My sister, Ashley's, graduation from Utah State University with her degree in Elementary Education. Way to go, Ash!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Monday, December 03, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Adventures of the Snake Librarian
I see some very interesting behavior working with the public at the library. Allow me to share an example.
A few days ago our circulation supervisor came to me to report that a woman was parked along the curb near our crosswalk (a dangerous situation with all of our foot traffic). Apparently both the supervisor and another employee (on two separate occassions) had politely asked the woman to move her car. She ignored both of them. Could I try talking to her? Sure. I walked outside thinking, "How hard can this be?"
The woman had several windows cracked in her car, so I went around to the driver's side window and said, "Excuse me ma'am. I'm afraid you can't park here. It's a safety hazard because your car blocks other drivers' view of the crosswalk. You're also blocking library traffic. This is a two-way thoroughfare. Would you mind moving your car?" Nothing. She sat, head and eyes down, apparently engrossed in a book. I knocked on the back window and repeated myself, trying to vary my speech so that it would be more interesting and elicit a positive response from her. Nothing. "Ma'am, please don't ignore me." Nothing. After a few minutes I thought to myself, "Is it possible that this woman is deaf or blind? No, that can't be right. Why would she be driving?"
Since I was standing quite close to the car and since it appeared I now had some time on my hands (after all, I was already on my lunch break), my eyes caught sight of the title of her book. I can't tell you the exact title, but it had something to do with being a good Christian (I'm serious about this one). Okay. I decided to move to another position. I trampled through the bushes along the curb so that I was in her direct line of sight--along the front passenger side of her car. I waved my hand frantically back and forth in an attempt to get her attention. "Ma'am? Ma'am! Ma'am!!!" Finally I approached the unrolled passenger side window. At this point I was a bit exasperated. "Ma'am, if you don't move your car, I'll have to call the police." Her head snapped to attention, and she replied tersely, "I can park here. This curb isn't painted red. I know the law, and it's not against the law to park along a none-red curb. Go ahead and call the police." Well, to be truthful, I wasn't actually sure what the police could do (I'm a bit fuzzy on parking laws), but my words were intended to get her attention and to ultimately ensure the safety of our other patrons (we've had some close calls in the past). I furrowed my brow, hesitated a few seconds, and then decided to leave. What else could I say at this point?
I walked inside, went to my office, and began to write an email to our facilities department to request that the curb be painted red. A few minutes later, I spoke with the supervisor who had initially reported the car to me. "Well, I couldn't get her to respond either. I told her I'd call the police, but even that didn't work." She repied, "Well, it must have worked. She moved her car." Big sigh. All in a day's work. And now I can say that I've been completely ignored by a grown woman.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Kind of recent pictures
My family with our friend, Ricardo, from Argentina.
Our butter sculpture creation of "Petersen Memories" at the Petersen Family Reunion at East Canyon. This sculpture was in remembrance of the girls' cruise to Mexico. Though the butter shavings resemble ice chunks, the trip did not turn out as ill-fated as the Titanic (though we did get off to a very rough start by missing the boat).
Friday, October 12, 2007
Conflagration via scheduling, amongst other ramblings
Holy pennyloafers, we're busy. I really can't believe how busy Melanie and I are. The last time I was this busy, I was a student at El Modena High School (School Motto: "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Herein"), and we all know what THAT did to my sanity--or, I should say, to my guitar amplifier, which took the brunt of my catharsis.
I've been thinking a bit about high school lately; I read an article in my Salt Lake Community College classes this morning about abolishing high school, and all my students seemed to agree that the author was full of horsepuckey. (They said as much.) I've also been trying to disabuse all my students--BYU, SLCC, Westminster--of the False Traditions of the Fathers taught to them in high school English classes, like the idea that "I" shouldn't appear in an essay. (Now that's horsepuckey.)
Perhaps because of this, or simply perhaps El Modena High School (School Mascot: Whatever costume got stolen this week from McDonald's) was a trying (HA!) experience, I confess to supporting--at least in small measure--the notion presented in the article of abolishing high school.
I also support the idea of abolishing junior high school. No--I support the idea of burning junior high school to the ground. Goodness knows the students are always setting fires on campus anyway--just don't put 'em out.
In his immortal "Allegory of the Cave," Plato argues that everything we see in this life is but a mere imitation, a representation of a higher form of that particular thing. We want to see the truth--the "real" thing--but, due to our human nature, our mortal circumstances, we can't. This is why he was largely against art; it was another layer of representation, another step away from the "real" world.
Well, ol' Plato was wrong, because art occasionally works; every so often, it shows us the real state of things. To what do I refer? The Lord of the Flies. That's junior high; that's high school, the real deal Holyfield. Think of poor Piggy and his asthma, and then ask yourself: Did I really like high school that much?
Some people would answer yes, and I want to believe that. I'd love nothing more than to believe that the system works, that I was an anomaly. All I can say is that I was sure glad to get to college.
Of course, in order to function in American society, it's a given that someone's been to high school. Such is my critique of home-schooling: it doesn't prepare kids socially. Sure, they're well-versed in the required curricula; however, that's not everything. Thus, perhaps we should abolish high school and mandate, instead, military service--the climate would be remarkably similar! The kids could safely vent their destructive urges on the rocket-launcher range, and the end result would be of infinitely greater worth than AP credit. And kids would learn, like in high school, to survive socially. Maybe, instead of beating up on each other, the teenagers would focus all their aggression on the drill instructor, thus forming a comraderie not usually encountered in high school.
Perhaps. And, yes, I know I'm rambling, and this is largely composed of the aforementioned horsepuckey, but it's at least something to think about.
I've been thinking a bit about high school lately; I read an article in my Salt Lake Community College classes this morning about abolishing high school, and all my students seemed to agree that the author was full of horsepuckey. (They said as much.) I've also been trying to disabuse all my students--BYU, SLCC, Westminster--of the False Traditions of the Fathers taught to them in high school English classes, like the idea that "I" shouldn't appear in an essay. (Now that's horsepuckey.)
Perhaps because of this, or simply perhaps El Modena High School (School Mascot: Whatever costume got stolen this week from McDonald's) was a trying (HA!) experience, I confess to supporting--at least in small measure--the notion presented in the article of abolishing high school.
I also support the idea of abolishing junior high school. No--I support the idea of burning junior high school to the ground. Goodness knows the students are always setting fires on campus anyway--just don't put 'em out.
In his immortal "Allegory of the Cave," Plato argues that everything we see in this life is but a mere imitation, a representation of a higher form of that particular thing. We want to see the truth--the "real" thing--but, due to our human nature, our mortal circumstances, we can't. This is why he was largely against art; it was another layer of representation, another step away from the "real" world.
Well, ol' Plato was wrong, because art occasionally works; every so often, it shows us the real state of things. To what do I refer? The Lord of the Flies. That's junior high; that's high school, the real deal Holyfield. Think of poor Piggy and his asthma, and then ask yourself: Did I really like high school that much?
Some people would answer yes, and I want to believe that. I'd love nothing more than to believe that the system works, that I was an anomaly. All I can say is that I was sure glad to get to college.
Of course, in order to function in American society, it's a given that someone's been to high school. Such is my critique of home-schooling: it doesn't prepare kids socially. Sure, they're well-versed in the required curricula; however, that's not everything. Thus, perhaps we should abolish high school and mandate, instead, military service--the climate would be remarkably similar! The kids could safely vent their destructive urges on the rocket-launcher range, and the end result would be of infinitely greater worth than AP credit. And kids would learn, like in high school, to survive socially. Maybe, instead of beating up on each other, the teenagers would focus all their aggression on the drill instructor, thus forming a comraderie not usually encountered in high school.
Perhaps. And, yes, I know I'm rambling, and this is largely composed of the aforementioned horsepuckey, but it's at least something to think about.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
It's been ages, I know...
Well, I know that I haven't posed since the close of the Bronze Age, which is sad, made even more sad by the fact that this won't be a very substantive entry.
We've been busy lately--amazingly busy, which is a good thing, don't get me wrong. Nevertheless, it leaves very little time for blogging or recreation or whatever.
Thus, here's a nifty little shot of Melanie playing with our youngest niece, Kaitlin, AKA Kalli. Enjoy.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Carroll Reunion
We had lots of fun at the Carroll reunion on Saturday in Heber City. So much fun, in fact, that we came home exhausted and slept for three hours. Check out these cute pictures of my hubby and some of our family participating in the festivities.
Jeff & Emi having fun at the cemetery
Great-great grandmother Charlotte Moulton Carroll, part of the famous Moulton family who survived the ordeal of the Willie Handcart Company.
Susan? (I know she's related), Carrie, Dad, Mom, and Grandma Petersen
Cousins Eloise, Emilia, & Elijah pose in front of the Moulton plot in the Heber Cemetery
Jeff & Emi having fun at the cemetery
Great-great grandmother Charlotte Moulton Carroll, part of the famous Moulton family who survived the ordeal of the Willie Handcart Company.
Susan? (I know she's related), Carrie, Dad, Mom, and Grandma Petersen
Cousins Eloise, Emilia, & Elijah pose in front of the Moulton plot in the Heber Cemetery
Monday, July 23, 2007
Thoughts Occasioned by the Reading of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
*WARNING: No one under, oh, twelve years of age is to read this. Seriously.*
*WARNING: Spoilers galore."
So I finished it early Sunday morning (like 4:00am early):
1. Violent.
2. Violent.
3. There is literature, and then there is literature, and then there are books that make me feel like Santa Claus is alive again.
4. The Helaman Halls cluster in 1999-2000 was an awful lot like Hogwarts, bless it.
5. England--Great Britain, really--is a dreary, damp, beer-soaked, luddite-filled place that, in many respects, makes me shudder and take excessive Advil. Why do I constantly think about going back?
6. It's a good thing that I wasn't younger when the series emerged, because I wouldn't have gotten anything done. And all the brooms in the house would've gone missing.
7. I really, really like the music of 10,000 Maniacs. Go figure. ("These Days," anyone?)
8. I'm glad the editors included more anglocentric phrases.
9. I'm glad J.K.L. used "ruddy" instead of the stronger alternative.
10. Snape is the Pepsi, man.
11. Shouldn't have read it.
12. It's over, man, totally over.
13. This could be the next Star Wars, with novels coming out using the Potterverse as setting.
14. My wand would be ebony.
15. And long.
16. And reinforced with goblin-forged, Ollivander-enchanted metal of some unpronounceable varietal. I'd kick the pureblood out of Slytheryns by the baker's dozen, that stick in my hand.
17. But I wouldn't necessarily be a member of Gryffindor.
18. I would probably be Ravenclaw, actually. Nice commons room, to boot.
19. But, even if that were the case, I'd hang out with Gryffindors. They throw the best parties.
20. It bugs the crap out of me that he left the stone in the forest. I mean, sure, don't use it or anything, but don't just leave it in the forest. The way things go at Hogwarts, some berk'll probably use it for slingshot ammo and simultaneously kill and resurrect someone.
21. J.K.L. didn't live up to her word completely--where is the information about future occupations? Who learned magic later in life?
22. J.K.L. has a habit of rushing things--going to the headmaster's office should've happened much, much later in the book's sequence of events. There were dead bodies rotting downstairs, for crying out loud.
23. J.K.L.'s writing style has improved--she no longer leans on her Britishness to make up for poor prose. (Although there were still a lot of "it was a beautiful day"-esque phrases, which nearly stopped me.)
24. Violent. What rating will this get as a movie?
25. The deus ex machinas weren't as bad as in previous books, but they were still enough to make me uncomfortable.
26. So was Dumbledore always pretending to be asleep in his portrait before this?
27. The names got a little heavy-handed, and often strangely self-contradictory--"Amycus" and "Xenophilius" for bad guys?
28. What'll Snape be doing in his portrait?
29. Was it Snape or Dumbledore who corrected the person who said "Mudblood?"
30. I've got to stop thinking about this so much. I'm twenty-six.
31. How much is airfare to Gatwick?
*WARNING: Spoilers galore."
So I finished it early Sunday morning (like 4:00am early):
1. Violent.
2. Violent.
3. There is literature, and then there is literature, and then there are books that make me feel like Santa Claus is alive again.
4. The Helaman Halls cluster in 1999-2000 was an awful lot like Hogwarts, bless it.
5. England--Great Britain, really--is a dreary, damp, beer-soaked, luddite-filled place that, in many respects, makes me shudder and take excessive Advil. Why do I constantly think about going back?
6. It's a good thing that I wasn't younger when the series emerged, because I wouldn't have gotten anything done. And all the brooms in the house would've gone missing.
7. I really, really like the music of 10,000 Maniacs. Go figure. ("These Days," anyone?)
8. I'm glad the editors included more anglocentric phrases.
9. I'm glad J.K.L. used "ruddy" instead of the stronger alternative.
10. Snape is the Pepsi, man.
11. Shouldn't have read it.
12. It's over, man, totally over.
13. This could be the next Star Wars, with novels coming out using the Potterverse as setting.
14. My wand would be ebony.
15. And long.
16. And reinforced with goblin-forged, Ollivander-enchanted metal of some unpronounceable varietal. I'd kick the pureblood out of Slytheryns by the baker's dozen, that stick in my hand.
17. But I wouldn't necessarily be a member of Gryffindor.
18. I would probably be Ravenclaw, actually. Nice commons room, to boot.
19. But, even if that were the case, I'd hang out with Gryffindors. They throw the best parties.
20. It bugs the crap out of me that he left the stone in the forest. I mean, sure, don't use it or anything, but don't just leave it in the forest. The way things go at Hogwarts, some berk'll probably use it for slingshot ammo and simultaneously kill and resurrect someone.
21. J.K.L. didn't live up to her word completely--where is the information about future occupations? Who learned magic later in life?
22. J.K.L. has a habit of rushing things--going to the headmaster's office should've happened much, much later in the book's sequence of events. There were dead bodies rotting downstairs, for crying out loud.
23. J.K.L.'s writing style has improved--she no longer leans on her Britishness to make up for poor prose. (Although there were still a lot of "it was a beautiful day"-esque phrases, which nearly stopped me.)
24. Violent. What rating will this get as a movie?
25. The deus ex machinas weren't as bad as in previous books, but they were still enough to make me uncomfortable.
26. So was Dumbledore always pretending to be asleep in his portrait before this?
27. The names got a little heavy-handed, and often strangely self-contradictory--"Amycus" and "Xenophilius" for bad guys?
28. What'll Snape be doing in his portrait?
29. Was it Snape or Dumbledore who corrected the person who said "Mudblood?"
30. I've got to stop thinking about this so much. I'm twenty-six.
31. How much is airfare to Gatwick?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Pioneer Trek
A little break from the Wyoming sun
The kids pushing and pulling the handcart
Lindsy Nelson, Kenna Salisberry, Heidi Prowse, Ma Tucker (aka Melanie), and Meagan Braby
Jeff as our fearless flagbearer. The "T" stands for Team Tucker.Sunday, July 01, 2007
Further clarification
Dear all,
In answer to a question posed previously:
Yes, El Pollo Loco is quite good for you; true, it's got a lot of sodium in it (probably because of the beans, which taste horribly bland without tonnes of salt), but--aside from that--it's not bad at all. I love it dearly. In fact, back in my cross-country racing days, I'd eat two BRCs before every race. I'd love to get a franchise going in Utah, but I haven't the time.
Of course, this may be one of those "I-was-raised-on-the-stuff-and-I-love-it-when-it-really-isn't-anything-to-crow-about" things (like fry sauce) (which I don't care for, except for a couple varieties I've found), but I don't think so.
-Z
In answer to a question posed previously:
Yes, El Pollo Loco is quite good for you; true, it's got a lot of sodium in it (probably because of the beans, which taste horribly bland without tonnes of salt), but--aside from that--it's not bad at all. I love it dearly. In fact, back in my cross-country racing days, I'd eat two BRCs before every race. I'd love to get a franchise going in Utah, but I haven't the time.
Of course, this may be one of those "I-was-raised-on-the-stuff-and-I-love-it-when-it-really-isn't-anything-to-crow-about" things (like fry sauce) (which I don't care for, except for a couple varieties I've found), but I don't think so.
-Z
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Mariachis, El Pollo Loco, and the Millenium Falcon
Dear all,
There was champagne and sparkling cider available for every guest--the groom's family spent a pretty penny on that shindig, here you me. Sorry about the blurry picture, but this was about the time when the reception started heating up...
The auto-format that Blogger apparently has built into it is giving me fits; please excuse this (and other) posts if the spacing is weird.
Well, we're back from another weekend in Orange County. This time, we were down there for the wedding of our good friend, Elena Rhoads, who is now Elena Baeza. Melanie met her in Illinois when she (both of them) were attending grad school at the University of Illinois-Urbana/Champaigne(sp?). Elena actually got baptized on Melanie's birthday, thus making November 10th Mel's birtday and, simultaneously, Elena's rebirthday.
The wedding was quite a hoot--her husband, Jose Baeza, is Mexican, and they had a full-on mariachi band blasting away throughout the reception. I mean, three-and-a-half hours into the reception and they still hadn't even cut the cake--they were in it for the long haul. I don't know Jose very well, but the guy can throw a party.
Anyway, here are the pictures:
Here is the happy couple at the reception--along with a very zealous mariachi sawing away at that fiddle.
There was champagne and sparkling cider available for every guest--the groom's family spent a pretty penny on that shindig, here you me. Sorry about the blurry picture, but this was about the time when the reception started heating up...
Again, sorry about the blurry picture. These were the mariachis, a real talented bunch. I want one of those bass guitars--I'd just sit out on the balcony on sweltering summer afternoons and pluck the hours away.
Here we all are. Both Jose and Elena are studying to be doctors (indeed, Elena's earning a joint MD-PhD, which earns her infinite respect in my book), so, once they pay off their student debt, they'll probably be high-earning specialists.
All in all, a good trip, especially when we got to eat lunch at El Pollo Loco and drive around in my dad's new Lexus, which I have christened the Millenium Falcon, since it goes so fast that Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity gets tested. (During one period of intense acceleration, I felt myself not aging; indeed, Mel and I arrived at our destination a few seconds before we left.)
As always, more will come.
-Z
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
When the Tuckers Come Back to Capistra-ah-ah-no
Dear all,
Last week, my sister, Courtney, graduated from El Modena High School (School Motto: "Due to budget constraints, we have abandoned the school motto"), so Melanie and I went down to witness her graduation. It was great--I'm one proud brother.
I confess that my opinion of high school isn't, well, high. I generally feel that high school is something that we trudge through so that we can go to college and receive an education in things we actually care about. Nevertheless, this doesn't diminish the fact that graduating from high school--especially El Modena High School (School Alma Mater: "Welcome to the Jungle," Appetite for Destruction, Guns 'n' Roses)--is an enormous accomplishment, especially when you've been president of the National Honor Society, taken boatloads of AP credit, etc., like my sister has.
So, Courtney, you deserve a Tucker Boo-Yah: Boo-Yah!
We also got the chance to maraud around Orange County for a couple of days, since Courtney had parties and such to attend.
Here're some of the pictures we took. Enjoy!
Here's the whole group that attended graduation (please pardon the cheesy smiles--it was hot). My grandpa and uncle, Biron, are also pictured.
My mom's cousin, Patty Smith, was there, along with Patty's family (George, her husband, pictured here, and her daugher, Carrie, not pictured). They really got a kick out of my orange tree--apparently, those don't grow in Tennessee.
Here's Mission San Juan Capistrano, one of the first Catholic missions built in the late 1700s in southern California. It's still a functioning church--well, part of it, at least--and the grounds are really quite striking.
Here's my lovely wife sitting by one of the mission's fountains:
The baby is Talon Christensen, their little babe. He's a fun kid:
More pictures will, as always, follow.
Last week, my sister, Courtney, graduated from El Modena High School (School Motto: "Due to budget constraints, we have abandoned the school motto"), so Melanie and I went down to witness her graduation. It was great--I'm one proud brother.
I confess that my opinion of high school isn't, well, high. I generally feel that high school is something that we trudge through so that we can go to college and receive an education in things we actually care about. Nevertheless, this doesn't diminish the fact that graduating from high school--especially El Modena High School (School Alma Mater: "Welcome to the Jungle," Appetite for Destruction, Guns 'n' Roses)--is an enormous accomplishment, especially when you've been president of the National Honor Society, taken boatloads of AP credit, etc., like my sister has.
So, Courtney, you deserve a Tucker Boo-Yah: Boo-Yah!
We also got the chance to maraud around Orange County for a couple of days, since Courtney had parties and such to attend.
Here're some of the pictures we took. Enjoy!
Behold: Courtney and her best friend, Elisse Ota. They're both geniuses.
Here's the whole group that attended graduation (please pardon the cheesy smiles--it was hot). My grandpa and uncle, Biron, are also pictured.
My mom's cousin, Patty Smith, was there, along with Patty's family (George, her husband, pictured here, and her daugher, Carrie, not pictured). They really got a kick out of my orange tree--apparently, those don't grow in Tennessee.
Here's Mission San Juan Capistrano, one of the first Catholic missions built in the late 1700s in southern California. It's still a functioning church--well, part of it, at least--and the grounds are really quite striking.
Here's my lovely wife sitting by one of the mission's fountains:
The next day, we went to the Richard Nixon Birthplace and Library. Did you know that Nixon was from Orange County? It's yet another reason to like the place, right?
They've got Nixon's presidential helicopter there:
That morning, we went to breakfast with our good friends, Chelsea and Michael Christensen (notice the Danish spelling, Petersens?). We went to Ruby's, one of those places that's as much a part of my youth as El Modena High School (School Disclaimer: "El Modena High School may or may not be an actual high school").
The baby is Talon Christensen, their little babe. He's a fun kid:
Isn't Orange County a great place? Now I just have to strike oil, pioneer a successful technology IPO, become a plastic surgeon, and sell arms to rogue nations, and Melanie and I can afford to live there. (The budget would still be tight, though.)
More pictures will, as always, follow.
-Z
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Shoshone Falls, et al. (Part two of "Idaho: The Reckoning")
Well, I still haven't been able to collect all the pictures I want from family members; thus, my plan to present our Idaho trip photos in chronological order seems, presently, difficult. However, reality doesn't preclude my posting several additional nifty photos (and, right now, I'm having a hard time remembering what day we did this, so I guess the chronological thing is a moot point) (I'm pretty sure we did Shoshone Falls on Saturday, though).
So here is a picture of us at Shoshone Falls, billed as the "Niagara of the West" by the park's promoters. It was very nice, don't get me wrong--and this was on a day when the water level was deemed "low" by park officials. It's kinda hard to tell, but the falls wrap around a little on the cliffs, so the camera doesn't capture everything.
Melanie makes genealogical breakthroughs all the time, so I don't want to say that one breakthrough is any better than another--I mean, a breakthrough is a breakthough, and I recognize them as full-blown miracles, all of them. I'm very grateful. However, every once in a while, Melanie finds something that's just a little more interesting to me, and this was one of them--see, apparently my mother's side of the family DID have a member of the church in it back in the pioneer days. He would've been my, what, great-great-great-uncle? Turns out that James (I think that's his name) is buried in Filer, Idaho, just outside of Twin Falls, so we visited the cemetery, which was, for many years, operated by the International Order of the Odd Fellows.
On Sunday, we made it up to Sun Valley, the famous resort north of Twin Falls. (My dad used to go there quite a bit when he lived in Utah, so I've heard stories my whole life--I wanted to see it.) It was nifty (read: posh). The Petersens were very nice to accomodate my wish to visit Ernest Hemingway's grave, who is buried just outside of Sun Valley in Ketchum (well, it's really just a marker, since his ashes were scattered on the hillside behind the cemetery).
Now, bear in mind that I'm no Hemingway devotee; on the contrary, I really don't care for his writing all that much. I like even less what the man stood for, a philosophy that was largely anti-religious and anti-deistic, and which, I feel, ultimately did him in, along with his depression. There was, though, something noble in his quest for meaning in life; he had a determination--albeit misguided, from the Latter-day Saint viewpoint, but a strong determination, nonetheless--to find purpose in his mortal existence, a desire which I wish more people shared. Perhaps because of all this, I wanted to see his grave. Here it is, with Ryan in the foreground:
I've been told the coins are for wishes. There's also supposed to be a bottle of Jack Daniels on the grave (according to Erika's mom), but someone must have been thirsty.
So here is a picture of us at Shoshone Falls, billed as the "Niagara of the West" by the park's promoters. It was very nice, don't get me wrong--and this was on a day when the water level was deemed "low" by park officials. It's kinda hard to tell, but the falls wrap around a little on the cliffs, so the camera doesn't capture everything.
Melanie makes genealogical breakthroughs all the time, so I don't want to say that one breakthrough is any better than another--I mean, a breakthrough is a breakthough, and I recognize them as full-blown miracles, all of them. I'm very grateful. However, every once in a while, Melanie finds something that's just a little more interesting to me, and this was one of them--see, apparently my mother's side of the family DID have a member of the church in it back in the pioneer days. He would've been my, what, great-great-great-uncle? Turns out that James (I think that's his name) is buried in Filer, Idaho, just outside of Twin Falls, so we visited the cemetery, which was, for many years, operated by the International Order of the Odd Fellows.
On Sunday, we made it up to Sun Valley, the famous resort north of Twin Falls. (My dad used to go there quite a bit when he lived in Utah, so I've heard stories my whole life--I wanted to see it.) It was nifty (read: posh). The Petersens were very nice to accomodate my wish to visit Ernest Hemingway's grave, who is buried just outside of Sun Valley in Ketchum (well, it's really just a marker, since his ashes were scattered on the hillside behind the cemetery).
Now, bear in mind that I'm no Hemingway devotee; on the contrary, I really don't care for his writing all that much. I like even less what the man stood for, a philosophy that was largely anti-religious and anti-deistic, and which, I feel, ultimately did him in, along with his depression. There was, though, something noble in his quest for meaning in life; he had a determination--albeit misguided, from the Latter-day Saint viewpoint, but a strong determination, nonetheless--to find purpose in his mortal existence, a desire which I wish more people shared. Perhaps because of all this, I wanted to see his grave. Here it is, with Ryan in the foreground:
I've been told the coins are for wishes. There's also supposed to be a bottle of Jack Daniels on the grave (according to Erika's mom), but someone must have been thirsty.
Well, as always, more will follow.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Cauldron Linn (Part One of "Idaho: The Reckoning")
Howdy, all. Well, it's time to start showcasing our photos from the Idaho trip we took over the Memorial Day weekend. These pictures were taken at Cauldron Linn, a section of the Snake River that's made of lava rock. As you can see from the pictures, the river has sculpted the heck out of the lava rock, creating all sorts of formations--waterfalls, placid oxbows, strata of varying colors. It was really quite dramatic.
Here's Val surveying the scene:
Here are some of those rocks I was talking about. Beautiful to behold, a heck of a time to hike over:
Blake really wanted to take the raft out (I wondered about that one, because there were two deadly waterfalls not too far downstream), so here they are launching it at a peaceful section of the river:
The rocks were weathered in bowls, potholes, and even tubes (poor Abby's face doesn't look too comfortable):
Kaitlin has a bright future as a sea captain:
The comparisons to SpongeBob were inevitable (Libby actually said, "No pictures, please," but we didn't listen; we'll be trotting this one out twelve years from now, on prom night):
Oh, aren't we cute:
I suppose that this is the linn part of Cauldron Linn ("linn" means "waterfall" in Scots Gaelic, I'm told):
Here's Val surveying the scene:
Here are some of those rocks I was talking about. Beautiful to behold, a heck of a time to hike over:
Blake really wanted to take the raft out (I wondered about that one, because there were two deadly waterfalls not too far downstream), so here they are launching it at a peaceful section of the river:
The rocks were weathered in bowls, potholes, and even tubes (poor Abby's face doesn't look too comfortable):
Kaitlin has a bright future as a sea captain:
The comparisons to SpongeBob were inevitable (Libby actually said, "No pictures, please," but we didn't listen; we'll be trotting this one out twelve years from now, on prom night):
Oh, aren't we cute:
I suppose that this is the linn part of Cauldron Linn ("linn" means "waterfall" in Scots Gaelic, I'm told):
Well, that's all the pictures for now. More will follow--be sure of that.
-Z
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Long-Awaited Table
Can I say how much I love this table?
I gave it to Melanie on Mother's Day Eve, and we were able to use it when the whole Petersen gang came over for enchiladas--it worked out very nicely, if I dare say so myself.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I need a site.
16. Get a website.
This is a huge, monstrous goal. See, I was reading some business article on the internet the other day (probably on Yahoo! or something), and it said that, as a resume-building, brand-enhancing, public relations-maxxing (yeah, one of those buzzword-laden articles that seem to be everywhere) strategy, people should have their own websites, sites which show off their skills and stuff.
This struck me as a good idea, because my good friend, Pat Madden, has his own website, http://www.quotidiana.com. It's an essay-themed site, since Pat's an essayist. He has essays that he's written, essays that other people have written, instruction about essaying, etc. He even uses it as a teaching tool, assigning homework from his site. And it works really, really well.
Now, it's not the easiest thing to do, I'm sure. One must worry about intellectual property infringements, posting all of that creative work up there. Plus, there are the associated fees with web hosting and web design (since I don't know how to code a website). I mean, it's a substantial undertaking. But it'd be worth it, I bet. Potential employers could look at my resume, see the website, and actually read some of my stuff, as opposed to merely thinking about how many things as written, you know? Now, maybe that would work against me, if they didn't like my writing, but I think that it would be impressive.
This is a huge, monstrous goal. See, I was reading some business article on the internet the other day (probably on Yahoo! or something), and it said that, as a resume-building, brand-enhancing, public relations-maxxing (yeah, one of those buzzword-laden articles that seem to be everywhere) strategy, people should have their own websites, sites which show off their skills and stuff.
This struck me as a good idea, because my good friend, Pat Madden, has his own website, http://www.quotidiana.com. It's an essay-themed site, since Pat's an essayist. He has essays that he's written, essays that other people have written, instruction about essaying, etc. He even uses it as a teaching tool, assigning homework from his site. And it works really, really well.
Now, it's not the easiest thing to do, I'm sure. One must worry about intellectual property infringements, posting all of that creative work up there. Plus, there are the associated fees with web hosting and web design (since I don't know how to code a website). I mean, it's a substantial undertaking. But it'd be worth it, I bet. Potential employers could look at my resume, see the website, and actually read some of my stuff, as opposed to merely thinking about how many things as written, you know? Now, maybe that would work against me, if they didn't like my writing, but I think that it would be impressive.
Monday, April 09, 2007
More resolutions
Dear all,
Well, I've been doing my part--I hope--to fulfill my birthday goal. (A side note: Right now, I'm listening to "Light Up Ahead" as performed by Fields Forever, an acoustic project by Jon Bunch of Sense Field and Derrick Cordoba of Futher Seems Forever--get it?--and it's reminding me of why I should stop living my life in musical silence.) Anyway, I have a few more things I want to learn. I don't think it's cheating if I list a few new things I've learned, since I often learn--and do--new things without posting my desire to do them on the blog first.
13. Learn to make bread from scratch
14. (Pursuant to #14) Learn to make pizza from scratch
Those are done. Nice!
15. Take voice lessons
This idea scares the ________ [fill in favorite exclamation] out of me. There's a reason why I play guitar--I'm not big on singing. I mean, sure, I sang in the high school musical and all, but that was always in character. Singing, it's like--hear you me!--you'd better be good.
Well, I've been doing my part--I hope--to fulfill my birthday goal. (A side note: Right now, I'm listening to "Light Up Ahead" as performed by Fields Forever, an acoustic project by Jon Bunch of Sense Field and Derrick Cordoba of Futher Seems Forever--get it?--and it's reminding me of why I should stop living my life in musical silence.) Anyway, I have a few more things I want to learn. I don't think it's cheating if I list a few new things I've learned, since I often learn--and do--new things without posting my desire to do them on the blog first.
13. Learn to make bread from scratch
14. (Pursuant to #14) Learn to make pizza from scratch
Those are done. Nice!
15. Take voice lessons
This idea scares the ________ [fill in favorite exclamation] out of me. There's a reason why I play guitar--I'm not big on singing. I mean, sure, I sang in the high school musical and all, but that was always in character. Singing, it's like--hear you me!--you'd better be good.
Monday, April 02, 2007
My Cousin the Spy
Dear all,
So Melanie and I went to the last session of General Conference yesterday, which was, predictably, wonderful. Our seats were pretty decent (although Mel said, "There isn't a bad seat in this house," which is true) and perfectly oriented to see a few members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir come in late, working their way toward the stand through the audience. Mel and I later found out (from Mel's aunt Jan, who sings in the choir) that the late choir members had been stranded on the massive roof of the Conference Center, which is a large landscaped garden where the choir eats lunch. The lesson of the story, I suppose, is that, if you're a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, get your lunch and then get out. You might be serenading the crowds outside the Conference Center if you're not careful. (Jan, by the way, is very careful and wise. She gets off the roof ASAP.)
And it seems that she's passed that wisdom, that savvy situational awareness, that world-weary acumen, onto her daughter--my cousin-in-law--Dani, because Dani has become a spy. She's such a good spy, as a matter of fact, that she doesn't even spy for the government. No, Dani is a spy for a private corporation, which I shall not name, because I don't want to disappear in the middle of the night. That's right--Dani spies for one of those shadowy conglomerates that's always trying to achieve world domination in James Bond movies, a group of clandestine power-brokers that flies under the radar of conventional scrutiny...
Actually, I hyperbolize. Dani works for a large construction company; about the only thing they've ever staged a coup d'etat over is a pile of cinder block (even though I joke with her about her ballpoint pen really being a gun). However, she really is a spy--she goes around to competing businesses and checks them out, photographs their facilites, gets information from them while not letting on that she's from a competitor. (After all, if she waltzed up to a competitor and said, "Hey, I'm from X Construction Company and we're thinking about how we can better compete against you--or buy you out--so give me a list of your prices," about the only thing she'd get would be a snicker and a quick trip out.) So she travels around the country, doing in-depth research on her business peers.
And I think that's really cool. I mean, there's been a lot of talk, lately, about the government's sad lack of "HUMINT," or human intelligence--meaning on-the-ground, people-based intelligence about our enemies. Some people postulate that, had the government been able to amass substantial HUMINT before the invasion of Iraq, we wouldn't have invaded--but, as it was, our intelligence-gathering capabilities were focused on satellite images and recon flights and the like, and we couldn't tell whether Saddam Hussein had WMDs or not. Now, I'm not going to turn this into a forum to debate the Iraq War (Gulf War II?), but I think it's cool that Dani serves as a positive role-model for our nation's intelligence community.
So here's to you, Dani. Kudos. I hope that this blog post doesn't blow your cover.
So Melanie and I went to the last session of General Conference yesterday, which was, predictably, wonderful. Our seats were pretty decent (although Mel said, "There isn't a bad seat in this house," which is true) and perfectly oriented to see a few members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir come in late, working their way toward the stand through the audience. Mel and I later found out (from Mel's aunt Jan, who sings in the choir) that the late choir members had been stranded on the massive roof of the Conference Center, which is a large landscaped garden where the choir eats lunch. The lesson of the story, I suppose, is that, if you're a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, get your lunch and then get out. You might be serenading the crowds outside the Conference Center if you're not careful. (Jan, by the way, is very careful and wise. She gets off the roof ASAP.)
And it seems that she's passed that wisdom, that savvy situational awareness, that world-weary acumen, onto her daughter--my cousin-in-law--Dani, because Dani has become a spy. She's such a good spy, as a matter of fact, that she doesn't even spy for the government. No, Dani is a spy for a private corporation, which I shall not name, because I don't want to disappear in the middle of the night. That's right--Dani spies for one of those shadowy conglomerates that's always trying to achieve world domination in James Bond movies, a group of clandestine power-brokers that flies under the radar of conventional scrutiny...
Actually, I hyperbolize. Dani works for a large construction company; about the only thing they've ever staged a coup d'etat over is a pile of cinder block (even though I joke with her about her ballpoint pen really being a gun). However, she really is a spy--she goes around to competing businesses and checks them out, photographs their facilites, gets information from them while not letting on that she's from a competitor. (After all, if she waltzed up to a competitor and said, "Hey, I'm from X Construction Company and we're thinking about how we can better compete against you--or buy you out--so give me a list of your prices," about the only thing she'd get would be a snicker and a quick trip out.) So she travels around the country, doing in-depth research on her business peers.
And I think that's really cool. I mean, there's been a lot of talk, lately, about the government's sad lack of "HUMINT," or human intelligence--meaning on-the-ground, people-based intelligence about our enemies. Some people postulate that, had the government been able to amass substantial HUMINT before the invasion of Iraq, we wouldn't have invaded--but, as it was, our intelligence-gathering capabilities were focused on satellite images and recon flights and the like, and we couldn't tell whether Saddam Hussein had WMDs or not. Now, I'm not going to turn this into a forum to debate the Iraq War (Gulf War II?), but I think it's cool that Dani serves as a positive role-model for our nation's intelligence community.
So here's to you, Dani. Kudos. I hope that this blog post doesn't blow your cover.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
#6: Chainsaw technique learned
So I helped my uncle chop down a cherry tree yesterday. (George would be horrified.) So there goes ol' #6. At this rate, I'll be done in no time.
I thought of another item:
12. Learn how to turn wood on a lathe. (Then I can make bannister spindles and such truck.)
I thought of another item:
12. Learn how to turn wood on a lathe. (Then I can make bannister spindles and such truck.)
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Put Me in the Zoo!
The weather was so nice today, we couldn't "bear" to stay at home. We spent the day at Hogle Zoo!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)