The 43

On December 9, 2003, my life extraordinarily changed. Michael was born, and nothing was ever the same. I imagine that separating life before children and after is pretty common for people, particularly as the years pass and the kids grow. The run-up to that first child takes on its own little era. Fall 2023 saw Lori and me settling into our new home, watching the Cubs get within five outs of the World Series, playing Gamehouse and PopCap online games (that was just me), welcoming my sister to Salt Lake City for a visit to paint the walls of the baby's bedroom, and readying everything that needed to be ready for a new child. Moreover, the night we went to the hospital, the day of Michael's birth, and the few weeks after through the new year are also rich with memories. I mean, how could they not be? When life changes extraordinarily, you tend to remember things ... What's a blur from this time is the couple weeks right before Dec. 9 (technically, Dec. 8, when we went to th

For the first seven years of Lori's and my relationship, we lived in Wisconsin. For the last 20 years, we've been parents, living in our current house we bought the summer before Michael was born. Two distinct parts of our lives, highlighted by different priorities, explorations, and joys, make up the fabric of who we are. In between those two eras (the second still in progress but the next entailing an empty-ish nest coming up soon) was our time in Utah after we moved here but before we bought the house and became parents. The years of 2000-2003 seem like an insignificant blip, almost an extended vacation. And the further I get away from it, the more mysterious it seems. I wrote about some of the pre-kids time in Utah a few years ago, fondly recalling the things we did for fun on the split schedules we were on. I've been thinking about those years beyond the highlights, instead wondering about the everyday things. What did I eat for breakfast each morning (given I was waki

I intended to write this post in September, recalling the autumn of 1983, 40 years earlier. Here I am, late November, which, 40 years earlier, was the end of the fall that was so memorable. But perhaps reflecting after Thanksgiving instead of after Labor Day provides a different persepctive. Fall 1983 was all about Dungeons and Dragons, video games, and music videos. I started eighth grade and would turn 13 on Nov. 6. The weather all fall was gorgeous, including a few wonderful Saturday morning when my sisters and I ran with the fledgling St. Eugene's cross country team (we would run laps around the church to practice).  Music that fall was amazing. "Friday Night Videos" presented music videos and opened more music beyond the Top 40 I was hearing on WLS and B96. Some of my favorites that autumn included "In a Big Country" by Big Country, "Modern Love" by David Bowie, and "Living on the Edge" by Jim Capaldi. That summer, I finally moved into

There we were, in my friend John's Caprice Classic, in the parking lot of our high school on the night before our senior year began. I'm not sure how my friends and I ended up there -- likely, we were driving around and couldn't find anything to do on this last unofficial night of summer. We were about to be seniors, which must have felt a little daunting to me. We wouldn't be out too late, but we weren't going to let the last night be wasted. Finally, we had enough of contemplative conversation, and John did something in reverse, essentially, a reverse donut, for no real reason. He said, "That was fun" and did another. My friend Mike and I have differing memories of what happened next, but Mike uttered "light pole" a half-second before John hit it with the front right of the Caprice. And thus, the summer of 1987 ended. I kind of look back on this summer as my least favorite during the '80s. Being a teenager is rough -- something I remind mys

 "Out in the streets there is violence, and-and a lots of work to be done." In the summer of 1983, "Electric Avenue" by Eddy Grant was the absolute coolest song playing on the radio. And this was during a summer of cool songs, from "Rock of Ages" by Def Leppard" to "Gimme Some Lovin'" by ZZ Top to "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats. I can't quite explain what made it so cool -- it's not a musical masterpiece by any means -- but it was just different. Moreover, it might have struck a chord for me because it seemed to embody the heat of that summer. Before 1983, yes, I knew summers were hot. I'm not sure if 1983 was necessarily an unusually hot summer, but it was the first summer I think I really felt the heat, if that makes sense. I had to exist in that heat instead of it being an afterthought. I wanted to enjoy it but cool myself off from it. It felt inescapable at times. In the summer of 1983, I moved into my new

The summer solstice was nine days ago, but I'm only now getting around to writing my annual reflection that is supposed to be created on the first day of summer. Nine days ago, I was frenetically trying to finish up work and get ready for a road trip to Denver, where Benji was competing in a swim meet. We got back Monday afternoon, but I was too exhausted to come up to my usual spot in Donner Park. The last three nights were overcast (though the skies cleared a little too late to embark on my quest last night), spoiling the goal of watching the sunset. So, nine days later, I'm finally here. And now that I am, I'm not totally sure what to write about. To say the last year has been a blur would be cliche, and I don't think it's gone faster than any other past year. But I've been struggling to wrap my head around the current summer and, thus, what's really on my mind. I could write about how we're a year away of having two kids in college and being sort of

I may be in the worst writing rut in a long time. I've been in these zombie ruts before, when I'm not necessarily feeling un-creative, but simply have no will to write. What's different with this one is that usually, I get to summer and feel inspired. I've blogged many summers, tracking day to day (at least as close as I can get to day to day) in an effort to not take for granted my favorite season. This year, however, it's already mid-June and I haven't recorded a single day. Summer has been uneventful so far, but even uneventful used to be worthwhile. In 2023, I'm just blah. I'm not sure what snaps me out of this. Summer solstice? Upcoming trip to Denver? Fourth of July? Upcoming trip to California (which isn't until late July)? Maybe I'll hear a song that will get me into the summer writing groove. Or perhaps, just my first day of sunny lounging in the back yard or by a pool will provide inspiration. There is so much past summer I want to blog

And then there were two dogs ... Two weeks ago, sort of suddenly, we added a second dog to our family. Charlotte is a 7-month old pointer/blue heeler mix (we think) we adopted from the Humane Society. As with any puppy, the transition has been, well, noticeable. For starters, she wasn't house trained, so we've needed to get her outside a lot to do her business. She struggles with impulse control, going a little crazy whenever she sees another dog or cat. Given we have a dog and a cat, that has been a challenge. Popcorn hasn't been a big fan of Charlotte so far. The puppy wants to play and sometimes bark when she sees Popcorn go by, and the decibel level has bothered our senior dog.  Charlotte also came home with a parasite, which resulted in some runny poop over the first several days. All that said, we've seen so much progress. She hasn't had an accident in the house in a week, and she's figured out that when she goes outside, she should go outside. Popcorn is

May is my favorite month of the year and has been since I was a kid. Those leaves sprout from the trees in the first couple days of May and I'm instantly reassured that I survived the winter and that summer is near. Little League in my youth hit full swing in May. School years ended in May. I met Lori in May. Ben was born in May. This year, the buds on our linden tree kept teasing, but on queue, usually around May 3, they sprout. I'm on my porch writing this, looking at a full tree of leaves, accompanied by the full maple of leaves as well. But May is bittersweet in that if I don't fully appreciate each sunny day, each warm temperature, each spring storm (and last night, we had a doozy, with the weirdest orange sky I've seen here in Utah in 23 years), the month is half over before I make an attempt to fully enjoy it. This May, here I am, on May 15 -- and I'm just getting into the swing of the month. June will be hear before I know it. The kidney stone threw a seriou

The pain started last Thursday, quite suddenly. I'm always amazed how the little disruptors -- even if they turn into big disruptors -- come out of nowhere. I ran Thursday morning, made breakfast, started my work day, and everything was going well. A few hours later, I was in a doctor's office, writhing in pain and the fun was just beginning. Several years ago, I got an ultrasound after wrenching my back, and the technician noticed that I had a kidney stone. I didn't think anything of it, and nothing ever came of it -- I just figured it passed without incident. I doubt this is the same kidney stone, but its descendant is pummeling me five days later. After being diagnosed Thursday, I ended up in the ER on Friday evening after developing a fever. Of course, the fever broke during our nine-hour ER experience (including five in the waiting room), but the prognosis was solid -- no infection, and no surgery or procedure needed. The last three afternoons have been tolerable, rest