Underwear Issues

Last night, ElKiddo put clean underwear on before bed. He had a string hanging out of them. We found some scissors and cut it off. We went to bed. A few minutes later, he found another loose string, and came into our room to ask us to cut that off too. We did. We asked him to close and lock our door on his way back to bed. He said, “But Mommy, I can’t lock your door! What if I have more UNDERWEAR ISSUES??”

Tonight he said his prayers. He asked the Lord, “and please help us that our dreams won’t be too scary. I mean, maybe our dreams could be happy or something. Yeah, maybe we could dream that we’re on a train. Or maybe we could just see a train in our dreams. Well, at least help us dream about trains. Oh yeah, and please help me to not have underwear issues.”

Dear ElGuyo

Since I started this blog, I’ve had an insane amount of mail from all over the world. I thought I’d take some time to answer a few emails.

Dear ElGuyo,

I love your blog. You really sound like a weird guy. I noticed that most of your blog entries are about motor vehicles. Are you obsessed with cars and motorcycles?

Sincerely,

Blog Reader in Detroit


Dear Reader,

Thank you for your email. I’m glad you enjoy my blog. If you think I’m weird, you should look at yourself. I mean, you read my blog. Don’t you have anything better to do? No, I’m not obsessed with automobiles. I’ve just had a few recent experiences with them.


Dear ElGuyo,

Are you really as lazy as you sound in your blog?

-Hans, East Germany


Dear Hans,

Yes.

Dear ElGuyo,

I’ve been reading your blog for several weeks now. I just can’t get over your name. I mean, what kind of a name is ElGuyo?? I don’t believe that’s your real name. I think you made it up. What are the odds of a dude named ElGuyo marrying a chick named ElGirlo? What gives?

Yours truly,

Ruth, Deluth

Dear Ruth,

Nothing gets past you! You’re right. My real name is not ElGuyo. That’s actually my e-name. I chose this pseudonym to disguise my real name in case any deranged lunatics out there might start reading this blog and decide to stalk me or something. I’ve been stalked twice, and neither time was a pleasant experience. I would have called ElGirlo ElGallo since gal jives with guy. The problem is, ElGallo and ElGuyo would be pronounced the same way. Then if we were ever in a busy airport and someone recognized one of us and called out, “Hey ElG-I-O!” we wouldn’t know who they were calling out to. The real issue here, Ruth, is you. I mean, is Ruth your real name? Ruth from Deluth?? Sounds a little fishy.



Dear ElGuyo,

All I do is read your blog over and over. I’ve become obsessed with you. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t take it anymore. If I ever find out who you are, I must kill you to put an end to it all!

Love,

Deranged in New Delhi

Dear Deranged,

This is why I write under a pseudonym!


Dear ElGuyo,

Mega dittos from the Midwest! I agree that Hillary is a feminazi freak, but the alternative—Obama—is a communist wacko. I think despite our misgivings about McCain, we conservatives need to rally behind him so we can fight liberalism!

-Buck, Colorado


Dear Buck,

I’m afraid you have me confused with “ElRushbo.”


Dear ElGuyo,

When are you going to grow up, get serious about life, and put an end to this blogging nonsense?

-Disappointed in Idaho


Dear Disappointed,

Thanks for the concern, Dad. Can I borrow a hundred bucks?

Well, that’s all the time I have for now. Keep those emails coming!

can't...plant...transplant...pant...

Friday night, ElGirlo met me at work and we went to the temple. It was the new Rexburg Temple. Very beautiful. On our way, she told me of her plans to transplant 9 trees the next day—3 trees for us and 3 each for two of our neighbors.

I asked ElGirlo if she realized how difficult it would be to transplant those trees. I don’t think she did. At about 11:30 that night, we mapped out where we wanted to put the trees.

We awoke early Saturday morning and began digging in the…well, I can’t say dirt…we began digging in the rocks. Yep. There were many more rocks than dirt. Not fun, as some of the rocks were as big as my head. (And let me tell ya, I have a big head!) Anyway, we dug and dug, but mostly dislodged rocks. Backbreaking work.

One of the neighbors decided they didn’t have time to transplant that day. O.k. The other neighbor asked us to help them dig their 3 holes. We got there in the late afternoon after digging in our yard all day. Happily, their yard had a good layer of topsoil on it, and digging theirs was cake compared to ours.

We finally got out to the house of the nice folks who were giving the trees away at about 4pm. That’s when the real work began. We dug out two big plum trees with humongous root balls. The biggest one was over 10 feet tall! ElGirlo had described it as about 6 feet. I had told her a 6 foot tree might be too big for us. Yeah. That tree was a beast.

The neighbors who were helping us weren’t much help. He was recovering from back surgery, so he couldn’t lift a finger. She worked as hard as she could, but is suffering from several illnesses that make pushing herself too hard very dangerous. She pushed herself too hard. We got a bit worried when she just about passed out.

Thankfully, ElGirlo’s dad came to the rescue. He helped us dig the trees out. Or I should say, we helped him dig the trees out. He was a ball of energy. ElGirlo & I were exhausted from digging all day. Heck, it’s Thursday and I’m still exhausted! Father-in-Law really saved our aching bums. Our tree was so heavy we had to pull it out with his engine jack.

Back at home, we got the tree off the trailer by wrapping a tow rope around the root ball and pulling with a truck. Heavy.

We only ended up getting 2 trees, one for us, one for the neighbors. We figured we didn’t have the strength to get any more.

ElGirlo plans to go back today. I don’t know if she will or not.
Me? I gotta go to work. Yippee!

The Bean Jar

The last couple of months, the boys have worked hard to fill up a little jar full of beans. They earn beans by behaving well, doing work around the house, and so forth. When the bean jar is full, they get to choose a fun activity to go do. The bean jar is full. They wanted to go to Yellowstone Bear World. We had a great time. We'd never been before. We went this afternoon. With it being Wednesday, and threatening to rain, we essentially had the park to ourselves. That was nice because we got to take it at our own pace. We were riding the rides afterward when we learned that the folks running the rides were bear-keepers. As we were talking, they offered to let us pet the little black bear cubs. So cool! Here's a little video:

A solution!

So I thought of a solution to the question of whether or not I should share my book on the blog. (See the post "Writing" below.) I won't post to the blog. Instead, I'll upload each chapter to Google Docs. Then, if you would like, I'll invite you to view it online. That way I keep it protected, but I can still share with all ya'll. I'll upload a chapter every couple of weeks or so, then we'll have time to discuss each one and I can edit accordingly Just email me if you'd like to read the book. My email address is at the top of the blog.

The Thought that Forgot

There once was a thought that forgot
It forgot quite a bit, quite a lot.
It forgot to occur
So it thus stayed obscure
In the mind of the thinker who thought.

The thinker once started the thought,
But stopped when the thought came to naught.
“It must be quite trivial, this thought that I got,”
Said the thinker who misplaced the thought.

But this thought unimportant was not
And it lost its great place in the plot
Of the world’s allegory,
That wonderful story
Comprised of each remembered thought.

“Remember,” I tell every thought,
“Don’t let yourself ever get caught
Forgetting to come
To the mind of someone.
Just give it your best thinking shot.”

If ever you find yourself caught
Unable to finish a thought,
Put regret to a halt
It isn’t your fault.
You’ve just had a thought that forgot.

Writing (#3, Pastime Series)

I’ve started this blog entry several times now. I start it, erase it, and start again. I blame this, partially, on writer’s block. I blame it mostly on the fact that I’m still not sure I want to publicly reveal this part of me. Fear of rejection? Perhaps. This falls into a category of hobbies that I enjoy, but have no idea if I have any aptitude for. In short, I like to write.

Of course, I write this blog, which is to me a public journal. But the kind of writing I’m talking about is fiction. Some who know me well might be surprised to learn that I enjoy writing. It is not a face that I wear in the open. Like my blog, the fiction I write is really aimed inward—toward myself. It’s a kind of therapy. I’m amazed sometimes at the way hopes, dreams, fears, and philosophy can come together on the printed page. For me, it’s a way of coping with my shyness, and expressing myself indirectly. Did I mention how vulnerable I feel writing this?

The novel I’m working on was born of a dream—the kind of dream that makes plenty of sense, until I try to explain it. Then I realize it’s all gibberish. But I decided to make it make sense. So a story built up around it. It’s probably a lousy story. It probably still makes no sense, but I enjoy writing it. I enjoy it, even though it’s a hopelessly romantic tale, the kind of book I’d never read. Ironic, eh?

I have no doubt the novel would never win any literary prize. I’d be astounded if it were ever even published. It needs a good editor. I’m sure by intellectuals’ standards, the book is trash. But then, I’ve read too many books that were acclaimed by the snobbish world of English graduates that I thought were pitiful. How is it that some of these books make the NY Times bestseller list?

On the other hand, I’ve read many other works that have touched me deeply. They were skillfully written, with style and grace, signifying their respective authors’ brilliance—a brilliance I could never hope to approach.

But again, I write for me. And if someone else enjoys it, all the better. I just don’t expect it, that’s all.

I have toyed a long time with the idea of posting chapters of my book to this blog. Honestly, I could use some critical opinion. But, I’m still wondering if I’m ready to expose myself so candidly. I also worry about sharing an unfinished work in public domain. But, like this blog motivates me to continue journal writing, I think posting my unfinished book might motivate me to keep writing it. It might help to bounce ideas off other folks.

What do you think? Should I post the first chapter?

Yellowstone

The ElFamilia went to Yellowstone Park yesterday. We saw a lot of wildlife, including a couple of newborn bison calves. One little calf was walking down the middle of the highway with its parents. We stopped to take a picture, but Daddy Buffalo got a little cranky. So we left in a hurry. We were sprayed by a geyser that was next to the trail. I don’t think it usually erupts as big as it did. Then, the geyser right behind the trail erupted and sprayed us too. The trip was awesome. We had a great time.

A Little Piece of Heaven

ElGirlo posted this to a family website:

So there are days that the kids drive me crazy, and coming up with effective discipline techniques is a nightmare. Then there are moments that just completely make it all worth it, and I realize what amazing sweet little people I have the opportunity to know and raise.

Thursday evening we had one of those beautiful times. We had gone to IF to run a few errands, and we were just about ready to head back home when the boys asked if we could go to the temple. We agreed, and took them over to the temple grounds and walked around a bit before taking them through the visitor's center. The boys always love it when we drive by the temple. ElKiddo always gets really upset when we are out of visual range and he can't see the temple any more. Anyway, so as we were walking around he just kept looking up at the temple with big eyes saying over & over, "I tan't bleeve it! I tan't bleeve it!" It was so sweet.

Then we went into the visitor's center, which they have just remodeled in the past year or so, and they put in a Christus statue. A sister missionary greeted us at the door. She was so sweet, and directed all of her comments to the boys. She brought us over by the Christus statue and asked if they would like to hear Jesus talk to them. We listened to the presentation, and afterward the missionary shared her testimony with the boys. She told them that she knows that Jesus lives, and that he loves us very much. ElBoyo jumped in, "I know that too!" After she was done talking with them, she asked if they would like to go up & touch the statue of Jesus. They spent some time walking around and feeling the statue. ElKiddo kept trying to reach up and touch Jesus's hand, but he wasn't big enough. I lifted him up and he tenderly put his hand in Jesus's hand. Then he reached out his arms to both sides and said, "Like Jesus!" I said, "Yeah, doesn't it look like he wants to give you a big hug?" Immediately, ElKiddo squirmed down and went up to the statue and gave Jesus a big hug and said, "I love Jesus!" For the next 10 minutes or so both ElBoyo & ElKiddo stayed there giving Jesus hugs and repeating, "I love Jesus!" There were other people there smiling and watching them quietly. We tried to move on to see the other displays, but ElKiddo didn't want to leave Jesus. As we were leaving he said, "Don't go! I wann stay here."

It was just really sweet to see that they could feel the spirit and recognize that they were in a really special place. Just wanted to share that with you.

Biker Dude (#2, pastime series)

I plan to attend a motorcycle rally tomorrow. A reasonable person might expect a motorcycle rally to be filled with eccentrics in Harley shirts and leathers, with long beards, shaved heads, handlebar mustaches, and tattoos. And, sure, you get some of that. But most folks that go to these things are nerds. Like me. In fact, there are so many geeks, nerds, dweebs, and wierdos that show up that if not for the presence of the bikes, one could mistake the event for a Star Trek convention.

The truth is, the typical Hell’s Angel ain’t so typical anymore. We’re talking doctors, lawyers, and folks like that. At one time, four pharmacists I worked with rode their bikes to work. We’d park all five bikes together, making our little drug store look like a biker bar.

It doesn’t matter who is riding. There is an unspoken camaraderie between motorcyclists. We watch out for each other. For instance, we always stick our left hand out in greeting to other bikes on the road. If a group is riding formation, they’ll typically allow others to join. Riding bikes is dangerous—not usually because bikers don’t know what they’re doing (though there is some of that), but because other motorists don’t watch out for bikers. So we have to watch out for each other.

Thus the motorcycle rally tomorrow. It’s an awareness rally—an annual reminder to folks to watch out for bikes; we share the road. A couple of years ago, my parents were hit by a carload of teenagers playing game called, “how many stop signs can we run without hitting someone.” My parents were the unlucky answer to that question. The Valkyrie they were riding was knocked into the oncoming lane of traffic, and they ended up underneath a truck that hit them.

By all accounts, they should be dead. In fact, Dad’s hearts stopped 3 or 4 times on the way to the ER. He had over 20 broken bones, if I remember right. His has been a long, hard recovery. At least he’s alive. The bike wasn’t so lucky. However, I spoke to Dad this morning and he’s ready to buy a new bike. He gets knocked down, but he gets up again. That’s the true biker spirit. I guess if riding kills you, you die living. Personally, I can’t think of a better way to go.

I ride a Kawasaki Vulcan Classic 1500. It’s very cool, not to mention the first vehicle I’ve ever owned that wasn’t entirely embarrassing. When the weather cooperates, I ride it just about everyday to and from work—and just about everywhere else. I even ride in the cold. There’s nothing like the easyrider feeling of being free on two wheels. It’s even better with my sweetheart’s arms wrapped around my waist. Also, I love to ride with my riding partners, my dad and brother. We share the passion.

Well, I guess I’d better get some sleep so I can be refreshed and ready for tomorrow. I’d hate to miss the Star Trek convention…I mean motorcycle rally.

ElTrucko

And now—more news on the car saga…

When we first moved back to ElTowno, we took our little Nissan king cab 4X4 pickup, aka ElTrucko, in to see the car doctor to have it’s head examined. You see, after years of abuse, ElTrucko was having…issues. It was determined that poor little ElTrucko needed brain surgery. One head gasket, several man-hours of labor, and a thousand dollars later, we took ElTrucko home, happy to be rid of its behavioral problems.

But it was not to last.

Not 5 months later, ElTrucko’s mental instability returned—this time with a vengeance. How sad we were for ElTrucko, the poor little thing. Depression and anger were manifest in black smoke and loud outbursts. Even after much coercion, ElTrucko refused to run properly, choosing instead to brood darkly in the driveway. The doctor of machinery, alas, did not back up his work. Another surgery was not economically feasible at the time. We parked ElTrucko alongside the north end of the house and left it to rest from its turmoil for a season.

We looked far and wide for a replacement vehicle. Ok, so not very far, and not very wide. It so happened that my brother was keen to get rid of his beast of a van. I bought it for $300. To say it needed work would be, well, accurate. It was worth about $300. The back hatch had to be propped up by an old broomstick. The ignition was missing, so it had to be started with a screwdriver. The alignment was more than slightly off. The gas mileage was about 10 miles/gallon. It stalled regularly, usually in the middle of intersections. The teal green paint reminded us of Scooby-Doo’s Mystery Machine.

Ok, so it wasn’t a luxury vehicle. But what can you expect for $300?

Personally, I thought it was a good deal. We figured if it would get us through the winter, we’d be good to go. We’d then fix up ElTrucko and get on with life.

With my dad’s help, I was able to fix most things on the van. I installed a new ignition, new struts for the back hatch, and a new air filter. That took care of most of the problems. It hasn’t stalled much at all since then.

And, oh, it’s lasted us much longer than the winter. Unless you consider the fact that it is now April and we are still experiencing snowstorms, so technically, is winter really over? This is so depressing, I might go brood darkly in the driveway. But I digress.

After we laid ElCarro to rest last month, we decided to give ElTrucko the surgery she needed. We shoveled her out of the mountain of snow she was buried under. (Note to self: don’t park a car on the north side of the house during winter.) It took a few hours to pull her out. We found another surgeon. We learned that the timing chain had eaten into the casing. Not good. Alas, ElTrucko’s damage was irreversible (without paying more than ElTrucko is worth.)

Not a week after ElCarro’s death, we hollowed out a grave next to it in the salvage yard and buried ElTrucko.

We’ll miss ElTrucko every bit as much as ElCarro. She was a wonderful little truck.

When we found her, we had looked and looked for a small truck. We couldn’t find anything we wanted in our price range.

One day, in desperation, we went home to our tiny one-bedroom apartment in the basement of a protestant church and prayed for help finding a decent truck at a decent price. We were astonished when we went back outside to find the perfect answer to our prayers parked right in our driveway with a “for sale” sign in her window. We bought her from the regional director of the church we rented from.

We went on many adventures with ElTrucko. She wasn’t very fast, but she’d go just about anywhere. And we took her just about everywhere. No wonder she was so depressed when she got sick. No doubt she missed our little adventures. We did too.

Today we have a lovely little Nissan sedan that actually works, is comfortable, and even has air conditioning. We have a $300 tithing van that might actually last us another winter. But we can’t help but feel a little nostalgic as we drive past Intermountain Auto Recycling and remember ElCarro and ElTrucko, buried side by side in a mountain of mechanical trash. May they rest in peace.