"Holbrook" Canyon

Sunday I drove home from checking on my folks' house, in nothing more than sandals, shorts and a T-shirt, and passed by Holbrook Canyon (above), home of Barton Creek, looking fall-worthy as a place could be. Of course, anyone who knows anything understands that it is really Bailey canyon and Brett's creek. I literally grew up here. We lived in a small house that my parents rented for $75 a month. It was the highest house on the hill near this canyon, and you could only access the house via a dirt road and an old stone bridge that crossed this creek. There were no neighbors, just my brothers and me. Mom was courageous enough to let us roam absolutely free, so from the time I was 4 until junior high, almost every waking day found me in this canyon, building dams or forts, throwing rocks, hiking, chasing lizards, fishing, dodging rattle snakes (we never told mom) -- you name it.

Given all that, I couldn't resist an impromptu late-afternoon hike, lack of shoes notwithstanding. Within minutes, magical colors surrounded me and drew me on. I ended up hiking for several hours, higher in the canyon than I had ever been.

The photo above is the spot where I camped the very first time I backpacked -- with my best friend Doug Folsom, at age 12, with nary an adult in sight. I don't know if times were different then or if we are just more paranoid now (thank you, TV news), but between fear of child abductions or the risk of them starting the next great conflagration, it would be hard for me to let a 12 year old son out like that. Which is a shame, because those were very formative experiences and are some of the best memories I carry. We used this same fire-ring to cook tinfoil dinners our mothers had prepared. Amazing it is still there, 35 years later.

The second time we went camping alone (probably the next year) we stayed here. It is a perfect camp spot, with overhanging, protective trees and a soft grass bed. (That fire ring also has at least 35 years of use.)

The technicolor trails were everything you could ask for: quiet but for the sound of the babbling creek; cool, crisp air flowing down the canyon; and a damp earthy smell that I swear exists nowhere else. I smiled ear-to-ear the whole time I was there, and walked with a bounce and exuberance not altogether familiar to these aging legs. As I snapped away, I realized that more than any other place in the world, this was home for me. I was finally home, after a long time away. That is a really good feeling.

I was footsore and blistered by the time I wandered out at dusk, but ever-grateful to have broken routine and explored what was, and still is, my back yard. It rained and blew hard the next day, and I have no doubt many of these leaves did not survive it. Change is omnipresent and merciless. But every so often, for a moment, it can be cheated, with past and present colliding in a happy confluence of memory and beauty that recharges the soul. Those are rare and great days indeed.

Antelope Island Sunset Part 2

Not possible to take enough pictures of Great Salt Lake sunsets from Davis County, if you ask me. I really missed them while away from my Utah home all these years. They bring an at times inexplicable affirmation that all is right with the world after all, no matter the craziness that surrounds me. For whatever reason, I feel compelled to share that small bit of sanity. Sorry if it is too much and too often.

So Cal Part Deux: Sea World and Laguna Beach

After the nirvana of Legoland, we braced for letdown at Sea World the next day. We need not have worried. I know that among certain sectors these places are controversial. I can respect that, though I would note that none of the people in those sectors have really lived in the kill or be killed wild. A nice cozy abode with plentiful fish may well be the preferred alternative of most sea life. Even if it were not, as the images below show so plainly, the cause of preserving wild things in wild places has no greater friend than this land of captives. (Sometimes, life is paradox.)

My children were enthralled. Light shown on their faces, wonder and glee from every pore. Scientists use the cold, hard, over-involved term "anthorpomorphization" to characterize this reaction; I prefer the warm and simple "empathy." And in my book, there is nothing wrong with that.

All that said, we had a blast. Thank you Sea World, keep up the good work.

Kate could not have been more in her element.

Hard to decide who has the bigger smile -- the dolphin thinking about fish or Keegan watching him think about fish.

Check out that tongue!

Love those cheesy poser grins. Shamu did not disappoint, though. Check out the photos, and then the reactions of my kids at watching her.

Next up, the Ray pond. Alden was fit to be tied when we got there. Check out the transformation.

Easily the most beautiful smile on the planet, right below.

Handsome little guy there, no? He got all confident from the fact that he touched the Rays without any obvious consequence.

Turtle Dude knows how to spend a warm afternoon. We could all take a few lessons on that.

Kate and Colieus. Isn't she great!?

Lucky for us, Sea World had its own water park, and that is where we ended the day. Needless to say, any place with a water park is "the best!"

At least until you get cold, anyway. Look at that poor shivering little guy.

Alden in his element. Has loved playing in water since his first bath.

After spending the following day lounging at the beach, we hit the tide pools in Laguna. Kids had a blast with the Hermit Crabs. Crabs, not so much (see kill or be killed, above . . . )

Reluctantly, we finally had to leave to catch a plane. Thanks again to our good friends Paul, Marilyn and family (below), who let us crash Le Hotel Jagerhaus. We had a great time!

SoCal Part 1: Legoland

We used the school vacation/UEA Conference to go visit our dear friends the Jagers in SoCal last weekend (and we would visit and say that about them even if they didn't live so close to Laguna . . . really we would!). The trip was a success from the moment we stepped on the airplane. Alden, who is steeped in all things Star Wars, was fascinated by the airplane. He insisted on the window seat, and watched every second of the takeoff ("Dad, this is the fastest plane ever!").

For 45 minutes he made not a peep, staring out his window. Then he gently nudged me on the arm, and said, "Dad, to you want to watch the wing with me?" How wonderful it is to vicariously see the world with four year old eyes again, and remember what an amazing miracle it is just to fly.

Aldy is also a certified Lego and Star Wars fanatic, so first stop had to be Legoland. We had never been there before, and I must say, if you have kids between 3 and 9, it is a riot. Just look at what greeted Alden at the entrance:

Can you say "nirvana?" Even his cheesy, I am posing grin can't hide the happy little boy he was.

The trip was filled with firsts, including first fake car drive (below) and first roller coaster ride (above). After the roller coaster, he said "Mom, that first one was just a LITTLE bit steep." You should magnify the picture and look at his face. Priceless.

The real hit of the trip, though, was the water park. We had been warned to take a change of clothes, and it was a good thing we did. The kids played for hours. Here are a few photos.

After the water park, we made a symbolic visit to the old homestead. Still can't believe that whole thing is made of lego.

A few calmer rides and long walks later, we were done, but not without a good farewell to Bob and Albert.

We finished of the day with a trip to California Pizza Kitchen, where Keegan dug into everything with gusto. After eating a bite of their artichoke spinach dip, almost the whole restaurant heard him exclaim, "Ooh, I love that! I love eating. Eating is very fun!" A while later, he said of the pizza "That was tasty!" Now there is a little man after my own heart.

Still to come: Sea World and Laguna.

Great Salt Lake Sunset

To any faithful soul who actually still reads my blog -- so sorry for the hiatus. Much has been going on at work (my boss quit), children have had health issues ( flu, flu, flu, fractured skull -- I kid you not) and we have been traveling. More will come shortly, but for now, a few pics from Antelope Island last night at sunset. I love this place -- it is amazing. I have never been out there at sunset without feeling totally energized. How lucky we are to live near.

Grand Teton Mega Post

Work drains me deeply these days. I read recently that job uncertainty is more stressful than unemployment, and I am beginning to believe it. After nine months of wondering whether I will still have a job or not, the stress is showing. I actually thought the other day that it may just be possible to grow tired of this life. (Nothing suicidal there, mind you, just a "maybe it will be OK to die when that time comes" kind of thing.) I have never thought that before, so needless to say, I was in need of a serious recharge.

Having just attended a wonderful Ken Burns lecture about the spiritual renewal that seems inevitable in our national parks, I pushed a reluctant family into a Labor Day trip to Grand Teton National Park. Of course, it started out as a complete disaster. Work required me to be in Houston all week, in a bad hotel bed, no less, and packing had to wait until the night before we left. It trailed into the following morning, and a planned 10:00 AM departure turned into 1:30, with a tired and cranky me facing recriminations for keeping Kate out of school when she could have been there, and arguments about whether we should have left earlier. A tense drive followed, worrying about getting a good campsite at Jenny lake, and arriving just before sunset to find that sure enough it was full. Gros Ventre, the other nearby campground, was open but seemed not ideal. Grumpiness and stress abounded.

Then out of nowhere, Keegan piped up from the back seat: "Dad, I want to see the buffalo." Where he came up with this I have no idea, as the last time we talked about buffalo was almost a year (half his life) ago, on Antelope Island. Where ever it came from, he may as well have said "let there be buffalo," because suddenly there they were, 50 of them, Tetons towering behind, right off the road leading to our second-choice campground.

We turned from the buffalo just as the biggest harvest moon I have ever seen peeked over the hills to the east. So big and bright that Keegan exclaimed, "look mom, its a SUNNY moon!" And indeed it was. We pitched our tent aided by its light, and just as we had finished, a pack of at least a dozen coyotes howled and yipped in delight, the song dogs singing for what seemed like hours into the night. It was the last sound we heard as we all fell asleep.

The next morning found me up before dawn, watching the sun rise on the Tetons just as that beautiful full moon set behind them. Here is a photo:

Sunrise here is breathtaking and serene all at once, pure magic. After sunrise I wandered down to Schwabacher's landing, and found a huge beaver pond with a perfect reflection.

The day was largely spent with the kids soaking in String Lake, while Kath and I lounged on the beach.

Late afternoon found us headed back to the beaver ponds where we watched at least three, and maybe four, beavers building dams, swimming, chomping on saplings, and generally doing beaver things. How cool is that? We watched for hours, until the sun set behind those magnificent peaks.

Sunday morning I was up before dawn again, photographing away. After a few snaps from the Snake River overlook, I headed up to Oxbow Bend, and had one of the best mornings in recent memory. The water was glass. Mount Moran was magnificent. Pelicans floated in the bend as the sun flashed through a mostly overcast sky, lighting up the foreground and parts of the mountain. People watching spoke only in hushed and reverent tones.

A pack of six river otters began catching fish, then squabbling over it on the far river bank. Suddenly, a beaver popped up in their midst, scattering them. They tried to chase him off, but were too scared of teeth and tail to be convincing.

Just as these shenanigans were concluding, Bald Eagles flew overhead.

How can you top a morning like that? Not easy, if you ask me, but a quick morning drive by glass-like String Lake added to the experience.

That afternoon the family took a boat ride across Jenny Lake and hiked past Hidden Falls to Inspiration Point. Each of the kids came back with blood on them somewhere from various falls and scrapes, but were real troopers, all things considered.

We proceeded on to Mormon Row, where we photographed this classic Teton view.

Afternoon found us less than 20 yards from 3 huge bull moose. Check these guys out.

Now that is a moose. Take a second look at that rack!

Sunday evening and Monday morning were much the same, with a stop by the visitor center for good measure. Keegan is such a goofball. Look at him, then note his T-Shirt in the following photo.

I returned still tired but very renewed. Ken Burns is right -- above all, these places are spiritual, where renewal inevitably occurs. In the past, Grand Teton has been a beautiful place that we drove by on the way to Yellowstone. That will no longer be the case -- it is a wildlife spectacle, with one of the finest backdrops on the planet; a place where the work-weary world recedes, and the energy of creation seeps into your bones. How grateful I am for our National Parks. Here's to you, John D. Rockefeller Jr., FDR, and all others who preserved this place against violent, anti-federal government opposition. Thank you for a wonderful gift.

Camp Floyd

A few weeks ago we participated in a Utah State Parks event, designed to teach kids history and science at state parks. This one was at Camp Floyd, the place where Brigham Young agreed to let Johnston's Army, then the largest military force in the United States, stay in 1858. The event involved some wonderful volunteers who dressed us up as US soldiers, in traditional uniforms, and taught us the fine art of "drilling," because that was what Johnston's Army did most of all.


The army ostensibly was there to put down a suspected Mormon rebellion. However, as we learned on this weekend, Johnston was a southerner, dedicated to the secessionist movement, who was eventually killed fighting for the Confederate cause. It is suspected that he, who had played a large role in convincing president Buchanan to send the army west, actually did it in order to have the troops out of the way when the Southern states seceded from the Union. In addition, we learned, as Keegan points out above, that it was a stop on the Pony Express, during the brief life of that famous institution.

Cutest Soldier Ever.

It took Alden a bit of warming up, but when they finally brought out the guns, he was even willing to don an ill fitting cap and play along.

Sad to say, Keegan already knows which is the business end of the gun, and has some definite ideas about where it should be pointed.

This picture just cracks me up. Enlarge it and look at Keegan's face. The one eye you can see says so much about him. How can you not be totally in love with that? Meanwhile Kate took it all very seriously, and I think learned a lot. Alden just hated the thick wool coat, and let you know it whenever you even tried to put it on him.

Coat off, and all is well.

In the end, it was a fun experience for all. Kudos to Utah Parks!

Flaming Gorge and the Gates of Ladore

My wonderful father-in-law, Brent Moon, and his wife Val left on a mission August 3, and will be gone for 18 months. In their honor, the family had a last big party on the Wyoming half of Flaming Gorge this past weekend. I have married into a truly great family (photo of the handsome crew, with one exception, above), and it was a joy to be with each of them.

If you have ever been, you know that Wyoming is synonymous with windy -- I think you could put a wind-power turbine on almost every inch of the state, and probably power the entire western US in the process. Nonetheless, we found a wonderfully secluded spot that miraculously provided plenty of glass for water skiing over the course of two plus days. To top it off there were few other boaters except for mid-day on Saturday. Here are a few photos from our campsite.

The kids -- particularly Alden-- enjoyed the boating, skiing and tubing to no end.

Below is my favorite photo from the trip, taken while Uncle Nate allowed Alden to drive at full speed. Note the position of Alden's hands on the steering wheel, his daredevil smile, and the expression on Nate's face. And Nate is a certified adrenaline junky. 'Nuf said.

It is hard to put the charm of Alden's boyish innocence into words, but here is one small example. We were down on the beach after a long boat ride, and he jumped up saying, "I think I need to go poopy!" There seemed to be great urgency, and he kept repeating it as he ran to the pit toilet up the hill (with me chasing madly behind him to "help"). As we tried to get his wet swimsuit off, it kept sticking, and I remarked that it must be too tight. He stopped, despite the urgency of the moment, and carefully explained in slow, clear terms that his dad could understand, "No dad, its friction! There is too much friction! I learned it from Ms. Frizzle." He then proceeded to do the deed, and as he did, exclaimed, " I was right! I did need to go poopy!" as if he really could have been wrong, and was genuinely surprised. This was immediately followed by, "Boy, I am sure glad Heavenly Father made pit toilets!"

He is a fun little guy to be around, even in the depths of a heaven sent (not to be confused in any way with "scent") pit toilet.

Keegan has some unique "charm" of his own. Why is it, for example, that when I look at this photo, I think of an old english man playing with model sailboats on a pond somewhere?

The nights were moonlit and filled with the sound of coyotes howling, and the days were sunny but not too warm. If not for the occasional desert wind gust (strong enough to topple tents, mind you) it would have been pretty ideal.

Saturday afternoon everyone left but us Baileys, and we decided to pack up and make a mad dash for the Gates of Ladore, in Dinosaur National Monument. The dash was rewarding in itself -- we saw many Pronghorn Antelope, innumerable bunny rabbits (a crowd favorite in our car) and even two badgers. Arriving around 11:00 p.m., (and narrowly escaping a too-many-DVDs-dead car battery), I was greeted by this moonset over the Gates. Need to work on my night exposures, but it was pretty cool to see.

John Wesley Powell began his first exploratory float of the Colorado River system and Grand Canyon in Green River, Wyoming, on (surprise) the Green River, just above Flaming Gorge. After spending much time floating down something that was well known and looked like this:

he suddenly came upon the Gates of Ladore, which mark the entry into Canyon Country proper, and look like this:

Imagine heading toward that not having the least knowledge of what lay ahead -- impassable falls, endless, unscalable cliffs, limited or no food, hostile tribes, or what have you-- and knowing that there was no turning back. No one had ever run these rivers before -- they were completely blank on every map of the day. That map would soon be filled in with names like "Upper Disaster Falls" and "Lower Disaster Falls." These were very brave and resourceful men.

Happily for us, it is simply a very beautiful place. It also happens to contain the most perfect echo I have ever heard. Here are Keegan and Kate shouting for all they are worth to test it out.

All in all, another great weekend.

Albion Basin

Six months ago Uncle Salty Pants had the foresight to schedule a group campsite at Albion Basin Campground for this past weekend. I don't have time to write a lot, but will say this:

• More wildflowers than you ever have the right to see in your lifetime: check
• Great alpine hiking: check
• 105 degrees in Salt Lake Valley, 78 degrees at the campground: check
• Ptarmigan anxiously watching her chicks crossing the road: check
• Rufous colored Marmots: check
• More ground squirrels than you can throw a rock at trying to steal your lunch: check
• Giant moose with velvety antlers: check
• Mountain lake to dip your toes in on a hot day: check
• Happy children and very good company: check
• 24 blissful hours without thinking about work: check

World's cutest camper, right there.

White Columbine at the campground.

The cousins and Devils Castle.

The Campers.

The Lunch Thief.

Cecret Lake.

Cousins holding hands. Cracks me up.

I can't tell you how much I needed that this weekend. I am ever thankful for those tender mercies.

Its Happened

Well, the bomb dropped at work this week: Flying J plans to "merge" with Pilot, its chief rival in the truck stop business, whose headquarters are in Knoxville Tennessee. Pilot's management will control the company, and as they say, "legal is a headquarters function." So long job. Don't know how long it will take, but I am deeply sad. It has been a great place to work, and I have had more fun being inside a company managing challenging issues than I have ever had in a workplace. It is hard to think you have finally found a home only to see it move away. Please keep my family in your prayers.

Sequoia National Park For Three Amazing Hours

A recent business trip took me and a work colleague, Fred, to Fresno.  About an hour and a half away was Sequoia National Park, and when business finished early, neither of us could resist. In truth, it is one of the most unique places in the world.  You see, there are all other trees, and then there are Giant Sequoias.  At first sight they make you think perhaps Paul Bunyan really did exist, because that outsized tale in all its glory fits easily into these outsized trees.  

There simply is no way to really portray a Sequoia in a photo.  The seemingly tiny, thin trees surrounding the spiral giant above are in fact 150 feet tall. It would take several men with arms outstretched just to touch at middle finger-tips and surround the bases of those smaller trees, which have pine cones the size of my forearm.  To realize that at one time the Sierras were covered in the far larger Sequoias is to feel the world primeaval.  The fact that these living things were also around at the birth of Christ imbues the trails among them with a reverence I have experienced only in very sacred places.  

In this place you are tempted to look up all the time, but I am thankfully here to tell you that it would be a grave mistake. As we walked among the tall trees in the early evening, the fellow below jumped out about forty feet away, and began shredding a tree of its bark like cotton candy off a paper stick.  Happily, grubs are apparently more interesting than people, and as soon as it was done with them, the bear walked briskly away, leaving us to continue our walk.

A forest like this will breathe life back into you, and both Fred and I were in deep need of that salve. These trees survive searing fire and direct lightning strikes with a shrug, and that tangible resilience and permanence literally emanates from them. It feels like cool water in the blowing desert sands of the world.

The tree above is the General Sherman, known as the largest tree in the world by mass.  Yet for all their size, and the exaggerated wrinkles in their bark, Sequoias are smooth and soft to the touch, with a fine fuzz finish on the outside.

Your neck may creak by the time you are done, but you will never tire of looking up.

Perhaps the best part, though, is that critters notwithstanding, we were virtually alone on our Tuesday evening walk. Apparently, people don't go out of their way to see trees.  If you haven't been, you should go. You will never regret doing it.

A Drive Up the Street

If you drive up our street to the top, about a quarter mile, and take a left, you enter a road which quickly becomes dirt and ascends Ward Canyon. Twenty-six white-nuckled miles later, you descend Farmington Canyon. In between lies a VERY narrow road, a lot of fun, and some of the most sweeping views of the Great Salt Lake you can find anywhere. We decided to drive it last Sunday afternoon, and were not disappointed, except, perhaps, for the one of us who was trying to sleep as his dad drove the washed out road.

During one particularly bouncy stretch, there was a tense exchange:

Keegan: "Whoa, what was that?"
Dad: "Sorry, it is a very bumpy road."
Keegan: "That means you have to slow down, dad. SLOW DOWN!"

Whoever heard of a 2 year old backseat driver? Well, I have one. Lucky me. Here he is in all his glory.

Kate and Alden were much more tolerant, and generally didn't let the bouncing get in the way of watching Scooby Doo episodes on the DVD player, or enjoying the views along the way.


After a bit, even Keegan began to have fun, walking amongst the alpine flowers and clinging to binoculars every step of the way.

Of course, there is nothing like a beaver pond to make any trip, no matter how bouncy, a success.  We found a really great one about 2/3rds of the way through, and the kids had a heyday, wading, throwing rocks, and making friends with some boys who caught a salamander in the pond, and were kind enough to share.  


No sign of the beaver, but his handiwork was evident everywhere.  Farther along, up Francis Peak, there were some wonderful wildflowers.

The photo below is a view from the top.  The near peak is Bountiful Peak, and in the background lies the much higher mountains that tower over Salt Lake City and give us our great skiing.  

 I want to send the photo in to Chrysler with the caption "There is Only One Jeep."  Maybe it would even help them pay back that loan from my tax dollars. Win, win there.

Here is the family hiking up an un-named peak with Bountiful below to the left and the Salt Lake Valley in the background.   It was a hazy day, but the views were spectacular nonetheless.  In any event, I plan to come back a few times, because the sunsets are simply amazing.

All in all, a great afternoon.

Has it Come to This?

We went to our local, small town (Centerville) parade on the Fourth of July, and they were handing out little American Flags for all the kids to wave.  Kate, excited and jumping up and down, ran to get one for each of our family.  On her way back, she looked down, suddenly wrinkled her nose all the way up, and exclaimed: "MADE IN CHINA?!" 

I think Kate was the only one who noticed. I wish I could convey the confused disappointment her tone contained.  Surely, we can and must do better for our children, can't we?  If we don't, I fear it could be a bumpy ride for them. Here's hoping that Made in the USA stages a comeback.

The Bee-Loud Glade

I love the phrase that is the title of this post. Wish I could take credit for it, but it belongs to W.B. Yeats, from his poem, The Lake Isle of Innisfree, which I first read in Cambridge, England in 1986. It has stuck with me since, and, as I was in need of my own place of peace on Friday (work has taken a marked turn for the worse), I went to Soapstone Basin in the Uinta Mountains. There, for a time, heavy-heartedness left me, as I surrounded myself with what I feel is miraculous evidence of a loving God. Here are more photos, interspersed with the poem. Hope you enjoy.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

and live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

and evening full of linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand in the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Camping with Uncle Salty Pants

Spring and early summer have been very wet, and we only have a tent, so it has been hard to escape for weekend camping.  Finally, we grew desperate, and when we heard that Kathleen's brother Nate (aka Uncle Salty Pants -- don't ask) and his family were going camping at nearby Deseret Peak, we decided to chance the elements and join them, notwithstanding forecasts for an unsettled weekend.

Perhaps we should have reconsidered when the road we were planning to drive to camp, South Willow Canyon, was partially blocked by a mudslide.  But no. Nothing if not intrepid, we headed up a side road and proceeded to camp at a spot higher on the ridge (at about 7000 feet) rather than in the valley.  It was a nice little spot with views and flat ground, not to mention ready access to pit toilets (wahoo!).  And it was even dry until the sun went down, giving us time to set up the tent, cook dinner, take a walk up the road past the mudslide, and roast marshmellows for smores over a warm campfire.  Usually, as long as you can do that last one, camping works for kids no matter what else happens.

But then it came.

First was the pitch darkness, followed by wind gusting hard enough to toy with any tent not guyed by a true boy scout (I, a mere tenderfoot, do not qualify). Soon thereafter came raindrops the size of small tangerines. Seriously.  I have never been tent-camping in a rain this hard. It was like one of those storms in the south or east, pounding like a Japanese drum troop, where it feels like heaven has turned on the big fire hose in the sky (say, the one that keeps the very fires of hell at bay) and pointed it straight down at you.  Have you ever been inside a tent in a storm like that?  Loud. Really loud. Loud enough to send a two year old and four year old scrambling into mom and dad's sleeping bag in a blur.  

But that was only the beginning, because in the dark of night, the thunder and lightning started, in earnest, and CLOSE.  You know how they tell you to count "one one thousand, two one thousand, three . . ."  etc. between the flash of flight and the thunder to see how far away it is? Well, at least a dozen times I got to "w" before the thunder drowned me out.  

And then, our tent blew in.  

Lucky for us Uncle Salty Pants, Eagle Scout extraordinaire and former scoutmaster, flew into action before I could even get both feet down one pant-leg.  There he was, abandoning the cozy comfort of his own pop-up trailer, goretexed head to foot, tying knots and pounding stakes like a fury unleashed.  After mere minutes, hurricane Rita couldn't have touched us.  

While that kept us safe from wind and tangerines.H2O,  there was nothing even Uncle Salty Pants could do about the lightning and thunder.  With only thin nylon walls to block things out, we went from pitch black to blinding light and back to black in a split second, over and over again.  Disorienting at best; disconcerting every time. Thunder always followed, usually before the counting could begin, as nearby oxygen and nitrogen atoms repeatedly exploded outward, singed and screaming for their lives. 

All this did not make for happy boys.  Keegan crawled to the very bottom of his mom's sleeping bag, and there, just before midnight, finally fell asleep.  Alden, who really wanted to sleep, continued to toss and turn at my side. Finally, in the way only a little boy could, he turned to me and asked, "Dad, can we sleep in thunder?"  As in, 'is it even possible?' 'Is there some trick to this I don't know yet?'   He just melts me at times. 

Innocence has its benefits. A simple "yes we can, son," and he was asleep five minutes later. (The same cannot be said for his father.) Nerves notwithstanding, we managed to weather the night, and morning presented only intermittent light drizzles.  We even got in a very short hike after breakfast, and I took a few pictures. The first is Uncle Salty Pants himself, surrounded by the kids, on top of a rock with Deseret Peak in the background.

  

The wet weather did have at least one visible benefit: There are wildflowers everywhere, including this Sego Lily, Utah's state flower.

This was basically the view from our campsite, looking east to the Oquirrh Mountains. And below is Kate, scrambling up another nearby rock, with the rest of the muddy-footed troop in tow.

So here is to Uncle Salty Pants, Nate, and his great family. Thanks for getting us out guys (even if we nearly fried)!

BRYCE II

So here are some pics from our last day in Bryce, which was, unlike all prior days, sunny as can be. I woke just after dawn, and headed to Inspiration Point for these photos. One of the hard things about photographing in Bryce is that even though it takes your breath away to see it in person, every photo you can possibly take seems to have been done before, like the one above.  Some of the below will also fall into that category, but I did try to find something new in a few of them. Let me know what you think.





This one was taken from Bryce Point, at over 9000 feet, and there I learned the plateau from which Bryce drops away is called "the Aquarius Plateau."  What an appropriate name, as this place is otherworldly.  Nowhere is that more evident than when you hike down in, which we did with the kids in tow. 

They were really pretty good on the way down the Navajo Loop, and Alden and Kate were troopers on the way back up.  However, Keegan's attitude about the climb out left only one word to describe his mother: "SheWoman," as the photos below attest.

On the way out of dodge, we actually saw this pronghorn, which was an added treat. So ended our Bryce Canyon weekend.

BRYCE CANYON

It has been raining quite frequently and at times heavily this spring and early summer--really one of the wettest times I can remember here in Utah. It almost seems like we brought our San Francisco winters here to occupy our springs.  Despite the weather and a Target-bought (albeit Eddie Bauer) family tent as our only shelter, we have been intrepid (for us) campers.  Over Memorial Day weekend, we braved predicted rain and 8000 foot elevations to camp in the Sunset Campground in Bryce Canyon.  We were greeted by rain and overcast skies, as well as this sign:

Sounds like a great place to take your family in thunderstorms and rain, right?  Especially if you have, say, a two year old with no fear, a penchant for running everywhere, and a genetic defect that renders him incapable of listening to screaming parents.  Potential for disaster and plenty of rain notwithstanding, the trip was delightful.  First, God bless GMC.  I know, I know, there is a lot of work to do there, and the bailout leaves many sore, but within the last year we purchased a GMC Acadia (AKA "the new car"), and it helped make the trip.   

What is so special about that, you ask? Well, among its other qualities, it has a DVD player with wireless headphones for each of the kids.  Two movies later, Kath and I had enjoyed four straight hours of silence and uninterrupted adult conversation for the first time in nine years. That put everyone in a good mood, to the point that the last hour of the drive found the kids and their mother singing songs together.  Kate of course is a good little singer, and lead the way. Alden, who didn't know all the words, simply said "hey, I can sing by humming!" and proceeded to do just that.  (He is all boyish innocence these days, and one of the most beautiful things you can possibly see.)  Even Keegan joined in with gusto.  

We arrived and pitched the trusty tent, started a fire, and were immediately reminded of the magic of camping and simple things.  Alden, staring at the fire, declared, "I feel so happy!" Keegan found a perfect sized stick and ran around the campground yelling "Expecto Petronum!" at the top of his lungs. (He does a mean "Expele armas!" by the way -- Harry Potter, eat your heart out.)  

Meanwhile, Kate found an old Nerf football, and began to throw perfect spiral after perfect spiral while playing catch with her dad.  Later that night, as she sat chatting with Alden by the fire, she was heard to say, "Aldy, this was one of the best days of my life."  Simple things indeed.

Of course, where Alden is involved, no moment of bliss is complete without a lightsaber, and he and Keegan found new challenges to add to their daily battles.

The bummer part about moments of bliss is that they only last, well, for a moment. Then things change.  Sure enough, soon after we finished dinner it began to rain hard, complete with thunder.  Before the night was out, Kath and I found two boys crammed into our 20 year old flannel double sleeping bag, and the commotion woke Kate, who proceeded to read (yes, Harry Potter for the umpteenth time) by headlamp until almost 6:00 a.m.  Restful the night was not.

Yet at that early hour, Kate woke me and asked if we could go take pictures.  I was tired and it was cold and overcast with a drizzle falling, but she seemed none the worst for wear, and how could I of all people resist that request? I am glad I didn't try.  The rain had deepened the colors for which Bryce is famous, as the first picture above attests, and the wet spring has produced wildflowers in abundance. The morning was glorious despite the overcast. Here are a few pics:

The manzanita were in bloom everywhere.

And I have no idea what these two flowers are, but they were everywhere along the rim as well.

After a morning of photo taking we went back and retrieved the rest of the family to see the places Kate and I had already been. It seemed to work out pretty well, overlooking, of course, Keegan's occasional threat to catapult himself off the rim.

Soon after our rim drive the rain began in earnest again, and we set off on scenic Route 12 to see if we could find better weather along with our scenery.  Stop one found us at Kodachrome Basin State Park, where the kids enjoyed that timeless southern Utah treat: scrambling over sloping sandstone waves.

The next stop was Escalante Petrified Forest State Park, a quiet gem of a place, where the kids proved themselves real troopers and dad proved, once again, that he is inept at parenting.  The trooper part comes from the fact that seeing the park requires a 2-3 mile hike, the first of which is up a pretty steep hill to a plateau, but the kids managed it with aplomb.  The inept part comes from the fact that I forgot to bring a diaper and wipes for Keegan, who did the deed about half way through.  When he refused to walk about a tenth of a mile later, though, I paid partial penance for my crime, since I had no choice but to hoist him onto my shoulders and carry him the rest of the way, poopy diaper and all squishing around my neck. 

Nonetheless, it was a great hike, as these photos hopefully show.

There were petrified tree stumps and logs along the way, and they were so colorful. 

Here's the fam playing on some old petrified logs.

I took this closeup just to show the remarkable colors -- how does wood turn into stone that looks like this?  Just amazing.

As we rounded the last bend and began the trek down off the plateau, the sun began to set through a cloud-laden sky.  The reservoir below us was painted with light, and the desert was everywhere green and full of life.  Keegan, riding on my neck, decided to thrust parental incompetence and obvious discomfort aside at that moment.  He patted my head with his little hands, and said with spontaneous enthusiasm, "Wow, it's so beautiful!"  

After the hike we headed back to camp for more evening fun, which included this exchange between Keegan and I:

Keegan: "Dad, I want some juice."

Brett (knowing he was really hungry, and wanting him to eat something solid): "We'll get you some food in just a minute, little bud."

Keegan: "Dad, we're talking juice here!" 

(I kid you not, that last one is a direct quote.) Perhaps because of this perceived misunderstanding, he later asked: "Am I making myself perfectly clear?" And when we told him it was time for bed, he repeated what has become one of his favorite phrases: "That doesn't make any sense!" The kid is going to be the death of me, I just know it.

It rained all night long again, but the next day I woke at dawn to find blue sky with puffy white clouds scattered about.  I will try and post those pictures tomorrow.

Triple Rainbow

So tonight on the way home, we saw a triple rainbow.  By the time we got home and I could take this picture of the Bountiful Temple, the angle of the sun had eliminated two of them, but still . . . have you ever seen a triple rainbow?  Definitely a first for me.  And you know, I really needed it.  Work has been disheartening of late, and I wonder how long they will continue to need my services, which has a deep sadness for me, because I do love my job.   So it was nice to see a triple reminder of God's promise, that He will eventually abate the flood.  Now I just hope it happens before I drown . . . . :-).

Thinking About Flowers

A few weeks ago we spent a warm sunny Sunday evening at Temple Square here in Salt Lake City.  I love flowers; they are among the things, along with music, sunsets, the sweetness of little girls and the laughter and pure joie de vivre of young boys, that make me believe in a benevolent God.

I know evolutionary biologists have explanations for flowers and colors: how plants developed all colors as a survival mechanism, to give them distinction and advantage in a quest for the love of bees and other necessaries; how our eyes learned to register different frequencies of light as color because it gave us survival possibilities not present in those with out such a blessing;  how all of this is the logical result of an all-consuming survival imperative in competition for limited resources.  Perhaps; but I see God in the fact that such a brutal, chaotic system can produce such magnificent beauty and order.  For me, as it was for Einstein, it is this inexplicable yin from the yang of chaos that testifies of divinity.

When I think that the survivable sphere of our existence is perhaps five or six miles from top to bottom; that above it there is nothing but killer cold and life sucking vacuum, and below it only  unsurvivable heat and crushing force; that we just happen to be the perfect distance from life-giving light and heat so that we do not fry or freeze; and that in all the vastness of the universe, this less than microscopic little space prevails against gravity (or its absence) and other gargantuan forces that threaten to rip it apart, I am in awe.  

That it produces the miracles of flowers and beautiful girls is beyond comprehension, and proof enough of God for me.  I think no other explanation possible.

So here is to the flowers, and all they stand for.  Some say in heaven the streets are paved with gold.  I don't know about that, but I think the air is filled with music and the laughter of boys, there are flowers as far as the eye can see . . .

and the sky is always in sunset.

My Favorite Series

Spring means many things for us, but new to our lives is spring soccer.  It is a fitting activity;  few things capture the joy of spring like young boys running in the sun on fresh-cut grass.  That spirit is evident in the five photos that follow, in what has to be one of my favorite series of photos in a long time.  

First, the pell mell break from the typical rugby scrum, otherwise known as pee wee soccer.

Next, the goal comes into sight.

Getting in close, and angling to the corner past the pesky goalie.

Realizing with confident satisfaction what just happened.

And jumping for all he is worth.  

If that is not the actual embodiment of life and joy, it nonetheless makes a great substitute.  He was so happy.  Long live the mighty Orange Pumpkins!  

Of course, like spring, that joy sometimes doesn't last as long as one might wish.

Here is Alden trying desperately, a few minutes later, to stop the opposing team from scoring.

And this is the result when he couldn't. 

So, do you think he has a little competitive streak in him, or what?  Disappointments notwithstanding, it was a great day.

Trouble Beyond Compare

I have known since about a month or so into my relationship with my wife that she was so much smarter and more capable than me that it was just silly (should have known it a lot earlier than that, but I am a little thick in the "there are people in the world smarter and more capable than you" department). I have now discovered the same thing about my daughter. The other day she used the word "retroactive" properly in a sentence. She is 9 years old. I am sure I did not know that word until my first year of law school.

Then, on top of that, she gave this note to my wife for Mothers Day today.

I did not know who Shakespeare was until I hit high school. Kate is already using him to praise her mother, and I am certain I would fumble in any attempt to outdo her here, so I won't. There are those who would say that having two women in your family that are smarter than you is nothing but trouble.  If so, I have trouble beyond compare. 

Happy Mother's Day from perhaps the fifth most eloquent person in your family, sweetheart.  You are an amazing mom raising remarkable children, working a challenging job, volunteering, cooking, cleaning, and caring for others, all at once.  It gets lost in the whirlwind sometimes, but I love you madly.

Kudos to The Nature Conservancy

Having recently returned to the Wasatch Front, after growing up here and then moving away for so many years, I have become acutely aware of at least two things:  first, that I did not take nearly enough advantage of the beauties and opportunities of this place while growing up; and second, how much it has changed, fueled by ever growing  crowds, powerful developers, and other forces which place those beauties in constant danger.

How thrilled I was, then, to discover the Nature Conservancy at work within site of my home, out on the shores of the Great Salt Lake.  They have purchased a large preserve in West Layton, and we took the family for a stroll two weeks ago to enjoy the board walk out among the wetlands. 

Here is Aldy, walking by Binocular (not a recommended practice) along the mile-long board walk.  I don't know what it is about kids and board walks, but there is an undisputed attraction that makes a stroll so much more exciting.

The grasses were still in their finest winter shade of amber, and shone brightly in the evening sun.

Unique viewing platforms along the way (pics at the end of this post) provided vistas of wetlands with Salt Lake City and the Wasatch Front as a backdrop.

Above is the view of my hometown, Bountiful, from one of those platforms.  If you look at the left side of the photo, about mid-way up, you will see an empty foothill, with houses just to the right.  Our house sits in that group of homes, and has wonderful, though distant, views of the lake and these wetlands.  

Even without any wildlife, a winter evening walk here is a joy, with the mountains lit up in the evening sun.  (I know, I know, you are saying to yourself "Winter? Why does he keep saying Winter? Isn't it April?" Well, in the last week of March and the first week of April, Alta ski resort reported 143 inches -- fourteen feet!-- of new snow. I am beginning to think Spring is just a nice fairy tale we tell our kids to make them feel better. . . )

The photo above is Kath and the kids walking the board walk under a full moon, just as the sun was setting. We stayed well past sunset, which was so worth it, because it was then . . .

that the Sand Hill Cranes flew in.  These are magical birds, and I will never forget my first encounter with them (thank you Steve and Heidi!).  Their loud honking is the sound of dinosaurs and dark forests, of vast expanses and ages without a human being in sight.  At sunset, it will take you away.

How grateful I am for those who work against all odds to preserve little pieces of magic amidst the tide of human creation. What a great Sunday evening.  

Mysterious Visitor

Around our house, we have some philosophical concerns surrounding certain holidays, Easter being one of them. The debate goes something like this: "If we tell them there is an Easter Bunny, and then later say 'just kidding!' what will they think when we tell them we really do believe in Jesus Christ and his resurrection?  And how did we go from the sublime to bunnies anyway?"  

Now, since I passed through that potential minefield of confusion just fine growing up, I am not so concerned as my wife, who may just have unresolved issues.  So we were debating whether we should even talk about the Easter Bunny a few nights ago, as the holiday approached.

Unresolved, we woke to this in our back yard the next morning (go ahead, enlarge and look closer):


They went right up the stairs to our house.  Coincidence?  Or sign?  The debate continues, but irrespective of the conclusion, there can be no question that a bunny visited our house on or about Easter 2009.

Consequently, we had a great day.

Upon seeing his Ultimate Build It Yourself Lightsaber Kit and corresponding Star Wars The Complete Cross Sections book, Alden exclaimed "Yes!  Easter Rocks!"

Keegan was heard to say "Mmmmmm, Chocolate!" several times, and could hardly wait to use his wheelbarrow and shovel, to help Kate with her favorite Easter gift -- tons of flowers to plant!

Happily, Easter day dawned warm and sunny, and the snow of days ago was gone, so the Moon cousins could come over for the annual backyard Easter Egg Hunt.

Papa helped Keegan understand the object of the game -- good thing, cause it wasn't going to catch on otherwise.

Here he is trying to take eggs out of the basket and give them back!

In case you didn't know it, the only proper way to hunt Easter Eggs is with a light saber -- those things are dangerous, don't ya know?

Here are Kate and Molly, scouring the grounds for their treasure.

Unfortunately, cousin Jude was suffering from "technical difficulties," and it took only one look to let his mother know he was not so happy about them getting in the way of his hunting.

Luckily, the damage was repaired, and mom and dad made amends by helping him with the hunt.

Cousins Leah and Abbey also had a great time. Sorry we didn't get pics of Angela, Kevin and Grandma Val, but a good time was had by all. Thanks for coming over, guys!

Antelope Island II

We went to Antelope Island again yesterday, and I have to say, this place is underrated any way you look at it (at least in the winter and early spring, before the bugs come out).  First, how lucky are we to be able to see bison within an hour of our home?  We also saw pronghorn antelope as the night set in. Very cool.

As you can see if you look past those two drop-dead handsome boys, when you get out here before sunset you see the whole Wasatch Front lit up before you.  It is a knockout vista. This was taken from Buffalo Point after a short but steepish hike.  The boys and I were alone on this one, because poor Kate was sick and unable to make the trip with us, mom had to stay home and do the taxes (in case I haven't mentioned it hear lately, I really love that woman). 

The views to the west and south are just as good.  Keegan was a real gamer on our hike, insisting on walking and going everywhere Alden went, and Alden was just great, running up the trail and so happy just to be exploring.  His first words to me when we got to the island were "Dad, are we far from the city? I want to see how far away we are from the city. This is great!"  

The top of Buffalo Point is filled with really great scrambling and climbing rocks, and the kids just went to town.  No need for a play structure when you have these. It kept them very busy until sunset.  Even then they didn't want to leave -- Alden exclaimed "Darn!  I should have brought a flashlight!" Keegan was a little more anxious to get out of the constant stiff wind, but hung in, nonetheless, for a sunset photo before we headed back.

We topped it off with a cone at Nielson's on the way home. Tough to beat that, if you ask me. 

I Am Not Tired Dad!

A week ago Keegan was my little buddy. He was sick, and just wanted to be with me every minute of the day.  That is pretty endearing, but he was so tired all the time he could hardly hold his head up.  However, whenever I asked him if he wanted a nap, I got a sharp NO! in response.  His last words before falling asleep in mid-McNugget bite:  "I am NOT tired dad. I'm Not."  And yes, I did have to fish half-chewed McNugget out of his mouth before I layed him down in bed.

He has been such a sweetheart lately. He just loves giving big hugs to grandma, grandpa, and all of his family.  Multiple kisses are also a favorite activity.  And it is pretty clear he has his Dad's tender heart.  He has been very concerned for Kate while she has been sick, snuggling her with all his might.  Then last week his brother came home crying because the neighbor boy refused to let him borrow a toy gun.  (Nicholas was right about that -- the last one took months to pry from Alden and give back.)  Keegan grew very concerned, headed into the kitchen, grabbed two fistfuls of just-made brownie, and ran to console his brother with them.  Of course Alden, being in that "I didn't get my way so I am going to be a pill" mood, just slapped them away, and poor Keegan was heartbroken.  I think he cried harder than Alden.  

The greatest thing is to hear Keegan talk, though. One of these days I have to figure out how to post video to blog, because it is just a kick.  Keep in mind that he is about 5th percentile height (and wouldn't even be 20th percentile weight if he didn't have his dad's belly), so when he sits down next to you and says "So, Dad, how ya been?" or responds to the same question by saying "Oh, I've been pretty good," it really throws you.  He is a lot like Kate when it comes to that, very articulate and observant.  I will have to post some examples when I have more time. All that said, he will probably be what causes me to lose the rest of my too-quickly graying hair (maybe not such a big loss come to think of it), but I sure love my little guy.

Bear River Migratory Refuge

On Tuesday we took a break from the routine, and after work the family met me in Ogden to travel just a little further north to the Bear River Migratory Refuge. Some of you may have heard about this place if you have read Terry Tempest Williams at all. It does not take long to find out that it is a truly special place.

On the road in, we saw an owl right away.

There were many Avocets poking around.

And if you have sharp eyes, you can even see a beaver, or a muskrat, depending on who you talk to.  Either way, it is not that often you get to see one of those in the wild, is it?

If you look at this one enlarged,  you will see right away why they call these "Pintail" ducks.

We were there late, and just as the sun was setting, they began to fly in by the hundreds.  Who are they,  you ask?

Tundra Swans. Hundreds of them.  The light was really hazy with high clouds, and gave off this blue quality which really made these beautiful white birds pop out as they floated on the water.

There was one bird that looked like a swan, but was totally black.  Any thoughts?  Immature Tundra  Swan, or something else?

Even without the birds, and in bad light, this place is visually breathtaking.

But the coolest part is not the visual.  You have to hear this place to believe it.  There is so much noise, very primordial. It is worth the trip just to roll down your windows and listen.

As the evening darkened, we drove out, only to see these three pelicans, floating absolutely still in the dim light. Meanwhile, on the other side of the road, this family of deer was munching down.  

All in all, I would say that is not a bad after-work activity.  What a great place.

Antelope Island

Saturday night I took the kids out to Antelope Island.  Kate has been very sick for the last week and a half, and needed to get out of the house; I knew Alden would enjoy Scooby Doo in the car on the way out and back (of course); and I thought Keegan would like seeing a Bison in the wild for the first time (he really did). 

 But most of all, I have been dying to spend more time there.  Winter sunsets in this place are magic, and you know how I love my sunsets.  It did  not disappoint. Here are a few pics.

And we finished it off with a nice moonrise.  All in all, a very good 3 hours.

Bath Time and Bed Time

The boys have been doing a lot of swimming lately, and really love how swim goggles open a whole new world of seeing under water. Bath time has become just another opportunity on that front.

Keegan is still working on it.

But Aldy is already a natural.  

Keegan does love to float on his back, though, and can do it for some time.  He also loves holding his breath and putting his head under water just like his brother.  While he looks positively pastoral above, the following two photos tell you more about him, and his attitude, than perhaps any others I have taken.

Kind of gives water pipe a new meaning . . .

'nuf said.


This one also says a lot about Alden's general approach to life, unless, of course, he has been watching Star Wars. Then there is this sudden transformation . . . .

Unlike bath time, bed time is a battle around our house. A real battle. Seriously.  I always win in the end, but not before taking my share of blaster bolts to the face.  Explains a lot, I suppose. . . .

And so it was, that the Master Jedi of the house finally prevailed against the forces of darkness and chaos . . . . not.  I had to put in another full hour of maximum effort just to get them to the read story stage.  Ugh.

A Brief Break in the Grind

Bankruptcy is hard, even when it is just your company. Every relationship that the company ever made is immediately thrown out the window, and you have to work hard to reconstitute as many of them as you can, usually on new and more difficult terms. Everyone you call is mad at you, and wants something you can't give.  Everyone else has written you off and thinks you are done for, so they won't give you the time of day.  This has been my job for the past two months, and there is more to do than can possibly be done in a day.  There have been days where, for every one call I was able to make/return, two more came in.   

There have only been a few breaks in this heavy routine. One was last Sunday afternoon, we slipped out to  Farmington Bay for a chance to see Bald Eagles.  There were only a few of them this year, but there were a lot of American Pelicans, American Kestrals, and Harriers. Geese could be seen all over the place. It was a nice, brief respite from an otherwise difficult stretch.  Here are a few pics.

San Francisco Revisited

Well, this evening we saw some very dear friends from San Francisco, the Blairs.  They came into town, and we met them in Salt Lake at a family party.  For some reason, we still cannot convince them, in their numerous SLC visits, to travel the extra eight houses up the street to our house.  Funny, the Drews, the Ballards, Marisa and Bernie Hansen, among others, had no problem at all with a visit when they were passing through.  We are beginning to get a bit of a complex -- what did we do?  (OK, OK, so -- after much fasting and prayer, mind you--I drafted Eric to serve time with me and Steve Johnson in the San Rafael II bishopric -- and that could drive anyone to bitterness, I guess, especially since they had to pick up the load for our dear "Brother Slacker,"  but can't we forgive and forget, people?  That anger will gnaw at you, don't you know . .. ) But I digress.  It was nice to see them even if we had to meet on Neutral Turf.  

Seeing the Blairs reminded me that we never did post pictures from our early December trip back to the Bay Area, so here you go.

Even though we went for a conference in San Francisco, we could not resist staying in our beloved Tiburon. We stayed at the Water's Edge, which was ok, but mostly because it was home.



Here is a view of good old Tiburon harbor from our room.

The very first morning we went by to check out the old homestead, of course, and wow, were we in for a surprise. Here is what it looks like now:

Our good friend Barbara Major took us on a tour. Here is what it looks like inside:

This is where our kitchen used to be.

And here is the master bedroom where our living room used to be.

That hurts.  A nice master bath and cool shower attached to the master bedroom.

And a kitchen like that would have been hard to leave.  We almost could have stayed with a house like that (but not with what it cost to make the conversion . . .). 

It was Christmas time in San Francisco during our trip, which made for a fun visit to Union Square.



We also managed to see the new California Acadamy of Sciences Building. We were shocked and appalled at the price ($59 for the two of us--how do you pay for a family?!?!), but it is really a cool place.

The roof is just amazing.  Below is what it looks like close up.



Here is the underside. Very cool curves.



This dome was really cool. It had a mad aquarium, and was filled with tropical birds and butterflies.

The very best part of the whole trip, though, was going to the San Rafael II Ward Christmas Party, and seeing so many, very dear old friends (Even the Blairs!). All in all, it was a great visit.

A Quick One

I promise not to inflict you with yet another picture of light sabers for this brief story, but, as  you might imagine from prior posts, we end up playing a lot of pretend Star Wars around our house.  Keegan has been enjoying his part, and knows all the lingo, stances, and motions that go with it.  

Well, tonight I was chasing him (as usual) trying to get him into his pajamas.  I lost him for a moment, and went to look  in Alden's room.   Just as I rounded the corner, Keegan jumped out, landed on half bent knees, light saber in hand, cocked in perfect Jedi pose, and shouted "Drop the Jammies!"  I did, because I was laughing too hard to continue.

Valentine's Day Surprises

Clouds lay thick around us these days, with great stress at work, long days, exhausted nights, and uncertainty swirling, ever-present.  Today started true to form, with snow and gray everywhere, and me knowing I had been too tired this week to make any Valentine's Day plans. Time quickly filled with errands and to dos, and ultimately found both of us running to separate stores at 5:00 P.M. just to get the week's grocery shopping done.  We came back to our jumble of  a house (kids toys scattered everywhere) ready for just another evening of fighting the kids to eat and go to bed. And then a surprise or two peeked in. 

Kath had purchased lobster tails at Smiths. I had picked up flowers at Costco. Someone had bought Valentines cookies from Cutlers for all of us.  She cooked the lobster for us while I cooked Mac & Cheese for the eight and under crowd.  The sunset was spectacular.  We found a candle and lit it, which magically captivated the kids.   I ate lobster and thought of Chinois on Main in our beloved Santa Monica.  Kath thought of Bar Harbor Maine, where we had eaten lobster fresh from the sea one morning in a shack right off the dock. 

Then my sweet Alden, surrounded by his cookie, the candle, and a new Darth Vader Force Action Light Saber, said, "Wow, isn't our family great! We like candles and cookies and Star Wars and Light Sabers! It is so fun!"  Kathleen and I looked at each other, and shared a really great kiss.  And so an unexpected and wonderful light parted the clouds this Valentine's night.