the public in a referendum" which is exactly what Proposition 8 was. If the LDS Church wants to be involved in the democratic process, all they need to do is pay taxes like the rest of us. Their involvement in this campaign has been blatantly illegal and immoral. If you would like to read the tax code it can be found online at: http://www.irs.gov/pub/irs-pdf/p1828.pdf
Another issue that I have with the Church's involvement is the inherently hypocritical nature of it. Not only is it against church doctrine (but obviously not policy) to "mingle religious influence with civil government" (Doctrine and Covenants 134:9), but it should be against the spirit of Mormonism to participate in the oppression of minority groups. However, history has shown that this has not been the case. Despite enduring incredible persecutions for their religious beliefs and practices, the LDS Church has not hesitated during the last century to advocate oppressive practices and policies targeted at minority groups. Shortly after the Brown v. Board of Education decision, LDS apostle Mark E. Peterson, stated in a talk given at BYU, that the civil rights movement has "blinded the thinking of some of our own people." He went on to say that "the Negro... is not just seeking the opportunity to sit down in a cafe where white people sit... it appears that the Negro seeks absorption with the white race. He will not be satisfied until he achieves it by intermarriage. That is his objective and we must face it. We must not allow our feelings to carry us away, nor must we feel so sorry for the Negroes that, we will open our arms and embrace them with everything we have. Remember the little statement that they used to say about sin: first we pity, then endure, then embrace." He goes on to imply that segregation is a divine institution. He says "When the Lord chose the nations to which the spirits were to come, determining that some would be Japanese and some would be Chinese and some Negroes and some Americans, He engaged in an act of segregation."

Similar rhetoric has been at play in the current debate. The Church, and other conservative voices, have expressed fear that gay-marriage would be dangerous to the institution of marriage and family. In the fifties, these same groups were expressing the exact same fear about the civil rights movement and the end of formal segregation. They believed that if people of color (Elder Peterson goes on to include Chinese, Japanese, and Hawaiians) were to be integrated into white society that it would only be a matter of time before inter-racial marriages were common place and the traditional homo-racial family was destroyed. The same rhetoric is being used about not allowing one's "feelings" to get involved in the debate. It seems that we are encountering history all over again. The debate is the same, and in the end the outcome will be as well: justice and equality will triumph for all.

Well, when I started writing this morning I had no idea that I would write this much. I applaud any of you who have read the entire post. I apologize for its length, but I feel like I need to open my mouth and let people know how I feel. Please feel free to leave comments and to share this post with others who you think may be interested. Remember, though, when commenting, that this is a personal blog, not a public forum, and I may remove any comment that I don't like. :-)

Wendover!!

So, Dawn and I went to Wendover for the first time yesterday. I can't believe I've lived in Salt Lake for over five years now and I had never been there. To be honest though, there's really not much to do there. There's nowhere to shop, not much to see- I'm not even sure that there's a movie theatre there. I was impressed by the overwhelming amount of neon lights in the Montego Bay casino. I had a goal to win enough money to travel to the Philippines to see Ryan, but I fell quite short of that. Actually, I didn't do too bad- I only bet $3 and got $1 back.

LOST

So yesterday, instead of writing my paper that was due today, I spent most of the day watching Lost. I'm so addicted- I started watching it online and now I can't stop. I'm on season three now- I just watched the episode where Locke blows up the submarine. Pretty intense stuff.
I've decided that procrastinating makes me work more efficiently- I watched Lost all day instead of doing homework, and then I was forced to finish my eight page paper in a matter of only a few hours- and I managed to do it. Everything worked out perfectly.

Palin vs. Rasmussen

So every February in the great state of Alaska hard core snowmobilers gather for the Iron Dog- a 2000 mile race across the state. The defending champion (and four time winner) is Todd Palin, husband of Vice Presidential hopeful Sarah Palin (who I'm not very fond of). Well, this year he's going to have some tough competition from none other than my own father, and snowmobiling legend, Bret Rasmussen. GO DAD!!!

bridge jumping

I went bridge jumping for the first time this summer with Mu and Nae. Notice the sexy farmer's tan.

buddy

One of the gaurds at the jail called me "buddy" the other day. It was very strange. Buddy is a name that's appropriate for nephews or your best friend's kid brother, but not so much for grown men at work who you don't really know. Apparently, though, I don't really look much like a grown man (despite being 6 foot 3 inches tall). Today at work I mentioned that I'll be starting school on the 25th and one of my coworkers asked if I'll be in the 8th grade. Maybe I'll grow a beard- that should make me look older (and uglier I suppose).
Anyway, I kind of like it when the lady at Jonie's Deli (I think her name is Jonie) calls me "hun". I guess it's kind of endearing. But you know, I probably wouldn't care if she called me "buddy" either. However, I think I would care a LOT if the jail guard called me "hun" (this particular guard, anyway). Maybe the name isn't as important as the name giver.
By the way, Jonie (the one at Jonie's Deli) makes the best garlic cheese burgers in the entire world.

sneak away to the philippines

Ryan snuck away to the Philippines early Sunday morning. Actually, it was a pretty public event. It put any LDS missionary farewell or homecoming I've ever seen to shame. Anyway, just as Britney Spears has foretold, he can sneak away to the Philippines, but we will still want a piece of him. At least there won't be pictures of his derriere in the magazines (although, some may show up on facebook).

scrambled french toast

This morning I woke up craving French toast, but wasn't really looking forward to waiting for each piece of toast to cook, and getting my hands all eggy from dipping the bread. Then I had this really great idea- just scramble the French toast. It makes cooking eggs a hell of a lot easier so I imagined it should work with French toast as well. I tore up 5 slices of whole wheat bread, cracked 4 eggs over it, and poured in some milk. I stirred it around with a spoon (which saved me from having eggy hands) and dumped it into a frying pan coated with melted butter. I cooked it just like I would scrambled eggs and ate it with maple syrup. The whole process only took about 10 minutes and I never once had to dip my hands into a bowl of eggs. Superb. Now, I am aware that I should probably refrain from eating anything with cholesterol in it until Christmas next year, but I think that the whole wheat bread must make up for some of that somewhere.

funeral planning

My mom got a new job- she's a funeral planner. I guess it's kind of like being a wedding planner- only different.

the pinoy photo shoot

My brown friends (the pinoys) invited me to a photo shoot last week for diversity reasons. Check it out:

marriage advice

Marriage advice from Nanny Balling (my super sassy great grandma who I absolutely love to pieces): Don't marry people because you feel sorry for them!!

Winking at the mirror

If you've never winked at yourself in the mirror, you should. I did once and discovered something new about myself- I have a mole on my right eyelid. I had never seen it before because I generally have both of my eyes open when I look at myself. I suppose that girls who wear eye shadow may be more aware of what their eyelids look like, but I would suspect that the majority of non-eye shadow wearing people don't. Check it out.

Actually this isn't a picture of my right eyelid, but I'm not good at winking and I have to hold my eyelid down in order to see the mole. It's just too awkward for picture taking.

Razzleberry Satin

This is what I ate for lunch yesterday:

Molly Brown

My family got a new puppy- her name is Molly Brown (originally it was Otis, but they changed it). She's just about the cutest darn thing I've seen in my entire life, but she has really sharp puppy teeth and she likes to bite.

Stealing Cookies

The other night while I was hanging out in the break room at the jail, one of my coworkers pointed out to me that there was a loose cookie in the vending machine. She also mentioned that there had been a loose Hershey bar too, but it had somehow managed to fall and she picked it up. She recommended that, if I were to give the vending machine a big shove, I may end up just as lucky as she. Well, at first I was hesitant- I've never stolen anything from a vending machine- and the fact that I was in the jail made it seem even more daring. I decided, though, that I wasn't really stealing- obviously somebody had paid for it, or it wouldn't be dangling there waiting to fall. I gave the vending machine a big shove (actually it more like two or three- it was a really heavy vending machine) and let it fall back to the ground. Then I ate my cookie in front of a class full of inmates (I would have loved to share but that is very much against jail rules).

Proportions

Apparently, I'm perfectly proportioned. On Christmas my family had a little measuring event. It turns out that my wingspan is 72 3/4 in. and my height is 73 in. Pretty good if you ask me.

Half-asses and breast baring turkeys

So I got myself a little summer job- it's actually kind of fun. I am a wagon driver at This is the Place Heritage Park. It's kind of a crazy place, but I like my job. I get to be outside with the horses all day and give rides to goofy people and their annoying children. Oh, and I have to wear a costume. Yesterday I drove a team of mules instead of horses. I've decided to place mules into the category of animals that I don't like. They're mean, ornery, stubborn, scared of everything that moves or makes noise, and they never get tired. They ran away from me three times yesterday. The first time was before I even caught them. I put up a bar across the front door of the barn so that I didn't have to actually shut the door, but so I could herd the mules into the barn and they couldn't get out. It turns out that, unlike horses, mules can crawl under things. I herded them in through the back door of the barn and a few seconds later they had crawled out the front door. Well, a little while later we got them herded back into the barn. We harnessed them and I drove them out of the barn to hook them up to the wagon. When I got to the wagon, my helper guy had disappeared. I couldn't hook then up to the wagon by myself, so I tried to just hold them there for a few minutes and wait for him to come help me. But before he came, a couple guys on riding lawnmowers started driving towards us. The mules went crazy and started running down the road. I held them as long as I could, but I just couldn't keep up. Pretty soon they were running through the apple orchard and eventually they got tangled up in an apple tree. Well, my helper finally showed up and we got the mules hitched to the wagon and drove them for a few hours. After we got them unhitched and were driving them back into the barn to unharness them, the mules got spooked again and took off running. We finally caught them and got everything taken care of, but I'll never view mules in the same light. I hope I never have to do anything with mules ever again. Mules may only be half-asses but I now have a much better understanding of why calling someone an "ass" is such a universal insult.

I kind of felt bad for my helper guy- I was trying to be a really decent guy and watch my language and everything, but those mules brought out the worst in me. I think that after a few days of trying to make a good impression, he was a little shocked to hear some of the things that came out of my mouth. Oh well, working with mules is like nothing I've ever done before and I hope I never do it again.

The mules aren't the only interesting things at the park. There's also a fat, old turkey that wobbles around the petting corral all day. It has rubbed all of the feathers off its breasts and walks around with a puffed up chest flaunting its bare breasts at the visitors. Its quite the animal.

Maryjane down the drain

I'm really excited because the title of this post rhymes! But that's beside the point. The other night at the jail the gaurds suddenly ended class and locked all of the prisoners up in their cells. Immediately the prisoners (it was ladies' night) came up with a story to explain the lock up. A new female prisoner had smuggled some dope into the jail with her. Well, she got scared that she would get caught and tried to flush it down the toilet. Some how, the gaurd found out and had all of the plumbing in the building turned off so that somebody could fish the dope out of the pipes (I don't know who would want that job). They decided to lock everybody up for the night to prove a point that you shouldn't smuggle drugs into the jail. Well, the story was entirely made up (well, maybe not entirely). The toilet in the classroom wasn't working so I think that's what led to the part about shutting off the plumbing in the entire building. I couldn't believe how quickly they formulated a whole story to explain the lock down. It only took a few seconds.

What really happened is that an officer had died at home that day and they brought in substitute gaurds so that any of the gaurds who wanted to grieve could go home for the night. I guess they thought that it would be best to keep everybody locked up.

Speaking of jail- there is an inmate who is desperate for a female penpal- any takers?

Stranded........again

I bet you can't guess what this ones about? Yup, that's right- I locked my keys in my car again. The second time in a two week period. I went to a concert in Park City (Nas, in case you were wondering). About half way through the concert I realized that I had my camera and my wallet and that was all. We grabbed a wire hanger from the coat check girls and attempted to break into my Jeep. I once had a friend who was able to break into it for me with a coat hanger so I didn't think it would be too difficult. Yeah right. The best part was as I was trying to work the wire in through the window a group of girls walked past us. They were pointing at us and talking amongst themselves as if they had just discovered two burglars breaking into someone's car. They hopped in a limo and as I approached the limo to ask the driver for some help, he rolled up his window and drove away. Well, a nice guy named Deep, or Deet, or Deeb, or something like that gave us a ride home. The next day I got a new key made and Jon took me back to Park City to pick up my Jeep. I really think that I must have offended whatever force out in the Universe is in charge of making fortune cookies come true, cuz my fortune cookie has done lost its fortune.

I love sugar

As a missionary in Georgia I learned how to eat grits with butter and salt (yes, it is something that must be learned- it is completely unnatural). This morning I made myself a bowl of grits for breakfast. I put in a spoonful of butter and was about to sprinkle salt on top when something inside of me began to protest. After a few moments of hesitation I reached on top of the fridge, grabbed the bag of sugar, and began pouring sugar into my grits. I know that many of my friends in Georgia would say that I ruined a good bowl of grits. To them I say- that was the best damn bowl of grits I've ever had.

My good fortune's run out

Last night I locked my keys in my car- on purpose. When I go into work I usually empty my pockets of everything I don't need- cell phone, chapstick, gum, etc. Everything that I can't take into the cells I have to lock up at the check in desk at the front of the jail, so I usually just leave as much in my car as I can. Last night I emptied my pockets the same as usual- cell phone, chapstick, spare change, but then I took out my keys too. I conciously thought to myself- "I don't need these, guess I'll leave 'em in the car"- I locked the door and shut it. I didn't think anything else of it until after work when I took my wallet out of my locker and started walking outside. Suddenly I realized "I don't have my keys!" and I remembered what I had done. Well, since I had locked my phone in my car too, I was unable to call Danny to come rescue me, as I have done in the past- and there were no Chinese restaurants around so I couldn't get any good door opening fortunes like I had done before. (If you are unfamiliar with my Chinese door opening fortune cookie experience, read my post entitled "Why I believe in fortune cookies"). Anyway, I called a locksmith and forked over $45 to get it opened. I guess my good fortune has run out.

My hands are dirty.......

If you want to know what the title of this blog refers to you'll have to ask me in person (I try to keep this at least PG-13). It sums up my recent trip to San Fransisco better than anything else. Last week I went to SF with a group from the U for the National Conference on Undergraduate Research. It was pretty fun. Among other things, I ate Cuban food, went to a presentation on posthumous reproduction, learned about the alligators at the U, and completed my very first sudoku puzzle. Some of us ended up on Market Street one day between 6th and 7th (which I learned is not the nicest part of town). We witnessed a robbery on the street and then some crazy chic with scary dogs made a comment from which the title of this blog is taken. I got the coolest glasses ever- they're blue with blinking lights. Oh, and I got to listen to music with headphones that make you feel like your high. It was awesome.

One Love

Last Monday was Dawn's Birthday and Ryan and I went to the Stephen Marley concert with her at Club Suede in Park City. At one point, before the show started some enormous Polynesian fellas were being a little frivolous. One of the guys grabbed me and gave me the biggest bear hug I think I've ever had. I was completely helpless and I even thought that he might squeeze me to death on accident. He reached his head around to my ear and in slurred speech said "I don't judge a book by its cover- and I know your white- but I love you, man. When I look at you all I see is love." His mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his lips. I don't think I've ever been the subject of so much public affection. It was kind of nice. While this guy was telling me how much he loved me, his friend was getting a kick out of yelling "Harry Potter!" and pointing at me. I guess I look like Harry Potter- I don't know. A little later, some lady confessed to grabbing my but- which I was totally unaware of. She said it was nice and firm-I guess that's good. She was holding some guys hand, so it was really awkward. Apparently he didn't care if his girl was checking out other guys. Well, we had a good time.

spring break

Last week was spring break. Highlights included:
-Soaking up UV rays at Lava Hot Springs. The water was too hot, but the sun was just right.
-Being asked by a Filipina (who is about as dark as is humanly possible without being a native African) if she had gotten any tanner.
-Accompanying Danny and his girlfriend to Arches National Park (yup, I was pretty much a loner).
-Listening to the mice howl at the moon.
-Hiking in the rain.
-Camping in the handicap spot.
-Chasing jack rabbits.
-Danny almost walking off the cliff.
-Chesterfried chicken.

blood of the gods.

I decided to check out my family history the other night so I went to the family search website and typed in the name of my maternal great great grandpa. I discovered that someone has been really busy doing genealogy. 41 generations back I discovered a man named Charlemagne. I thought, HOLY COW! so I kept looking. There were all kinds of kings and queens and dukes and counts and emperors. There was even an archbishop. I didn't think that archbishops were supposed to have children. Anyway, my ancestry went all over Western and Northern Europe- France, Spain (I even have an ancestor named Sancho Sanchez), Italy, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Belgium, Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, Norway, Sweden, and Finland. I traced one line into Scandanavia back to the first and second centuries AD. That's where things became very interesting. I noticed that there were several generations with names like Godwulf, Flocwald, and Freothalf. They all lived in a place called Asgard. So I googled Asgard and read that it is the mythological home of the Norse gods and I discovered that all of those names are figures from norse mythology. Apparently I am a descendent of Norse gods. I am trying to figure out what kind of advantages this gives me in life. Exciting, huh?

Cheney at BYU?

I just read a press release from BYU that VP Dick Cheney has accepted the invitation of the First Presidency of the LDS church to speak at BYU's commencement on April 26. While I will not protest his right to speak or the right of the First Presidency to invite him, I will say that I believe it was a bad move and I'm happier than ever that I chose to go to the U of U instead of BYU- at least my celebration of four years of education will not include listening to Dick Cheney. I hope that none of the apostles invite him to go hunting while he's in Utah. I also hope he is better at controlling his language during commencement speeches than on the Senate floor. Last I heard, "obscene" language is against BYU's honor code.

push ups

My last companion on my mission was a big Tongan fella who loved to eat, gamble, listen to music, play football, and do push-ups. We helped out at the local Boys and Girls club a couple times a week, which consisted mostly of playing pool with each other and the kids. Apparently it isn't fun to play any kind of game unless there is some kind of wager. Well, since we were missionaries and we were poor we couldn't use money so my companion suggested push-ups as a wager. Needles to say- I did more push-ups in those five weeks than I ever had before or have since. I was recently reminded of this when my mom triumphantly announced to me that she did her first two push-ups ever last Sunday. Congratulations Mom!!

Preston, ID

Preston, Idaho is a nice little town. Its were I grew up and lived for the first eighteen years of my life. Last night I decided to see what kind of information was on Wikipedia about my hometown. I discovered that someone has been having fun with Wikipedia's edit feature. Among other things, I learned that Preston was settled by Greek pioneers, the film "Pearl Harbor" was filmed there, and that some of the trees there are 999,000 feet over air level. What the heck is air level? The nearby town of Franklin apparently is home to several "skyscrappers" and the early settlers in Preston were regularly threatened by bands of Samurai warriors. I can't imagine that any school children would ever write a report about Preston, ID, but if they were to, I think it would turn out pretty good if Wikipedia was their primary source. I checked the history of the article and discovered that it gets changed quite frequently, from people both fixing mistakes and adding them. Here's the link if you want to check it out: www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Preston%2C_ID

On Being Sexy????

There's something about being told that your sexy that does great things for your ego, regardless of who says it. Monday is ladies night at the Salt Lake Metro jail. Its the night that I get stuck in a room with about twenty female inmates. I have never met more frightening women in my life than some of those women that I work with on Monday nights. I'm pretty sure that they would bite me if I made them mad in any way at all. Anyway, this Monday night I was helping a group of ladies with some math problems. After demonstrating that squaring a number is not the same as multiplying it by two, they began to believe that I possessed some kind of superhuman math powers. I've decided that once a woman believes that you have superhuman powers she automatically falls in love with you. This is bad if you've just convinced a classroom of women who wouldn't hesitate to sink their half rotten teeth into your skin that you have super math powers. Then again, it is nice to be told that your sexy, even if its from a woman who could squash you with her bare hands.