september preview

Actually it's just a late August post. I just finished my sixth consecutive week of lawn mowing, which is also a measure of how long Al's been more-or-less immersed in Russian. The cooler weather really makes it nice to get out there in the early evening. Today I tried it with some digitized music and in the "shuffle mode" I got a taste of some of my old favorties and a few of my kid's. Mostly theirs, now that I try to remember what I heard. Not a bad mix of Sinatra, Handel, Neil Young, Dixie Chicks, Josh Groban and many I can't identify. Surely he hath born our griefs and no, no they can't take that away from me and southern man do kind of go together after all. It's kind of strange to think that if Pluto was sentient being rather than a demoted planet, I bet he'd be a bit blue if he'd heard what the earthlings decided to define this week.

an august post

Getting ready for a wedding. LJ's. No project quite like this one. LD's organizational skills shining through. The first such event in our immediate fam. Is this the little girl I carried? These morning howyadoin' chats after her Primary all nighters three days a week are winding down to our last few, and then she's off to Monterey. Such a beginning for her and for all of us. Remembering riding with her driving on her learners permit as I drive with her little sister now. The last one to drive. I'm calmer, but there are still plenty of thrills. No more safe parking lots or driving ranges. We're on real streets with real dips both in the road and on it. Scanning photos for a slide show at the reception. This is the little boy at play. Mowing the lawn five times now. Trying my hand at Rosetta Stone Russian a few minutes at a time, as son in Provo gives it hours every day, seven days a week. Giving the dog at little extra attention at his request. The cat's belly fur has made such progress. So glad we didn't lose him. Almost daily transatlantic gmail chats with our Cambridge blogger daughter who is off to Berlin this weekend. Still almost daily face to face sometimes during dinner sometimes after dinner chats with the fulltime working son who lent me his street bike. Still biking, swimming, but not so much running. That bike shaved 12 minutes off my tri time just a week after a face plant and fat lip on Earl's mountain. And so it's not that I've been doing nothing while I haven't blogged. But more consisely, fine thanks, and you?

my faraway friend

We bid good-bye to our 19-year-old son yesterday. Today he spent his first full day learning Russian. He'll do this for 12 weeks, and then he's off to Novosibirsk, Russia for two years. I've done this drill only once before, sending our eldest off to East Los Angeles more than half a decade ago. Back then I wasn't that sad on the day we parted. After all, I thought, we'll have letters and tapes and photos. I didn't realize how much I'd miss him and how long those two years would really be. But this time I had a reference point and it made me a little less brazenly proud, a little more soft-hearted.

While Joe was gone, I wrote a kid's story. Back then I thought it was about my daughter's friend Kara who had to move out of state, but now it seems to be more about loss in general, and the hope of redemption and reunion.

My Faraway Friend

My good friend said, "We're going to move."
I was so sad, but I thought and
thought and thought some more.

I thought...
We can write letters.
We can talk on the phone.
We can visit each other someday.

Before my friend moved...
We talked and talked and talked some more.
We said we'll write letters.
We'll talk on the phone.
We'll have a visit some day.

When I got lonely...
I wanted to visit, but couldn't.
I wanted to phone, but didn't.
I wanted to write, so
I wrote a long letter.
I drew pictures, too.
Writing felt like talking,
but not quite the same.

After I mailed the letter...
I waited and waited
and waited some more.

While I waited...
I played with other friends.
I made a new friend, too.

Then one day when I thought I didn't care
anymore my letter came back all crumpled and torn in a special plastic bag.
"Sorry your mail got mangled" it said.
Somehow my letter got torn up in the mail machines, but
was rescued and sent back to me.

That day I called my faraway friend.
We talked and talked
and talked some more.
We planned a visit together.
That afternoon I played
with my new freind.

We laughed and laughed
and laughed some more.

Antelope Island Moonlight Ride

Antelope Island
Originally uploaded by rfin.

Rode the my second Antelope Island Moonlight Ride last night with Dave, Dallin and Joe. The Davis County folks who sponsored the ride fed us ham-stuff croissants, chips, a banana and Gatorade. Also discovered that dust on the camera lens when I looked at this shot.

mill creek after work

Mill Creek Canyon
Originally uploaded by rfin.

Mountain biked up Mill Creek Canyon from Wasatch Boulevard to the elbow where the Pipeline Trail starts, then rode the Pipeline back down. It's a good workout and the views on the way down are definitely worth the effort to get up there. Of course you can just drive and park or have someone drop you off, but there's a sense of accomplishment in doing it under your own power.

Kate, thanks for the mention of your vocabulary experience in your blog. I'm really enjoyiong what you have to say and the way you say it. You might find it of interest that in my last couple of miles up the canyon I ended up singing to try to take my mind off the fatigue and even out my breathing. I don't know all the words to "Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With A Dixie Melody" but I gave it my best shot.

they're soaring

I'm getting taste of the empty nest. One daughter is in California, one is in England, and my 19-year-old son is about to leave for a couple of years in Russia. They're not just on test flights any more, but soaring across deserts and oceans, spanning continents and cultures.