Opening Day Update

I work about two miles from Comerica Park where the Tigers' opening game against the Kansas City Royals will be held today. Two miles away and yet I am still apparently well within Tiger Mania Zone. There's a bunch of beer-swilling, hot-dog-roasting, tent-erecting, ball-cap-wearing Tiger fans tailgating out in the church parking lot. There are also shuttle buses and a white stretch limo parked out front. Amazing.

A New Photo

Me in front of Young Detroit Builders.

(I know this Simpson's Movie marketing ploy is months and months old but this is the first time I've ever gotten it to work. Simpsonize your family and friends here.)

Opening Day

It is the last day of March and, more importantly for some, opening day for the Tigers. Later today, downtown will be swamped with the faithful who will endure the rain and gloom to watch their hometown boys open up the days of summer.

Will I be one of them?

No. No, I will not.

And why?

Because I don't care. I don't care at all.

In addition to getting a degree in poetry and not minding going shopping for clothes with my wife, another distinctive marker in my non-manly makeup is my utter indifference when it comes to sports and cars. I don't hold anything against sports fans or car guys -- some of my best friends and favorite family members are into sports (Captain Admiral, Ben) and my dad is the master of all things automotive -- it's just that those two stereotypically male things have never meant anything to me. I've never even been able to effectively fake interest for more than a couple of minutes.

I made several stabs as a kid to get into sports. I did little league baseball, wrestling, soccer, and track. I was dismal at baseball and wrestling but okay in soccer and pretty good in track but the thing was, my heart was never in any of them at all. I did it for kicks, for friends, because it was the thing to do, but I never did it because sports moved me in any way.

So, in 8th grade, after falling from being the fastest kid in school to being only the third fastest kid in school, I stopped even trying and gave up even my half-hearted efforts at being athletic. After that, I went to the occasional basketball or football game but that was always more for the girls than for the competition.

Last year, I happened to wear a baseball cap to school and one of my classmates came up and asked if it was in honor of "the boys not making it." I looked at her as though she'd just spoken to me in Hindi or something. Apparently, that day the Tigers had been knocked out of contention for the World Series and she thought I was commemorating that with my English "D" hat. When I told her I wore it because it was raining that morning and that I owned the hat only because it was cheap, I might as well have spat on her shoes. She was not impressed and actually had less to do with me for the rest of the semester.

Part of me always felt guilty for not liking sports and cars more than I do. I felt like I was somehow falling short in my masculine duties. I felt bad for my various in-laws who use sports as a way to get to know someone because I knew I gave them nothing to go on. When they say, "So, are you excited for March Madness?" and I say, "No, but Robert Hass just released his first poetry collection in almost a decade!" it's rough on them, you know?

But, largely, I'm over my guilt. I'm happy to like the things I like and let others do the same. We all have our thing and, to repeat those wise words, if it works for you, it works for you.

So, here's to you, Tigers fans! I'm sorry you're going to get rained on and that opening day is so gloomy and crappy. May you have many bright, blue sky days in your future. If you need me, I'll be in the bookstore near the poetry section.

I Am Not Made of Velveeta

I saw a comedian once who asked, "Have you ever thought about how much you'd get done if you actually did the stuff you said you needed to just to get off the phone?" As in, "I gotta go. I need to wash the dishes before the kids get home" or "I'd better let you go. I've got a ton of homework to do." You say that and then you promptly sit back down and finish popping bonbons and watching Oprah. I'm guilty of this as I'm sure most people are. Sometimes it's just time to get off the phone and if telling a small lie is what it will take, so be it.

The joke reminds me, however, of what a huge procrastinator I am. I do think about all the stuff I could accomplish if I actually did all I intend to. I make lists, prioritize them, set goals, plan, blah, blah, blah. I just put stuff off like crazy and no amount of last minute suffering ever seems to cure me of it.

The worst is when I put off my end-of-semester papers for school. I end up pulling an all-nighter at least once a semester and I end up depleted, bleary-eyed, and grumpy for a few days. The paper I turn in is never as good as it could be and I'm always on pins and needles until I get my grade, worried that this time the prof saw through my sheen of charm and good looks to discover that I'm actually an intellectual lightweight.

Currently, as I type, my right elbow is resting on a stack of papers I've had sitting here for over a week. Some student essays to read, a reading comprehension worksheet, two sets of questions from the first two chapters of Of Mice and Men. Would it take much to grade and record them? No. Would it feel great if I did it? Yeah. Is there any legitimate reason for not having done it yet? Not really. It has been a weird, topsy-turvy week because my folks were in town and I took some time off to be with them but I've certainly had the necessary time to get rid of this stack of stuff.

So why don't I?

Well, I guess if I really had to nail it down, it's simply because if I have a choice between doing something I like and something I don't like, I'll almost always pick the thing I enjoy. Even if the thing I don't like is important (writing a paper for school) and the thing I like is completely inconsequential (going through all 20 of Entertainment Weekly's "Worst Comic Book Movies Ever" list.) It's sad, really, when you think about how weak and "natural man" that is.

I've certainly gotten better about it at home. If Suzanne asks me to do something, I've trained myself (or been trained) to just go and do it right then while I'm thinking about it, while I'm able, so I don't forget and then have to say, "Oh yeah, I was about to do that." As we watch tv (Lost, DWTS, the news -- how much coverage can there possibly be on Kwame Kilpatrick's scandal? I'm interested and even I feel as though I've O.D.ed in the last week), Suzanne will say, "Will you switch the laundry?" I immediately stand up and go downstairs. It doesn't matter if K-Gooch is dancing, if Desmond is having a vision, or if ol KK himself is standing on the ledge of the 11th floor of the Coleman Young Jr. Building. I go switch the laundry.

School and work are another matter. There's no one nearly as meticulous or motivated as Suzanne at my work to encourage me to get stuff done and there's no one at all to hold me accountable at school. (Trust me, most teachers wouldn't even notice if I stopped coming altogether.) So being the weak, squishy guy that I am, I allow things at work and school to slide until the crisis moment when my boss says, "Your assessment reports are due this afternoon" or my teacher says, "Don't forget your 15-20 page terms papers are due next week."

Sigh.

I work pretty well under pressure and I like the brisk, humming feeling of doing work under a deadline. For that reason, I enjoyed working at the NPR affiliate in Boise and turning around stories in a matter of hours. There's a feeling of accomplishment and a bit of a thrill in getting something in just under the wire. Is the love of that feeling the reason I'm such a slacker? Do I like it so much that I subconsciously organize my life in a way that's sure to guarantee lots of photo finishes? I don't know. Mostly I think a lot of it is just habit and an inborn sense of easy-going, "Hey, things will work out, man." Maybe I was a surfer in another life. For better or worse, I'm just not that tense about deadlines. In the wise words of an old friend, "If it works for you, it works for you."

However, I was thinking last night about what it would be like if I really did all the things I'm supposed to do and all the things I want to do for a little while. And did them first thing without putting them off or wasting time?

I wondered what it would be like to grade the papers as soon as I get them and read all of homework for school before the day it's due. Moreover, what would it be like to actually exercise every day like I need to? And to write for an hour every day? And to study the scriptures every day?

Could it be done? Would my brain explode? Would I burn myself out and be miserable? I don't know.

The reason this even came up is Suzanne got a call from the new Bally Fitness Center in the neighborhood and was offered a free, two-week trial. She asked if her husband could have it instead. (How's that for a hint?) It starts tomorrow and I thought about actually doing it for two weeks to see what would happen. As long as I'm exercising, why not do a few other things too? I envisioned calling it The Superman Project -- two weeks of doing everything I'm supposed to do but feel bad about not doing. Everyone knows how much I love the idea of a project -- see here. I don't know if I'll do it. . . or even if I could do it. I'll be sure to let you know if I decide to go for it. Maybe I'll make a little spreadsheet chart so all six of you can track whether or not I ran or wrote that day.

Stay tuned.

(If I were made of pure Velveeta, I'd make some lame joke about how "I'll decide tomorrow" to tie in the whole procrastination theme. However, I am not made of Velveeta. I just look like it.)

The Weather

"Man, Michigan weather gets weirder every day."

The Browns Depart as Yamaguchi Rises

My parents' visit is winding down and I'm sad. It's been really wonderful to have them here and for Maryn and Avery (and Suzanne and me) to spend a lot of meaningful, undivided time with them. Yesterday, Dad, Avery, and I toured Ford's River Rouge F-150 Truck Plant. Watching a truck being assembled from the ground up is exactly the kind of thing my dad likes. He has a mechanical mind and watching gears and parts all fit together into a functioning whole is as satisfying and interesting to him as seeing a really good movie might be for me. Avery was a trooper and didn't complain or whine one bit during the whole two hour tour. It was a lot of fun.

Maryn stayed at home with my mom who taught her the basics of cross stitching. Apparently, Maryn sat stock-still for two hours, creating an Easter bunny sitting in green grass. Mom eventually had to tell her to take a break and chill out for a while. I never would have guessed Maryn would turn out to be a die hard cross stitcher.

Tomorrow in the wee hours of the morning, Mom and Dad will load up and head back west. Dad thinks he wants to take an alternate route home that will swing them past Mount Rushmore. We'll see if the weather and my mom's patience cooperate.

AND NOW A FEW WORDS ON WHY KRISTY YAMAGUCHI IS LIKE A UTAH FARM BOY

Okay, so in her little pre-dance film this week, Kristy Yamaguchi was all shy and embarrassed about "shaking it" doing her Latin dance. The editors cleverly constructed the segment to create doubt in viewer's minds as to whether or not the demure, elegant K-Gooch (my new nickname for her) could pull off sweaty and hip-thrusty. Even I was thinking, "Did I pick my horse too early? Is she going to be another Jane Seymore and be a sad, one trick pony who looks great doing the waltz and like an embarrassed albatross doing the mambo?"

And lo, K-Gooch came forth and laid out a heapin' helping of sweaty, hip-thrusty, dance smackdown.

And this is how she's like a Utah farm boy: (I have your interest at this point, I know.)

When I served my mission for the LDS church from 1994 - 1996, I came in contact with a wide variety of other missionaries who came from different places, different backgrounds, etc. Some were smart, others were not. Some came from fabulously wealthy backgrounds, others were used to washing their socks in the bathtub. Some were extremely poor workers while others never really stopped working except to sleep. The crazy workers were usually the Utah farm boys. They understood the necessity and inevitability of work. It wasn't something to be avoided, negotiated, or managed -- it was something to be done. Period. Consequently, all the time that many other missionaries spent just trying to learn how to work, how to keep at a task, how to not melt down and go home, was spent by the Utah farm boys actually doing missionary work. They usually had a lot of success, were usually asked to be leaders, and were usually nice guys.

The thing about K-Gooch is that she's an Olympic athlete. She knows how to work, how to train, how to commit to something. Extended, disciplined effort comes as naturally to her as eating an entire 2 pound bag of M & M's comes to me. Like a Utah farm boy, whether or not to work or how to work simply aren't questions she worries about. I don't get the sense that Adam Corolla has ever broken a sweat except when his jokes flopped on stage. To an Olympic athlete, hard, complicated physical effort is second nature.

So, because hard work was old news to the Utah farm boys, they had time for their natural skills and gifts to come to the fore. One guy might be a great scriptorian, another might have strong leadership skills, another might be able to talk to anybody anytime without fear. These were skills that other Elders didn't develop until after they had learned how to work.

So it is with Kristy. Because getting in shape, training hard, and working isn't a big deal to her, she has time to transition her coordination, grace, and performance abilities to the dance floor from the ice rink. And thus I continue my contention that, if given the chance by the more horse-brained portions of the voting public, K-Gooch will demolish the competition this season.

A Kodak Moment

More accurately, a moment I wish I had a full documentary film crew following me around:

Imagine a 64 year old, white, Idahoan banker in a room of about 20 young, extremely black men and women from Detroit. Sounds like a joke, right? Well, it was my life this morning. Today I took my dad to work. Because of a weird scheduling thing, I didn't actually have to teach today but Dad attended our regular morning meeting and, after I introduced him, he regaled the students with stories of growing up on a farm in Idaho. I loved every second of it. I was like a little kid, egging his dad on to tell the next good story. I had him tell some of the gorier stories to get the students' attention -- Grandpa Brown losing his fingers to the corn chopper, his brothers beating a badger to death with shovels, Dad losing the tip of his right pinky, Grandpa's leg getting sucked into the combine, Dad's friend from California being attacked by bees, etc.

The students were attentive and respectful and it was a lot of fun.

I'm 34 year years old and, apparently, I have not grown out of the "My dad is so cool, I'll bring him for show-and-tell" phase of my life. Probably never will.

The Bad and The Good

Things I'm Not Very Good At

Bowling - I'm thrilled if I break a hundred. It rarely happens.

Blow Bubbles With Gum - Seriously. I can't do it. I always end up spitting the wad of gum out onto the floor. I managed one tiny bubble once. It was in high school. It was a brief, gleaming moment.

Gauge Distance or Population - I have no head for this. I can accurately tell you how far it is from Salt Lake to Rexburg but if you ask me roughly how many feet it is from my front step to the street, I'm likely to say, "I dunno. A thousand?" Same with populations of towns. How many people live in Detroit? "I dunno. A thousand?"

Crossword Puzzles - They elude me. I did one on the back of Avery's kid's menu at Applebee's the other night and it was the first one I'd ever finished.


Things I Am Good At

Reading Stories Aloud - Trust me, I rock. I deliver the meanest rendition of The Giant Jam Sandwich known to man. Dr. Suess and I get along very well.

Make Cheesburgers - They're pretty hard to screw up, of course, but it is one thing that Suzanne actually likes my version better than her own.

Cell Phone Tetris - This is relative. I've never been good at Tetris at all (or any other video game for that matter) but, since I got my new phone, I've become a Zen master of it (comparatively speaking.)

Drawing Cartoon Pictures of Myself - Kinda self-absorbed, I know, but there it is. After years of practice, I can knock out a clever, little doodle of myself in seconds flat. I'm pretty quick on the draw with the girls and Suzanne too.


(Avery's version of me.)

Talking About Movies I've Never Seen As Though I Have Seen Them - Years of a subscription to Premiere magazine will do that. I can talk about the director, the actor's performance, funny stories about the development of the script, etc. all without ever having actually seen the first frame of film.

For the Record

Unless I'm mistaken, Kristy Yamaguchi is going to mop the floor with the other DWTS contestants.

P.S. This picture makes her look like she's saying, "Can you see this mole on the back of my neck?"

My Philosophy of Reality Television

Yeah, that's right. I have a philosophy. Got a problem with that?

Tuesday night, Suzanne and I about O.D.ed on an unreasonable amount of reality TV. During the first hour of American Idol, we switched back and forth between it and The Biggest Loser to see which former chub was going to have to leave the Ranch. During the second hour, we alternated between A.I. and Dancing With The Stars to see which B-list celebrity was going to sizzle or fizzle in cha-cha heels. There was so much to see, my little noggin just about exploded.

As it all sloshed around in my head the next morning on the way into work, it occurred to me why I like certain reality shows and why I loathe others. The secret is this: I like shows that encourage people to do, make, or become something positive and I dislike shows that do nothing but showcase smallness, darkness, and depravity.

Case in point #1: Fat March. It was a limited series with only six or eight episodes. It featured a team of overweight people walking the 550 miles from Boston to Washington, D.C. The more people on the team who finished, the more award money they all received. So yes, while there might have been some "Hey, look at the chubs walking!" exploitation to it, it was much more about people doing something positive and accomplishing an impressive task. AND it was designed to encourage teamwork and cooperation rather than division and backstabbing.

Case in point #2: Big Brother. Here's a show populated entirely by young, attractive people who are encouraged to lie, backbite, and betray one another as regularly as possible. The challenges are designed to be difficult but not necessarily useful or productive in any way. Housemates usually end up hooking up with one another in meaningless, purely physical relationships. People are outright cruel, prejudicial, and mean to one another. It's a carnival of the darker side of human nature. Julie Chen should have her USC degree in broadcast journalism forcibly removed from her for even getting near this stinkbomb of a show.



So yeah, Dancing With The Stars is kind of silly but that's part of what makes it great. The prize isn't a million dollars - it's a mirror ball attached to the top of a trophy.


It doesn't take itself seriously at all and the people on the show appear to actually be having fun (with the possible exception of Monica Seles this season.) It doesn't involve alliances or back door deals, it doesn't require people to eat inedible parts of various animals (don't get me started on Fear Factor) or encourage people to vent their spleen.

Though American Idol has its moments of drama with Simon telling people they should hunt down their former vocal coaches and get their money back, it's still a show in which people do something - they produce music for others to enjoy. It does something other than bring out the worst in people.

Whoopie-Ti-Yi-Yay

Back in the saddle again. My desk-side radiator is too hot, the students out in the hall are too loud, and I'm about to go to a meeting that, undoubtedly, will be way too long. Yup. I'm back and I feel right at home.

I've actually had a fairly productive day. I taught twice this morning, cleaned out the back office (as per Rowland's command), speed read four essays on feminism and horror films, and revamped Mr. Blog here (with masthead help from the much-more-computer-savvy-than-me Tracy Medley). I still have five installments of The Decalogue to view but I'm at least on the downhill side with that. (Contrary to what you might think about a ten hour series of Polish films based on the Ten Commandments, it's both entertaining and powerful. The performances so far have just been pure, Polish dynamite. Really good.)

Anyway, I don't have anything of worth to share today and so I turn to my good ol' standby: Toothpaste for Dinner. I post this particular one in honor of my trip to Idaho which is actually the original home of black ice.


toothpastefordinner.com

On The Road Again

It's one a.m. here. In a little over an hour I'll hop on the little shuttle bus that drives through the night between here and SLC. I'll arrive at the airport, eat some overpriced breakfast food, doze in an uncomfortable chair, and take flight just before ten a.m.

It's been an excellent trip. I've truly enjoyed just hanging out at my folks' house and visiting with family and eating food and playing with babies. It's been pretty sweet.

There have been some overall highlights of course -- the post-presentation chat at the AML conference, hanging with Tony, movie night at Jason's, Hadley, Dave and Melanie's kids, Geraldine's with Mom, a movie with Dad, lunch with Dan, lunch with the Captain, etc. It's been great.

But I really miss my wife and kids. I miss sitting with Suzanne and talking once the girls are asleep. I miss helping Maryn with her homework. I miss Avery teasing me and helping in the kitchen.

Avery puked again last night and, apparently, she takes after her dear ol' dad in her ability to cover a lot of ground with her vomit. I guess last night she ran to throw up in the toilet but the lid was down. Not pretty.

I mention this not because I feel as though I missed out on seeing an impressive display of projectile vomiting, but because I regret that I wasn't there to help Suzanne clean up. I appreciate her immensely for supporting me in taking this trip. She knew it would be good for my resume and good for my soul to come out and she let me go without grousing or guilting. Avery's been sick but even if she hadn't been, taking care of two busy little girls while working full-time and holding down a calling is a heck of a lot of work. I appreciate that she was willing to do that work so I could have a few days of familial luxury.

I miss her. I miss Maryn and Avery. It will be good to be with them again. Suzanne's got a GNO (Girl's Night Out) lined up for Saturday night and, boy howdy, is she welcome to it. She deserves a break bigtime.

Los Hermanos Marrones

Jason and Mindy


David and Melanie


Daniel, Shalee, and Hadley

A Very Important Lunch

Captain Admiral and I convened at The Brownstone near the banks of the Snake River in Idaho Falls to discuss our plan for world domination through the facial hair of middle aged men. Here is photographic proof of this historic meeting:



You will all be glad to know that we mutually agreed to be benign dictators.

P.S. Even as I write this, I hear the ghost of Tracy Brewer Medley saying, "You guys aren't as funny as you think you are."

To this ghost, I respond with one of the oldest, most inside jokes of all time: David Lynch -- Elton John's new flame.

To all the rest of you who are scratching your head at this moment, I apologize profusely. We will now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

More Pics

My dad and my brother David have been rebuilding a house from the inside out. Literally. I'm not talking about splashing a coat of paint here and there or paying someone to install new cabinets. I'm talking about rebuilding a house -- walls, floors, electrical, plumbing, furnace, you name it. It's taken a long time and I think they're both pretty beat. But, more likely than not, Dave and Melanie will move into what is essentially a brand-new house this weekend and it will be one that they helped design and build themselves.

For the record, what happened was this: they bought a lot and then they bought an old house that was dirt cheap. They had a foundation poured on the lot and then had the house moved onto it. From there, they gutted the house entirely and started fresh, designing the floor plan, framing it, wiring it, etc. Now, we have the following:

Some Survey Goodness

1) What is the last movie you saw in a theater? Was it good?

There Will Be Blood at the Center Theater in Idaho Falls, Idaho. It was interesting and cool to look at. I probably won't see it again any time soon and I'd only give qualified recommendations to certain people when it comes to seeing it. So take that for what it's worth.

2) What is your favorite tv show?

Lost. Can't get enough of it. Also, though I'm a little embarassed to write it, I really like Dancing With The Stars. Yup.

3) What is the last album you bought (or stole from the internet, or burned from a friend) that you loved?

That I loved? Hmmm. I downloaded The Highstrung's Get the Guests right before coming out here but I can't say I LOVE it. The last album that I absolutely loved was probably Regina Spektor's Begin to Hope. I listened to that an awful lot.

4) If you were in charge of People Magazine’s Sexiest Person Alive, who would win?

Hmm. This is a toughie. It's one thing for Suzanne or my mother-in-law to say George Clooney or Ben Affleck. It's somehow different for a guy to say things like that. Nevertheless, at the risk of sounding weird or pervy, I'd have to say either Salma Hayek, Parminder Nagra, or possibly Julianne Hough.

5) Who is your favorite artist? (Like art artist)

Edward Hopper. Don Ricks. LeConte Stewart. John Hafen. Mike Mignola. Will Eisner.

6) What is your favorite musical/opera/play?

I love The Night Thoreau Spent In Jail. The Diviners. The Rainmaker. Into the Woods.

7) What do you think is the worst song ever recorded?

Wow. Another tough one. So many to choose from. I could say anything by Rascal Flatts but that would bring the smackdown from every family member I have on both sides. Um. That Barbie song from ten years ago? I think the band was called Aqua or something. Anything by Rick Astley? I'll have to think about this one.

The Trip Thus Far (text version)

It's late here. That, of course, means it's even later according to my internal, Michigan clock. Nevertheless, here I sit, The High Strung's "Raise the Bar" blaring in my ears, typing away.

It's been a good trip so far. The flight was fine. I was wedged between the window and a meaty teenager who smelled like b.o. He was texting his mop-headed friend who sat two rows ahead. Occasionally, after a really clever text, Mop-Head would turn around, bare his rat-like teeth and give his bro a thumbs up. Sigh. Fortunately, that was only for one leg of the trip. Overall, it was dandy.


(Sunset in Utah.)

Friday with Tony was great fun. He showed me around the 2 million dollar expansion of his facility and I watched him do some orientation with some new hires. Then, around noon, we took off and left work behind. We drove to Jordan Commons and watched a matinee of U2-3D. Yes, Virginia, it was awesome. It was in IMAX and 3D. The picture was actually almost too clear -- it was apparent how old Bono is getting (which, by extension, means I'm getting old too.) Anyway, I loved it.

Tony's kids are really cute and funny and smart so spending time with them was a real joy. Little Lucy pretty much had me in the palm of her fat, slobbery hand for the entire time I was there. She's a sweet kid for sure.



Saturday was the whole point (supposedly) of this trip: the AML conference at BYU. I met Scott Bronson, the playwright, Eric Samuelsen, the director, Stephen Carter, the screenwriter, and my newest favorite author, Angela Hallstrom. My good friend, Darlene, was there as well and, all in all, it was just a lot of cool people gathered together in one place.

My presentation went alright, I guess. Looking back, there were about two paragraphs that I should have left in for the sake of continuity. The paper sounded okay without them but I feel like they would have helped the whole thing make a little more sense. Ah well. Maybe next year?

The best part of the day was an informal conversation that started out in the hall after my session. Eric Samuelsen is a close personal friend of Richard Dutcher's and when he came across me, Darlene, Angela, Jack Harrell, and Robert Bird talking about Brigham City, he brought considerable insight to the discussion. It was fun, it was interesting, it was far too short. Tony came to pick me up and I had to go. Of course, I was happy to return to my place in the Lucy Fan Club but the next time I attend an AML event, I'll make sure to schedule in plenty of time to shmooze and socialize before, during, and after.

Sunday, Tony drove me up to Idaho and we spent a couple of hours driving around Rexburg, looking at how the site of our past had changed. Tony hadn't been to Rexburg in over four years so it was a lot more shocking for him than it was for me. I'd been there as recently as last July so it wasn't a big deal for me.


(Tony consumes a Slim Jim somewhere between Utah and Idaho.)

We walked around, he took pictures, and we laughed an awful lot. Hard.

Now I'm in Rigby and all is well. I've spent some time terrorizing my niece and various nephews. I was paid a very high compliment earlier today when nephew Kyle chose to play with me instead of watching a Thomas the Tank Engine movie. Apparently, that's the equivalent of a vampire giving up a chance to run free in a blood bank or Dick Cheney passing on a whole bank account of dirty Halliburton money. Choosing me over Thomas is a big compliment from Kyle.

Nephews Kameron and Hadley are awesome little men. Hadley's got places to be and things to do. He looks at me without much regard and then rolls off to some far corner of the floor to bop around his shiny soccer ball. He forgets that I'm his favorite uncle but I'm sure he'll remember before the end of the trip.


(Hadley: "Mark, I'm not impressed with you.)

This evening my dad and I went out to Olive Garden for dinner and to see There Will Be Blood at the Center Theater. I may write about the movie later. I'm still processing it at the moment. More than anything else, mine was a case of reading too much before seeing the movie. I knew everything that was going to happen, knew about the weird, discordant music, read a lot about Daniel Day-Lewis'es "hypnotizing" performance. Consequently, all the surprise and power the film was supposed to have -- well, it didn't really. Anyway, I may say more later. The important thing is that I got to go out with my dad. He and I have always had movies in common. I really like going to the theater to see films and he's always been a game companion. Even back when we didn't really speak or have anything to talk about, we'd still go to movies together once in a while. I'm really glad I got to do that with just him tonight.

Anyway, tomorrow I'll go out with Dan to lunch and then we're having a brothers' movie night in Pocatello in Jason's new home theater. Shifting from the Oscar-winning There Will Be Blood to The Rundown starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. It'll be sweet for sure.

Potato Gigante!

To show off to my students:





The question is, will it look suspicious to TSA officials to have five or six giant potatoes in my bag?

The Trip Thus Far

Tony and me yukking it up.



Leora the Great and me.



Tony and Cassie Mosier



The mountains of Utah.




New nephew Kameron looking fat and happy.

Spud

By the way, I've told my students that I'm going to get my dad to take me to one of his customer's cellars so I can pick out the biggest potato I can find to bring back and show them what a real Idaho spud looks like.

I hope to look like this guy when I get back:

Blogging the West

Tonight I fly out to Utah. I'll spend tomorrow following Tony around and then Saturday I'll present my paper at the AML Conference. (3:30 - 3:55, room 3215 in the Wilkinson Center. 25 minutes of dry, academic goodness. Be there or be square, hipsters!)On Sunday Tony will drive me up to Idaho and we'll spend a little time in Rexburg checking out old haunts. Then from Monday until early Friday morning, I'll just be hanging out, playing with my nieces and nephews, chilling with my brothers, tormenting my mother (because that's what tall people do to short people), and just generally soaking up the Idaho-ness of it all.

While I doubt I'll get much done over the weekend, I do intend to blog a little while I'm away. If I were a little more technologically advanced, I'd have a laptop and I'd live-blog my various airport experiences and the drive with Tony. But as it is, I'll just have to do with what I've got.

For now, I need to prepare a week's worth of assignments that will go completely unused. (They always do. It's just a little thing my boss has me do so he can feel like he's a good planner. I like to humor him that way. In reality, he organizes like I play football -- not at all.) I'm also going to attempt to reapply for the same film studies scholarship I won last year. I don't know how they feel about giving it to the same person two years in a row but I'll give it a stab.

And, as if that wasn't enough to do, I need to watch the final hour of Andrei Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice and return it before leaving today.

Y'know, if I wasn't a giant procrastinator, my life would be a lot easier.

Don't Catch Something You Can't Throw Back

So the other day, Avery was jumping on my stomach with her knees. She's not a baby anymore and that particular activity has gone from being cute and endearing to possibly violating the Geneva Convention. Anyway, at some point during the Atomic Knee Smash session, I blurted out, "Crimony Crud!" It's just one of my sayings, some weird little catchphrase I use to be funny or to avoid getting trouble for swearing around the kids. It's right up there with "Freak almighty!"

Anyway, I remembered that "Crimony crud" did not originate with me. It's a phrase from the obscure but much beloved (by some) comic book from the late 80s and early 90s, Ralph Snart.



I was never a Ralph Snart reader in any meaningful way. However, I was (and am) friend to RS fanboy, Brad Barrett, who peppered me with Snartisms such as, "How weak! Wotta woman!" and the aforementioned, "Crimony crud!" Eventually, I picked a little of it up and it entered my regular parlance. So now, here I am, fifteen years later, still using a phrase I picked up from a friend.

I started thinking of the habits, sayings, rituals, likes/dislikes, etc. that I've picked up from friends and family members over the years. Here's an abbreviated list:

Suzanne: the tendency to pronounce the word "yes" as "yees."

Jason (older brother): a deep affection for Van Halen.



Mom: An almost Pavlovian response to rainy days with a desire to make homemade soup, rolls, and chocolate chip cookies.

Dad: The phrases "Jeeze, kid!" and "Ignorant donkey."

Tyler Mitchell (missionary companion): The phrases "who kicked your trike in the ditch?" and "You whine like my mule," and "You're as full of crap as a Christmas goose."

Brad: Saying "Sure, sure," like Paul Newman from The Hudsucker Proxy.



Jeff Day (brother-in-law): Pronouncing the name of the rapper Ja Rule as "Jay Rule."



Suzanne: Wiping off counters constantly.

Norman Rindlisbacher (missionary companion): The phrase "What the H?"

Tony: "Dude." "Bah!"

Jason: Having every piece of dialog from The Breakfast Club burned in my memory for time and, most likely, all eternity.



Arthur Dolsen (Latin professor): Saying "yes, yes, dear child" in a deep, sonorous voice.

Brad: a deep love for the theme song of Shaft.



President Ernest Westover (mission president): The phrase, "That kid doesn't have the sense God gave a newborn calf!"



There are undoubtedly more things that I've "caught" from people that I haven't thrown back. As they come to me, I will update the list.