Mowing the Lawn

I found myself with ninety minutes to kill in Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport this afternoon while waiting for a connecting flight to Grand Forks, North Dakota.  It was just enough time to learn a few valuable life lessons. There I was facing the semicircle of food court fare.  Should I have a hamburger from A&W?  It would probably taste good, it would sit in my stomach like a rock and I risked special sauce or some other condiment dripping down my front.  Maybe a prepared sandwhich from the cold case at the looks-like-a-Starbucks-only-more-expensive coffee stand?  No.  I've had the best at Pret a Manger and everything since just disappoints.  What about sushi?  I wan't to like it.  I really do.  But I don't.  Besides, it brought up bad memories of a run in with a bento box last week.  Pizza?  Maybe in hindsight, but the little express boxes looked like they had been baking under the heat lamp a little too long. I settled on the Chinese food.  Blah.  To borr...

I'm cranky. Maybe it's because I'm in an airport for the seventh time in two weeks and I still have one more airport to go tonight. Maybe it's because I nearly missed my third flight in those same two weeks. Maybe it's because I gave myself a full two hours to make the 30-minute trek from my office to the airport, but it took me 90 minutes instead thanks to Seattle's fabulous new light rail system. Maybe it's because the lines to clear security were nine miles long and I had to be screened twice because of the mysteriously dangerous-looking fresh zucchini in my bag (which I had picked that morning from our garden). Maybe it's because I was a sweaty mess by the time I sprinted from one end of the airport to the other in just enough time to make my flight. Then again... I did make my flight afterall and that's something to be thankful for. Plus, the seat next to me was empty and I had a spectacular view of the Cascades. And we did take a flight...

It seemed like an easy enough task when I planned it yesterday.  Fly from Seattle to San Francisco before breakfast.  Spend the day in San Francisco meeting with a client.  Slip across the bay to Oakland in the late afternoon.  Fly from Oakland back to Seattle and be home just in time for reading the scriptures and family prayer.  A perfect plan for an experienced traveler familiar with the Bay Area.  Sure, it would have been easier to fly down last night, but that would have meant less time with Thelma.  Besides, Braeden and I had finally managed to get a home teaching appointment with a new couple in our ward and we didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Simple?  Yes.  Doable?  Of course.  Doomed to failure and misery?  Apparently. I should have seen it coming when my alarm went off at 4:15 this morning.  Nothing good happens before 6 AM.  Nothing enjoyable happens before 7:30.  Case in point:  at 6 AM I was staring longingly out the window next to Gate N16 as my flight to San Francisc...

Note:  A selection of photos from Day 3 are posted in my Picasa public gallery . As a missionary I learned to warn people that as soon as they began to feel God's spirit more fully in their life, they could also be sure that temptation and trial were just around the corner.   One follows the other .  Light and dark.  Good and evil.  Chocolate and Kraft macaroni and cheese. So, I should have figured that something would come along and try to spoil my fun now that I'm a full three days into this vacation.  It happened tonight.  I saw hell.  It looks like a rainforest, the food is overpriced and the waiters are dressed in khaki.  Thankfully, I managed to buy my escape for $65 plus tip. The Rainforest Cafe may seem like a nice place to eat, but I've said the same thing about KFC on occasion.  That doesn't make it right.  The food was OK.  I had a mild paella with muscles, calamari, shrimp and andouille sausage.  Unfortunately, I was sitting across from a pair of animatronic...

As we walked out of the California Pizza Kitchen this afternoon into the brilliant Santa Monica sunshine, I noticed a sign on the church across the street advertising a "stimulus package for your soul". That's the perfect metaphor for these past few days.  Two days into our Southern California vacation and my soul feels light.  The hotel room may be a little bit small.  No matter.  The mattress may be a bit too hard and a tad narrow.  I'll manage.  I have sunny skies, big waves and a happy family.   The beach was our first destination yesterday as soon as we landed at LAX and picked up the rental car.  Thelma was smart enough to pack swimsuits separately so the kids could change into them when we got to the beach.  They couldn't wait, though.  No sooner had we parked than the doors to our rental car flew open and all three of our kids raced for the water.  Thelma called after them to stay out of the water.  I could tell she was frustrated and didn't want them ...

I'm feeling strangely nostalgic as my trip nears an end. Perhaps "nostalgia" is the wrong word. That's a longing for the past. What is it called when you long for the present? What is it called when you feel emotion for a place that you know will someday become a memory? I suppose it's a type of anticipatory nostalgia. I'm sure I'll be back, perhaps even this year. But the writing is on the wall. My days traveling to the UK for business are numbered. It's difficult to manage clients in the UK from Seattle. With the eight hour time difference, many of the people I need to talk to and work with are in the office from midnight to eight AM when I should be asleep. There are just too many late nights and early mornings with long days in between. For the past year, I've been working to hire a team that can be based in the UK. My boss has always been based here. We've now been able to fill seven of the other eight positions. The only thi...

I've never been one to bemoan Mondays.  Sure, I've occasionally regretted that the weekend was ending.  I get annoyed, though, by people who act like Monday is the end of the world instead of just the start of another week.  These annoyers are probably the ones buying up all of the infernal posters showing a kitten clinging to a branch with the caption "Hold on.  Friday's coming." If I were a superhero (which I'm not) and I had a kryptonic weakness (which I don't), it would be cat posters with cutesy sayings.  I'm not talking about the kind of weakness that makes you give into temptation like having a weakness for chocolate or babies.  I mean the kind of weakness that makes you lose your temper or become irrationally irate.  Of course, can a hatred of cat posters really be called irrational?  I puts it to you, guv'nor. Back to Mondays.  More specifically, Mondays in London.  The problem with Mondays here is that they never seem to fully start or fu...

What do you call a familiar place you never thought would become such?  "Strangely familiar" is already taken.  Is "oddly familiar" too similar? It's  strange  odd to me that there are places all over the world that feel familiar.  I'm off to one now.  I believe this is trip #21 to London in the past three years.  I "lived it up" on my first trip, never expecting to return.  Now I know exactly what to expect.  I know the good places to eat, the places to avoid and the shortcuts for getting either to or from them. There is something missing though.  Thelma asked me on the way to the airport if anything about the trip excites me?  I couldn't come up with anything in the moment.  Could it be that London is losing its charm? Probably not.  It's the charm that has me excited.  But not much else. The more I travel, the less I become accustomed to the overwhelming feeling that I miss my family.  The romance of the road or skies is nothing compare...

I'm nothing if not a humanitarian, so here's a bit of wisdom. It turns out that true bliss costs $100 plus gas. I'm not talking about in-the-moment bliss like Whac-a-mole or just-passing-through Bliss like the town in Idaho or even temporary bliss like the 90 minutes after you've had really good Chinese food . I'm talking about lasting bliss. The kind of bliss you can still feel when you close your eyes at night. The kind you think about the next day—that gets better the more you think about it. It's not true love, but it's a clear second. Yesterday Thelma fell in love with the raw beauty of Lake Chelan. I fell in love with the raw power of a four-cylinder, 1052cc, 20-valve, 110-horsepower, liquid-cooled, wave-running dream machine. For five and a half hours, it was the only thing between me and the lake. Throw my boys on the back and I'm in liquid heaven. I'm not exactly certain where my enthusiasm for wave runners originated. It must be...

Amazon.com Widgets To celebrate the first leg ( view map ) of our 2-day, 400-mile whirlwind of a family vacation to Lake Chelan, it's time for a road trip song. The song of the week is "Little Boy Blue (North of North Dakota)" from Jake Armerding's self-titled album. It was the last song I added to the iPod before hitting the open road this morning. Now, the lyrics may not fit the scene perfectly. June. North of North Dakota. But the sentiment is all there. Got myself a debit card, little bit of cash Petty on the speakers and I'm beating on the dash Daddy was a highway, Mama was a view I'm a little boy blue After dinner tonight I went night swimming with the kids in the pool. Braeden asked each of us what the best part of today had been. Mark and Emma named various things we had seen. For me, it was just spending time with Thelma. I'm a little bit of highway, shiny with the dew little bit of summertime, sitting next to you Never had a reason, ne...