It has happened, I am no longer a homeschoolblogger elitist. Due to the lack of time experienced by the various members of our family, we have decided to pool our efforts, and create a family blog. Blogspot was the the easiest place to accomplish this, so that is where we went.
Please come over and visit the new blog! I am adding my old posts one by one to the new blog, and it is so fun to see old comments from all my friends. I almost started crying! Yes, I know, I am very emotional...
It will be nice to post as a family. We have been separate for far too long. Now I will leave you, but I hope to see you on the new blog!
We interrupt your intermittently scheduled program to bring you a random moment.
The Marshall family graced our home with their presence, and I promised a post centered around that event.
While they were driving to our house, we had the usual "Clean up, we have guests coming!" scenario. (You can't tell me that you don't do the same thing!) There are no pictures of this portion of the day, because we were so diligently working.
When the Marshalls did arrive, we greeted them properly, in our best attire:
We talked for the usual amount of time, as is befitting for good relations. After which, Ashley and I decided that we would whip up a few pies for the enjoyment of the populous: (If you look closely, you can see the cherry pie in the background.)
As the day progressed, play was conducted in a properly refined manner: (We call this "Hannah Montana Gone Wrong".)
An expedition was mounted to the blueberry farm, where we expected to find...well blueberries. Here are some of the expeditors, we call them the "Indy Club":
Upon arrival at the blueberry farm, we were informed that the season did not open until the next day. That is rather like Lewis and Clark getting within two miles of the Pacific ocean, and having the Indians tell them it was closed for maintenance. Here is Ashley, looking suitably dour: (Though the slightest hint of a grin frames her mouth, was she sorry not to spend hours in the sun picking blueberries?)
The rest of the day was to busy for many photos to be taken. So I will leave you with one photo that sums it all up:
Draw your own conclusions. But to me, it says we had FUN!
Methinks that I have been very lax about chronicling our trip. Ok, meknows this is the case. (If methinks can be a word, meknow should be just as proper.) I'll be riding in the car for five hours today, coming home from LA. Pleanty of time to write. Until then:
Day 5 3/15/08
Gas Price Index York, NE $3.65
A baseball game was planned by the Peoria, Illinois church, and it was desired by certain UNNAMED members of our family to be there on time to catch the game. Some of us have no interest in baseball, but the fellowship offered by a ballgame made the idea appealing. It was decided that Goose and Mrs. Davis would stay in York, NE to await the repair of their van, while we would take the rest of the their family, and ours, on to the ballgame. In other words, we would take ourselves to the ballgame, take us out with the crowd; buying some peanuts and….Well. you get the idea.
As we were almost eight and one half hours from our destination, the plan required leaving York at 6am. Not bad, you say? Please also consider that we had not adjusted to the new time zone, and to us this seemed like 4am! We did manage to get up and pack up in our timeframe, and set out for Peoria.
Those of you who were reading this blog back during the Great Trek of ’06 remember that we drove from Niagara Falls to South Dakota in 24 hours, and that during this time we did not stop at the birthplace of John Wayne. This was quite strange, when you realize that John Wayne has been Nic’s favorite actor since he was four. Nic didn’t even want to take the time on that trip. We had promised that this would not happen again, and so when we passed through Iowa we took the detour to the town of Winterset, Iowa. The house was small. It seems strange that a rich and famous actor would allow himself to be born to poor parents. Such an act seems to disregard proper social decorum, and would probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square!
A delightful aspect of traveling is being able to try local cuisine. Our family often remembers trips by which restaurant we went to, and when we went. “Do you remember that one place where we drove around for an hour….” It is how we keep track. The restaurant at which we stopped on the way to Peoria was a good example of Midwestern cooking. My meal consisted of a half of a Sausage Sandwich, with Iowa Corn-fed beef.10 oz, placed between two gigantic pieces of bread, and a generous helping of sweet potato fries. Oh, and that 10 oz was the half sandwich!!!!!! Yes, good eats in this part of the world. My only picture for this post is of my brother, goofing off as usual: (Yes, the straw did work.)
After lunch we drove straight to the ball park, arriving just in time to pick up our tickets from Mr. “Aussie Hat” Riken (He had a great Australian Cowboy Hat) and see the first pitch. The home team lost, but it was not much of a tragedy, we were mostly talking to each other. What matters in the long run if a team wins or loses? The friendships made will stand forever! Melissa rode with us on the way back from the ballgame and was treated to one of the wandering sessions for which our family has become so famous. Our goal was a dump station, but we ended up getting a bit lost, and wandering around before we arrived at the home of our gracious hosts, the McDonald family. After some delicious Lebanese leftovers, which tasted sooooooo good to hungry travelers, most people went to bed.
The remainder of the Davis family was supposed to meet us at the McDonald’s around 12pm. Around 2am we received a phone call that they were lost, somewhere around Peoria. With the collected efforts of Tiffany, Red, and myself we were able not only to determine their location, but bring them in for a safe landing. By 3am they were back with us, and bedded down for the night. It was very comforting to have the entire wagon train back together again.
I wrote an addendum to my post last week, and now I am going to write an addendum to my addendum. Yes, you are right, I haven't posted in quite a long time. There will be no excuses. Those of you who know me well enough, know why I have not posted, and those of you who don't, really don't care at all! So, here is the post, written quite a long time ago (May 20th, if I remember correctly) finally getting posted.
Well, we are home. After my laptop decided that it too wanted a vacation, and we were unable and uninspired in the area of locating internet connections, I made the decision to forgo the updating of the blog while on the trip, and to simply chronicle our adventures after the fact. This had several benefits. First, enjoying the scenery and being with my family is so much more important than being stuck in front of a laptop screen. Second, some of the minor annoyances have begun to fade fom my, as of Wednesday, twenty-three year old brain, and leaves a more positive halo around the recollections of these writings. Third, there was this book I was reading… Well, you get the picture.
Therefore, I will present one or two days at a time, with the added bonus of pictures culled from the several thousand (I am not joking in the least) shots we returned with.
And without further ado, I now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
Day 4 3/14/08
No gas was purchased this day.
Written on May 20th.
This is a post script to the last post. We found something at the national cemetery:
Yes, kind of strange… **Twilight Zone Music**
Aunt Brook’s house was a perfect venue in which to relax, and do nothing. One of the downsides of traveling is the constant level of activity. This can make people quite irritable, and close proximity while under such conditions makes one desirous of a small amount of personal space. Due to our manditory wait for the van repair, traveling was rendered impossible.
Sleeping in was the perfect start to this period of rest. I personally awoke at 10:30 am, to the sun streaming in the hatch, and the sound of songbirds gently rousing me from slumber. Life was much brighter than the night before.
During the late morning, advantage was taken of the fact that we were in suburbia, with its acres of concrete, to try our hand at setting up the sailboat. The pulled out the canvas (sails), deployed the mast, checked the rigging, and ran up the sails! I must point out that none of us are intimately familiar with the setting up a sailboat, and they do not come with a instruction manual. It was like building a model without knowing where all the parts go. The jib was put on backwards, we tangled the halyard, and it took several tries to get the mast upright. There were a couple parts that we couldn’t figure out what they did, but I am sure their function will become apparent when we are on the lake!
You can just see the thought, "I know this goes somewhere!".
Everyone took a couple of walks, and the kids played in the yard. It was quite interesting to see yards without fences. None of the houses had back fences, front fences, or barriers of any kind. You could look between the houses, and view four and five blocks of houses in one glance. This is highly strange to a California boy, who is used to people being not only willing to see their neighbors, but also seem to prefer not being reminded that neighbors even exist.Such is the differing mindset between California, and the rest of the world.
Red, Goose, Thomas and I all went to the railroad tracks down the road. Trains passed will great regularity, and we took this opportunity to flatten a few pennies. It is still a matter of debate as to how many pennies it takes to derail a train, we did not find out, but let’s just say that hiding in the grass while the actual flattening occurred seemed like a good idea. I am baring my fangs, in case you were wondering...
And here is the last photo of the prisoner about to be executed. A moment of silence...
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of a good transmission shop...
Day 3-5/13/08
Gas Price Index: Leramie, WY $3.69
Written on May 14, 2008
Waking from our slumbers at the Cheyenne, Wyoming Little America we set off for Aunt Brook’s house in York, NE. Our schedule did not allow much in the way of side trips; however, mom saw a Pony Express Museum. Museums from this time period have a strange allure, and space was made in our busy itinerary. Crossing the Nebraska border was uneventful, as usual.
On the way to this destination we encountered an interesting phenomenon, a mandatory weigh station. The sign instructed all trucks, trailers, and pickups with trailers to exit for weighing. Strict penalties were threatened to any who would dare by-pass said weigh station, and we were in no position to invoke the wrath of the Nebraska Highway Patrol, who had lines of shimmering patrol cars simply waiting to catch freeway miscreants.
In spite of the fact that we were still unsure as to our need to go through the weigh station, we followed the semi-trucks to the scale. There were no people to ask, only a rather impersonal signal light, blinking green, and red, green and red. The window into the booth was tinted, but we could imagine the powers in charge laughing at the ignorant Californians going through their weigh station which was only meant for trucks. Still, having them laugh at us was better than risking long jail terms. There are a few people in Illinois, and New Mexico that would be disappointed if our trip was cut short by lawlessness.
Leaving the weigh station, we realized we had gotten no pictures, and were jokingly discussing going back to the last exit and doing it again. Right at that moment, we received a phone call from the Davis family. They had lost their transmission. Yes, bad. Very, very, very bad. While my dad and Mrs. Davis waited for the tow truck, the rest of us went to an old National Cemetery, and looked at tombstones. I know, that is a strange past time, but one the Hector family enjoys.
We left the cemetery, and went to a North Platte transmission shop to meet up with the tow truck. Diagnosis, dead transmission. I am not a car person, and cannot be more detailed than that, ask Thomas. All I know is that it had to be repaired. So, we loaded everybody into our RV, and drove to Aunt Brook and Uncle Mark’s house in York, NE. Dinner was Taco Bell, Thomas’ favorite. We arrived in York late, ate brownies, and went to bed.
Life was hard. But dessert makes the world a better place!!!!
After completing lengthy repairs to the Davis class vessel’s rubber stabilizer (Tires. Earthspeak translations will be provided in bold.), refueling, and stocking up on Starbucks supplies, we left from the spaceport of Elko, NV. Our two ships traveled through the void of the desert, with the occupants listening to the sounds of old earth country music.
One of the members of our crew, Ensign Sara Hector, is having a Solar Rotation Celebration (Birthday), and is now nine solar rotations old. The party is this evening, and will involve presents, a cake, and other festivities.
While passing through the Utah galaxy, we stopped at the small desert planet of Salt Lake City. On the first starcruise we took with a complete crew (family) after the adoption of new crew members, this was one of our stops. We had taken a group photo, here is the updated version:
Planet Salt Lake City has not improved with age, and still smells horrible, due to the body of water from which this planet derives its name. In spite of this, our Chief Medical Officer, Thomas Hector, assures us that the atmosphere is still capable of supporting human life. I have my doubts.
Upon departure from Salt Lake, I was briefly able to open a communication portal, and update our travel log. The portal collapsed before I could send graphic additions, so those will be added when this communication is submitted.
The temperature has been quite low, and even resulted in our passing through an ice crystal cloud (snow) while passing through the Wasatch Mountain Range Nebula. This spacial anomaly only lasted
about ten seconds.
End of Log.
Continued Later that evening. (2am the next day, to be exact.)
While looking for a place in which to have dinner, a small dot on the map was noticed. The name of the dot was “Little America”, it was mentioned casually by the navigator (me) to the driver (Thomas), and when Mom heard that name she started screaming, in a happy manner.
Apparently she remembers stopping in this little speck of a town when she was the young age of seven, over 40 years ago. It was fifty miles down the road, and we were getting a mite peckish. Still, Mrs. Davis, who was riding in our car agreed to the potential of stopping there, as long as it wasn’t, in her words, “hokey”. Once we got there, it was realized that hokey was to mild a term for what we saw. It was a hotel/truck stop/gas station all constructed in a brick Philadelphia motif, one even looked like a little Independence Hall., To add to the bizarre situation, the buildings were topped with plywood cutouts of penguins:
My thoughts exactly. There is a point where the hokeiness exceeds a certain point, and that makes going there an adventure. This, combined with the facts that the next food was 30 miles down the road, the natives were getting restless, and that Mom was pushing to relive a childhood memory, meant we were going to be eating in “Little America”. The food was pretty good, and we consumed all of the crackers brought to our table.
It is bitterly cold in Wyoming. We found this out by experience. We left Little America, and began driving over the Rocky Mountains. As it was night, I was driving. The weather was cloudy, but not threatening, not threatening until we began climbing the mountains. As we crossed the 7000’ foot mark, it began snowing. This time it was more than ten seconds. Listening to the radio, the forecast was up to a half inch of snow expected in the town of Rawlins, for which we had set our sights.
We reached Rawlins at 10:30pm, and since it was still snowing, we decided that getting all the way over the mountain pass would be wise. Best to be stuck on the East side of the Rockies, rather than the West. The pass was 8869’, and the snow was sticking as we crept at 25 MPH over the peak. After switching drivers a couple of times, and refueling once. We made it into Cheyenne, WY, at 3am, strangely enough, pulling into the Cheyenne Little America, which was a copy of the Original, which we had visited earlier.Goose said this was punishment for our making fun of Mom at the last Little America.I am inclined to agree.
Nothing ever goes according to schedule, if it did, there would be no need to schedule!
We were planning on leaving at 7am, and left home at 7:50am. That still puts us within the seven o’clock hour, and should be measured as a successful completion of our goal. The Davis Family left Turlock 15 minutes before us, with the plan of meeting us in Reno for lunch. Here we are at the end of our road for the customary bon voyage picture:
While driving along the road, it is interesting to watch the looks of the people that we pass. An RV does not warrant very much interest, so people simply glance. Then they see the 26’ sailboat behind us, and that deserves, and often receives a second glance, as well as a dropped jaw, a pointed finger, and many an incredulous look. If you wish for the mathematic factors, we are a 35’ RV, a 26’ sailboat, and about 2’ of space between the two. That makes us 63’ of traveling chaos, and as long as the standard semi-truck.
Thomas has taken the first shift at the wheel, so that I could go to the bed in the back, and sleep off the effects of my late night completion of work related projects. This means that I did not see much of the countryside, but we have traveled Highway 88 so many times that it is not new scenery. It is far better to sleep now, and be able to stay awake while driving later!
We did have our first bit of excitement on 88, I was awakened by the front of the bus calling my name, and came forward to see us stopped behind a truck pulling a cattle trailer. The truck was having engine trouble, and though they did not need our help, we still needed to pass them. Being a two lane road, and a blind corner, this required a bit of planning. Setting up a relay system, Anthony, Nic and I positioned ourselves around the corner looking for traffic, and being able to signal the Mothership when all was clear. I was the point man, so the call was mine, and I harkened for the sound of approaching traffic, hearing none, I signaled Anthony, who signaled Nic, who signaled Thomas, and the RV crept around the offending roadblock.
All was well for the first 10 seconds, until I hear an approaching car. The RV was only about half way around the truck, and would not be out of the way in time, so I attempted to signal the rapidly approaching car by a traditional waving of the arms. The gentleman in the Cadillac must have been trained with different traditions, or else took my waving to be something along the lines of a friendly greeting, as he did not slacken his speed. Watching the car come ever closer, I advanced to the next level of signaling, which involves continuing to wave the arms, and leaping in the air at the same time. My ballet teacher would have been proud of the height my leaps were achieving, and just before I was about to make the choice to dive down the hill out of the way, the signal’s intent was realized. The car slowed, and my heart rate slowed with it… It is always nice to realize you are not going to die.
Loading back into the RV the successful signal relay team was greeted with much praise and admiration for our bravery. Hopefully Congress will not be too tardy with presenting some sort of medal for the placing of our team in harm’s way.
Let it be known and recorded in all histories that the Hector family beat the Davis family to Reno. They were coming down 395 from the North, and we were coming up from the South on 395. Taking the same exit, they got a red light, and we got the green. Closer races have never been seen.
Our lunch destination was the Atlantis Casino. Before you condemn us as heathens and apostates, realize that none of us gamble, nor condone gambling; however, when traveling, an all you can eat buffet has a certain allure to it, that cannot be denied. We had no breakfast, and will be having no dinner, so this was a cost saving method. As I type this at 4 pm I am still so full that the very thought of food is unpleasant. In the words of my wise father, who is relaxing on the floor: “To eat, or not to eat, that is the indigestion.”
Our first crisis of the trip occurred in Reno, so we are starting the adventures early. The Davis trailer has developed a slow leak in the tire, and though the Costco tire shop was able to repair it, the location of the leak was concerning enough for the mechanic to advise a completely new tire before we get to Illinois. Costco of course did not sell the tire we needed, and as it is a Sunday, very few places are open. This will result in a layover at Salt Lake City while we get a new tire. It is necessary stop, but adds to the drama…
Here is what we are driving through at the moment. Pretty, if you are a cactus, or sagebrush!
That brings us up to date. We are planning on making it to Elko, NV tonight. The original plan was to be in Salt Lake City, but that has been changed. This is why we never plan anything with too much certainty. Our plans change with the wind, and we follow as God may lead.
Here is a random thought for you to ponder. If you have a three second gap while driving with a trailer, it is conservative, and you really should have more, while thirty seconds would be considered excessive. However, if you are driving conservatively, you may want to have a 30 second gap, and that would lead to a conservative amount of excess. Is it even possible to be conservative with excess?
Laudation, Injuries, Dance, and an Announcement...
Let's start with the lauding...
Thank you to everyone who participated in the "First-Line Fest". I enjoyed searching out the quotes, and hopefully you enjoyed trying to dig from the far corners of your memory where they came from. Perhaps you found some new books that sound interesting, or a few old friends that you had forgotten, and would like to read again.
Miss Elizabeth has earned the laurel wreath for this contest, by correctly guessing all 14 of the quotes. She is deserving of the honor and praise that I promised to the winner of my little contest. If you get a second, go over to her blog and leave her a comment letting her know how impressed you are.
In case you wished to know the exact answers, here they are:
1. Little Women
2. Tale of Two Cities
3. Princess Bride
4. Green Eggs and Ham
5. Peter Pan
6. Emma
7. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
8. Mr. Popper's Penguins
9. A Christmas Carol
10. The Hundred and One Dalmatians (First published as "The Great Dog Robbery".)
12. Scaramouche
13. The Scarlet Pimpernel
14. Anna Karenina
15. The Bible
Jessica is also deserving of special recognition. This is not because of the number of correct answers she gave, but simply because of the original nature of her guesses. She made me laugh... "Pongo Jr. vs. the Yellow Spotted Lizard". It is hilarious! Thanks Jess!!!!
Today we had the last performance of our dance recital. It was fun, and grueling, and enjoyable, and exhausting; in other words, everything a dance recital should be. I find myself looking forward to the next, even though the last finished a mere twelve hours ago. It is too late at night for more description, but I will see if I can get some pictures up here at some point...
Dad, while taking pictures at the dress rehearsal, he is one of the official photographers of the event, stepped backwards onto what he thought was solid ground. It turned out to be the air above the six (or so) steps that led down off the stage. Per the laws of gravity, he tumbled down the stairs and twisted his ankle. Now in crutches, he is hobbling around. Please pray for a speedy recovery! He needs full use of both feet!!!!!
Now, it is time to announce that tomorrow we leave on our trip!!!!!! Stay tuned to this blog for tales of excitement, adventure, craziness, and just a generally fun time. You will also be getting information about the various places we visit, learn about people we meet, restaurant reviews, travel guidance, along with bits of historical trivia, bundled up in a package that is sure to have you laughing! Yes, all this for only $0.00! But wait, there is more! Act now, and you can receive backstage passes to interact with the participants of this critically acclaimed drama, simply post a comment, and you will have complete access to members of the Hector Family. Get your chance to meet the stars, before it is too late!
Can you tell we are excited?
It is very late, and time for me to head for bed. We leave in 5 hours (7am), and a little bit of sleep would be nice. I know that I said the trip starts tomorrow, but in reality it is later this morning!!!!
My time is short (Are you surprised?), but I had a fun idea that I wanted to try.
Welcome to the First Occasional First-Line Fest. Rules are as follows:
Read each of the lines below, they are the first line from a book. Your job is to guess the book that the line starts!!!! I have tried for some that are hard, and some that are easy. If you don't know, guess!!!! The prize for the most correct will be bragging rights, and I will officially praise and laud your literary prowess in my next post....
Ready? Go!
1. "Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
2. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…
3. Buttercup was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin.Her favorite past-times were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy that worked there.
4. I am Sam
I am Sam
Sam I am
5. All children, except one, grow up.
6. Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.
7. There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.
8. It was an afternoon in late September. In the pleasant city of Stillwater, Mr. Popper, the house painter, was going home from work.
9. Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
10. Not long ago, there lived in London a young married couple of Dalmatian dogs named Pongo and Missis Pongo.
Here are some bonus quotes, they are a bit harder...
12. He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.
13. A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate.
14. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
And one last one, for good measure...
15. In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
Don't look at the comments of others, that would not be fair! Have fun! Maybe you now have a few more books to add to your reading list?
"It's probably just a small compound fracture..." ~Name that quote...
No cheating on naming the quote. Take a guess, and then you can look it up!
Time has been limited, and I have two half finished posts in My Documents. The plan was to work on at least one of them when I got home from work. That did not happen. Just after lunch, while I was working away on assisting to code a website, I received a call from my dad, asking if I had heard the news. Naturally my interest was piqued, and I informed him that I had not.
It turns out that my mom tripped and fell backwards onto her wrist. The wrist was not entirely pleased with this arrangement, and broke. She was transported to the hospital by Ambulance, no Thomas was not working that day, and spent three hours in the emergency room getting it x-rayed, splinted, and wrapped. Surgery is scheduled for this afternoon, 5pm. Your prayers would be appreciated.
I will keep you up to date on her condition, and post something focused on a happier note soon.
Two more comments, and I break 1000! Who will be the person to send me over the edge?!?!??!??!
Today is Saturday…in case you didn’t know. If you were really not paying attention, you may have missed the fact that it is also the first week of April. When the two elements, the first week of the month, and a Saturday coincide (Which strangely enough seems to happen once a month), it produces a socio-chemical reaction, resulting in a phenomena known as blacksmithing class:
The insanity of rising pre-dawn from a warm bed to hammer on red hot iron, risking third degree burns, in a freezing shop, hazarding frostbite, while breathing horrible smoke fumes of such a toxic mix that they would make Superman choke continues to weigh heavily on my mind. Sadly they do not weigh heavily enough to break through the rather thick cranial structure that heaven so thoughtfully bestowed upon me; I continue to participate in this activity, against all better judgment.
Here am I, looking very excited. It was still early in the morning…
I was reading a bit of history on blacksmithing, and it led me to believe that when God created man, that he also had to have given him a few of the concepts that formed the basis for his survival. First, we know that God told man to care for the Garden of Eden. Proper care for any garden involves the tilling of soil, especially with trees, keeping the roots thriving in the soil. I highly doubt that the angels ran a hardware store on the side to supply Adam with the tools of his trade (Would it have been called God’s-Mart?). The argument could be made that there was no need to actively “care” for the garden, but we are still left with the fact that Adam was at one time in a position where he needed tools. God has proven that he has tools (Remember the angel with the flaming sword!), and all things must come from God; ergo, God is the founder of blacksmithing.
Otherwise, we are forced to believe that guys were sitting around a REALLY hot campfire, when one turns to the other and says, “Let’s throw this rock in the fire.” The second says, “Dude! That is such a cool idea. When it starts glowing we can, like, pull it out and start banging on it with another rock and pound wicked cool shapes with it.” Sadly, the fact that the tongs required to hold their 1600 degree idea had not yet been invented was missed by our two innovators. Later we see these two back home with their mother putting burn cream on badly blistered prehistoric hands saying, in that voice that mothers have used since Abel was born, “What gave you the ridiculous idea of touching hot rocks in the first place?” I am putting my money on God, rather than a couple of cavemen dropouts…
Here is the fire; would you touch anything coming out of that?
Matthew is the main reason I come to blacksmithing. He loves working with hot metal. In order to understand how much he loves it, you should know that he was up and dressed, waking me up before 6:30am. He prepared our sack lunches, gathered our tools, LOADED our tools in the car, and was asking me if it was time to go before I had even gotten to the point where I realized that I was no longer dreaming. As long as he likes it that much, I would drive him to the moon. People should follow their dreams, and if I can be a part of making that happen, I count myself blessed. See, doesn’t he look so happy?
There are some added bonuses to helping others enjoy themselves. I finished my first tool today! It is a pair of tongs. I have yet to figure out what I shall use these particular items for, and am open to the suggestions of my friends. Let me know if you have any ideas. Here is the item, so you may see it in all its…uniqueness!
That is a look into blacksmithing. Here is a happy thought; perhaps my tongs will end up in a museum some day. I can see it now, “This is a fine example of the technological prowess of the early twenty-first century. Whoever lovingly shaped this tool was a master craftsman. Look at how a piece of metal was perfectly shaped into a useful object. Yes, this was obviously made by a genius.” Oh, and just so you know, this genius burnt himself today… (Mom, do we have any burn cream????)
Whoever he is, he is too late! Look! The Mountain of Insanity...
Forgive my absence. I am now, ahem... a working man. Preparing my life for a future family comes first. That has left less time for blogging. I will be reworking my blogging schedule, and try to arrange for more consistent posts, if not so frequent. (Maybe only once a week now.) Now sit back and enjoy the post...
Try to think of the most grueling physical exertion you can imagine, and then multiply that by a factor of ten. Now multiply it again. That is what riding a mountain bike up Mount Diablo is like…
A few weeks ago a member of our church, who just so happens to be my boss, and my brother were discussing riding to the top of Diablo. They have been on other trips together, but with my school schedule such as it was, I had never been able to accompany them.
Now that I am a graduate, with all the time in the world on my hands, my boss said, “You are going.” Like a good little soldier, I saluted, and said, “Yes, sir!” Little did I know that this was to be one of the most torturous events known to man; even making the Trail of Tears look like a Yosemite day-hike.
We drove to the base of our adversary, the mountain, watching it loom ever larger as we approached. When you see a mountain from a distance, there is a certain “cuteness” that accompanies its apparent miniature status, but when you are sitting at the bottom, looking up at that which you must surmount, the cuteness has entirely worn off. I am not saying that what the Israelites did was right, but I can empathize with them. They leave Egypt, head for the Promised land confident as can be (Well, mostly…). I am sure news of the Canaanites had shown up in Egyptian newspapers, and the Nation of Israel had to know that these people they were going to fight were not about to qualify for any pygmy pageants… Unlike the Chosen Nation, I stood at the base of my obstacle, uttered a brief prayer for safety and success, and headed off with our party.
Before leaving I was forced by the other members of my riding group to remove the luggage rack on the back of my bike:
I wrote a tribute to the occasion.
Ode to the Death of a Rack
There was a piece of metal,
Attached beneath my seat.
When carrying things about the town,
It simply can’t be beat.
But when up on mountain trail,
Others this equipment spy.
Their looks of censure and reproach,
Make you wish to die.
It was told me, in definite terms,
Racks label the rider a geek.
And so I remove my faithful rack,
With a look unsure and meek.
Forgive my betrayal, O faithful rack,
As I lay you down to rest.
Our parting is painful, that is true;
But it is surely for the best.
I was a bit hopeful of God’s blessing on this venture, considering that the we consisted of a Pastor, an Elder, a PK (Pastor’s Kid), and my brother and I. When riding up a mountain with a name like Diablo, it is a good idea to have a few members of the clergy around…
The ride up was torturous. For those of you familiar with the Tour de France, there is a stage called the Alpe d’Huez, which is one of the hardest climbs in the race. What we were riding up was the same as the hardest portions of that climb:
You know it is steep when Carl Schroeder has to get off and push:
The last two miles were simply a steady uphill climb. Not as steep as before, but up, without ceasing. The only reaction that works in this situation is to put the head down, grit the teeth, and go for the top. We all got to the top, exhausted though we were, with me claiming the Polka Dot Jersey. I credit this to my ballet classes, as I am in much better shape since I am dancing three hours a week.
The view from the top was amazing!!! From the top of Diablo you can see around 40,000 square miles. The only mountain where you can see more earth in one sweep of the eyes is Mount Kilimanjaro. Here is the group in front of a small portion of that view.
On the way back down we dealt with the same levels of steepness that we found on the way up. The only difference is that when you are going up it is slow and painful. When going down, the bike tries to gain speed, and if you FALL you are in a great deal of trouble, and will bounce down the hill, gathering bruises and lacerations at every bounce. Happily we all avoided major injury, and made it to the bottom safely.
The funny part was, we had just climbed a 3900’ mountain, with much pain, but successfully; just before getting to the parking lot there was a small hill, with about 100’ of climb. Those last hundred feet was harder than the thousands we had completed only miles earlier. That is how exhausted we were. I shed tears of happiness upon seeing the van…
We dug for that last bit of strength, and indulged in a Victory Pose. Look at those men, with calves of steel!!!!! (They felt more like rubber at that moment.):
I hear tell that this is going to be an annual event. This thought makes me weak in the legs, but I believe that this reaction should fade by next year. They say that an adventure is simply a trial of the past. With that in mind, this was quite an adventure, one that I would not have missed for the world…
(For another take on the trip, go to my brother's blog; but, don't go before you leave a comment!!!)
As I sit at my desk contemplating the deep mysteries of the universe, and enjoying a very fine dish of ice cream (I love ice cream!), a post seemed in order. Time is short, I have to go to dance, and must pick up Katie Bug on they way there. This leaves time only for photos. Yes, I know you are all disappointed that this is not a three-thousand word post on the advantages of reading classic literature, or some similarly fascinating topic; but, you will have to suffer nonetheless.
Care to take a guess as to what this post will be about? Here is a hint:
Last week we had the opportunity to help our friends from church, the Olsons, at their 2000 acre ranch (Yes that is a two followed by three zeros!). This is branding season, and extra hands are always appreciated.Here is Nic, making himself useful:
The first thing that must be done is getting the cows off those 2000 acres, and into the pens. I was expecting everybody to jump on horses, and round them little doggies up. Sadly, this is the 21st century, and they have more efficient methods of transport (Away flew my romantic ideals!):
At times the old fashioned ways work best, and you just have to get down amongst the herd. This is Cody, one of the ranch hands, doing just that:
Cows often take it in their minds to go the opposite direction than what you desire, and then life gets interesting. You show that cow who is boss Mr. Olson!:
My job was to work the “squeeze”. This is what holds the cows while they are being branded. It took more concentration than I was first expecting. There are three levers that need to be worked almost at the exact same time! If you are too slow pushing down any one of the levers, then the cow gets out of the squeeze before they are branded. Never lost one the entire day!
Laura held the Olson baby for most of the day. She was very happy about that arrangement (Bex kept her company!):
Here is Mr. Olson taking the iron in hand. You got used to the smell after a while, though my shirt still bears a strange, malodorous, burnt hair essence. Yes I washed it, thank you very much!!!!!:
