Safety for the soul

I discovered why today. Why is such a good question. Why is there? Why do things happen? Why do bad things happen? Why are there so many songs about rainbows? Why blog? Why care? Why now?

Anyway, (just curious why isn't there a word "anywhy"), I realized why I growl. Yeah, I growl. It's not a mean growl or a vicious growl, but it's a low toned growl, or as Pam says, it's a deep hummming sound. She does it too. We both do it now and here's how it started.

When our dog, Duffy, grew out of puppyhood he started to growl --not with his teeth showing, but just a gutteral hmmmmmm. At first, we thought he might be unhappy with us or mad, but we learned his growl was just his way of talking to us and letting us know he was there. Whenever you pet him, he hmmmmms. Whenever you hmmmmmmm, he hmmmmmmms back. Whenever you don't pay attention to him, he hmmmmmms. So now Pam and I talk to him by hmmmmmmming. Actually, we talk to each other that way also. It's amazing how much you can say with just one hmmmmmmmm. It must be gutteral, of course. A high pitched hmmmmmm can be confused with screaming.

We sing in church that way now too. Maybe that's why they call them Hymns. We sit on the very last row (really the chairs in the overflow) in the very corner and just growl the Hymns. No words, just low pitched hmmmmmmmmmms. It's very contentual. I just made up that word. It's soothing, it's provides safety for the soul. It release whatever tension that builds up.

So, back to why? I've been sick with the cold or flu, I don't know which. Incidentally, I got a flu shot for the first time ever because Pam made me, and now I'm sick. This flold, I made that up too, has been bad. I gave to Ashley, while giving her a health blessing with Cameron. Anyway, it's been bad. Pam also has been having a difficult time with her jr. high kids this past week. It's just been rough for both of us. So this evening, at dusk, we went outside and sat by the pool in lounge chairs and growled. I would growl, then she would follow. Then we would growl together. Soon Duffy came over and growled with us. I wish we had a video of it. It was pure communication. No words were necessary. In fact, words don't do this story justice so instead I'd like to just say, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I hope you understand.

Have you ever been scared?

Yeah, I know I've stared down a mass murderer and I've sung in the Salt Lake Tabernacle for General Conference. I've been tackled by an NFL Hall of Famer and blew my knee out. I've been in three major car accidents with barely a scratch on me and I've fallen helplessly through a ceiling. All of these things caused some level of fear and trepidation. 

I admit to being fearful on occasion, but I'm not usually scared. Except for the other day. I was taking a rare shower. It seems the older you get, the less you shower. Not because we don't stink, but because it's just a hassle.  Shaving is also a hassle. I don't recommend anyone shave unless they absolutely have to. Come to think of it, going to the bathroom is a hassle. Don't do it either unless you absolutely have to. Eating, of course, is never a hassle. My advice to to learn to eat laying down. There is no wasted motion and it's easy to fall asleep after the last morsel has gone down the throat.  

Oh, so back to taking a rare shower. No, I wasn't scared because I saw myself in the buff. Although, I've learned not to look because it's depressing. Anyway, I was in the shower going through my shower routine which includes brush my teeth. That's right I have toothpaste and a toothbrush in the shower with me. Don't make a federal case out of it.  Next, I take a long scrub brush with stout brissles and scratch my back. As I was picking up the brush, I noticed that a part of the brissles were just a little darker brown that the other part. As I put it up close to my back, the dark brown brissles began to move. I immediately dropped the brush and was astonished to see a large scorpion scamper around the bottom of the shower basin. The brush then became my club as I beat the scorpion in to oblivion. 

Fear doesn't describe what I felt. The word scared does. I was scared. If that scorpion had stung me on my back it would have hurt. He might have stung me several times before I could have gotten him off. He/she could have laid eggs under my shoulder blades. I could have been host to hundreds of baby scorpions during their gestational period all the while having them feed off my skin for sustenance. It could have been a tragedy of epic porportions. But, alas it wasn't, I was just scared. 

A tribute to my greatness

                                                       Unk, the Lego mini-fig

Rarely in life, do we get the recognition we deserve for our accomplishments. We do not seek for these things, yet on occasion, some entities like governments, associations, guilds, military organizations and/or educational institutions feel compelled to bestow on deserving people individual honors which show their gratitude for accomplishments and honors above and beyond the norm. 

In all humility, I accept the honor bestowed upon me by my fellow members of the human race. I know I am such noble company as Batman, Darth Vadar, Indiana Jones, etc. I am deeply humbled that my name is now linked with theirs forever. I will do my best to live up to the standards they have set. In fact, I intend to raise the bar higher and carry on the rich tradition of my fellow recipients. And last but not least, thanks to the little people, for being littler than me.

I've decided to post again!!!!

That's right. I'm blogging again after my self-imposed exile. I have much to talk about. I have lots to say. I have many things to show. I have done many things. I have endured many things and hope to be able to endure all things.

My latest venture is to play a little prank on those many people who go to holiday boutiques in my little part of Arizona. As many of you know, I live in a neighborhood that has only one entrance and exit. You come in on the same street you exit. I'm going to print up some Holiday Boutique signs that read, "Gilbert's Largest Boutique" with arrows pointing in to my subdivision. Then, I'm going to have arrow signs and guys dressed in orange traffic vests leading the "boutiquers" around and around and around in my neighborhood and then leading back out. I will have it video-taped and put it on you tube comparing the vehicles to the ones previously video-taped in movie theater parking lots for midnight premier showings of "Twilight".

By the way, I am not immuned from shopping mayhem myself. I go to poor people's boutiques called garage sales. What's interesting is I usually find a lot of the things that were sold at real boutiques from the previous year.

Also, I'd like to introduce my friends and family to an unique blog I recently found out about. It's highly entertaining and thought provoking. I recommend it to all and, in fact, hope you all will link it to yours. If I knew how, I would. I'm waiting for Devry or Lacy to show me how. Anyway, here is the name of it. chadjeffreyarnett.blogspot.com Check it out.

Little help please?

A cousin of ours is traveling to the colonies in  Mexico next month to attend a wedding. The wedding will be that of an African-American young man and a Mexican-American young woman. The African-American man was born in Zimbabwe and the Mexican-American woman was born in Colonia Dublan.  Both are caucasian. That's an interesting tidbit that means nothing, but it's not what you would think knowing where they are from. Anyway, our cousin, is taking them on a tour as such of the Colonies. We have some history there with the James Gale family and other slightly distant relative. 

It seems, though, I recall hearing a story or stories about someone on Grandpa Clifford's side of the family who knew and played with Pancho Villa before he became Pancho. They knew him as Doreato or something of that nature.  So, here are my questions. Who was it that played with him? Where was it? and finally, where did these stories in my head come from? If anyone has information leading to the capture of these Pancho Villa stories, please respond accordingly. 

I have been given an assignment to detail the story to the soon to be wedding couple for our dear cousin.  If any one is in contact with your Uncle's Al (Floyd, Sonny boy), Harvey, Clinton (Jay), or Gary, please have them tell you the story. I don't think I made it up. I think I remember Alfred telling me about the story, but then he also taught me how to scavange at junk yards and how to be a dumpster diver. Maybe, I'm mixing my stories about Pancho Villa and finding a Pancho in a dumpster.  Could anybody help a brother out?