Porch Light
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Finding the Funk
Fo
r the last several w
eeks a unique scent has been ruminating inside of our fridge. Thankfully the Hurtado/Johnson nose is equipped with an exceptional sniffer, not as great as this one guy I knew in high school who could stuff 5 quarters up each nostril. Imagine how much air he could sniff into his cavernous nasal passages. For me, any smell with an unidentified source drives me nuts and drives Wil nuts because every bit of down time that we have, I spend talking about the smell and how much I wish that I could find and remove the funk.
This week the fridge smell reached an intensity that made us all crazy. Animals wandering into our yard beca
me aggravated and disoriented every time our fridge was opened. We avoided chilled food and lived off raw meat, random food scraps and late season berries. So last night, Laura suited up in a garbage bag with a clothes pin on her nose and started looking for the smell. A few moments later, the source was found. Several rotten cucumbers lay pickled in green mold covered juices on the bottom of a drawer hiding underneath some egg plant. There is no greater feeling than finding the funk and removing a nasty smell. I thanked Wil and ran a victory lap around our house holding the white garbage bag in the air and then chucked it proudly into the garbage, it was liberating and pathetic at the same time.
On the flip side, my father in law, John Alan, lost his sense of smell after he crashed into a tree during a ski trip. As a result his sniffer does not work. I have wondered if John were to hit another tree or run into a wall face first if his sense of smell would come back, it's worth a try. Anyway, because of my heightened sense of smell there is nothing that annoys John more than me trying to find the funk. For example, my in laws used to have a house dog named, Sophie. Sophie was a nervous curly haired poodle sort of dog that crapped and peed in their living room for several years. This was a challenging time in their household one that involved many veterinary examinations and eventually led to medicating the dog so it could relax and stop having frenzied evacuations on the living room carpet. Unfortunately, the medication dumbed down the dog making the problem worse. Later on it was discovered that all Sophie needed was a doggie door. Her nervous tension was actually caused by having no access to the outside world when needed. I think that I would have responded the same way.
So during the "Sophie Years" I did what any good son in law would do and when we were in town I used all my energy to describe to John in the finest detail possible the pungeant odiforous smell of the carpet. You will be glad to know that I successfully drove him to the edge of sanity pointing out the wall of scent that Sophie created in the house. And even more maddening was the reality that the scent was only a doggie door away from ever existing. Poor Sophie, poor John. Oh the humanity!
Can you smell it?
r the last several w
eeks a unique scent has been ruminating inside of our fridge. Thankfully the Hurtado/Johnson nose is equipped with an exceptional sniffer, not as great as this one guy I knew in high school who could stuff 5 quarters up each nostril. Imagine how much air he could sniff into his cavernous nasal passages. For me, any smell with an unidentified source drives me nuts and drives Wil nuts because every bit of down time that we have, I spend talking about the smell and how much I wish that I could find and remove the funk.This week the fridge smell reached an intensity that made us all crazy. Animals wandering into our yard beca
me aggravated and disoriented every time our fridge was opened. We avoided chilled food and lived off raw meat, random food scraps and late season berries. So last night, Laura suited up in a garbage bag with a clothes pin on her nose and started looking for the smell. A few moments later, the source was found. Several rotten cucumbers lay pickled in green mold covered juices on the bottom of a drawer hiding underneath some egg plant. There is no greater feeling than finding the funk and removing a nasty smell. I thanked Wil and ran a victory lap around our house holding the white garbage bag in the air and then chucked it proudly into the garbage, it was liberating and pathetic at the same time.On the flip side, my father in law, John Alan, lost his sense of smell after he crashed into a tree during a ski trip. As a result his sniffer does not work. I have wondered if John were to hit another tree or run into a wall face first if his sense of smell would come back, it's worth a try. Anyway, because of my heightened sense of smell there is nothing that annoys John more than me trying to find the funk. For example, my in laws used to have a house dog named, Sophie. Sophie was a nervous curly haired poodle sort of dog that crapped and peed in their living room for several years. This was a challenging time in their household one that involved many veterinary examinations and eventually led to medicating the dog so it could relax and stop having frenzied evacuations on the living room carpet. Unfortunately, the medication dumbed down the dog making the problem worse. Later on it was discovered that all Sophie needed was a doggie door. Her nervous tension was actually caused by having no access to the outside world when needed. I think that I would have responded the same way.
So during the "Sophie Years" I did what any good son in law would do and when we were in town I used all my energy to describe to John in the finest detail possible the pungeant odiforous smell of the carpet. You will be glad to know that I successfully drove him to the edge of sanity pointing out the wall of scent that Sophie created in the house. And even more maddening was the reality that the scent was only a doggie door away from ever existing. Poor Sophie, poor John. Oh the humanity!
Can you smell it?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
WILLA
Over 10 years ago Laura was getting ready to head home from college for the summer. We had been dating for a few months at that time so I decided to show her the greatest movie ever. To prep you, here is Roger and Ebert's 1981 movie review of the film:
Most of you know that Laura's nickname is Willa. The name comes from the above mentioned masterpiece ISHTAR. Before my dad vowed to never return to Video Verns, he purchased many discounted films, ISHTAR being one of them. We spent many summers trying to watch this movie from beginning to end to no avail. The first 20 minutes despite the above review are hilarious though.
Anyway, there is a scene in the movie where Warren Beatty's character is abandoned by his lover named Willa. So when Laura was leaving to California for the summer I started to call her Willa and quote the movie saying, "I don't know what I am gonna do now without my Willa."
Here's the only clip I could find. Unfortunately the clip stops right before Beatty starts to cry about his Willa.
PIONEER WILLA
So a few weeks ago the bishop of our ward stopped by to help with the porch on Saturday. We call him the G.C. because he pretty much acts like a general contractor, stopping in every now and again to correct our work.
While we were working, he mentioned how Laura is a pioneer woman. I chuckled in mild agreement as he maintained a straight face and said, "I'm serious." He went on to explain that he saw her mow the lawn while I was working on house projects a week or so ago and said that if she knew how to fix the porch she would be the one doing it. The bishop's comments reminded me of a story I heard about my grandma at the Johnson family reunion this past summer:
My grandparents owned a farm in Southern Utah. Once there was a tomcat making all sorts of noise climbing around on a fence outside. After a while the noise started to really annoy my grandma. So she grabbed a .22 rifle, aimed and shot the cat right off the top of the fence.
I am not promoting guns or animal cruelty. But that aside, my grandma was one tough lady, tough as nails. She was ready for any challenge life threw at her and worked her fingers to the bone all of her life.
Over the last ten years, I have been grateful over and over for the events that led me to find Laura. She is an intelligent and assertive woman who can hold her her own with anyone and I respect and admire her for it.
Yesterday there was a dog rummaging through some things that the kids left in the back yard. It's a good thing that there wasn't a .22 lying around.
Most of you know that Laura's nickname is Willa. The name comes from the above mentioned masterpiece ISHTAR. Before my dad vowed to never return to Video Verns, he purchased many discounted films, ISHTAR being one of them. We spent many summers trying to watch this movie from beginning to end to no avail. The first 20 minutes despite the above review are hilarious though.
Anyway, there is a scene in the movie where Warren Beatty's character is abandoned by his lover named Willa. So when Laura was leaving to California for the summer I started to call her Willa and quote the movie saying, "I don't know what I am gonna do now without my Willa."
Here's the only clip I could find. Unfortunately the clip stops right before Beatty starts to cry about his Willa.
PIONEER WILLA
So a few weeks ago the bishop of our ward stopped by to help with the porch on Saturday. We call him the G.C. because he pretty much acts like a general contractor, stopping in every now and again to correct our work.
While we were working, he mentioned how Laura is a pioneer woman. I chuckled in mild agreement as he maintained a straight face and said, "I'm serious." He went on to explain that he saw her mow the lawn while I was working on house projects a week or so ago and said that if she knew how to fix the porch she would be the one doing it. The bishop's comments reminded me of a story I heard about my grandma at the Johnson family reunion this past summer:
My grandparents owned a farm in Southern Utah. Once there was a tomcat making all sorts of noise climbing around on a fence outside. After a while the noise started to really annoy my grandma. So she grabbed a .22 rifle, aimed and shot the cat right off the top of the fence.
I am not promoting guns or animal cruelty. But that aside, my grandma was one tough lady, tough as nails. She was ready for any challenge life threw at her and worked her fingers to the bone all of her life.
Over the last ten years, I have been grateful over and over for the events that led me to find Laura. She is an intelligent and assertive woman who can hold her her own with anyone and I respect and admire her for it.
Yesterday there was a dog rummaging through some things that the kids left in the back yard. It's a good thing that there wasn't a .22 lying around.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Toilet Lemon and the Butt Sucker
*I added U2 song called "Lemon" please tune in while you read this post.
I suppose it is time to share two childhood stories that I have been keeping from you due to the embarrassing nature of each story. However, they have been leaked by my brother who told them to Sammy last week during a camping trip and I was unable to intercept and stop the leak.
As a child, I once went to our family dentist, lets call him Dr. Ripper. While I was in the chair having a tooth examination, some startling information was discovered. I had thirteen cavities. Some may say that I could blame this on the the lack of fluoride in Utah's tap water at the time. Unfortunately I cannot. The following two stories will shock and amaze you:
TOILET LEMON
My favorite after school snack growing up was to suck on lemons. I would cut them in half and bite in, draining all the pulp and juice out. I can imagine my first set of teeth repeatedly biting down into the acidic enamel destroying substance over and over and over. Then I would turn the lemon half inside
out and proceed to carnivorously devour the fruit meat leaving only the rind and sometimes I would even eat the white stuff, yeah the white inner layer of the rind. So this was not good. Even Dr. Ripper would probably agree, if he didn't get off on seeing children experience root canals without Novocaine or placing copper fangs on my brother Dave that protruded out of his mouth. I can still see Dave during recess in grade school probably ramming his fangs on the side walk until they mysteriously came off. Was Dr. Ripper a plumber or a dentist? Who knows? My mom says it doesn't matter what he was 'cause he was cheap.
One day I came home and after biting into a lemon a few times I had to use the bathroom. So I set the lemon half on the back of the toilet and forgot about it leaving it there. My brother Dave walked in some time later and curiosity got the better of him. He had always wondered why I would eat something so sour, for fun. So he tried the lemon, puckered up and threw it in the toilet. A while later my mom came in and saw the lemon floating sunny side up in the bowl and fished it out returning it to its original location on the back of the toilet tank. Eventually I made my way back to the bathroom and remembered where I had left my delicious snack. Seeing it in its original location, I picked it up and continued to eat it. Not noticing that it was watered down a bit. That night my mom stopped in to say goodnight and asked what happened to the lemon she fished out of the toilet. Dave and I shared a room, so he enjoyed watching me gag and spit.
B
UTT SUCKER 
After the divorce, we lived with my grandparents. Isaac and I shared a bed in the corner of the family room. One evening my aunt Dawn, bless her heart, gave us old fashioned suckers the kind with wooden handles. I think that mine was flavored green apple. I was the kind of kid that ate candy whenever, wherever. Halloween was a pillow case affair and after making the rounds I would stuff my pillow back in and eat candy all night. So I took the sucker to bed and fell asleep with it in my mouth. The next morning I can still remember a light going on inside my head when I realized the sucker wasn't in my mouth anymore. I looked over at Isaac and there he was with his back to me and I found my sucker. It was stuck to his Fruit of the Looms right smack in the middle of his right butt cheek. So I figured the Fruit of the Looms preserved the treat pulled it off and ate it.
Someday I may share the fish tank story although I am pretty sure that you can already imagine what happened.
I suppose it is time to share two childhood stories that I have been keeping from you due to the embarrassing nature of each story. However, they have been leaked by my brother who told them to Sammy last week during a camping trip and I was unable to intercept and stop the leak.
As a child, I once went to our family dentist, lets call him Dr. Ripper. While I was in the chair having a tooth examination, some startling information was discovered. I had thirteen cavities. Some may say that I could blame this on the the lack of fluoride in Utah's tap water at the time. Unfortunately I cannot. The following two stories will shock and amaze you:
TOILET LEMON
My favorite after school snack growing up was to suck on lemons. I would cut them in half and bite in, draining all the pulp and juice out. I can imagine my first set of teeth repeatedly biting down into the acidic enamel destroying substance over and over and over. Then I would turn the lemon half inside
out and proceed to carnivorously devour the fruit meat leaving only the rind and sometimes I would even eat the white stuff, yeah the white inner layer of the rind. So this was not good. Even Dr. Ripper would probably agree, if he didn't get off on seeing children experience root canals without Novocaine or placing copper fangs on my brother Dave that protruded out of his mouth. I can still see Dave during recess in grade school probably ramming his fangs on the side walk until they mysteriously came off. Was Dr. Ripper a plumber or a dentist? Who knows? My mom says it doesn't matter what he was 'cause he was cheap.One day I came home and after biting into a lemon a few times I had to use the bathroom. So I set the lemon half on the back of the toilet and forgot about it leaving it there. My brother Dave walked in some time later and curiosity got the better of him. He had always wondered why I would eat something so sour, for fun. So he tried the lemon, puckered up and threw it in the toilet. A while later my mom came in and saw the lemon floating sunny side up in the bowl and fished it out returning it to its original location on the back of the toilet tank. Eventually I made my way back to the bathroom and remembered where I had left my delicious snack. Seeing it in its original location, I picked it up and continued to eat it. Not noticing that it was watered down a bit. That night my mom stopped in to say goodnight and asked what happened to the lemon she fished out of the toilet. Dave and I shared a room, so he enjoyed watching me gag and spit.
B
UTT SUCKER 
After the divorce, we lived with my grandparents. Isaac and I shared a bed in the corner of the family room. One evening my aunt Dawn, bless her heart, gave us old fashioned suckers the kind with wooden handles. I think that mine was flavored green apple. I was the kind of kid that ate candy whenever, wherever. Halloween was a pillow case affair and after making the rounds I would stuff my pillow back in and eat candy all night. So I took the sucker to bed and fell asleep with it in my mouth. The next morning I can still remember a light going on inside my head when I realized the sucker wasn't in my mouth anymore. I looked over at Isaac and there he was with his back to me and I found my sucker. It was stuck to his Fruit of the Looms right smack in the middle of his right butt cheek. So I figured the Fruit of the Looms preserved the treat pulled it off and ate it.
Someday I may share the fish tank story although I am pretty sure that you can already imagine what happened.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Date with Stella
Today our right front tire looked as bald as a babies bottom and almost as flat. So Stella and I went to the tire store and spent a wad-0-cash on some new tires and an alignment job. Anything I can do to help support businesses during the economic downturn, right? I prefer to buy anything petroleum based cause I know it raises the profit margin of almost all parties involved. Aint nuthin' better than some good 'ol American profiteerin'.Luckily there was a stroller in the car. First, Stella and I hoofed it to the hardware store (plumbing job) and then stopped in at a bakery for breakfast where we shared an oatmeal and fruit dish and she tried a lemon wedge much to my delight. What a fantastic morning with my Stella bear.
Other Bits and Pieces:
Tried to remove a stubborn bathtub hot water valve and failed, again. Worked on the porch and made significant progress just in time for a rainstorm, the roof performed flawlessly. Unclogged rain gutters during the rain storm. Our friend David finished placing all of the kitchen counter tile, and Stella peed and pooped in the potty for the first time.
Back to our date, as Stella and I headed home after breakfast, we happened to walk past a drink station for an AIDS walk where we were offered Gatorade and informed that we were in position to take 5th place, who knew we were racing?! We still took the free drinks.
Thanks for the date Stellie, it made my day!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
MUSICIMONY
Yesterday my stress levels exploded into general agitation and I found myself without “sleep juice” after a brief bit of sleep from 10:30 – 11:00 pm. So with my mind racing, I got out of bed and searched for songs online until I found a few that made it possible for me to chill out and go back to sleep. Music is true.
Lover You Should Have Come Over - Jeff Buckley
Angel Flying To Close to the Ground – Willie Nelson
Bird on the Wire – Leonard Cohen
Kids and the Crazy
Christmas came early this year in the form of red and green crayons intermingling with the clothes I placed in the dryer last night. I thought that I was doing well when I threw in a load of darks including some shirts and slacks that I needed to wear for secondary interviews I am holding today. I even removed a pack of pink Bubble Tape that I found in Sam’s shorts thinking to myself, “glad I caught that!”
So this morning you can imagine what I found. My enjoyment was enhanced when someone at work pointed out that I was wearing the same clothes that I wore yesterday.
HELMET
My brother Dave outfitted me with a new helmet to wear while cruising on my resurrected Vespa. Sam really likes my helmet and tried it on yesterday. I watched him go outside to sit on the scooter to take a
pretend ride. The next morning there were several scratches on the glossy black finish. So I asked him what happened and he told me that he tested it out on the patio by banging his helmet covered head on the cement. He proudly informed me that his extensive field tests and research concluded that the helmet works.You would think that these things would be a source of frustration and maybe for a second they are. But I think that it is a beautiful thing to have kids and an old house. I am 100% sure that when our kids are gone the first thing that I will miss is the chaos they bring. Permanent marker on the wall, dried food on the floor, broken everything.
A few month ago the cabinet guy asked what sort of finish we would like on our doors. My response was simple, “can you hit them and scratch them to camouflage what our kids will do to them anyway?”
His reply, “there’s a style for that, its called distressed.”
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Vespa Rides Again
After 4 years of sitting in the weather with an exposed wire causing the electrical system to short out, my brother Dave brought my Vespa back to life. Today, I rode it all the way home from Provo taking State Street and Highland Blvd. Laura followed behind and the ride took about two hours. Remind me not to wear shorts and flip flops next time! Thanks for bringing her back. The new shocks and engine overhaul made the ride the smoothest that I can remember.
Stella likes to climb up the outside of the stair rail. I invite anyone to try and stop her:
Stella likes to climb up the outside of the stair rail. I invite anyone to try and stop her:
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Saturday, September 06, 2008
The Porch
piece of uncooperative bead board into some bushes. Darn that Latin
blood when it gets boiling!
Stella Sings
checking for correct larynx position while singing just like dad.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Junk Mail
I received this email this morning. Priceless! How would you respond?
Begin forwarded message:
From: "Ulian M"
Date: September 5, 2008 3:03:04 AM MDT
To:
Subject: [ads] [UCE] i am looking for true love and also life partner.
I greet you
I am looking for a strong, kind, caring man. In my life I have almost
everything except love. Everything I want is to be loved by a man like you.
You seemed to me very interesting and different from others. And I think you
are the man I was looking for such a long time.
You can be sure, I will make you the happiest man in the world! I will make
true all your fantasies. And I can be for you not only a perfect lover, but
the best friend and good wife. We will spend all our free time together.
I need you here. I need you like my lungs need air.
I do not find strange that my second half is so far away, my destiny and
life has been all over the world, but now that I found you, I really need
you near me as soon as possible.
Please write me. I will be waiting for your
letter
Sweet goodbye
Ulyan M
Fly By
I don't have time to blog. I have two kids, a job, a wife in grad school, and house projects. So here is my new format unless someone else decides to turn 65.
"How old are you Stella?"
"I two"
Sam discovered Star Wars
Our kitchen is gutted
Look what we found behind the cabinets
I wash dishes in the tub
Sam and I went to the Fathers and Sons
First day of school
This sculpture of a singing monk
(on display at Monet to Picasso exhibit
at the UMFA) reminds Laura of me
"How old are you Stella?"
"I two"
Sam discovered Star Wars
Our kitchen is gutted
Look what we found behind the cabinets
I wash dishes in the tub
Sam and I went to the Fathers and Sons
First day of school
This sculpture of a singing monk
(on display at Monet to Picasso exhibit
at the UMFA) reminds Laura of me
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