Today we awoke to find 4 inches of snow in the yard. I don’t think the bulbs were very happy about it.
Post #2 in the grand outdoor series comes to us from family friend Kara. Having just written a novel in a month, she’s right on track to become the next Stephanie Meyer, although probably with less vampire love triangle, and more quality writing. She also maintains what you might call a “mommy blog”, that definitely hasn’t made me paternal a single time…
Hello out there, faithful followers of Absolutely Andrew (and Tara too!). Back in November, I asked Andrew to write a post for my blog on Thanksgiving memories. I agreed to write a post for his blog in return, and he has finally gotten around to collecting.
I’ve decided with warm weather nearly upon us, now would be a great time to do a series of outdoor-themed posts. You might be thinking: “But Andrew, aren’t like all of your posts outdoor posts?”. Yeah, I guess they are, but this time I’ll be featuring guest writers sharing their favorite outdoor experiences. It’s going to be EPIC! My first contributor is Andrew. You might know him from his other posts on this blog.
Two years ago, when Tara was living out here and I was still in Nebraska, I came out to visit for a weekend in mid February. One of the highlights of the weekend was our run on Antelope Island. I’m sure I’ve said it before, but Antelope Island is one of our favorite places out here. As the name implies, it is an island out in the Great Salt Lake that you can drive out to. It has an abundance of hiking trails and wildlife, including bison that roam free throughout the island.
Since we were both training for a half marathon at the time, we endeavored to tackle an eight mile loop trail run on the island. The run started off amazing. Not too cold, spectacular views, and some really challenging hill climbs. However, probably a little more than halfway around the loop, we encountered a herd of bison right on the trail. Still quite hopeful to complete the loop, and not be forced to turn back the way we came, we attempted to leave the trail, and take a wide detour around the bison. However, as we came even with them, they began to amble towards us. Thoughts of all the horror stories of people getting charged by bison in Yellowstone rushing through our heads, we quickly retreated the way we came and the bison promptly stopped their approach.
Antelope Island, shortly after the run with the bison.
Discouraged, but still determined, we tried to cut an even wider swath on the other side of the bison, this time down the ridge out of sight from them. But again, as we came even with them, we saw their heads appear over the ridge, this time coming at us at an alarming jaunt. Nothing short of terrified, we again retreated the way we came, relieved to see the bison stop their charge the second we crossed some invisible boundary known only to the beasts. With that, we recognized defeat, bowed our heads, and took the run of shame back the way we came.
It was not until we had put some distance between us and the territorial creatures, and my pride had some time to recover, that I came to fully appreciate that experience in the wild. We had encountered these remarkable beasts in their habitat, ourselves basically naked, nothing to protect us. And we said: “Screw you, bison, this is our run, and we will tread on your turf!”. And they said: “No! You will not”. With our civilization and our technology, it is easy for we humans to cheat nature. This is fine. This is what makes us the dominant species. But we can’t fully appreciate our roots unless we venture out and take risks from time to time, and walk with the beasts. It’s in experiences like these that the primordial part our our brains comes to life, and we find we don’t need to learn the rules of nature—we’ve actually known them all along.
Last summer, Tara and I were on a backpacking trip in the High Uintas here in Utah. Our first night out, we set up camp on the edge of a large meadow with a stream meandering through it. After dinner was finished, and the tent was pitched, we spent the last part of the day sitting down by the stream watching the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky. Presently, a large moose emerged from the trees no more than 100 yards from us, ambled down to the stream, and began to drink. That, to me, is respect. That an animal that huge and that powerful can basically say: “I trust you enough to come have a drink with you”, is an incredible thing. You might counter that the Moose is simply tamed, and unafraid of humans due to the large volume of hikers that travel that trail each summer, and you’d be exactly right, but that’s not the point here. The point is that feeling just as vulnerable as that moose does, and developing a mutual respect for one another is a soul-changing experience that everyone should enjoy from time to time. Get outside!
And yes, Robert Redford, Jon Krakauer, and Jack London are my heroes, but so is the moose.
Time for my little disclaimer that this is a satire of common, REAL, misconceptions about the LDS church that I have either observed or have been guilty of. It is NOT an accurate depiction of Mormons.
If you live somewhere in the United States other than Utah and maybe Idaho, you may have had rumors about a mysterious group of people living in those states that practice polygamy. You may know these people to be called Mormons. If you see a Mormon, you must be very careful. In some cases, the Mormon is easily identified. He/She is dressed up, men in black slacks and a white, short-sleeve dress shirt with tie, women in a black skirt and blouse. Each wear a name tag, but you won’t be able to spot this until it is already too late. If you see a Mormon in this attire, He/She will most likely approach you if He/She hasn’t already. These Mormons are called Missionaries, and they will attempt to convince you to join their church. They are aggressive, and should be avoided at all costs.
In other cases, it may not be obvious that the individual in question is indeed Mormon. He/She could be dressed in ordinary clothes and could be encountered just about anywhere. Be on the lookout if any of the following is true:
1. He/She mentions being from Utah
2. He/She likes BYU (this stands for Brigham Young University—Mormons can be excommunicated for not being BYU fans)
3. He sports a comb-over and is clean-shaven
4. He/She is married at a young age
5. He/She has more than 3 kids
6. He/She likes Mitt Romney
7. She wears clothing from modbod
8. She has an advanced degree, but doesn’t work
9. He has multiple wives—ALL Mormons practice polygamy. The number of wives a man has is a measurement of how Godly he is.
In the event that you do encounter a Mormon, there is a set of guidelines that you MUST follow. If you do not follow any one of these guidelines, the Mormom will first be incredibly offended and then try to convert you. If the offense is too great, the Mormon may flee only to return with companions to subdue and then convert you.
1. Do not curse. If you happen to let a word slip, apologize immediately by saying something like: “Pardon my French”—Mormons hate French.
2. Do not consume or even mention alcohol. Mormons do not drink, and they find this act incredibly offensive.
3. Avoid caffeine. Mormons find this almost more offensive that alcohol. Be sure to remove all paraphernalia, such as coffee makers from the Mormon’s sight.
4. Do not smoke.
5. All illegal drugs are obviously very much off limits, but anti-depressants are fair game.
6. Do not mention Barack Obama, or any Muslim for that matter.
7. Do not refer to America as a “Democracy”, only a “Republic”.
8. Stay away from hot words such as “Health care”, “Regulation”, “Homosexuality”, and “Global Warming”.
9. Don’t be visibly doing something that the Mormon could offer to help with—this will just open the door for a conversion attempt.
10. Mormons deny the existence of boobs.
Even following these guidelines probably won’t save you. Most Mormons can tell almost immediately if a person is Mormon or not. They have a very keen sense of smell. Just remember that all Mormons are exactly the same. If you’ve met one, you’ve met them all.
This past Christmas, we chose to tackle Christmas letters for the first time. Since the bulk of my written correspondence occurs over email and this blog, the act of blowing an entire ink cartridge printing, and then spending hours gathering addresses, stuffing envelopes, etc. seems asinine. However, I know how much we enjoy getting “real” letters in the mail, and how much more meaningful it is than an email, so, now that it’s done, I can definitely say I’m glad we did it.
In the weeks that followed, Tara and I relished the comments that trickled in: “We got your Christmas letter, thank you!”, “It was so funny!”, “Loved the letter!”, an so forth. It was not until a few days ago that it was brought to our attention that, due to some joking about my sperm in the letter, some recipients may now be under the impression that we are either: a.)Pregnant, b.)Trying to get pregnant, or c.)Having trouble getting pregnant. The misunderstanding stems from the opening paragraph:
In an effort to make my first Christmas letter unique, I was brainstorming all the things people do to make these letters more fun. Some write in the perspective of a beloved pet, others in the perspective of the baby. Since we have no pets, and certainly no kids, I wanted to write in the perspective of my sperm, but Tara was having none of that.
And the salutation at the end:
Andrew, Tara, Andrew’s Sperm
I was taken aback to hear this news. I had thought the joke had been completely clear, but it seemed people had forgotten about the joke in the opener by the time they got to the closing, and my little “tie-it-all-together” trick had failed, leaving the reader interpreting the closing as an abstract way of suggesting that we are attempting to procreate.
Admittedly, I can see where the misunderstanding comes from, and being directly descended from a man who one year had virtually everyone on his mailing list fearing that he an my mother were getting a divorce due to a small, passing joke, I’m not at all surprised that I made a similar blunder. Ever since my poetry and literature classes of freshman year of college, searching for metaphors and symbolism in written works and movies has been one of my pastimes. Therefore, I find it particularly amusing and ironic that I tend to miss some of my own metaphors that I inadvertently create.
Therefore, hoping that most of those that came away from our Christmas Letter with this interpretation have been trolling this blog ever since seeking updates, I’m going to attempt to straighten things out. We are not pregnant, not trying, and therefore, not having trouble. If, in a FEW YEARS, we do have that news to share in our Christmas Letter, look for the following code words:
New member of the family
Preparing a room in the house
It’s a boy!!
It’s a girl!!
In the mean time, we’ll just be practicing.
This sight launched 1 year ago today. Happy birthday to me. In honor of the occasion, I compiled a list of my top 5 most popular posts by number of views. As if that wasn’t self-absorbed enough, I also did my top 5 favorite.
Thank you so much for reading. You guys all rock. Listen to me thanking readers like I get paid for this or something! Not the case. Yet…
Reader participation time! Tell me which one was your favorite! Free plugs for everyone that does!
Today is Saturday, but I have to go to work. This is the very first time in my career that I have had to mandatorily go in on a weekend, so I won’t complain too much. I don’t have to be in until 1, so I had grand intentions of churning out a quality post this morning. However, I managed to run out of time. I blame Gavin, in part, as he posted the most awesome bike trials video on my facebook wall.
1. How we spent a few cold nights huddled close to a space heater because the landlords indicated that they had to come over and do something to our heater before we could turn it on, when in fact it all they really wanted to do was explain to us how a thermostat works.
2. How my weekend project was washing all the windows, and how they look a million times better now.
3. Our latest library adventure in which we checked out a bunch of Sinatra CDs.
4. How her entire office got to leave at 3 to go vote.
5. How I did not get to leave work early.
6. How pumpkin beer is delicious but Gives us both terrible burps.
7. A list of all the things she thinks I should blog about.
At the end of August, Tara took her board exams to become a certified genetic counselor. She then had to wait 6 long weeks to receive the results. This tense period finally ended this past week when we got the letter in the mail announcing that she had passed and is now certified. This is a very exciting time for us. a) Because Tara no longer has to stress about whether or not she passed, and b) Since she is now certified, it is only a matter of time before she’ll be the breadwinner of this household, at which time I will be retiring. Well, maybe not quite yet…
To celebrate, we rode the Trax downtown last night to The Market Grill, which is proclaimed to have the best fish in SLC. And it was quite good–not fried (Tara and I are of the belief that frying any sort of sea creature is a cardinal sin, and have even gone as far as picketing Catholic fish fries). We enjoyed three-course meals and even splurged on martinis. Afterwards, we walked over to the Beerhive to get my favorite Utah beer: “Latter Day Stout”. As a result, we did not end up making it to the Halloween party we had planned on going to, but had a great evening anyway.
The following letter is the result of a note and map that I found stashed near our campsite in Little Cottonwood Canyon this past weekend. A group of kids (presumably three of them) had evidently discovered a clearing in a thicket between campsites and proceeded to declare the area their hideout. They left a note requesting future visitors contact them via mail along with a rough map sketched of the area. Reminded of my own childhood and the many family camping trips we went on, I simply had to send them a letter.
To The Three Creators:
With the sun falling from the sky, and the temperature rapidly dropping, my companion and I stumbled upon your hideout during a vigorous search for firewood. As I scoured the ground for dry sticks, my eyes fell upon the plastic baggie you stashed with the note and map of the hideout inside.
Thanks to your handy cartography, we were able to navigate the area with ease. I myself was particularly fond of the “Roadside Route”. Deeper into the hideout, we found another baggie in a stump containing mysterious items that we assumed to be hidden treasure. We left these items for you should you return.
I left the note and map where I found it so future campers will be fortunate enough to find it and take advantage of the hideout as we did. Thank you for leaving this note. May your creative spirits never dwindle, and your adventures always take you to bigger and better discoveries.
The Forever Upward Duo