Not posting until Dana submits a new post

I've noticed no one has asked me for a new post during the past few weeks. At first, it hurt my feelings, but then I realized that no one really cares if I post or not. Come to think of it, I don't care if you care. I don't write this thing for comments anyway. If I did, I would write something outlandish and prosaic to illicit responses.
I'm not going to post a new offering until Dana makes a new post on her blog. I know she is pregnant and busy, but seeing the gestational progress of Marshall Ryan Brisckdjkjjjjsjxkkjjlskjlckjlljjjjsjsjxxxxlkjs just isn't enough (nice name, by the way).
That is not, I repeat not a real post. If it was, then I could just put a counter on my blog showing the growth of the hair on my eyebrows or in my ears. Okay, so I don't have hair growing in my ears, but I do have this one that grows on my left earlobe. It is really annoying. I only notice it when it grows long. Other people must also notice it because I do. I'm tired of pulling it out every few weeks. In protest of Dana's lack of "postal integrity", I'm going to let it grow until she posts again. I may have to borrow Pam's curling iron to dress it up some if it becomes too long.
O'Dana, please post something real and new so I can pull my earlobe hair.
On a different note, I went to another convert baptism this last Saturday. Our ward has had two of them in past month. What's more, these people have made great sacrifices to join the church. One has had to give up her relationship with her aged mother (the mother won't talk to her now) and the other has had a dramatic lifestyle change. Both baptismal services were very inspiring to me knowing what these people put on the alter to join the church and also to envision what my son Chad has done to help some people in Germany.
So, listening to the talks on baptism and the Holy Ghost made me think about what it means to be like Christ. Not to be negative, but there are so many things we can't (maybe I should say I can't) do to be like him. For example, I can't turn water into wine, or raise the dead or fast 40 days and 40 nights, etc. There some things I can do to be like him, but I don't or can't do them perfectly. I can love my neighbor, keep the commandments, etc., but I don't do them all the time or perfectly all the time.
There is one thing that I have done perfectly, however. I followed His example... His exact example, in fact, by being baptized by one having authority. There is something to be said for that. He did it not because He needed it, but because He set the perfect example to fulfill all righteousness. I did it too in a chapel baptismal font in a small town on the border of California and Arizona. I was baptized by one having authority, the same authority as received from John the Baptist himself. I'm not perfect and won't be, but that ordinance was. It was one of the few things I could do and be exactly like Christ.

Is this funny?

So, I have been asked to entertain at our ward campout in a couple of weeks. It's an encore performance from our last High Priest's party. I sang a few of my funny songs (you know, shoot your dog, and you make me sick and can I borrow some money) and then had everyone sing a verse of the blues centered around church, etc. I guess it was funny. When it was over, I smashed the acoustic guitar into pieces like a rock star (it was a junk guitar). It had everyone rolling except one couple wanted the guitar for their grandchild.
So, this time I'm thinking of starting out my routine by asking everyone around the campfire to help me look for my little green ball that I lost while getting up. I'm going to ask everyone to look around their chairs and on the ground. When they can't find it, I'll say, "thanks anyway, I'll guess I'll have to start a new one", as I pick my nose.
Pam says it's not funny, because it is so gross. I say it's perfect for a campfire gag. Maybe a few people will gag. I'm thinking of showing everyone the picture Candy has of me as a ute with my original green ball.

Getting the Word Out, Are you a Duncan Punkin Roller?

Dear Family,
I've been asked to send out this email inviting everyone in the Tom and Annie Arnett Family to a Campout. Spence and a few cousins are wanting to repeat what we did two years ago in Cibola. Remember it all started with a dozen of us going, and it expanded to 78 family members. Spence will take charge of the food again, which means "total success". We are considering a few areas to set up camp. We could use the help of our older cousins to guide us to the best spot. We plan to visit the homes of our families that lived there. We want to visit Grandpa and Grandma's graves at the Franklin Cemetery and spend an hour or so cleaning up the area. Our biggest hope is that Aunt Doris can join us and be the keynote speaker around the campfire Friday night.
Please pass this along to your families. We've looked for the best weekend to do this, and we think this is it. All of us that went two years ago to Cibola felt we a part of some kind of special experience. I expect the same will be said about this trip. We will take plenty of water and arrange for portable toilets. Each family will just need to make their own camping/sleeping arrangements.We would love your feedback, ideas, and especially your attendance. We look forward to hearing from you.

We have a few more details on our Duncan Trip May 1-2. We were able to reserve the old Virden Ward building (Village of Virden) for our accommodations. They have room at this place for groups up to 200 people. We will still cook everything outside but there is a cultural hall for our Friday night gathering. You'll need to bring your own sheets and blankets or sleeping bag for everyone in attendance. It's almost too good to be true that this place was available. When they found out I was Rex's cousin, they about gave me the key to the town.
So far the itinerary for the weekend is to visit homes, interesting sights, grandparents graves and Duncan High for a group picture. We would like everyone to bring a hoe or shovel so we can complete our cemetery service project fairly quickly. We all know that Spence's cooking is "over the top". That alone should bring you to this event. And, if any of your family members have never been to Duncan, they'll surely be surprised. This word needs to get out to everyone so nobody will be left out. I am calling on my cousins Dora, Steve, Jeff, Wayne, and Gaylen to forward this info to your respective families. We'll provide more details as we get input from our cousins who actually lived there. But for now, put it on your calendar and get the word out to your families. We believe we can do the Friday dinner, Saturday breakfast, and pay for our accommodations for $10.00 a person. Please email me with any ideas.

Chet Arnett

Home Invasion

So, tonight exactly at 12:03 am, our home was invaded. I was sitting in a lounge chair in the guest bedroom watching Conan because I couldn't fall asleep. I was in that room because I didn't want to disturb Pamela who had gone to bed around 9pm. She get's up at 5 am every morning so nine is about her usual time to doze off. I wasn't able to see her off to nighty nite because I was updating blogs and checking online stuff.
Anyway, back to my harrowing experience. As I was watching TV, someone with a knitted pull down beanie mask and turned up coat burst into the bedroom where I was. The only thing I could see was a nose, eyes and a mouth. I was terrified and began to scream. I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest and I was looking for something to fight off the attacker with. As I was getting ready to leap out of my chair, (I'm not sure whether to run away or attack), I realized it was Pam. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom and was wondering why I wasn't in bed. She came looking for me.
What I didn't know was she was cold when she went to bed earlier and had put on the beanie pull down cap and the coat.
When she came into the guest bedroom, she thought nothing of it. When she realized I was trembling in fear she looked at me funny. I then told her to look in the mirror. She did and we both got a big laugh out of it. Only thing is, I'm still awake at 1:30 am. Oh, and did I ever mention that my wife is really funny now after 20 plus years?

To sleep or not to sleep, book writing and dreams

And now for something completely different.

I can't sleep at night. I think I know why but I still can't fix it. I probably need one of those breathing masks, actually I know I do because I spent $2,000 for them to tell me I do. But, I can't bring myself to get one. First of all, it's another $2,000 and secondly, wearing one makes me look like Dr. Hannibal Lector. What's worse, it make me feel like him.
When I don't sleep well, I have strange dreams. I mean really strange dreams. No I don't dream of ABBA songs, which would really be strange, but my dreams border on bizarre. I won't go into most of them, but I will tell of one I had recently.

I was fishing on the famous Arnett canal just where it meets the old Colorado River. I was on one side of the canal fishing and my father was in a small boat with a small outboard motor entering into the canal from the river and starting to go up the canal. He stopped to pick up a young man, (I don't know who he was), who wanted to water ski. It seemed odd because the motor was so small and so was the boat, but Howard wanted to help him and he proceeded to let him water ski behind the boat. They didn't get very far up the canal when for some reason Howard beached the little boat on the side of the canal and he got out to do something. The young man got out and waited for him to come back. I was watching this whole thing as I fished from the other side. The water level in the canal began to lower and the boat was completely out of the water at an angle on the side of the canal. Howard still wanted to take the young man water skiing so he got on a bulldozer and began to push the little boat down into the water. The incline was too steep and the bulldozer began to tip over back over front. I watched this with terror. I saw this whole thing unfold as I was on the other side of the canal and further down toward the river. In slow motion the bulldozer completely flipped over on my father and landed on him knocking him unconscious. Both he and the bulldozer were in the water with the bulldozer on top of Howard. I could see his white cowboy hat on his head which was pinned under the bulldozer as it was unexplainably floating up the canal toward the pump. The youth was frantic, but he could do nothing. I was terrified knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of jumping in my truck and driving up the canal as fast as I could, but I knew I couldn't get to him quickly enough and that by the time I got there he would be dead. I just watched in horror as my unconscious father was pinned under a floating machine. I woke up quite disturbed. If dreams mean anything, I'd like to know what this one means. Where's Joseph with a colorful coat when you need him? By the way, this one is tame compared to most I have.

So, in response to Candy's response to my last blog entry.... geez, all I said was there are no guarantees in life. I wanted you to comment but I didn't want to read a Jane Austen novel (just kidding, I have to mention when I'm joking now, because heaven forbid if I hurt Lacy's feelings). Also, if I'd known you knew who I was talking about, I'd have disguised things a little more. Cliff called me today to see who it was I was talking about. He didn't know him. Incidentally, the bank he worked at for a long time (not really his bank, now it's a different bank - but same building, was robbed today). See there is justice in this life. Also, I'm writing a book now based on my experiences -- mostly in Blythe. It's called, "What they can't tell you in General Conference and why." Catchy title, huh? There will be a chapter on "Life according to Howard", including his Howardisms and another one called, "Why can't I have as deep of thoughts as my sister?" Also, one chapter is going to be titled, "Does God really want us all to be Mormon?"
I've got several more chapters I'm working on including, "Is Eternal progression linear or in 3D?"). If you have any chapter titles you'd like me to add, feel free to give submit them to me.
The book is approximately 2000 pages so far, but I'm working to edit it down to about 10 pages including pictures. I figure it will be a best seller, but I don't think Deseret Book will pick it up. I might have to self-publish it.

No guarantees

I had occasion to once again ponder the meaning of life this past week. I'm certain none of you do that, but with the passing of several of my former acquaintances, I have been reflecting and deflecting some thoughts that mostly come to me just as I fall asleep -- which isn't very often these days. It seems as though the older I get, the harder it is to sleep. Why is that? No, that's for another blog entry.
So, here is the result of my pondering on the meaning of life. Our goal should be to try to get out of this life alive. Of course, that's impossible, after all as cousin Mark so aptly put it in his film, "Baby Boomerang," even the people Jesus healed and brought back to life eventually died. But, still I think our purpose in life is to try to be alive.
I've contrasted the lives of several different people who I have known that recently died. One was exceedingly wealthy in both temporal and spiritual means. He was a great benefactor and extremely generous along with a great family man. By all that we measure a person by he was an outstanding individual, so much so they had to hold his funeral in 3 different stake centers and broadcast the proceedings to 2 of them.
Then there was another man who tried his best in life. By all accounts he too was a good family man and while not wealthy he worked hard at his career choice and provided for his family. Unfortunately, his wife ran off with another man and took his children. Who knows why? Maybe he had it coming, maybe he didn't. The company he worked for left the town he lived in and he had to bounce around to other jobs, etc. He tried to stay active in his religion for many years. He held callings, he did church service but eventually he lost his faith to a degree and pretty much gave up. I only mention his circumstances because he was someone who had a positive effect on my life. He appeared to really try and do what was right, but for reasons unknown to me, his life just didn't go the way I thought it would and he probably thought it would.
He didn't have a funeral -- only a memorial service. His former wife wasn't there, although several of his children were. He never remarried, though he found a companion later in his life. For a few weeks after his death, I couldn't even find an obituary about him anywhere. Finally, someone had one printed in a local newspaper that I could read. That really made me happy.
Now the truth is, I really don't know why the lives of these two men were so different. Maybe we get what deserve in life and one deserved the "great life" and one deserved the "not so great life". I honestly don't know. But this much I do know, and I don't mean to sound callous, they are both dead. Their earthly journey is finished. In fact, both died the same way of the same ailment.
One had it all and will be remembered as a great individual. One appeared to have a great life and then it just wafted away, much like a torn apart cattail in the wind.
So, what is my conclusion? There are no guarantees in life, that's what. I know we are taught that the family that prays together stays together, that if you hold family home evening your children will not go astray, that if you read the scriptures daily you will have family harmony, that if pay your tithing you will have your temporal needs taken care of, that if you do this, you will get that, ya da ya da ya da. I know that these things help to insulate us from dangers and temptations, etc. I do believe all that, but I also know that when it rains it brings both roses and mud and that it rains on both the just and the unjust. People are people and because we are just that, we make mistakes, our children make mistakes, people get sick and die sometimes with cause -- sometimes without cause, there is war and injustice in the world and as Uncle Cliff says, "life is a photo finish".
Life is like buying a new car. When you choose the car you want it comes with a warranty not a guarantee. There is a big difference. There is no guarantee that the car will not ever break down. In fact, that's why the car manufacturers offer a warranty. They know it will. When it does need to be fixed, they will fix it for free. That's the beauty of the warranty. You can also buy an extended warranty.
So, what does this have to do with the meaning of life? We have no guarantees. In fact, the Lord knows that parts of our lives will break down and need to be fixed. It's part of the contract we entered into. The great thing is, He has provided us with a free extended warranty. He will fix what ails us, free of charge for as long as we need it. There is only one caveat, we have to take ourselves to Him to receive the fixing. If my new car broke down and I decided I didn't want to have it fixed for free under the terms of the warranty, then that's my problem and I'm an idiot.
So, I've decided I'm going to check my warrantee again and see what the terms are. That's how I'm gonna get out of this life alive and at the same time try to be alive during this life.

Surprize birthdays and ice cream

So I called HB, father of Sydnee, to ask what her favorite treat was. You see, yesterday was her birthday. I know it was Lex's too, but Lex doesn't live here and she didn't cut my hair when she was here last. So, Cameron, Pam and I decided to have a surprize birthday party for her. It turned out incredibly well. Here's why. Syd hates surprize birthday parties, especially when they are for her. By the way, HB, said Syd would like any type of ice cream which is good because we got vanilla.
Pam, made a sign with balloons and put it on the door. She also put candles on some brownies and made some decorations. Cameron invited some of their homies and I provided the comic relief. There was only one problem. The cash register broke at Syd's work and she had to close up and didn't get to our house until around 10pm. We were expecting her more like 9ish which all well and good except Pam goes to bed around that time -- having to get up at 5am each morning.
So, Syd comes in and turns beet red. I'm not sure if it was from embarassment or something else. That's when she informed me that she hates surprize parties. Nevertheless, the festivities were fun. Syd got in a few zingers to some of the crowd. In fact, Sydnee got the last laugh. As everyone was leaving, she asked if anyone wanted to go out for a beer. Pam and I didn't go, we had to get to sleep.

Surprize birthdays and ice cream

This is a test.

I believe that I can write anything, or for that matter nothing, and get the same amount of comments if I was to write something profound or funny. This post is about nothing. I'll keep track of the comments. CS's comment won't count because I already know what it will say...."new post please". Lacy's comment won't count because she will say she doesn't read blogs but once a week and doesn't let P-lope watch TV. Devry's comment will count though, because she helped me set up the blog stalking thing where I can see who is on my blog. Come to think of it, Dev, you don't have to comment at all. I'll just assume you have commented because you helped me. Dana's comment won't count because she is openly an Uncle Jeff promoter (see one of her previous posts). Mallory's comment will count because she never comments on anyone's blog. Lindsay's comment won't count because I'm still eating sugar and that's a bad thing. Larry, Cliff and HB couldn't give a rat's A.S.S. about blogging, so they won't comment. Cliff's kids won't comment because they have their own blogs (very good ones I might add) and frequent each others' daily. Lexie is headed to the nation's capital to convert President Obama so she is too busy to comment. Pam, my beloved wife and facilitator of happiness, doesn't get the whole blogging thing and thinks I'm just wasting time. But, she is funny now. Let's see, that leaves anyone who just happens to stumble on my blog. No comments there because they don't know me. Oh wait, cousin Rhea has commented once in a while, but she won't comment because she knows I'm conducting a test and since she has Arnett blood in her she won't bother because it's not really about her (you know the A.S.S. thing). Wow, this post really was about nothing.

Token Mormon

So, as many of you know, Pam and I are friends and confidants of some less fortunate people who have some challenges with regard to substance abuse. Over the years, our home has become some sort of half-way house for those who either have felt or do feel the need to use stimulants -- whether it be drugs or alcohol. I personally feel somewhat responsible for a few individuals that have entered into the subtance abuse category because of my introduction of the wonders of the guitar to them. It makes me believe that Elder Gene R. Cook was right that the steel string guitar is of the devil. That's why I usually only play a classical guitar now. On occasion, I do succumb to the temptations of the the steel strings and pickup up an acoustic or electric guitar. I do so, wondering what would Jesus play? It's a good question. Would he play the harp? Afterall, it is the instrument of angels. The only problem is, some of it's strings are wound with steel. Would he play the violin? I think not. Again, steel strings. How about the piano? Oops, steel strings. Which begs the question, if a piano, harp, and violin are okay to play in sacrament meeting, why not a guitar?
So, it appears the only true instrument that should be allowed and hallowed is the organ. It's no coincidence I deal with organs. The organ has no strings, although it is electric which could be construed by some to be associated with electric guitars. Nevertheless, the organ is the purest instrument known to mankind. It could be equated to speaking the Adamic language. It is pure and undefiled. The first organs were based and built on the principle of pumping air through chambers or pipes. Can you say Tabernacle organ? So why then aren't accordians played in sacrament meetings? It's based on the same principles as the organ and isn't electric. It's only a portable organ. So, here is my proposal. I am starting a petition to have the accordian made the official instrument of the Mormon church. What's more, I am adding to the petition that my sister, Candace Sue Walker, be the official accordianist for the Mormon church. I am delivering my petition to the church offices as soon as I get 27,000 signatures.
Speaking of substance abuse, one of my former guitar students who is now in a somewhat famous band, needed a ride from the airport last Saturday. I picked him up and took him to his house which he shares with a married couple about his same age. This former student is, or was a member of the church, and his married roomates are also. None of them are involved with the church due to their belief system and recreational choices. They don't necessarily have anything against the church other than the word of wisdom and judgemental members. But then who doesn't have problems with either of those. I'm fat and judged to be an old coot. Anyway, while I was at his house, a couple of other younger fellows showed up. They were from Snowflake, AZ, a predominantly Mormon community and they were Mormon. One of the guys is a glass blower. I asked if he made decorative things like trinkets and ornaments. He replied he made bongs and made a good living doing it. I realized I was in the presence of those who liked to recreate in a different way than I did so I just made an off-hand remark that I was the token Mormon in the bunch. To my surprize, the bong maker asked my former student if he could score a dime. I've heard of dime-bags before, so I quickly exused myself and said to continue on with their pursuits of happiness after I left.
To make a long story short, which is impossible now, I saw my former student again yesterday. He wanted to explain to me why the bong blower went ahead and asked for some garden of eden happy plants in my presence. He thought when I said I was the token Mormon in the group, I meant I was a toking (meaning canubis smoking) Mormon. Totally understandable if you make bongs for a living.
Accordians forever and long live bong makers.

Time

I found this "whatever" written by "whoever" and thought it had meaning "forever."
Please no comments on this from anyone who reads my blog -- especially from anyone under the age of 50. If you are over the age of 50, you won't comment anyway. Come to think of it, if you read my blog not matter what your age, you won't comment either. So, to make it easier on you, I forbid you to comment. Comments will not be accepted. If you leave one it will not be read. It will just go into the cosmos un-understood or un-recognized, un-solicited or un-derworn, un-digested or un-related, un-founded or un-documented. No comments please. Thank-you for your cooperation in advance.


Except for the morning glory night takes the warmth away
Time is the bridge to evening, then it just slips away

The hand that stands to feeds presumably is gone so far away
I've heard that it never really did leave us, it just slipped away

Children grow old and get weary, their dreams never far away
They rise and fall from glory, while time just slips away

Raindrops fall then expire, leaving just traces to fade away
Flowers lose their own beauty, while time slipped away.

Anon

My wife is funny and my film review of Mama Mia

So, my wife, the facilitator for happiness, told me about what happened a few weeks ago when she went to see the movie "Mama Mia " with her sisters. She got up and danced and sang during the movie. Her sisters, were tellling her to sit down. They were embarassed and wanted her to quit making a spectacle of herself. The rest of the audience didn't mind though, because they clapped for her and yelled for more. Now, I bring this up because anyone that knows Pam is aware that this is very much out of character for her. In fact, for the first 20 years of our marriage she was extremely shy and self-conscious. What's more she was not funny. She really didn't have a sense of humor to speak of.
Oh, she did have a sense of humor, but just not an Arnett sense of humor. She was always embarassed by my actions and remarks. But, then a miracle happened about five years ago. She became funny. Not just mildly funny, but really funny. She finally took to heart what I have been telling her for years--not to worry about what other people think about you because you will never see 95 percent of them ever again.
Recently, while she was in Hawaii for 5 long weeks, she was having dinner at a restaurant with her sister and the server said if you need anything to just yell. So, in true Arnett fashion, she yelled, JOE as loud as she could. Again, her sister was mortified.
She sing "Oh, that I were an Angel" at the top of her lungs for anybody showing off her best American Idol reject voice.
Today, she even gave the Christmas Sunday School lesson to our young single adult class. It was great and funny.
I can pinpoint when she became funny. Chad and I know exactly when it was. It was the evening after she had gall bladder surgery about five years ago. She had insisted on going to cousin Mark and Camille's daughters' wedding movie at Harkins Theater. This was only hours after having her gall bladder out. We took her in a wheel chair. She would not miss the social event of the year. Needless to say, she was heavily medicated. On the way home we were driving and a police car pull up to the side of us. I was going the speed limit, but he was just cruising along the side of us. Out of nowhere, Pam yelled, "copper". Chad and I busted out laughing. We had never seen this side of Pam. We couldn't stop laughing. Since that time she has become funny. She says she has always been funny, but I remind her that she's only been funny for the last five years of our marriage. You haven't lived or laughed until you hear her yell in a low-pitched voice, "Nooooooooh". Me thinks she has finally become an Arnett.
So, now for my Mama Mia movie review. Pam received it for a birthday present from her sister who told her to sit down this past week. After hearing about her singing and dancing outburst, I thought I would watch it. If I liked it, maybe we could take dancing lessons, and go to movies and dance together.
Well, I watched it. No one told me it was all about ABBA songs. ABBA? I mean ABBA? What's worse it had Pierce Brosnan singing ABBA songs. ABBA? I will never watch a Brosnan James Bond movie ever again. James Bond does not sing ABBA songs and Pierce Brosnan cannot sing, period. Meryl Streep overacted. She is the master of subtle acting. But man, oh man, she cannot do musicals. Julie Andrews should be in musicals not Meryl Streep. The hills were not alive in Mama Mia.
Now to Colin Firth. For all you P&P people I hope you have had your bubble burst. Your Mr. Darcy found out he was gay. So there you have it. ABBA and a gay Mr. Darcy. What would Lizzy say?
I'm thinking that maybe I'll rent Twilight. At least it's about real people with real problems like being a vampire or falling in love with a vampire, not some contrived musical using ABBA songs. ABBA?

My Film Review of Twilight

As someone I know was reading Twilight, I was asked, "exactly what is the church's stand on vampires"? I replied I don't think the church has ever given an exact stand on vampires. I know there has been a manifesto, a proclamation, a few declarations, many sections even additional sections added to sections, chapters and verses, even Joseph Smith translations of part of the Bible, but I don't believe there has ever been a stand taken on vampires. I could be wrong and would like to be corrected if someone knows. If so, I would like to know the church's official stand on vampires. Is it a moral issue? Is it a cultural issue? Are there missionaries in Transylvania or in whatever part of Oregon or Washington that Twilight takes place? Do the parents of the the female lead character (I don't even know her name) have a sign over their door that reads, "Return With Honor" or does it read, "Return With Honor and with Blood"? Do the parents of the vampire kid have a sign over their door that reads, "Remember Who You Are"? These are important questions of our time. If thousands upon thousands of females, including pregnant and uncomfortable ones -- not to mention some of the most intelligent women I know and respect, would brave the midnight hours and cold to see the movie, there must be an official church stand on vampires. For those vampires that give in to their carnal desires, is it considered "the shedding of innocent blood"? Since there are many mansions in the God's realm, are the vampires relegated to a haunted mansion? So many questions and too few answers. Maybe the next movie will answer them or maybe there will be a general conference talk on the subject. Please don't be offended by my callous joking, after all it's a matter of taste. My favorite movie of all time is "Support Your Local Sheriff", afterall, I'm basically just on my way to Australia. By the way, my favorite book any thing by Danielle Steele.

A story to top Candy's although it wasn't at church

I'm not sure how many of my blog followers have ever taken a Greyhound or Continental Trailways bus trip. No, not a charter bus on some tour or excursion, or a school bus, but a real trip where you pay money and ride the bus.
Many years ago, I needed to travel from Blythe, the home of our ancestors, to Tucson, Arizona to visit Cliff and Cathy. I had no way to get there, so I decided to travel by Greyhound Bus. It seemed simple enough, buy the ticket, get on the bus and go.
It started off exactly as I planned. I bought the ticket, got on the bus across the street from the Hub theater in Blythe, the home of our ancestors and we were on our way.
I didn't realize however, that bus routes are not direct. In fact, they are anything but direct. Our first stop was in Quartzsite, AZ where no one got on or off, but we stopped anyway for 10 or so minutes. We then proceeded to Tucson, or so I thought. But, no, we stopped in Aguila, Wendon, Salome, Wickenburg, Surprize, Phoenix, Mesa (Phoenix and Mesa were 45 minutes each), Chandler, Casa Grande, Red Rock, Marana and then Tucson. All told there were on average about 15 to 16 people at one time on the bus. Some got off, some got on.
Nothing really extraordinary about the trip other than it was the longest bus ride in the history of mankind. Oh, well maybe there was this one thing. During our stop in Phoenix, a middle-aged African-American woman boarded the bus. During the whole trip, I sat right behind the driver because I was young and inexperienced and figured that was the safest place to sit in case anything bad happened.
Anyway, this lady sat just a row or two behind me all by herself. There were several other people sitting close to the front also. It seems everyone else also thought being close to the driver was the safest place to be.
Just a few minutes after she boarded and we were on our way to the next stop in Mesa, she started screaming. They weren't loud long screams, just short bursts with an sporatic name yelled out. I turned around to see what was going on. I guess I wasn't an experienced bus traveler because everybody else on the bus didn't seem to notice or care. They just casually got up and moved further away from her and kept reading their magazines or whatever. The bus driver didn't even look in the mirror to check to see if the lady was being attacked or attacking anyone. At this point I was the closest person to this lady. I was anxiously awaiting our stop in Mesa hoping she would get off. She didn't. A few did get off but even more got on.
They were obviously seasoned bus travelers, because when she resumed her screaming they just got up and moved toward the back of the bus. No one said a word. No one asked her if she was okay. It just seemed like normal bus business to everyone on the bus. By the way, it wasn't a short bus. I know some of you would ask if I was riding on the short bus.
So, to make a long story short, which is already impossible, when we got to Casa Grande, a nice young African-American male got on the bus. He perused the bus patrons and saw that there was only one other person of color, actually that's not entirely true, several "busters", (I just coined that phrase), were hispanic. He decided that he would be cordial and sit next to the "lady". I wanted to warn him, but I didn't know if that was proper bus etiquette. The bus driver didn't seem to care one way or the other and neither did any of the people that were still on the bus and knew the situation, so I kept my mouth shut and leaned a little closer to the bus driver thinking it still the safest place on the bus.
It didn't take long for this nice young man to realize that his kindness was misplaced. The lady went beserk. She started screaming louder and longer and yelling many different names now. This time everyone turned to look. The poor guy sitting next to her didn't know what to do. He was just sitting there and she was going crazy. He started to panic and tried to help the lady. Wrong move. She became more frantic. She was a really good screamer. The bus driver finally looked in the mirror to check things out, then just kept on driving. Finally, the guy next to her figured it out. He got up and moved. Everyone else went back to reading their books and magazine. The bus driver just went to the next stop. I leaned even closer toward him and the guy that was sitting next to the crazy lady got off at the next stop. I'm positive it wasn't where he wanted to go, but he got off anyway. I would have too.
The lady went back to screaming in short bursts after that for the rest of the trip to Tucson. When we got to Tucson, we all got off. Cliff was there to pick me up. I sat really close to him on the way to his house.
So, I've thought about that trip several times over the years and here is what I've concluded. I don't think the lady was crazy at all. I think she was mad I got the front seat next to the bus driver and she was upset and scared knowing the safest place to sit was right behind the driver in case anything bad were to happen. So, she came up with this scheme to scream in sporadic bursts to make people think she was crazy and everyone would leave her alone. I bet she told her husband and five kids in Tucson that the trip went just fine.
By the way, I've never taken a bus trip since.

26 years and counting!

Two days ago, my wife the ultimate facilitator of happiness, and I celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary. It was an eventful day that began with an all you can eat breakfast at IHOP. Why is IHOP always busy? We went around 9 or 9:30am and it was still crowded. I ate as many pancakes as a man who has been married for 26 years could possibly eat. I was sick for the next 6 hours getting over my sugar high. We had planned to then have a romantic dinner at Texas Roadhouse (I know how romantic could Texas Roadhouse be?), but it's good food, especially the rolls. Anyway, we were both still extremely full from IHOP and decided to eat some lighter mexican food at our favorite restaurant Gecko Grill. While there Pam handed me a piece of paper with the following handwritten notes. It read, "Reasons I Love Jeff". Here's what she wrote.
1. So good with people
2. Best dad imaginable
3. Loves me
4. Listens to me
5. Knows how to fix things and can fix anything
6. Always tells good things about me to people
7. Doesn't care if I cook dinners
8. So easy going about house, food, clothes
9. Doesn't spend money
10. Wears whatever and doesn't care
11. Doesn't like to shop and spend money on clothes
12. Good hair
13. Still cute
14. Funny
15. Likes sports
16. Is a true 100% man's man
17. Likes to fish
18. Like boats
19. Works as hard as he can
20. He brings me stuff when I need it
21. Lets me read in bed with the light on
22. Went on a mission
23. Is so knowledgable about the gospel
24. Love his parent and family
25. Is true blue loyal to me
26. Never has given me any reason to ever be jealous

So, there is the list she handed me over chips and salsa. Needless to say, the pressure was on. I had nothing prepared for her. So, being a quick thinker I asked her for a piece of notebook paper and wrote the following; Reason I love Pam.
1. She's shy
2. Best mom ever to grace the face of the earth
3. Loves me and puts up with me
4. Lets me listen to my own voice
5. Expects me to know everything
6. Loyal to a fault
7. Buys me fruit and almonds
8. Doesn't spend money or if she does she returns things
9. Doesn't care what I wear
10. Worries about my hair
11. She's beautiful (this was a smart one)
12. Starting to act like me towards other people.....funny
13. 110% real woman now that she has an estrogen pellet shot into her hip
14. Puts her used QT drinks on the bedstead
15. Reads all the time with the light on in bed
16. Our son is on a mission because of her
17. Reads the Book of Mormon everyday, mostly at night with the light on
18. Loves my family even though we all have A.S.S.
19. Has only given me 2 times to ever be jealous and they were not her fault. People stop her and say she looks like Goldie Hawn or Barbara Mandrell.

So, if I do say so myself, I came up with my smart list very quickly and save my bacon. Oh, I shouldn't have mentioned bacon because it still makes me sick just to thing about the all you can eat breakfast we had at IHOP. For our anniversary presents we got new wedding bands. It appears that gold is out and fat silver or platinum wedding rings are in. Funny, but isn't gold at an all time high right now? I also bought her a real crutch to use for her ailing knee and a gel bicycle seat which she won't be able to use until her knee heals. She got me a new pair of brown shoes that she likes and knows I'll wear because I don't care what I look like.

So, there it is, a recap of our 26th wedding anniversary. I still remember the night of October 14th, 1982 when I was staying at Lance and Candy's house the day before our temple sealing. Pam had insisted that I write down my feelings about getting married. As I was doing so, a wise man walked into the room. His name happened to be Howard Arnett. He just sat down in a chair and didn't say a word. Finally, after some time had past, I asked him if he needed anything. He said no and just continued to sit next to me. I said, "Dad, did you want to talk or something." He said, "well I thought I might give you some advice". I then prepared myself for some incredible words of wisdom from the man I admired most. I expected a "sermon" of sorts about the intricacies of marriage, and the nuances of human interaction between a man and a woman who enter into the sacred bonds of holy matrimony. I gave him all my attention. I was a little nervous about the next day and needed some reassurance. In, Howard like fashion, he looked at me and then uttered these most profound words, "If you want a happy life, you better have a happy wife". We both chuckled and he got up and walked out of the room. 26 years later I have never forgotten that advice. What's even better is that my wife is truly the facilitator of my happiness.
I love you Pammie. How you made it this far with me I'll never know.

I've never been polled!

So, Pam says I never write in my blog anymore and that the last thing I wrote was about staring down a mass murderer. I told her I didn't have anything to say anymore, that is, until last night.
I don't watch tv anymore because I have sling box and can do it online and play Spider Solitaire or read your blogs at the same time. What a great country! But, last night was the vice-presidential debate. I admit I didn't watch much of it, because I was watching the Utah-OSU game and playing an incredibly difficult game of Spider Solitaire which took great concentration.
However, I did watch the media slice, dice and mulsify just how bad Sarah Palin did. Now, I must go on record as saying I still don't know who I'm gonna vote for. I am a registered Independent. I have been one for some 20 plus years. Pam says it just because I want to be different. I say it's because I am independent. All of this aside, CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, CNBC, XYZ, BIC, RIP, and all the others (except of course Brizszdzddxxaacaxxxxzxzxxz), pundited that Sarah Palin did okay, but that she is not qualified, not going to help McCain, not factually correct, speaks funny, ya da ya da ya da ya da. I've come to expect that. I don't watch or listen to Bill Maher, Michael Moore, Kieth Olberman (he's got some anger issues) or Rush Limbaugh for that matter. At least Rush knows he's in it for the money and it's just an act. But, I'm not a big fan of anybody bashing either party, probably because I'm not a member of either party. Letterman is starting to bug me. He's become way to anti McCain-Palin. Right now it's cool to make fun of those two. Heaven knows I like to make as much fun as the next guy, but it's too obvious. So, what was I saying, oh, here's the deal. On CNN they kept citing these polls that had just been taken with really enlightening questions like who looks more politician, and who do you trust, and who did better.
Well, it dawned on me that I've never been polled once in my life. I've stared down a mass murderer, I've been asked to take phone surveys, I've been asked to donate by the Salvation Army (good cause by the way), I've turned down the guys at the DMV that sit outside wanting me to sign up for some cause, etc. But, I've never been polled on anything political, racial, religious or come to think of it I've never even been asked to comment on what TV shows I watch or who is number one in college football.
Who are the people being polled? Where do they come from. Are they relatives of the newspeople? I've heard of the Harris poll, the Gallup poll (I've been to Gallup and I wouldn't want to poll many people there), the USA/CNN poll, the North pole and even the South Pole, but I've never been contacted by one of them. I did fall off a chin-up pole once. I was standing on the top of it trying to walk across it on the playground of Ruth Brown elementary school. My feet slipped and gravity took it's course and I hit the pole right between my legs, but that's another story. Okay, so maybe I have an aversion to polls, or poles, but don't you think at my age I should have at least been asked to be in some sort of poll. I never have been asked to be part of a focus group. I've never even taken the Pepsi challenge. I can't even give my opinion in church, especially the High Priest's Group. They cringe when I raise my hand. Pam, on many occasions, has forcefully put her hand on my hand and pressed down hard when I'm about to raise it in Sunday School. I get it. I'm opinionated, I have A.S.S., I'm an idiot, I like to hear my own voice, I write too long of blogs, etc. But, why I haven't I ever been polled?
Because of my lack of polling experience, I question the polls. Who are these people that tell us how we are thinking. I didn't think Biden did better than Palin and I like Biden. I would vote for Biden for President right now. I didn't think Palin did bad at all. I actually like her voice. It reminds me of the movie "Fargo". You know the pregnant small town police chief woman. I'd vote for her as president. Geez, she captured the murderer and figured out the crime. Sure she said "you betcha" a lot. Kind of cute I thought. Come to think of it I like her character really a lot because I've also stared down a mass murderer.
Okay, now you know why they won't call on me in High Priest's quorum, but I would like to take a poll on my blog. How many of you have been polled for anything political. I'm talking about a real poll, not if you would like to donate to a political party or if you would like to have information sent to you about car insurance. Please let me know. Anwser my poll. A simple yes or no would do, or you can write an epistle. Now is your chance to be a part of the process. If you live in a mansion or live in a van down by the river, take part in my poll. Have you ever been politically polled?

Oh by the way, I'm starting a new blog at Pam's request called "Hot Dawg in Hamburg". Instead of sending you the emails from Chad we are going to post them on this new blog with photos, etc. That way if you really want to read about him you can, if you don't you are going to hell anyway and you don't have to read the blog.

Did I mention that I stared down a mass murderer?

The reality of Justice

Today I was called for Jury Duty. I've been called before having to report to the Mesa Courthouse, but I've never been assigned to appear in Phoenix. I had to report to the Maricopa County Superior Court in downtown Phoenix at 8 a.m.
I was really dreading this. In fact, I asked for a postponement and was granted a 3-month extension until today. In hindsight, I wish I had appeared earlier and here is why.
There were approximately 500 prospective jurors who had to appear at the same time. We all had to go through the security lines and wand waves and then turn in our juror summons and then recieve some paperwork to fill out. We waited for about 1 1/2 hours in a large waiting room, listening to instructions, etc. From the time we began our security screenings and sitting in the waiting room it was now around 11 a.m. Then one of the clerks announced over the loudspeaker that 120 of us would be randomly selected to go up to the 4th floor. She then began to read aloud names and assign numbers beginning with 121. At the time I was not sure why she began with 121, but I later discovered why.
It appears that I am quite a random person because I was selected and assigned number 199. After we were given a 8x11" piece of paper with our number on it, we were told to follow two court officials upstairs and then line up according to our number. While in the elevator I turned the paper over and read that we, as prospective jurors, would be participating in a trial anticipated to last 9 months. 9 months!
I had no idea what was going on until I saw a handmade sign with the name on the front door of the courtroom that said, "Dale Housner".
For those of you that don't live in Arizona that name won't mean much to you, but it does to us. He is accused of killing eight people in the Phoenix/Glendale/Mesa area and shooting 33 others in addtions to killing 3o or more animals during a 14 month shooting spree. It was during the same time as the Baseline Killer rampage. He and his fellow defendant are known as the Serial Shooters. FYI, one of the victims was an LDS girl in Mesa. He shot and killed her with a 410 shotgun while driving by her one night. You can read more about the shootings by Googling Dale Housner or searching the AZ Republic.
We were told to go into the courtroom where the judge had all of the counts against Housner read to us. We were given a 6 page copy of the counts. It took 30 minutes to read the charges ranging from attempted murder to murder to consiparacy to cruelty to animals, etc.
As luck or randomness would have it I sat not more than 7 feet behind Housner and his attorneys with only a rail between us. It was surreal. I didn't want to make eye contact as he frequently turned around. He was often taking notes and then would look around the room. I'm not sure that I felt real fear, but instead uneasyness and trepidation. This guy killed 8 people in cold blood. He didn't look "Mansonesque", just creepy. I've tried to think of another word to describe him but I can't. Creepy sounds so "high schoolish", but he wasn't necessarily evil looking or grungy or even unkempt. He was creepy.
The judge began by telling us no one wants to be on a jury--especially one that will be in session for 9 months. So, he gave us his best patriotic speech. He talked about soldiers serving in Iraq and freedom and about doing our part and serving on a jury to maintain our freedoms, etc. Truthfully, I've heard better speeches from Larry and Dana on keeping America strong -- and they were more convincing.
Nevertheless, this guy is a cold blooded mass murderer and if you have to be on a jury there is no better case to decide.
The judge told us that he would call us by our juror number and ask if we could serve. If we could not he would ask us why not and perhaps ask a few more questions. So, the process began.
During this process, both the prosecution and defense kept detailed notes. So did Hausner. In fact, as each juror stood he look directly at them, but more on that later.
The first juror was polled and he said he could serve. So did the second and third jurors. I thought, "wow, this is a piece of cake, they will get all they need before they get to me". Then the excuses began. I'm sorry your honor, I can't serve because blah, blah, blah.
He questioned each excuse then excused those that said no. The reasons for not serving were good. He even recommended to some that they not serve. Women who were pregnant couldn't serve. Neither could men or women with small children and no caregivers. Small business owners were excused. Office managers -- excused. Students-- excused. Those that had ties to law enforcement -- excused. Those that had familiarity with the victims of the crime scenes were eliminated. Those with health concerns, those with travel plans that couldn't be changed were excused. Yet, about every 5 or so jurors could serve the full 9 months. Some said they could not be impartial due to the heinousness of the crimes and media coverage. One poor mother was sobbing as she told the judge her son was a victim of a drive by shooting. One man said he new the LDS girl who was killed. Again, each time Hausner looked at each prospective juror.
I suppose the best reasons for not serving were these; several people did not believe in the death penalty (this is a death penalty case), one young 19-year old said he had a short attention span and really couldn't pay attention. The judge questioned him extensively and determined that he really couldn't. He was right. The kid explained he works at Quisno's and gets help from his co-workers to get the orders right. That was the best excuse. Several couldn't speak English well enough. The judge caught a few in some exaggerations. A few people said they had young children to attend to, which was fine, except they couldn't readily remember their ages. That was interesting. He excused them anyway.
But, the reason for not serving which really doesn't make sense to me is one that was used often and accepted by the judge, was animal cruelty. Now, I own a dog. I've had several. I grew up around horses and cattle. I've seen sheep. I'm not a big fan, but I've never wanted to be cruel to them. I loved cats as a kid, but I'm not so big on them now. Overall, I would say I'm as much an animal proponent as most people. But, doesn't it seen odd that when a mass murderer kills eight people and maims 33 others, that people cruelty might be a better explanation. Yes, he killed 30 plus animals, but he killed eight human beings. I really don't get it. What's more, all the people that said they couldn't serve because of the animal cruelty issue were excused. No questions asked. I can understand the death penalty issue. I don't understand that a person could not be impartial because of animal cruelty. Does that mean they could be impartial if it was only human cruelty?
Anyway, here's what happened to me. I'm glad I was 199. It gave me time to think about justice, my values, my priorities, etc. As I listened to those that opposed the death penalty, I had a struggle of conscience. I know I have liberal leanings. Certainly, this guy deserves what he gets, but could I as a juror be responsible for putting him to death. I know it's not that simple and it wouldn't be on my head so to speak. Yet, it would. It might be different if he was holding a gun pointed toward me or my family and I had to shoot back, but I really struggled with being responsible for someone's death. I've never had to come to terms with that. I didn't like how it made me feel. Does it "make it better" if he dies? Does it "make it better" if I help to make him die? I asked myself if I could be impartial anyway. Maybe I could tell the judge I also had a short attention span due to A.S.S. and get away with it.
The guy two spots in front of me was some sort of a court official. The judge knew him and said he shouldn't serve. The lady right in front of me had been reading the Ensign. She was a teacher and the judge excused her. I never spoke to her or the guy behind me. I was really in turmoil. Part of me really wanted to be on this jury. I truly wanted to find out what I would do during the trial.
So, my time came. The judge asked me if I could serve. I answered I could not. He asked why. I said that I was self-employed and I also taught music lessons and that after nine months I would have nothing to go back to -- which is entirely true, yet I felt guilty. Did I mention we were sworn in? He excused me. The guy behind me was having hip relacement surgery. His reason sounded much better than mine. I fel ashamed I said no. Not because I really couldn't serve, but because I would miss out on the trial. I would miss out on wondering how I would vote on "killing someone". I would miss out on whether I could be impartial. What if he really didn't do any of this? He plead not guilty on all charges. When I stood to address the judge, Dale Hausner turned and looked at me. I didn't mean to look back, but I did. Maybe it was because I had seen his picture on the news, etc, but it was as if I recognized him. What's worse, it was as if he recognized me. It seemed like he stared at me forever, and he did, until the guy behind me stood up.

Post Script: About 30 people from my group will go on to the next step filling out a 22 page questionaire and being "voire dired" as Uncle Vinny would say. They are expecting to have 3,000 prospective jurors come through the doors to pick 120 who will be willing to serve then go from there. I will not be one of them. Is it possible to be glad and sad? In other news, I will be available for our next family reunion.

That's it, I've had it!

I've met John McCain. I don't like him (although he has always liked pretty women around him...hence his VP choice). Obama is younger than me for heaven's sake and has "run" absolutely nothing. John Edwards -- well I won't go there. "Billary" got beat and Mitt Romney is a flip flopper (I mean how can you change your mind on abortion), he's too stiff and acts like he is always on stage. So, I've decided to run. Please go here to help from the bottom up. I'm the perfect A.S.S. candidate. http://www.inews3.com/play.php?first=Jeff&last=Arnett

She's home

So after 5 long weeks, Pam arrived early this morning at 1:30am. I stayed up for her, which was no problem, because I haven't been able to sleep at night anyway. Five weeks, what was she thinking? I woke up this morning with someone next to me. At first, I was startled and got a little scared, but then I realized I have a wife and her name is Pam. She is really tan and really tired. It seems as though the job wasn't as easy as she thought. Although, she want's me and Chad to go with her next year and work there. I said we'll have to wait and see. Since my soulmate left, I decided to grow a soulpatch to compensate. She took one look.....I'm shaving it tomorrow. She also bought me several Hawaiian shirts. I'm going to wear one to church with a tie.

Needless to say, I am extremely glad she is home and so is Duffy. I'm posting some photos of the mystery person I woke up to this morning and a couple of Duffy when he first saw Pam again. He put his paws on her and wouldn't let her move. Seriously, he wouldn't move an inch. He just kept his paws on her. She tried to get up and he would have none of it. I let him in this morning also and he did the same thing to her in bed. He wouldn't let her move. I'm going to try that same thing next year when she wants to go to Hawaii again.

In other news, our Arnett family geneologist, Wayne, discovered that we do not have an ancestor from Germany. It seems that the acronym G.BT. was mistaken for GER. She's from Ireland. It still doesn't explain the behavior of some of you.

Syd and Cameron have become quite the buddies. Not sure how much I like it. They gang up on me and call me "Unkie" to make fun of me. I do admit, though, that Syd is fast becoming my favorite niece. She does my dishes and get's me Dr. Pepper from QT. What more could an "Unkie" ask for?

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New photos of family members

HB and Penee, Syd and Lex and Canyon Rosie are down from Utah to visit Miley. We had a taco night with Cliff's family and some other friends. I received a CD with photos of Howard and Ethel from Candy which I'll be using later to compile our Cibola/Blythe history DVD. Also Penee brought some photos for Chea of Cliff's family that she has taken over the years. I'm supposed to give them to Chea, and I will eventually, but I decided to post them here and get a "scoop" on everyone else. Besides, my wife is in one of them, and man is she "hot".