"but i can not feel," said the robot.
"does that upset you?" asked the girl.
the robot rolled a bit and sighed, "yes. it does... when i think about it."
"that's a feeling," she responded.
"oh," he replied.
"you can feel. and you are quite good at math."
the robot realized the girl with the interesting hair was right. elated and amazed, he began to roll about wildly. he chirped and whistled. he blipped and beeped and did some sort of spinning move that was quite impressive. then he fell into the swimming pool.
and, even though it looked funny at the time it proved to be fatal.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Visit with Dad
A couple of weekends ago, Shannon said she wanted to visit her Grandpa Peterson. I was really happy to hear her make this suggestion. Dad has lived out of state since the day Shannon was born. He recently moved to Utah and he now resides with Adam and his family. He doesn't really know Connor and Shannon very well. They have not had the benefit of being around him very much. I have wished and hoped that my kids could have some kind of interaction with my Dad... to get to know their Grandpa.
As we drove to Adam's place I asked Shannon if she would like to sing to Grandpa. She said yes. I didn't have much hope for a quality visit. Dad has gone downhill fast over the past few weeks and has not seemed aware of me during several recent visits. I was sure he wouldn't recognise Shannon, whom he has known for only about a year.
During that year Dad has heard Shannon sing on a few occasions. My kids love music and I like to show them off. Connor would bring his guitar and play for Dad. Shannon would sing for him. Dad enjoyed listening to them and told me how happy he was they have the gift of song in their lives.
When we got to Adam's place we went into Dad's room. He smiled at me, then at Shannon. Then he asked her, "Are you going to sing to me?". This was sweet and strong for me, that Dad was aware of our visit and that he remembered that his granddaughter sings to him.
As we drove to Adam's place I asked Shannon if she would like to sing to Grandpa. She said yes. I didn't have much hope for a quality visit. Dad has gone downhill fast over the past few weeks and has not seemed aware of me during several recent visits. I was sure he wouldn't recognise Shannon, whom he has known for only about a year.
During that year Dad has heard Shannon sing on a few occasions. My kids love music and I like to show them off. Connor would bring his guitar and play for Dad. Shannon would sing for him. Dad enjoyed listening to them and told me how happy he was they have the gift of song in their lives.
When we got to Adam's place we went into Dad's room. He smiled at me, then at Shannon. Then he asked her, "Are you going to sing to me?". This was sweet and strong for me, that Dad was aware of our visit and that he remembered that his granddaughter sings to him.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Friday night with the kids and my new camera
Dinner at Bajio's Mexican Grill. Rachel turned us on to this place.Later at the track.
Even later in the cave... I think we were watching "Battlestar Galactica" or "The Office".Monday, September 15, 2008
Family Reunion... sort of
Last Sunday, the 7th, we had a little family reunion. It was just the grown-up brothers and sisters... and not all of us either. I'm calling it a reunion because we don't hold them often.
Adam and Sonya sent out an email opening their home to all those who desired to visit with Dad now that he is out of the hospital. Rachel suggested a Priesthood blessing for him. Sean flew in from out of state. I had a most enjoyable visit with Sean Saturday evening. David, Rachel and Curt drove in from out of town.
We all met at Adam's place. It came together kind of on the spur of the moment. Funny how things don't work out as smoothly when we make plans weeks in advance.
We all took turns visiting with Dad. He didn't seem "aware" that day.
It did me a lot of good to see so much of the family at one time. I draw strength from my siblings. When I interact with them I can see their resemblance to me. And somehow it makes me feel better about myself.
Adam and Sonya sent out an email opening their home to all those who desired to visit with Dad now that he is out of the hospital. Rachel suggested a Priesthood blessing for him. Sean flew in from out of state. I had a most enjoyable visit with Sean Saturday evening. David, Rachel and Curt drove in from out of town.
We all met at Adam's place. It came together kind of on the spur of the moment. Funny how things don't work out as smoothly when we make plans weeks in advance.
We all took turns visiting with Dad. He didn't seem "aware" that day.
It did me a lot of good to see so much of the family at one time. I draw strength from my siblings. When I interact with them I can see their resemblance to me. And somehow it makes me feel better about myself.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Warts
When I was an adolescent my hands were covered with warts. No exaggeration.
Talk about humiliating. Like teenage acne and gawkiness weren’t bad enough.
I developed them when I was in Junior High. The kids in my class called me “wart-man”… and this was Sunday school.
I did a fair job of hiding my hands as I walked through the halls, but you can’t keep your hands in your pockets while you play the clarinet. I almost quit band because I was so embarrassed. I would have but Dad wouldn’t let me. I’m glad he didn’t.
One day after about 2 year’s of wart pain, Dad saw that I was covering my hands. He told me he too had a serious wart problem when he was a kid. He said:
“I took a ripe apple and cut it in half.
"Then I rubbed the apple all over my hands so the warts were covered with juice from the apple.
"Then I placed the two apple halves in a hiding place, left them there and forgot about them.
"This is a very important part… you have to forget about them.
"Several weeks later, by the time the apples had dried up, the warts were gone.”
I had tried a few other things that didn't work. "Compound-W" and soaking my hands in "Janitor in a Drum" (anyone else remember that stuff?).
I was intrigued by Dad's story. More than that, I was convinced. "It worked for Dad so it will work for me."
It could have been coincidence.
It might have had something to do with the juice from that apple.
It probably had more to do with the faith I had in my Dad.
But it worked… just the way Dad explained it to me.
Talk about humiliating. Like teenage acne and gawkiness weren’t bad enough.
I developed them when I was in Junior High. The kids in my class called me “wart-man”… and this was Sunday school.
I did a fair job of hiding my hands as I walked through the halls, but you can’t keep your hands in your pockets while you play the clarinet. I almost quit band because I was so embarrassed. I would have but Dad wouldn’t let me. I’m glad he didn’t.
One day after about 2 year’s of wart pain, Dad saw that I was covering my hands. He told me he too had a serious wart problem when he was a kid. He said:
“I took a ripe apple and cut it in half.
"Then I rubbed the apple all over my hands so the warts were covered with juice from the apple.
"Then I placed the two apple halves in a hiding place, left them there and forgot about them.
"This is a very important part… you have to forget about them.
"Several weeks later, by the time the apples had dried up, the warts were gone.”
I had tried a few other things that didn't work. "Compound-W" and soaking my hands in "Janitor in a Drum" (anyone else remember that stuff?).
I was intrigued by Dad's story. More than that, I was convinced. "It worked for Dad so it will work for me."
It could have been coincidence.
It might have had something to do with the juice from that apple.
It probably had more to do with the faith I had in my Dad.
But it worked… just the way Dad explained it to me.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Camping with Dad
I shared this story with Sean last night as we visited with Dad.
Perhaps Adam and David remember this event.
Let me tell you about a time when Dad took his three oldest son's on a Fathers/Sons camp out many years ago.
We were living in Bountiful at the time so Adam, David and I were very young. I don't remember a lot about the trip except for bed time. We didn't bring a tent. We had 3 canvas sleeping bags. Dad took one for himself and he zipped the other two together for his three sons to share. It was quite comfortable. We watched the campfire as Dad talked to us. We went to sleep under the stars and all was well in the world...
until...
it started raining in the middle of the night. Hard!
Dad took the three sleeping bags and zipped them back into singles. Then he made a bed for each of his son's on the 3 big bench style car seats inside of the van we brought. There wasn't a 4th car seat or a 4th sleeping bag so Dad stayed out in the rain and curled up next to the fire with an old tarp. Dad tossed and turned and tried to sleep in the rain and on the hard ground. Later, dripping wet, he opened the van's side door, came in out of the rain and tried sleeping on the floor of the van.
Sometime before sunrise Dad decided the camping trip was over. He started up the van and we drove home.
At the time I was disappointed we would miss the pancake breakfast up the canyon. But now, as an adult with two kids of my own, I mostly think about a Dad who sacrificed for his sons.
Perhaps Adam and David remember this event.
Let me tell you about a time when Dad took his three oldest son's on a Fathers/Sons camp out many years ago.
We were living in Bountiful at the time so Adam, David and I were very young. I don't remember a lot about the trip except for bed time. We didn't bring a tent. We had 3 canvas sleeping bags. Dad took one for himself and he zipped the other two together for his three sons to share. It was quite comfortable. We watched the campfire as Dad talked to us. We went to sleep under the stars and all was well in the world...
until...
it started raining in the middle of the night. Hard!
Dad took the three sleeping bags and zipped them back into singles. Then he made a bed for each of his son's on the 3 big bench style car seats inside of the van we brought. There wasn't a 4th car seat or a 4th sleeping bag so Dad stayed out in the rain and curled up next to the fire with an old tarp. Dad tossed and turned and tried to sleep in the rain and on the hard ground. Later, dripping wet, he opened the van's side door, came in out of the rain and tried sleeping on the floor of the van.
Sometime before sunrise Dad decided the camping trip was over. He started up the van and we drove home.
At the time I was disappointed we would miss the pancake breakfast up the canyon. But now, as an adult with two kids of my own, I mostly think about a Dad who sacrificed for his sons.
Friday, September 5, 2008
'Deer' by Carl
do not hit a deer with your car,
unless you must,
like if he's in the way
or being a real jerk.
or if he's one of those suicide deer,
the kind that's into headlight highs
and lingers by
the high-way
at night and gets into fights.
if you spot one of these deer
then veer,
and hit 'em
i say.
but just kind of graze him.
okay.
let him survive.
that crappy deer.
unless you must,
like if he's in the way
or being a real jerk.
or if he's one of those suicide deer,
the kind that's into headlight highs
and lingers by
the high-way
at night and gets into fights.
if you spot one of these deer
then veer,
and hit 'em
i say.
but just kind of graze him.
okay.
let him survive.
that crappy deer.
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