Just writing

Oh my goodness, how precious mother looks in that photo with the P51! We should set up a rule for this blog: no one can post any photos unless at least one of them has one of our lovely parents in it.

Writing is hard. In this day, we write out of necessity--not out of pleasure. When we write our thoughts down, who would it benefit? Ideally, it would benefit everyone. But does anyone really take the time to consider? When we get especially philosophic, I'm afraid we get impatient and skim until we "get to the point." The journey is the point. We have to follow the process or else we cannot especially appreciate the outcome. I feel like this is how I get in conversation. I think, "Let me explain to you every particular so that when we both arrive at the conclusion, we can marvel at such a conclusion. Otherwise, there is nothing particularly striking about it." But people lose focus. Somewhere along the line, eyes divert, minds wander, and people grow impatient. Let me be frank: If you cannot travel the road with me in my thoughts, there's no point in me telling you much. You just won't appreciate it.

Writing letters is even more uncommon. It's becoming a lost art--mostly because there seems to be no point. Think of our "family home evening" letters: they sometimes end with the phrase "though you will have heard all of this by the time that you receive this letter. Why send a letter when you're just going to talk to someone on the phone? All of that information will have already been thoroughly canvassed. It would seem that letters are a waste of time.

But I love them. Apart from being happy to receive some mail that isn't a bill, it's so personal. It can be read and reread with more joy than an email. You can keep the letter in your pocket for comfort and happiness--a kind of talisman for protection against loneliness and negativity. Rereading the letter can provide momentary respite from the stress of separation. And writing a letter gives opportunity to reflect. We can better define our own feelings and come to terms with our lives. We move so fast these days that every feeling, thought, and interest becomes pooled in amoebic ambiguity. Nothing can be appreciated, acted upon, or changed because it's just one big mess that we don't like to deal with. Writing, when appropriately practiced, is a release.

I write most of this diatribe for myself, as I often lose interest in writing, whether it be a blog post, a letter, or a journal entry. I get tired of writing because of my own expectations.

So, what am I doing lately? Since I have no homework to fill in the gaps of time at work, I'm practicing my handwriting. Sounds boring to all of you, huh? It would to me as well, were it not for the pain in my wrist. Tension is killing my right wrist, and I need to rework my method of using it for the purpose of longevity.

Apparently, most people who learned handwriting after 1955 or 1960 has learned the wrong way. We draw out the letters with our fingers. This causes overuse and misuse of the tendons that power our fingers. Inflammation and pain is the result. So what are we supposed to be doing? We should have been using the muscles in our arm and shoulder. Those muscles can work for a long time without pain and fatigue. Have you ever had writer's cramp? It's because you used your smaller muscles rather than your larger ones. Before computers and typewriters, people wrote everything by hand (we're talking about everything pre-20th Ct.). Because one had to write so much and be able to write it without getting tired, they wrote with their arm and shoulder.

And so, my handwriting now looks like a jock's handwriting--very scratchy and illegible. But, my wrist feels great! Other than being frustrated because my letterforms are indiscernible, this method of writing provides no discomfort at all, and I am excited for the opportunity to improve myself in such a small way--a way that will help me be able to do the things I enjoy for longer periods. The only fatigue that will require me to take a break will be mental.

I got the most amazing grade in bookbinding. 100. The only perfect score for a college class that I have ever received. I'm proud of myself, most especially because I taught myself all of the new methods I learned this time around. While everyone else in the class learned the basics of bookbinding for the first time, I was given the opportunity to write my own syllabus, to choose my own projects. Well, I had some idea of the techniques required for working with leather, but I had never tried them as they require special tools. I bought the tools, I bought the leather, and I spend some substantial portion of the semester researching leather pairing, sewing on cords, and constructing a true "library" style binding. The results of my work were better than I could have hoped for. I'll photograph them this afternoon so that I can post the photos for you all to see.

I love you all. And those that don't keep up with the family blog can all go to hell! (Just kidding, of course.) And don't be upset if I copy and paste some of this for my own blog. Just know that you all got it first.

April 26th, 2009 Mom had a very memorable flight in the P51 Mustang a week ago. First I nearly cut off her toe with the rudder pedal (no blood it just felt that way) and since I forgot to bring her a headset it was like sitting behind a top fuel dragster for 30 minutes with no hearing protection ( I did a runup without a headset once for five minutes and my ears hurt all day). Perhaps she is smiling because the ride was over. None the less mom was the first I took for a ride in the Mustang. Thanks mom, I love you. I have a lot of other experieinces and travels but this is my first with a picture.

No One Likes to Blog Alone

Everybody feels self conscious about being the first one on the dance floor. Years and years of stake dances in Amarillo taught me that. And the ones who don't feel self conscious about being the first are the ones that should (but this doesn't apply to my metaphor--it's just a side note).

And no one likes to blog alone. Sorry, we left you hanging there, Dad. Four posts, and none of the rest of us took the time to get up and "dance" with you.

My pants are getting a little tight around the waist. I can't decided whether or not this is still inflammation from my surgery or if I'm just becoming what I eat. I like to think that it's still inflammation. After all, I still get stabbing pains at the operation site now and then.

Happy Birthday, Andy. We all love you

Was our family blog template one that someone chose? If so, I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand it. I don't really like this one either, but it's better than the last. I changed our template, the font, the font size, and added a few little gadgets off to the side. I thought Dad might like the Doppler, but I don't like how it pops out at you when you put your cursor over top. We'll play around with it.

Mom and Dad need to change the way they communicate with me about the dogs. Oh, they're lovely grandparents to the most lovable grandpuppies alive--Dad cooks kibble omelets for them, and Mom gives them motherly acknowledgment when they need it. And they are so entertained by their innocent puppy foolishness. But then they leave each story with, "Oh, you should have been here to see it." Or my least favorite: "That will never happen again." Their taunting their poor boy out of his mind. It's not enough that I have to miss these things; they wave the fact that I missed it in front of my face. Who can say that after 18 years of raising a punk that they don't deserve to turn the tables?

That's my post for now. If I keep them short, perhaps they'll be more frequent.

I pass the torch. It's someone else's turn.

March 24th, 2009 Mom, Robin and Mike were gone most of last week for spring break in Utah, Mike did ski with Andy in Utah and in New Mexico. I worked most of the week on sales, some "social events" (buyers with no money, so it was just a social event) but some good interests too. Some helicopter credit markets are shrinking but professionals agree we have a good inventory, what a blessing to be able to say that in these times. I flew the Mustang every day and transitioned from some apprehension to absolutely loving flying it, very comfortable but I have not lost my respect for the P51, it commands it. It has been a blessing to learn that plane and have such a rare opportunity. We are getting a little closer to some sales, I confess a little struggle last night and this morning but I am back in the saddle again. What a blessing to be indulged by Mr. Hudson and have the opportunity to provide for my family in the same breath. The Mustang needs re plumbing for it's pre-oil pump (new one needs different routing) and I de-cowled it tday but not to miss a flying chance, mom and I went for a ride in the Bell Long Ranger (helicopter). It was a bit windy for the dolly but mom grit her teeth and we made it. There is a young man Joey who showed up to the airport and mom and I took him for a ride with us on the second leg, he just eats this stuff up. I love and miss each of you H A Aa NAm M R and T, ok T&P too.

March 15, 2009, Very soon Happy Birthday to Mike and Andy, Happiest Birthday. I think this is like Wickepedia where Heather can come in and add editing like every other line would be we love Heather, we do love you Heather. Mom, Mike and Robin are visiting in Utah after a safe weather free drive up through Denver to avoid snow in New Mexico. I did some cleaning both at home and the airport Saturday, flew the Skybolt (just had the itch to fly) with Gordon and a 13 year old boy Joey being raised by his grandmother, he is forever at the airport. The week has been busy with interest in all our aircraft and a show and tell on the Lear, maybe. We have many calls on the Super Puma and the Mustang. This Sunday, today, I cooked a big shake and bake pan of chicken, stuffing, beans, squash and brownies this morning before church (brownies last night), I also finished preparing my priesthood lesson. After Church I had Brother Wood and his grandson Ethan, Travis from the airport, the Elders, brother Goolsby, Sara Gattis and Brother Trest all for lunch, what a party, everyone helped. We invited Sara to keep the dirty jokes to a minimum. I hometaught 2 families with Brother Trest afterward, Wood and Robisons, since he very much wants to hometeach and is from Clarendon. I took Grandmother some dinner on my bike and on the way home visited Grandfather and Robert Kenney but neither one said anything to me. I love you all so very much dear family, Dad

8 March, 2009 I've wanted to have a true family letter and this blog is really the answer to that hope. I've been busier but the blessings and opportunities have increased, we are really a blessed family. Maybe we can say that there are alot of "don't haves" in these troubled times but there's really so many we "do haves". I'd been concerned I was not doing all I could and felt to fast, the calls began before I could get off my knees, to varying degrees we have calls on everything we own. Mom really does seem to be dong better regulary. I love and miss you all very much. I am going to learn to do more soon and add pictures too. Dad