We all have childhood fantasies like wanting to fly, being magic and sometimes it carries over to adulthood.  They go from fantasy to fascination.   I have never been very interested in flying.  We all want to be magic, but my major fascination has always been time travel.  I don’t think I’m the only one since books and movies have made lots of money on this subject.

I’m slightly interested in going forward but mostly interested in going back.  Changing history for the better.  Immunizing the Indians before the Pilgrems get here, making sure nobody spends money on a Yugo, that sort of thing. 

I would have  my father buy as much of Park City as he could.  (It was a ghost town when we were kids).  But  most of my interest is sharing technology of the present with people from the past.  I know that that would disturb the space time continuum. 

But then there’s the fun stuff, like telling Craig he needs to rethink the Tuxedo, and the girl.

Telling my grand parents that they don’t have to stay married.

Tell people not to pet wild animals.

Or maybe just to tell these guys that it’s ok.

Any fascinations you would like to share?

Since purchasing the little cabin and building a house next to it and then rebuilding the cabin, we have been under constant construction.  Everyone who has visited has seen this project in different degrees of close to done.   A lot of work was done by me, but as time goes by , I am less and less willing to do anything.  Wasn’t it just a few years ago I was climbing trees with my boys?  I’m just wondering if this kind of work is getting harder because of my age, or because I am doing less of it.  I always bring tools home on the weekend and have a project in mind, but end up calling the contractor to do it.  I think this all started when I hurt my back building the front deck.  It took me over a year to finally stop having constant pain.  I still have to be careful, but is that because I need to strengthen muscles I hadn’t used for awhile?

My job is very physical, but even there I’m not doing as much as I used to.  I’ve got some younger backs around me that can do the heavy stuff.  I guess my point is: am I limiting myself or is my age a limitation?  I hate the thought of not being able to do whatever I want.  ( I put in that last picture to show Allison the view she was supposed to have.)

Not to long ago I was having pain near my nether region.  I thought it was a hernia.  I went to the doctor for the first time in years.  She did some major poking around (which I did not appreciate).  She asked questions like: Does it hurt here?  I’d answer, not until just now.  She asked, does it hurt to ejaculate.  I said “how would I know, I’m married.”

Turns out, I have an infection or inflammation in some of my manly parts.  Something only men get.  And not very many men at that.  I have a very manly ailment.  I kind of like the way that sounds.  I decided to channel my inner butch.  I bought all the items I could think of that represented masculinity. 

Craig caught me dying my beard.   I didn’t think gray hair was a good  repesentation of my new virility. 

So I’m still having pain, but I look good in it.  What says manly more than one of the village people.                                          

It had been awhile since Craig visited Fish Lake Utah.  It was a vacation spot every year when he was growing up.  His siblings and families go there every year still.  I didn’t get it.  My family went somewhere different every year so we could experience more stuff.  I’ve been there 3 or 4 times with Craig in our 15 years and still didn’t get it. 

Reunion time.

This time we went to Vegas for two nights before driving onto Fish Lake.  That was the compromise, since I wasn’t really looking forward to the get-together.  I like staying in luxury hotels, of which there are many  in Vegas.  I was originally going to compare the accommodations of Vegas vs. Fish lake.  Kind of mean spirited huh. 

So I’m not showing any Las Vegas pictures at all.  This is now a Fish Lake blog.  I do have to show a couple of Fish Lake accommodation pictures.  (I can’t help myself).  The granite counter tops sitting atop garbage can metal was too much.  Then there are the signs.  There’s an ornery lady that runs the general store.  At least she was with us.  Maybe it’s because she works from sun up to sundown.  She sells everything from drink like a fish T-shirts to Books of Mormon.  There was a long conference type table in the store where a few old men would sit and drink coffee at 8:00 am after spending 4 hours on the lake fishing.  There were pictures on the wall of generations of families who had been coming there for over a century.  Four generations of Craig’s relatives in fact.

The serenity and beauty of the lake and surroundings were amazing.  We even got to be in on a few thunderstorms.  Spectacular drama.   

Then there’s the great times with family.  Poor Michael.  The  eldest.  Every body had a story about how cruel he was.  Childhood memories can be twisted.  Or can they? 

And then every one’s medical malodies that we discussed.  When did we become our parents? They talked non- stop about childhood experiences.  I felt like I was being drug down memory lane roped to a galloping horse, but I loved seeing Craig’s joy. 

This trip was different for me.  I was among people I felt cared about me.  I had forgotten how much I cared about them.  Of course I have my favorites, and I’m sure some don’t care for me, but for the most part, it was  non judgemental, very warm and fuzzy.  The new entrant to the group was Derek, Joshs’ boyfriend.  They’ve been together for a year or so but I hadn’t met him yet.  Great guy.  We had great talks with Jackie and Terry til 2:00 am.  Eek.  It was wonderful.  We got to spend time with Darrellyn and Charlie and there daughter Becky and her kids.  We love Deb’s take on life and how she articulates it all. There’s the young Adamson boys that all the girls there had there eyes on.  And then there’s Adam.  I enjoy every minute I get to spend with him.  So pure and loving.  Every one there is a person I am proud to know.

We got to play Grandpa’s last week.  Chris and the kids came up for a visit.  Andrea’s in school and needed a well deserved break.  We don’t see them very often and kind of fall out of practice between visits.  Our house is so low energy and low volume normally.  Add kids and stir.  Little miss Vivian is the most girlie girl I have ever seen.  She dresses her self  in dresses mostly and lots of color and sparkle.  She  has always been very strong willed.  I think she’s actually mellowing with age.  She is just a kick to be around.  Oscar is very agreeable and sweet.  He’s all boy.  He’s one of those kids that would stick a bucket over his head and then ram things.  He loves to snuggle and is very patient.  It’s fun to watch my son be a good father.  He’s very playful, but at the  same time , he’s consistent and fair.  The kids are very polite(which goes a long way with me) but we had to shift our normally very spicy food into kids stuff.  Macaroni and cheese is of course a favorite.                                                            

Their Dad took them to the River and paddled around in boats.  They went to the spooky forest.  They went to the Candy Store, and I even went with them to San Francisco.  We took the Ferry from Sausalito.

Great  times, great kids, great Dad.  Thanks Chris.

We just got back from a candy convention at the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield Ca.  It was by and for Powells owners.

It all started so innocently.  People at the cocktail party on the first night, just socializing and reacquainting, band playing, people in good clothes, that sort of thing.  I started noticing that all these people could talk about was powells candy store.  I have a life on the outside.  Was I considered an equal?  Then I started wondering why Craig thought it would be “cool” if I ironed my shirt.  Why did he want me to wear the pants that make my butt look good.  And why were the designer shoes so important?  OMG, could it be? Am I just (dare I say it) am I a Trophy wife?? 

I don’t know when it happened.  I don’t know if it happens to everyone in committed relationships, but its happened to me. 

 I was once a very highly functioning individual.  Doing everything on my own.  Not hugely successful, but alone and happy.  Along comes Craig and then it starts.  The process of  two highly functioning people not being able to function alone.  We have gotten into so many routines and habits.  Craig does all the phone calls and business loose ends.  I take care of the house, yard, and fix it projects.  He does all the shopping and everyday cooking.  I do the event or weekend cooking.  I take care of the vehicles and he takes care of the checkbook.  He also makes sure I feed myself when he works late.  This is anything but a complaint.  My world may be predictable, but it’s also secure and peaceful.

I consider myself very lucky.  Same old same old is nice.

Allison was the perfect guest.  I had a great time.  One of the things we did was buy plants and potting soil, and decided we’d get me a bird feeder while we were out.  We cleaned up the yard a little, planted a little, and hung the bird feeder out on the back deck. 

 Allison got a movie of the first guest,  a stellers jay.  Since then we’ve had cute little finches and lots of natural drama.  All different types of birds and animals fighting for food.  The big winner – hands down –  is Trixie, the pole dancing squirrel.  She picked up a bar code off the feeder that stuck to her tail which makes her look that much more trashy. 

Here’s a copy of her Squirrel Du Soleil audition tape.

I’ve always wanted to have the best blog ever but I don’t have the content.  What choice do I have but to eliminate the competition?   We lured Allison out here promising all kinds of things.

The first day of her captivity we thought we would give her a gastro experience and disguised a charred pork chop that was raw in the middle to look like real food.  She’s quite clever.  She poked around a little and then just ate her salad.  Then we forced her to eat chocolate with bacon in it. She had a bite and didn’t even wince.  At this point I started to think that maybe she was thinking that these were not just mistakes.  Was she on to us?

Day two:  We went to Bodega bay to take pictures.  We hiked to the cliffs and I told her the warning sign was just a suggestion and I’d been on the cliffs many times.  I told her there would be wind gusts but  not to worry, they never get that strong. Turns out she’s as sure footed as a mountain goat.  Tonight we’re having a salad garnished with a nasturtium.  We have a flower here that looks a lot like that but it’s deadly.  Will she be able to tell?

Day three:  We will have morning tea on the deck. Stay tuned for more.

My Dad.  Quiet power.  He could scold with a look and punish with few words.  No volume, no drama, except that once.  I borrowed the recently bought, slightly used Suburban to go pick up Sheila.  It was winter and the roads were snow packed, but what did it matter?  I was driving a four wheel drive.  I was driving up our street, turning left onto the road in front of our house and lost control.  I took out the nieghbor’s mail box and I think I even flattened ours.  It knocked a hole in the grill of the car.  The car came to rest in our driveway and Dad came running out.  I was still behind the wheel scared to death.  Dad opened the driver side door, red faced and said, “You…You…You… Shit head!  That was it.  Later he told me he wouldn’t have reacted that way if he hadn’t seen the whole thing happen from the dining room window.  I put a couple of fog lights in the mangled front grill.  It was never mentioned again.

I took a trip to San Francisco and borrowed Dad’s car.  I was young and had no money but went anyway.  Dad didn’t tell me it was a dumb idea, or no you can’t borrow the car even though it was winter in the Sierra.  He just said ok.  The car broke down in Truckee, Cal. in the middle of a blizzard.  I slept in the car that night.  The next day Mom and Dad wired me some money to fix the car.  That night I was back on the road.  On the way home the car broke down again.  In the Sierra.  I hitched a ride to Reno and spent the rest of the night trying not to look homeless.  Very long story shorter, more money was wired, I was able to stay the next night in a motel.  Dad and Mom drove their Blazer with car dolly to come and rescue me.  I don’t know how much they spent.   They didn’t ask me for a dime.   In fact, Dad and I became really good towing buddies because of the junk cars I drove.

Dad has always been 100% supportive.  When David got interested in guitar, so did Dad.  When I was interested in cars, Dad signed us both up for  night classes in auto mechanics.  And Mark -  we all went to his many gigs.   When Joe was on stage at Gay Pride In SLC with Men Out Loud, Dad was on the front row proud as could be.

He and I went down the Snake River in a canoe once.  I was the front paddle and he was the back.  He was the one that was supposed to steer.  He knew that but I couldn’t give up control.  I sank us about three or four times the first day.  I think that the second day I was scolded by a guide, I don’t really remember, but I let Dad steer.  The rest of the three day trip was much more pleasent.  That was never brought up again.  I’ve got many more examples, but I think I’ll move on.

How about dad the family man.  The guy who carried us to bed in a funny way.  The guy who condensed words to make new ones, like deebucheebuggie (double cheese burger), or scome, (lets go home).  And what was the deal at Dee’s.  All the boys got a hamburger and a root beer and split a small fries and Mom got a cheese burger  her own fries and a Coke.

Then there is the wonderful grandpa you are to my kids.

Happy Fathers day Dad. I love you.