Monday, June 20, 2005

Weekend news items from my life...

The deadly Uinta Mountains...

A second boy scout is missing in the Uinta Mountains. An 11-year old boy has been missing for four days now, and searchers are once again combing the Uinta Mountains. Last fall, a 13-year old scout went missing in the same mountain range and was never found. My heart goes out to the family; not knowing if your child is alive and suffering or dead has to be the closest thing to hell on this planet.

The equally deadly "bottom two stairs"

Can you say Happy Father's Day? My dad broke his leg last night. Falling down the last two steps at my grandparents' house. You might think that's a stupid way to break your leg. He sure did. But the thing to remember is that he is still partially paralyzed on the left side of his body from a serious stroke last year. Good thing it was his bum leg, instead of the one good one.

Family Picnic

We had a family picnic with my wife's family in Millcreek Canyon just above Salt Lake last Saturday. Dutch oven cooking.... Mmmmm! Unfortunately, half of the family couldn't enjoy the food, because of self-imposed diets. Wife's sister Amy is a rabid vegan, and so the potatoes that were cooked with onions, cheese and BACON were so off limits to her. Another sister, plus mother-in-law couldn't eat anything with wheat germ, but the sister is on the Atkins diet (hello fat, greasy food) and mother-in-law is also somewhat diabetic (goodbye sugar). I was one of the few that could eat just about everything, and so I did. Without any guilt whatsoever.

Dog in the Dog House

The proverbial one, that is, since I haven't built her one yet. Dippy Doo-Dah Dog decided to eat the kids' inflatable pool last Thursday night. Pavlov's dog must be of no relation to mine, because she has absolutely no common sense or at least memory recall. It doesn't occur to her that chewing up our stuff is bad, and will get her ass kicked clear across the yard. Friday, we bought her a huge bone from Wal-Mart, and she spent most of the day knawing on it. 2:00am Saturday morning, the dog is at the back door, barking. I go downstairs to see what the problem is, and she's dancing around like she's gotta pee a gallon or two. I let her out, and she makes a beeline for the bone, and begins chewing it. Stupid dog.

That's all for now...

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