I love this song.

My life is a mad world right now. lots of changes. most for the better.

The Turkey Bowl

Thanksgiving day started out with an epic three hour football game between all the studs in my ward and neighborhood. To say the very least it was a great time. With boys ranging from 12 years old on up to 50-ish – there was plenty of testosterone, and plenty of trash talk to go around – but sportsmanship was paramount, and everyone worked up a hearty appetite for the feasting later on in the day.

After the game, Jen and I drove up to Holladay to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone was there except for Sam and his family – they are still in new York and won’t be in town until closer to Christmas. Zane was in charge of the Turkey this year, which made a few naysayers nervous – but I have to admit – it was probably some of the best turkey I have ever had. The food was great – the company even better – and even Nolan’s Lemon Meringue Pie was good. (what can’t that kid do?)

Black Friday

11:00. Yep 11:00 PM. PM! That is when my wife left to go shopping – the turkey and potatoes were barely making their way into the large intestine and Jen and her sisters were taking to the town. Under normal circumstances, I would have suspected she was cheating on me – but this shopping tradition is anything but normal, and I kissed her good night and went to bed.
I woke up the next morning and stumbled out of bed. HOLY SHIT! Black Friday has a whole new meaning for me now. Black to describe the bruises and pain I felt in my legs, shoulders and stomach. I could barely walk – and sitting down for my morning pee was nearly impossible. After struggling to get down on the toilet seat – I then realized without those handicap bars getting back up was a nogo! After debating whether or not to call the relief society for help, I slowly and painfully managed to get back to my feet. Then came the excruciating chore of trying to get dressed – hamstrings knotting up like a telephone cord twisted to its max.

It wasn’t even 7:00 and I already had the day planned – sit on my butt and watch football and try not to move.

Utah vs. BYU

There were some great games on this weekend, but none did I look forward to more than the yearly conflict known as the Holy War (or for the kinder, gentler, more corporate pansies – The Deseret Dual) between the University of Utah and BYU. Utah came in with two losses – a heartbreaking season opener against Oregon and a humbling beat down to TCU. BYU had hefty losses to both Florida State and TCU.

The game was physical – helmets were ripped off, flags were thrown, bombs were dropped – and it took every once of Centrum for Seniors to get the Panguitch-based officiating crew through the game.

Bottom line – BYU won in OT. Bummer. But then the fireworks began. Then Max Hall held his post-game interview.

And I quote:

“I don’t like Utah. In fact, I hate them,” Hall said. “I hate everything about them. I hate their program. I hate their fans, I hate everything. … I think the whole university, their fans and their organization, is classless.”

Wow. I wonder if they are sold out of Winning for Dummies in the BYU book store.

Are you kidding me? It is actually a good thing as I will now use Max Hall as an example of bad sportsmanship and how not to act – on or off the field.

All in all it was a great weekend. And don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t all spent on football – we did manage to sneak in a showing of New Moon, but I am too embarrassed to talk about that. Edward creeps me out. Much to the dismay of my daughter, Grant and I are rooting for the werewolf.

Remembering the fallen.

Too many friends are gone. Too many memories. Everyday is filled with memories – some good, some bad – triggered by my son running down the hall chasing his sister wearing an old patrol cap of mine, or simply seeing a beautiful US Flag waving in the wind as I ride by on my mountain bike.

Today my mind is filled with friends like Rich Doria, a firecracker Filipino that in addition to being one of the best M249 (SAW) gunners I ever saw, was a wonderful person. He was killed in Iraq during a small arms exchange with local insurgents.

I remember playing catch with Jacob Dones as we were preparing to come home from Iraq. Jacob went back to Iraq a few months later and was killed when his Forward Operating Base was attacked by mortar and rocket fire. He was 21 years old.

Not all of my friends were casualties of enemy fire – some made it back safely, only to succumb to other enemies: depression, alcoholism, a failed marriage. Happy Veterans Day just doesn’t do it.

Walter Padilla was one of those friends. A fierce warrior, he wasn’t able to win all his internal battles. In light of the recent events at Fort Hood I urge you to click through to the article written about Padilla’s struggles – it reveals the harsh reality of soldiers dealing with post war demons.

How Mountain Biking Saved me.

I feel so blessed and lucky to have such a wonderful wife that stuck by me and was there for me when I needed her. I was also glad my circumstances, in retrospect, kept me away from my family until I fully worked out all my feelings and issues. After returning home from Iraq I spent almost 3 months alone in Colorado before returning home to Utah. I spent those days working and riding my mountain bike all over Colorado Springs and the surrounding mountains. A lot can go through your mind when you are spinning in your granny gear up the side of Pikes Peak, or churning out the miles on the Continental Divide Trail.

It is amazing to think that something so simple as putting $1000 down on a Specialized StumpJumper from Criterium in Colorado Springs literally saved my life. I have since upgraded to new Stumpy’s – but I will never get rid of that wonderful hardtail.

I was lucky to get a job at the local Home Depot, where I had the privilege to work for a guy named Jerry Wolf – a great man who shared my addiction to knobby tires and making fun of “roadies in spandex”. Jerry left The Home Depot and relocated to Fruita, CO – and managed the wonderful bike shop Over The Edge there until a few years ago. Jerry was a constant riding companion – always pushing – always supporting. Little did he know, he was taking the place of an Army psychiatrist that saw me as little more than a number – a sick call ranger that was just trying to get out of duty.

Life goes on.

I consider myself well adjusted. I consider myself successful – not necessarily in financial matters, but where I believe it matters most; In my personal relationships with other people – with my wife and my children.

There isn’t a day that goes by though that I don’t recall a fellow soldier, wonder how he or she is doing. Hoping they are safe, hoping they are focused. Praying they will make it through. Praying they will find someway to fight the demons and make it through.

Praying they will find a StumpJumper and a friend.

Happy Veterans Day to those who have and continue to serve.

And so it goes…

Holy shit are you kidding me? Am I being Punked?

So now I have to dig back through bank statements and find the cancelled check stub that shows this pogue-ass accounting weenie that I did, in fact, settle my travel and that this debt is not valid. It was bad enough during the service when finance would F! -up your pay – but now a whole new life away they are doing it again.
Like I don’t have enough crap to do as it is.
If I am giving anyone eleven hundred bucks it better be for a new friggin lens – not some supposed 5 year old debt.

Oh and I have the right to review and inspect copies of records related to the debt – but I have to MAIL in my request to some DFAS dept in Indiana. Mail? Holy crap – that is what took these oxygen thieves 5 years to let me know there was a question about the debt in the first place. They have my email address. They have my phone number. They even have my BRAND NEW MAILING ADDRESS and phone number – MY MOTHER doesn’t even have my new address yet. WTF?

I loved the Army – but holy cow, this is ridiculous.
You would think if there were an issue, it would have been caught 4 years ago when they were PAYING BYU for me to finish with school.

Be all you can be. Yeehah.