Hooray! Ice cream!

Last night the boys and I put on some monster claws and ran around a bit. That is, until Isaac started screaming that he had bumped his head. I picked him up and gave him some hugs and kisses, then noticed the blood streaming down his head. So, instead of going to bed we went to Tanner Clinic and he had three stitches put in. We got ice cream on the way home because I was very brave.

P.S. Isaac is fine. He handled everything past the anesthesia and scrubbing like a champ.

Message

Back in 2004, I was headed toward pharmacy school. I had taken some prerequisite classes and scored fairly well on the PCAT. In the meantime, Caleb was sick and we were at Primary Children's most of the time.

While we were with Caleb we were exposed to some wonderful (and some not-so-wonderful) nurses. One of our nurses on the ICS unit was Kathleen. I don't remember at all what it was that made Kathleen so great. I know she was easy to talk to, and that I always felt like Caleb was her favorite. I know she was always willing to answer questions. I know she cared. And before I knew it, I wasn't headed to pharmacy school anymore.

I'm working on a Master's in nursing now. I've had a nursing license since 2006. This past summer during my unemployed period I had an interview at ICS in Murray and while I was down in the lobby I thought about Kathleen. I called PCMC and found that Kathleen still works there, albeit in a different role than before. I asked to be transferred to her extension and got her voice mail.

In the message I told her how I felt about the care she had given our son (not that I expected her to remember us necessarily) and that she was my inspiration for going into nursing. I hope she got the message. I hope she remembers our family. I hope I can be like her.

A Song For My Coworker

I told my coworker Gloria I would write a song for her as a thank-you for doing me a big favor a couple weeks ago. So, last week during Alison's book club I wrote most of this one. It was supposed to be a fugue when I started it, but I just sort of wrote whatever I felt like writing, as usual. So, any professional music theorists out there, please don't be too critical. I am, after all, a novice. Anyway, I think it's catchy and I like the result. Keep in mind that the program I used does not do gradual changes in dynamics or tempo.

Still Awake

It's past midnight and I'm still awake. What is it about being home after a swing shift that makes me want to stay up,as if I've been cheated out of time to "relax?" The thought of cuddling up to my wife and falling asleep is extremely appealing, and yet here I am.

Composition

I have found lately that my piano playing talent has improved, which I think means that I am supposed to perform sometime in the near future. Anyway, this has unexpected benefits, such as the fact that I come up with random little bits of music sometimes. This one is from one day in October when I was playing with the boys. I have never embedded code from my composition program before, so I hope this works. It's called "Impromptu Tip-Toe 10/26/10."

When I Heard The Learn'd Astronomer

Forgive me a moment as I wax poetical.

It was a little before midnight and I lay in bed, my wife snoring softly beside me, her arm over my chest. Our lights had just been extinguished and I lay in bed, growing hot. I lifted her arm, softly, and crawled out of the bed. I dressed and left the house to clear my head.

Our street seemed dark and the air was nibbling cold (not yet October, biting season). I retrieved our garbage and recycling cans from the curb, then started on a walk around the block. As I turned the corner I passed houses full of (I supposed) sleeping neighbors, and the night seemed to be mine alone.

I passed the dark bushes on my left and mused to myself that they were probably full of spiders, awake and hunting, but I was interrupted in mid-thought as I looked up.

In the sky over the trees was the faint outline of the mountaintop to the east, seeming too high in the air and without foundation. Behind was a faint halo of bluish-white - the moon about to rise.

I had never seen the moon rise before and I stared at it for a moment, wondering, then began to walk up the hill toward the glow as if I could approach it. The vision was hidden by trees as I continued onward but then exposed again as a half-moon, impossibly large and majestic and mystical. I stopped in my tracks and watched as it rose fully from behind its mountain , its outline shifting and bending. When it was free I applauded there, alone on the sidewalk. Nature had performed, I thought, for me alone. I thought of old men long ago with their telescopes, looking up and feeling young.

I walked on, smiling, hearing the distant ch-ch-ch of a sprinkler as I rounded the corner once more. I thought of my favorite poem by Walt Whitman as I made my last turn. I walked down the hill toward home, the garage lights triggered by my motion casting lines on the street beside me, stark and unlike the willowy swaying of the trees over me. I heard the cricket song for the first time, the baying of dogs on the next block, and at last the chill of my bald head in the breeze dispelled the magic fully.

-----------------------

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;	5
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars. --Walt Whitman (1819-1892), Leaves of Grass, 1900

New Job

I just had my third day at my new job. I haven't actually started doing what I was hired for yet, just generally oriented to the facility and attended a couple of meetings, but I am really excited. I have really entertaining exchanges with the residents, and feel like I have been warmly embraced by the staff here. I will be training for my official job starting next Tuesday.

I told my DON I planned on making a shiny new med program for them and she said she knew I would, and that's why she chose me for the job. I feel the weight of expectation here but instead of being oppressive it gives me strength. I'm not sure how to explain it.

I told Alison as we went down to eat dinner with Grandpa and Uncle Bobo that I was sad I had to wait two days before I could go back to work. I know I'm in honeymoon phase right now with this job, but it feels so good to look forward to going to work again and know that instead of being one of many replaceable licensed staff I am valued for my individual talents and potential. I didn't realize how much of a difference that would make.

Anyway, thanks to all who prayed for me to find a job, and especially for those priesthood blessings which promised I would find a job I would enjoy. That really gave me strength when I was starting to give up. I'm not sure why I have been blessed with such faith in the power of the priesthood, but I know it's real.

Anyway, it's late.

SketchUp

So, I just tried Google SketchUp for the first time. Clearly this is not professional work. I tried the chairs in the demo videos and then decided to make a table leg. Um, I mean a table-leg light saber.

Or What Shall A Man Give In Exchange For His Soul?

I was invited by a friend to go to a movie at midnight last night/this morning, which movie shall remain unnamed. When I mentioned it to my wife she said, "Isn't that rated R?" Well, the thing was, I wasn't sure whether it was or not. What I was sure of was that I trusted this friend of mine and was fairly sure he or she would not have invited me to a movie of the bad sort. So, I accepted. I knew enough about the movie and its stars to know I would be interested in seeing it, but not much more than that.

The thing is, I had plenty of warnings from my friend HG Wells (not his real name). First there was the thought that I should check just to be sure what the rating was. That I reasoned my way out of successfully by thinking maybe they played different versions of the movie in different markets, so even if it were rated R somewhere else perhaps it wouldn't be here. I knew it was a ridiculous idea. But, I didn't check and knew even at the time why I didn't.

I arrived at the theater in SLC at about 11:30 pm and took my ticket from my friend, who had paid my way. It had a great big letter R on it (a scarlet R, I think retrospectively). HG says to me, "you know, it's not too late not to go. You know it's R now, you could pay for the ticket and leave or go to something else and not have any hurt feelings." Well, I thought, she's already bought the ticket. Maybe it will just have one scene in it, and I can close my eyes or something.

(Isn't it amazing, the sort of crappy reasoning Satan can let you get by with?)

After that we sat in the theater and waited. For 30 minutes. Minutes in which I thought about my Sunday School class full of teenagers to whom I constantly emphasize the importance of doing nothing which would offend Mr. Wells. Minutes in which I analyzed the probable consequences of doing nothing - including the just-mentioned giving of offense, the effects on myself of premeditated transgression, and my resulting less-powerfulness should my power be needed.

Then, I stayed in my seat and watched. At first there was some way to think that there was just that one scene (the one with all the F-Bombs in it) that had caused the R rating. Countless slayings and flying pieces of anatomy lesson later, any possible justification was gone and I was left to myself.

I thought on the way home about why I didn't do what I knew I should, and what the friendly Mr. Wells had been telling me, and why I ignored him. I came to several conclusions. The first is that I was curious. Would R-rated violence really be that much worse than PG-13 violence? (It was.) Would the effects on myself spiritually really be that bad? (They were.) Wouldn't the thrill of great action scenes outweigh the sick feeling I knew I would have? (Partially, I'll admit.)

Secondly, I had this Herodian problem of wanting to look good to them who sat with me at meat. I didn't want this friend, whom I respect, to think I didn't trust his or her judgment. What?! Am I still 14? I thought I was over that little peer pressure hurdle. Another great hypocrisy moment for the teacher of youth.

Thirdly, I was interested in doing the forbidden. Even if I have been using only a self-imposed filter and control, I still had the natural man attraction to sin pushing me forward.

As I drove home trying to pretend Mr. Wells would just come back and give me a hug right after I had ignored his advice, I thought about these conclusions and what I could learn from them. As someone who has done my fair share of repentance, I thought I understood enough to avoid situations like this. The contrast between driving with and without Mr. Wells was striking enough that it was very easy to see after the fact that whatever brief pleasure I may have found in going to the movie came nowhere close to outweighing the remorse and sickness I felt. I need to be more vigilant.

So, I guess in conclusion I will say that I feel I learned a bit about myself from this experience. Also, how do I face my class on Sunday knowing I didn't do what I have been teaching them to do? It seems like it could be a great teaching moment if I tell them about it. I'm prepared to see the speed bump in the rearview, forgive myself and move on

" " " " " ", Part II

Back in May, we were praying at night with the kids on their beds. Isaac and I prayed that they wouldn't have any scary dreams. From across the room we heard Aaron say in his prayer-voice, "No scary dreams! Oh no! My scary dreams fall off!"
The boys are, of course, frequently amusing while praying (when they aren't choosing to talk and run around, of course). Statements of religious belief are typically sweet (Aaron: "Jesus love me soooo much;" "Thank you for we can eat Caleb's cupcakes").

The next day was Sunday and the primary kids were at the front of the chapel singing for a prelude before sacrament meeting. I sat near the front so Isaac would know I was listening. I guess the child next to him was pretty loud because after a while he just covered his ears and looked sad.

Aaron loves a tiny stuffed puppy someone got in a kid's meal. He carries him around in his pocket or stuffed into the top of his shirt. Once when he was in trouble he called, "Help! Help, puppy!" which didn't produce much results. He said, "My puppy my very special friend." He pretended to put food in puppy's mouth and said, "I feeding puppy." Adorable. He also has an old stuffed kitty he calls Meowie. It is really cute watching him let his kitty talk on the phone.

I played The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks back in April and it was really cute watching Isaac trying to play the Song of Awakening by blowing into my DS. I guess maybe you had to be there for that one.

In the car, listening to "It Ain't Gonna Rain No More:"
Isaac: "Anka Ranka More sure is long."

Also in the car:
I: "Aunt Renee is my favorite person...She has chickens."

Also in the car, we sometimes need to reach back and keep a child awake by tickling. One time Isaac just wouldn't wake up, so I enjoyed a childish game of "stop hitting yourself" with his arm and face. Good times were had by all.

We have a young woman in our ward, Rachel, who has been our babysitter a few times. I think Isaac is in love with her in that cute little-kid way. He always suggests we have Rachel over when they need someone to watch them. He says "I like Rachel all the way." When we were recently discussing who could come over to stay with them if Alison went into labor, of course Rachel was suggested. We said that no, Rachel couldn't come because she was too young. Alison said it would have to be someone like grandma, or grandpa, or auntie Em, or Nana, or Poppy. So then Isaac said, "I'm diggin' Rachel's mom."
I'm not sure how my kids started saying that they dig things; I probably said it sometime. It has been a consistent form of entertainment, however. Example, while eating dinner at the Lowes' in July:
Isaac: "Dad, I dig this pizza."
Jordan: "I can dig it too."
Aaron: "I not dig it."
Uncle Bobo: "I dig the pizza too."
Aaron, reconsidering: "I try and dig it."

Once again, in the car:
Aaron: "I got mine coin. Put in my head."
Jordan: "You're putting your coin in your head?"
A: "Yes. My put my ten coin in my head."
J: "Why'd you do that?"
A: "My keep it safe. Not fall out."

At the dinner table; Aaron has some food on his hand and Alison is trying to get him to ask her politely to get a rag.
A: "Hey look" (holding out his hand)
Alison: "Is your hand sticky from the avocado?"
Aa: "Yes."
Al: "Is there something you want me to do about it?"
Aa: "Lick it."

We were lying down together on the bed and pretending to sleep, then pretending to wake up. Aaron said, "Yous guys lay down there. See you good morning."

We were eating blueberry bagels at the table and Alison was talking to Aaron about the letter B.
Al: "Blueberry, bagel...they all start with which letter?"
Aa: "P...p...p...p...P!"
Al: "B-b-b-B.
Aa: "P-p-p-p-B!"

And, lastly, Aaron was trying to use the digital camera to take my picture and he wouldn't hold the button down long enough for the flash to go off. I said, "No, bud, you need to push it down and wait until it flashes." Aaron set the camera down on the piano, looked at it, and said, "I wait it flashes."

Out of the Mouths of Babes, Part I

So, I've been meaning to post some of the amusing things my kids have been saying. I have hesitated though, partly because once you wait awhile your kids grow and the things they said a long time ago just don't seem as cute, and partly because I'm not sure if any of these would be amusing to outside observers. With that long-winded intro, here are some things I have been writing down on my pocket calendars.

Aaron loves to be included, so he loves to add "Me too!" or "And me!" after just about everything anyone says.
Setting: the car, back in March/April. We are about to get ice cream. Someone mentions that he/she likes ice cream.
Aa: "Me too!"
I: "I really like ice cream a lot. It's in my heart, or in my legs, or something...in my tummy..."
Aaron doesn't like being sticky, so of course after he dripped on himself he yelled "Clean me!"

Again in the car, Isaac is taking off his shoes and socks.
J: "Are you taking your socks off?"
I: "Well, kinda...like a rancher."
J: "Ranchers don't wear socks?"
I: "Well, yes, they do..."
J: "They just wear half socks?"
I: "Yes, ranchers are kinda fun."

Aaron also really likes to be naked. He will with utmost concentration remove his pants and unfasten his diaper, then fling off his diaper while yelling triumphantly, "Nekky time!!"
He also has a cute way of emphasizing what he says; example: "My YES want ice cream!"

While discussing possible baby names, Isaac repeatedly suggested Avigail.
J: "What if we don't name her Avigail? What if we name her Clara?"
I: "No, that's a scary name. Let's name her Avigail. Avigail is a donkey."

There is a song we sing in the car sometimes, and it goes like this:
Down by the bay, where the watermelons grow
Back to my home I dare not go
For if I do, my [relative] will say:
Have you ever seen a(n) [animal or object]
[action phrase which rhymes with previous line]
Down by the bay?

Anyway, we take turns making up things to go in the rhyming lines, and here are some of Isaac's:

Have you ever seen a crocodile eating basketti
Have you ever seen a tree standing on a people
Have you ever seen a green tree pushing a people into a hole
Have you ever seen a house standing on a lots of people (apparently he likes imagining people getting crushed and/or buried)

In mid-april, Aaron ate enough fruit that his mouth started to bleed. That same day we were in the car again. There is an old game we own called "Don't Talk To Strangers" which quizzes kids about what they should do in certain situations, mostly walking to/from school or at the store. We asked Isaac if there was a game he wanted to play in the car, and he suggested Don't Talk To Strangers. "I'll draw a board with my finger," he said. "I'll make a die." Then the questions began. After mom and dad asked a couple, Isaac came up with some which fit the theme of the actual questions really well (example: Dad, if you were in a store would you go into the school to do something? Aaron, if you were in school...if you were with a stranger would you just run away into school? Yes. Roll the die.)

Then one of those things happen which sets a dangerous precedent. Isaac all the sudden shouts, "I need to go potty!" in that voice that lets you know that if you don't stop RIGHT NOW there will be a puddle in the car seat. So, we pulled off the side of the highway and he stood outside between the two open doors and did his thing on the side of the road. After that, the questions took a different turn:

"Dad, if you were on the road would you go peepee on the road like I just went peepee? Yes. No, you are a grown-up. You would go peepee in the toilet."
And, my favorite: "If you were climbing a tree when you were a little boy would you just hold your peepee if you had a nail in your hand? No. No, you wouldn't."

Speaking of the bodily functions, I love when you are in church and your son asks if you will take him to the bathroom, then he yells "Oh yeah! Sword fight with peepee!!"

We were out walking somewhere and Isaac saw someone he thought looked familiar.
I: "Hey, man! Hey! Man!"
Man: "What's up?"
I: "Nothing...I thought you were my dad."

Contents

So, it has been a while since I have posted. My shirt pocket (the clothing equivalent of a junk drawer) now contains the following:

7 homemade pocket calendars filled with notations I need to consolidate
1 printed sheet of scriptures I haven't yet gotten around to memorizing, plus some notes from a temple trip
1 two-sided mega-sudoku (13 interconnected 9X9 puzzles)
2 sticky notes with topics for journal entries or blog posts, plus 1 scrap of cardboard with the same (may settle during shipping! one side proclaims)
4 business cards
1 Snowie frequent buyer card (isn't that location closed now?)
2 small slips of paper with very small amounts of writing on them
And, of course,
1 very special pen, 75% functional

I think it's time I cleaned up.

Monte Resegone

So, I have wanted for a while to record some stories from my mission, and I figure this is as good a place as any. First, I will write about an experience I had after I had been in Italy for about 5 months.

I was a junior companion and still fairly unsure of myself. We had decided, as a zone activity, to hike to the peak of Mount Resegone. We took the public transit to the funivia, then rode up and started to hike. We had gone a fair ways in beautiful scenery when we noticed the time and decided that we needed to make a decision. We had come a long ways and were on the other side of the mountain. We could either go forward - the path curved around the peak and looked like it would take us right back where we started - or we could go back the way we came. The zone leader (Joe Holst - a great and pleasant person) suggested we pray about it as a zone and see what impressions came.

We prayed, and I had a distinct impression - as clear as someone speaking into my ear - that said "go back the way you came." But, since I was one of the youngest missionaries there, and still a lowly junior companion, I didn't speak up. Surely, I thought, the zone leader or one of the district leaders would receive the answer we needed. Finally, someone said, "I guess let's just keep going." I figured maybe I had been mistaken, and we hiked on.

After a long while it was clear that the path was not going to take us back to where we had started anytime soon. What had looked like a path curving around the peak really just took us into an inlet, which then began climbing on a winding path taking us to the peak. At times we were on the face of a cliff which was so steep there were chains anchored for us to hold on to. Eventually, we reached the top of the mountain which afforded us a great view, as well as a relatively short path back down; however, it was late enough that we were worried we may not catch the last funivia down the mountain.

We made it in time, but arrived home very late - much past our usual curfew. I guess you could say that it didn't matter because we made it home either way, but to me this was a great lesson: just because you may not be in a position of leadership, doesn't mean you can't be the one who makes a difference. You may be the only person in the group who has a thought or an impression that could make a huge difference in the life of another person. You may have an impulse to perform an act of service which only you are inspired to do, or which only you are in a position to fulfill. The Lord works through small and simple means, but I know he doesn't consider any of his children "small and simple" - whether the servant or the one being served, we are all important enough to do great things.

That's all.

Toothpaste

I have recently changed my toothpaste habits. I decided to try the baking soda-peroxide route, even though I was expecting it to taste terrible. I mixed the ingredients myself like a professional apothecary in the old days, minus the mortar and pestle. Well, after a few days, I've decided I like it. It gets my teeth really clean, I think it improves my breath, and it doesn't taste nearly as bad as I'd expected. I also have a theory that it will whiten my teeth slightly.

In other news, I expect a few posts in the next few days about nothing in particular. I'm trying to write more and I have a backlog of topics. So, for those of you reading, I hope you enjoy my renewed activity in the blog-o-web.

Mosqui-toes

When I was on my mission, I noticed that mosquitoes generally really liked my feet. I don't know if it was just the fact that they had been in shoes all day (my feet, not the bugs), but once we got home in the summer and opened the windows my feet would get bitten all to bits. The bites didn't itch too badly though, which I guess might be to some regional difference in mosquitoes (?).

I guess the reason I brought this up is because two nights ago, while we were in my in-laws' backyard roasting marshmallows, I was bit several times. This was remarkably like what happened on my mission, except that I was on a different continent. Plus, there was no window, and I hadn't been in shoes at all, and the bites really itch. I counted sixteen bites on my feet (plus a lumpy thing on my left elbow which may or may not be a bite), all of which seem to be composed of minuscule angry badgers trying to claw their way out. I felt sorry for them so I tried to feed them some topical benadryl today, followed tonight by some dermoplast. They must be happier now because the bites don't hurt so much. I feel like such a friend to nature on so many levels.

Poem 3

This poem I am embarrassed to post, mostly because I was trying to be serious with it so it feels like more of a risk exposing others to it. Also, it is in mixed meter and doesn't rhyme so I don't like it that much, but it shows a little of my feelings toward my then-betrothed. I wrote this at BYU when Alison and I were engaged. No mocking, please. :)

I saw two lovers on the grass,
And I watched them as they gazed
Into each other's eyes. A sigh
Escaped them, a breath of contentedness
That betrayed their hearts
Even as they said nothing.

I felt inside my own heart
A longing to see you, to share with you
That same communication, to see
A light, a spark that lives
Because of a fire that burns
Somewhere inside of you.

The two - the one - never saw
My eyes and my envy, oblivious to all
Except their own gaze and their own hearts.
I walked away, my eyes upon new things
Other things
But my heart alone with you, upon the grass.

Poem 2

Here is another poem I wrote at BYU. This was before I had taken anatomy, but I was curious about my body so I looked up some things on the internet and can only say that I was inspired. Now that I have a more thorough medical background, I am pleasantly surprised by how few errors there are in my information.

Anyway, it's entitled

An Ode, "To The Lymphatic System"

You take away the over-fill,
The fluid that remains;
You circulate my tissues through
And permeate my veins.

You filter out the nasty bugs
Like skeeters in a net -
In one and twenty years of life
I've not been beaten yet!

I owe my very life to you
Although I didn't know,
And hope that one day yet to come
My gratitude will show.

I'll exercise and sleep at night,
Eat only balanced food -
You can count on me, L.S.,
I'll keep you running smooth! (ly)

I only hope that when I wake
My worst dream won't come true -
My body new, my glory bright,
But perfect without you!

Poem 1

Here is a poem I wrote at BYU after I saw a Discovery Channel special on repo men.

The Repo Man! The Repo Man!
When debtors go astray
He breaks into their cars at night,
And though the debtors want to fight
Though legally they have no right,
He repossesses with delight
And goes his merry way.

The Repo Man! The Repo Man!
To earn his meager pay
He exercises skills galore;
He picks the locks and cracks the door.
He was a criminal before,
Now it's a job and nothing more -
An honest man today.

Felicity

The other day, when I was home alone at lunchtime, I decided to eat ramen noodles for lunch. Despite the negative correlation between time passing and my enjoyment of that particular food, I persist in occasionally using it as a quick fix. Anyway, all we had was a package of beef and a package of chicken. Since I eat two packages, I had resigned myself to eating Asian Style Noodles with Powdered Chickencow Sauce. Imagine my astonishment when I opened the chicken package to find that someone at the Asian Style Noodles factory had accidentally included two seasoning packets! If it were a network status, it would have been Packets Sent:0, Packets Received:3. Needless to say, my noodles were better than expected. I haven't decided if that really means much.

Poems, Part 1

I have, in the past, amused myself by writing bits of mediocre poetry. I just found one of my poems and thought I would share it. At SDCH we had hand sanitizer dispensers by our med carts and when they were empty we would send a computer help desk request to get them refilled. I sent this help desk one day at work. Other poems I have written (odes to the lymphatic system and the repo man) will have to wait until I am at the other computer where they are stored. Anyway, enjoy if possible.

Sanitizer, why no flow?

We must to housekeeping go

And beg their aid. Oh, what to do?

Is our joyous cleansing through?

Send a help desk! Send it stat!

They'll be here in no time flat.

They'll refill with sparkling eyes,

And we all will recognize

That all housekeepers here do merit

Chocolate pie (but will they share it?).

Just Desserts

Yesterday, Alison and I went to Yogurt Stop in Syracuse for some mid-afternoon dessert. Alison got a Wild Berry/Tart mix with blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, granola, and vanilla wafers. I, perhaps lacking somewhat in native sweetness, got Red Velvet (tastes like chocolate cake batter) with gummy bears, Reeses peanut butter cup, Reeses pieces, Snickers, Swedish fish, peanuts, peanut butter chips, Butterfinger, hot fudge, and marshmallow cream. In retrospect, I should have added some jelly beans. Nuts.

A Letter To My Senator

So, I just listened to the podcast of RadioWest from earlier this week about the truth (and falsehood) of the current health care debate, and it made me once again feel frustrated about the way our Senate is currently working. So, I wrote an email to our two senators which went like this:

Senator,

I am a registered nurse here in Utah. I am frustrated by the current situation in the Senate, but not just because I feel that health reform is not happening as quickly as it needs to. No, the thing that bothers me most is how the Republican party uses the filibuster - no, I should say the THREAT of a filibuster - to stop things from going forward. A couple of points: first, I know you have a right to strongly disagree with what the majority is doing. That's part of your job as the current minority party. But at least have the guts to go through the effort of standing at the podium and actually filibustering. Contrary to what you may think, the reason a lot of us normal people are so disapproving of Congress is not because we feel that the Democrats are trying to ram legislation through that we can't pay for; the reason we hate Congress (especially the Senate) is because you guys never seem to get any actual work done or have any intelligent debates, just posturing, name-calling, and politicking. I realize that a lot of people in this state will vote for anyone with an "R" by his name, but there are a lot of us who take the obstructionist attitude of our party seriously enough to try and vote you out of office. If you gentlemen get your way and our President, his party, and all their efforts go down in flames (which seems to be your goal in every word and action), you and your egos may win, but we as a country will lose.

Sincerely,

Jordan Johnsen

If Muffins Be The Food of Love, Bake On

All right, so this post is about music. But right now I've just taken some muffins out of the oven (raspberry, in fact) so it fits. I will address my history with music and then talk about how it has taken shape as one of my gifts/talents.

Music and I go way back (stop me if you've heard this one before - Alison says I might have already done a post about this, but I don't feel like checking and it's been on my mind lately). When I was a little kid I would lay on my parents' water bed and sing hymns with my mom. My favorite was "The Spirit of God," which is still stirring to me although it is a beast for me to play on the piano. When I was a young lad, Jenny and Josh were both taking piano lessons and I was jealous. I had my mom sign me up with Sister Hart, who taught using a method she had (I think) developed with boys and trains as themes. I had been introduced to David Lanz's solo piano music (by Aunt Nancy? You can see how great my memory is by the plethora of parentheticals) and wanted to learn enough that I could play some of his music. I took lessons for something like a year, then decided I had learned enough. Jeremy dropped me off after school, and I walked in and said "I've decided to quit" and walked back out. Jeremy saw me walking home and was a bit upset; I don't remember my mom's reaction.

I got a David Lanz songbook for Christmas and started learning Cristofori's Dream, which was my favorite at the time. I had a hard time with anything above two sharps or flats, so I would transpose songs into C Major instead of learning them in the correct key. I played Cristofori's Dream for Jeremy's mission farewell and Return to the Heart (in C instead of E) for his homecoming. At that time I had tried to play a few hymns, and could go through Choose the Right and Sweet Hour of Prayer, but that's about it.

In the meantime, I was singing in the ward choir, first as an alto, then later as a bass. I don't think I ever sang tenor so I guess The Change must have been abrupt or something like that. Anyway, I kept singing and had a knack for vocal stuff. My mom once remarked that she was impressed that I could improvise an alto harmony to a melody line, and a teacher told me in fifth grade that I had a good singing voice, which I think was what really started me going. I sang to myself when I was alone since my low self-image by that time didn't exactly lend itself to exposure. I also whistled a lot. I mean, just about all the time by high school. I would walk home and whistle the whole way; I think I whistled even when I was reading a book as I walked home (another talent I developed; I became good enough at it to step over the feet of would-be trippers at school without interrupting whichever novel occupied me that day). While I was a CNA at Apple Village, where there were finches in cages, I composed a Song For the Finches which I whistled at work. I could start whistling a theme as I walked home, stop paying attention, and when I noticed it again I would have added variations. Anyway, I digress.

During the last few years of grade school, I had a mad (read: obsessive) crush on Heather McPherson. When it came time to move to junior high, everyone was deciding which instrument they would take in band. I guess it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be in band. I'm not sure how that happened. Anyway, I thought I had heard that Heather would be taking percussion, so I signed up too. She ended up taking the clarinet, but I was introduced to drums and the marimba, which consumed me until I graduated high school. I think I can say that percussion saved my life, spiritually and emotionally if not physically. It gave me something to focus my energy and mind on, and I practiced obsessively. My band teachers in junior high and high school got used to telling me to let myself out and turn off the lights. When I hit high school, I started marching band, which led to my being on the drumline during the last two years of high school, first on quads and then on snare. I also started into choir, which led to Madrigals during my senior year, which led to Alison and I getting married eventually. These topics, however, are the subject of another post some other time. Marching band and choirs are a subject in themselves. I was in two band classes and two choir classes my senior year.

So, when I was getting ready for my mission I had a combination of some skill on the marimba, a lot of skill in reading choral music, and no confidence in my ability to do either in front of others. I could practice the marimba just fine (I could pretend nobody was watching me) but when it came to performing I always choked. I'm not even exaggerating. Every. Single. Time. I would get up to perform a marimba solo I would get all anxious and mess up. In band concerts I would lose track of my place and come in at the wrong time. There was something about the exposure that killed my accuracy and self-confidence. It was worse in college, when I played percussion parts to accompany choral pieces. In percussion ensemble I had no such problem, even with lead parts. Choir was no problem, but you couldn't have bribed me to perform a solo. And, I still couldn't play more than a few hymns, and only if they were in easy key signatures.

Fast-forward to my mission. I sang all the time in the MTC with my district (we sang Hymn 82 almost every night) but didn't play the piano much. When I got to my first city, where I stayed for only six weeks, I developed a sudden ability to play more hymns. In my second city, I was asked to play for sacrament meeting when their pianist left on her mission. In my next city, one of the elders was a big-time pianist so we planned a Christmas concert with our branch. We established a venue and he was planning a couple arrangements and a new composition. But, due to an incident with his companion and an obsessed/crazy new member, he and his companion were transferred away and I found myself responsible for the program. This time, I was given the ability to arrange songs (one with cello), although my performance anxiety problems still led to a bad performance. Two cities later I was a ward organist learning to play the organ, albeit sans pedal use. Toward the end of my mission I could play a lot of the hymns in the hymnbook.

In our last ward I was called as a ward organist and as a primary pianist, and I am a ward organist in this ward as well (when the principal organist is out of town). I can play really basic stuff with the pedal now and set stops. A couple months ago I suddenly was able to sight read, which I have never been very good at before. I played my way through the whole hymnbook a couple weeks ago with only a couple problems. So, something is coming up for which there is the need for me to sight read or at least be able to learn songs quickly. In the past I have interpreted sudden increases in skill as the need for me to perform somewhere. Last Sunday the ward choir director handed me a piece of music that I am going to accompany next month, and which I wouldn't have been able to play just a couple months ago. I can play all sorts of David Lanz pieces which I couldn't play before also. I'm not sure what's going on exactly, but I guess this could be the Lord's way of saying that I need to get out and use my talents more to bless other people.

The point of all this is to say that I have no idea why the Lord decided to bless me with a talent for music, but I can see in retrospect that he has been able to increase my ability just when it would be needed. And, I have also noticed a couple times (once with a piano performance at an assisted living center, and once with a marimba performance at a hospital) that as soon as I have committed to perform somewhere my playing ability increases so I can learn songs in time to perform them. And, I have slightly less performance anxiety than I did before, at least on the piano. I find that as soon as I start to think that my ability has anything to do with how cool I am, I can't play well; but, in proportion with seeing it as a gift to be used for the benefit of others I find an increase of talent and joy.

Sorry this post was so long - as always, this was primarily a journal entry.

Process of Elimination

Warning to readers: this post contains references to The Potty.

So, I have issues with bathrooms. Specifically, I have issues with public bathrooms (although, as Alison will tell you, I'm also particular at home). I have no problems with The Number One (which is easy to do anywhere, since I'm male), but The Number Two causes me great difficulty because the stars have to align just right if I'm not at home. First, there can't be anyone else in the bathroom. At all. If there is someone in there when I enter, I can sometimes wait until they are gone, but if I go in and there's someone Doing His Business, I have to leave and find another bathroom. Even knowing someone has been on the same toilet will prevent me from using it. The key is that I need to be able to maintain the delusion that I am the only person to have ever used the toilet. Even with that mental wizardry active, I still have to build the bird's nest on the seat with TP.

Even in great need, I have gone from one end of a building to the other, opening doors and trying to find just the right bathroom. At work, I go downstairs to the first floor to a bathroom off the crash cart/oxygen room where not many people go and the fan is always on.

I have been working at my mom's office off and on while I have been recovering, and I think I'm the only man in the building for most of the morning. I take a trip down the hall to the communal bathroom and when I walk into the stall, the seat is up and the water is blue. Blue! Like it was prepared just for me, like someone knew I would be there and reserved the bathroom just for me, like when I look into the bowl there will be a little mint sitting there.

Ok, maybe not the mint.