A learning Weekend

This week was spring break at the university and in preparation for it my boss encouraged us to take time off. I decided to take her up on that offer so Thursday and Friday found the kids out and about with their old man. Thursday we dropped Angel off at a conference I'm Salt Lake and then visiting the Natural History Museum  at the University of Utan. I remember going there as a kid and though that they would enjoy it. We spent just over 4 hours there, including eating a packed lunch in their dinning area. They had lots of stuff there for all ages and the kids did really well. Tigger was not as fond of the dinosaurs as he thought he would be. They freaked him out. But there was lots of other things that he enjoyed.

This recreation of a first people's home was one of their favorite. Kanga would tell me what the different holes were used for and what the people did where in the home. I don't know how she knew what they were used for, but she sounded very clear and assured of her statements. They played in a stream, built walls to examine erosion, enjoyed the different colored minerals, drooled over chocolate (and it's history), enjoyed looking at the sun, and put a cell together. They were very mobile and interested in all of the hands on stuff (which was very good).

The next day my dad and brother came up and we went to a local attraction, The Bear River Bird Refuge. My father had enough binoculars for everybody and we spent the afternoon watching great blue herons, coots, geese, pelicans, a cormorant, and red winged blackbirds. There were other birds as well, but we were unable to identify them. The kids weren't too sure what to think but they enjoyed themselves in the end. My dad, as a scoutmaster, has taken scouts there before - I've been twice, but that was thirteen years ago. Since then they have built a very nice visitor's center that we stopped off at first. It was well furnished and delightful to show the kids the different birds we would see.

All in all we did a lot this weekend. The kids asked if we could go to the museum again, and I hope I can take them again as they get older. As my dad said while we were looking at birds and the Kanga asked if we could go home, "You have to work them into it." I'm glad they are patient enough with their old man to let him try to "work them into" nature, science, museums, and wildlife preserves.

Remembering the sting

Today I posted the follow on Facebook:

I had just finished some sprinkler work this afternoon and was putting things away when I was attacked by a swarm of wasps. Luckily I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, but two made it through, stinging me, one on each arm. I yelled for my daughter to get in the house and stormed into the garage. There I found several more walking in circles because their stingers were stuck in my shirt. I beat them to their respective pulps with my leather hat and a roll of packing tape then scraped by arms with a tape measure to clear the two stingers. I went inside to check on my daughter and took her into the bathroom to show her what stings look like. There another wasp (from my leg?) made an appearance. I shooed by daughter out and shut the door. We battled to his death and I flushed his broken body down the toilet. Twenty minutes later I was downstairs and pulled something out of my pocket and another wasp came with it. Again, we battled around the room. At last I pinned him between a towel and a pillow and I punched him to death against the wall. His body too was flushed down the toilet. When my son wakes up from his nap I am going to get a wasp trap and spray. This cowardly attack against my family will not go unpunished! I've felt the sting of wasps before and do not fear it! Cower before me, you who wear the colors of yellow and black for your day has come!!

I'm not normally this adamant against wasps. In fact I'm normally quite calm and collected. This in no way means that I like them or even tolerate them much, but rather that if they don't bother me, I don't bother them. In fact, the nest that houses this particular swam is built into my shed and I've not done anything about it because it wasn't a problem - until now that is.

I've always been under the belief that if you act calm and cool around bees and wasps that they will leave you alone. This has been my experience before. While serving a religious service mission in Russia my partner and I were helping straighten metal fence posts when we disturbed a hive of wasps. Munoz, my partner, took off running before I even realized that I was surrounded by wasps. He screamed at me, "ASA!" when I didn't understand he switched to English. "BEEEEEEZZZZZZZS!!!!!" I still chuckle about his reaction as I looked up, said, "Oh" and calming walked towards him away from the nest in the post. Granted, that is not always the case. I found out that bumble bees with quite literally bite you when I was weeding a flowerbed and happened to be next to the bumbler's hole. I ignored him for a bit figuring that he was brushing against my ear but that changed when I felt a very distinct chomp. The wound actually bled and was there for two weeks. Not fun.

I like to think that my reaction to bees and wasps is due to desensitization because of a particular, rather traumatic episode when I was about seven or eight. Muscles, one of her friends, and I had just returned from swimming somewhere when we noticed that our neighbor's horses were up by our back fence. We grabbed a bag of carrots from the fridge and ran out to feed them. I was still wearing my eighties bathing suit (short shorts) and I think I still had my towel. We fed the horses for a bit and then I remember screaming and running for the house. My mother was standing there in the open doorway and she just let me barrel on through the dining room into the living room where I smashed into the couch and saw what was attacking me. A wasp fell out of my hair and landed on the couch right in front of my face. I remember screaming even loader (a feat that I'm sure surprised my mother). She mushed it with a dish towel and I felt her swatting the towel all over my body as I crouched there and sobbed. I remember saying a prayer and then I remember paramedics checking me over. I was fine. My sister and her friend looked to be in worse shape and they had only been stung a half dozen times compared to my full body acupuncture session. We figure that I had stepped on a hive that the wasps had built in the irrigation ditch behind our house.

Since then, I've mentally told myself, "I've been stung a whole lot. There isn't much fear for me now." With that said, when I saw the wasps stuck to my clothes I was quite irate and there was some shock akin to that time the wasp fell out of my hair onto the couch. But otherwise when I was stung today I wasn't afraid of the stings, I was really made. Livid might be a good word as well. Indignant may be the best one yet. I had kept my side of the bargain  I didn't disturb them and they attacked me! It wasn't until after I got in the house that I remember about that particular nest and then remembered that in my cleaning up from sprinkler work I did in fact send some major vibrations through the floor of the shed. So, it turns out I did disturb them. However, when you have small children who like to play in the back yard it is better that you get stung twice and get the drive to remove the nest than your kids suffer for your hands off approach. The traps been hung and I've got two new cans of wasp killer. Nobody messes with my family. The trick will be getting to the nest and doing so when they least expect it.....

I really need a thunderstorm right now

Normally the only person who might say this phrase goes by the name of Dr. Frankenstein. However, I've been wanting a good thunderstorm for the last couple of days. Luckily the weather obliged us this evening. It couldn't have happened at a better time. It didn't last more than forty minutes or so, but the thunder rolled off the mountains to our east and the rain fell from the heavens like devils cast out. It was a good storm and much needed too.

I've always enjoyed watching thunderstorms. When I couldn't get a thunderstorm I would go for a hard downpour or even just a simple rain. Many have used rain as imagery of cleansing. To me there is just something about it that is relaxing. I don't even really mind driving thought a rain storm and despite the difficulties and challenges it presents find it exhilarating.

I have found memories of sitting outside on the front porch with my older sister, each of us curled in a blanket reading our respective books as the rain poured down on the other side of the hollyhocks. I also remember coming out of a night class my freshman year of college to a sky as black as pitch and a steady and persistent rain coming down. I put by coat in my backpack, took off my socks and shoes, rolled up my jeans and walked home barefoot in the rain. I didn't dance (although I've sung a few times), but I did enjoy myself, and the hot shower when I got home. This last storm found me in the kitchen alternating between the stove preparing dinner and the screen door smelling deeply of the rain.

For our anniversary last year my wife bought me a print of a photo taken by Tyson Chappell, a professor at the last college I worked at, who is also an accomplished photographer. The photo is titled, "God's Wrath" and hangs in my office. Check it out here. It is a time lapse of a thunderstorm that occurred while we were living in Price, UT. We had good years in Price, but were glad to be closer to family. In addition to the friends we had made we both agreed that we would miss the thunderstorms. I remember turning a movie off for twenty minutes while I watch a lightning storm that struck south of Price. We didn't see many storms because of the geography that surrounded us, but the storms we did see were hard and fast and fierce. They had to be to get over the mountains. Kanga would often sit in a chair by a window and just watch them. Once when a particularly loud clap of thunder shook our cinder-block house she asked, "What was that?" "Thunder, Kanga." "No it's not!" she declared, "It's a dragon! I'm going to get my dragon!" She would have to if she could have gotten the door open.

Below is a poem I wrote just after completing high school that includes some of my feelings on storms. I called it "Stand Standing Still"

The man stood standing in the rain

A newspaper in his hand

And stared across the wet, wet street

Into a strange new land.

He stood there, standing for an hour

Not moving here or there

But standing, simply standing

As rain damped his hair.

A passerby brushed past the man

And apologized the slight

But the man didn't notice the passer-by

In the darkening night.

Don’t ask me why he does stand there

Standing in the rain

Some would say he’s bloody mad

Others, feeling pain.

But stand he does, standing there

And facing a crying sky

Holding his soaking head up high

Wishing he could fly.

The pouring rain does not let up

It’s getting harder still

And people run to open doors

And hope they don’t come ill

And yet he stands, standing there

Without a hat or coat

And many, indoors do say

He’s going to need a boat.

And when the storm does reach its height

He spreads his long arms out

And looks straight up upon the sky

And gives a mighty shout!

“Oh storm of heaven come, I pray

And show me of your power

For I have stood here many a day

And now at last this hour

Do see thy strength, thy majesty

And dare to look you more

In country town, on mountain top

On sea and on the shore

Such power I've never witnessed

And am proud to see it now

I will never forget you, storm of hope

To thee I deepest bow!”

And with that declaration

He did lower his big hands

And without another word

Looked at distant lands

The people inside the buildings

Heard and saw him do

And said the man was on a drug,

His mind, damage done to.

But I think you know, who reads this now

What that strange man had done

He saw a power strong enough

To blow the brilliant sun.

A new thing learned each moment

He stands there, standing still

And greets each act of nature

And bears it none of ill

And maybe, standing still

In one place, standing long

One may hear the exalted chords

Of nature’s holy song.