It's been a primary frustration of mine for quite some time that Donna seems to be, sometimes deliberately, unaware of key moments and opportunities for intimacy and closeness. I'm not talking about sex here either. Well, not specifically.

What I mean is all the moments that pass us by where we could have taken advantage of time together alone. Birthdays forgotten. Vacations spent sober and celibate in expensive hotel rooms in swanky east coast cities. Friday nights spent arguing about why neither of us plans for a sitter instead of shopping for underwear.

Yesterday was an understandably anxious day for me. I was stepping back on stage in front of a live audience for the first time in quite some time. For most people, performing for a large group of people is simply impossible. They simply could not do it in just the same way that I could never stand upright and casually watch an appendectomy. And while I have come to accept and even enjoy that uneasiness on stage in the same way many people enjoy riding roller coasters, it still very much takes a great deal of concentration and effort to keep from being overwhelmed by the experience.

Frenetic fresnels.

Does anything more need to be said?

I am consumed with tired anxiety today. The opening of my show approaches quickly and with each rehearsal comes confidence in my role but also an extremely unnerving increase in the anxious reality that there will be actual people paying actual money to see my actual performance. This anxiety lurks below the surface of my confidence waiting for any split in the seams to rush forth like a deluge.

Each morning after late rehearsal also reminds me, usually by jabbing me in the knees and back, how I'm so not twenty years old any more. The late nights and physical exertion are adding up on my joints. They also wreak havoc on my circadian rhythm.

I find myself lethargic and sleepy even after allowing myself to sleep in a full eight hours simply because my sleep pattern is disrupted. This lethargy seems to magnify the anxiety. The more tired I am on stage during rehearsal, the sharper my feeling of uneasiness.

This was the view from my bed just as I woke up today.

Notice the amount of ambient light as well as the fact that the clock doesn't read anything like 7:30.

That seems humid to me.

Pete,
I'm interested how this is done. Let me know when you can enlighten me on this.

You come seeking further light and knowledge?

Every now and then a few people from the office get together for a beer after work. It's never a formal affair and it's not always the same exact group of people. It's more one of those, hey if anyone wants to go for a drink we're meeting at the bar down the street, kinds of things.

Yesterday was one of those days. A couple people mentioned that, some people were getting together and did I want to come? So I dropped by long enough to have a beer and be on my way.

I was the last to arrive and there were only three others there. All women. Let me take this formal opportunity to say that I did not plan for this to be me and all women. I had no ulterior motives. I made no scheme to arrange to be the only guy in the group. It simply worked out that way.

A few months ago my grandfather commented that, while the Jordan River temple was active and busy, other temples worldwide sat relatively idle. Some are open only a few days a month and even then, I'm told, activity is pretty low.

I think they could really boost attendance by adding a few new ordinances.

Confession for the dead. Temple-goers would get a chance to sit in proxy for now-dead persons in a meeting with their bishop. Patrons would read from a list of all known sins committed by the person. Families would now have to include gathering of sins committed as part of their genealogy.

This is my first post written on my iPhone. I'm already tired of typing it. So this is the end.

I ran three miles yesterday. And no, I wasn't being chased by a gang. It was on purpose.

Donna made me. And by made me, I mean, she was going to run and since she looked so damn good in the shorts I thought I'd take advantage of the view while I had the chance.

The run went better than expected considering I haven't run more than a block since, umm, I don't know... high school? I didn't die and there was only a moment at the end where I thought I might come close. In fact, I felt good enough about it that I committed to run in a 10k with Donna on Labor Day weekend.

Donna is the Deputy Assistant Undersecretary for North American Dog Watching (Southwestern Region). Which means that while she was away, I had to finagle some alternate workday lodging for the little bitch. Since Donna's parents live on my way to work and since they too would be on the trip, meaning I wouldn't even have to ask, their yard seemed perfect.

So, on my way to the office on Friday, I drove the dog to their house and put her in the back yard with a bowl of water. As I left, I reminded her to remember who she was and begged her not to have any friends over. Just practicing for the upcoming years with teenagers in the house.

I worked a little bit late on Friday and by the time I headed home I was exhausted. I drove all the way home before I remembered I needed to pick up the dog.

My guts are falling out.

A couple years ago, while I was trying really hard just to stay conscious, my Doctor was poking around my belly for some reason or another when he stopped and casually asked, "How long have you had this hernia?"

Upon closer inspection I did, indeed, have a little bulge in my navel that hadn't been there before. "I dunno. Never noticed it before."

Donna leaves this afternoon for a few days of vacation with all but one of the girls. She's taking my mother too. That should be a joy for everyone involved. My mom's a hell of a camper and hardly really annoying and bossy to everyone.

That was sarcasm.

I'm staying behind for rehearsals which just can't be missed. That and I love work so much that I could never leave just to recreate. I mean... really... I could never.

If television has taught us anything, and I think that it has, it's that strippers love their kids too.

"I'm not getting knocked up just so I can be a mommy-blogger."

Me neither, mysterious blonde stranger. Me neither.

After climbing in the car following several laps around the local high school track Beth, our youngest, exclaimed, "That really hurt my ass!"

I can't imagine where she could have picked up such language.

James E. Faust is dead. I feel almost obligated to comment but honestly, I have no strong feelings on the subject whatsoever. But it seems to be dominating the local news and has even permeated into the office banter today. Still though, LDS Church leaders have been dying for more than one hundred fifty years. And every time one does, another steps in his place.

Opponents of the church, and no, I don't consider myself in that camp, will no doubt raise a glass today to celebrate the man's passing. Devout Mormons around the world will weep and mourn his passing. I think both reactions are unfounded. As I said, another will come along to take his place so neither position is advanced or reduced by his death. The one position is downright rude. The other represents an unhealthy emotional attachment to a man whose passing, without the benefit of his title, would go unnoticed.

I've never met the man and his title bears no weight with me, neither for good or for ill. I have no personal connection to him in any way at all. I can't even think of a time when I remember him speaking. They could replace him with a cardboard cutout and I wouldn't notice any more or less of a personal impact. Those guys all look the same with their eyes closed on the stand at General Conference anyway.

The last time I performed on stage in front of an audience I was in my twenties. That was more than four years ago. People have told me that getting back in the swing of things will be like riding a bike and, in the sense that it has made me tired and wheezy, they're right.

It helps that I'm rehearsing a role I've performed before, albeit almost a decade and two children ago. It also helps that at least a few of the people I'm working with are some of the very same I worked with before.

What doesn't help is that my voice, back and knees, none of which were in fantastic shape when they were in any kind of shape at all, are now just that much older and worn out. It also doesn't help that, since turning thirty, I have an almost gravitational compulsion to go to bed at ten o'clock. Do you know how long it's been since I was awake to see the musical guest on Letterman?

Donna and I have a very bipolar relationship. Duh. We swing from manic to depressive states, sometimes very suddenly, in a shockingly regular cycle.

Obviously, the past few days we were in the valley of the wave. For a few brief moments yesterday, perhaps buoyed by the excitement of watching number 756, we each let down our guard. Not much, but enough to thaw the ice just enough that we were able to have a brief but civil exchange about this most recent obstacle.

"I just need you to know that no matter what else has happened, I have the right to participate fully in raising our children. I need you to understand that the way things were handled hurt me. I would accept an apology if you had a sincere one to offer."

Mommies and daddies sometimes disagree. That doesn't mean we don't love you kids just the same. Whatever happens, remember, this is not your fault.

We'll work this out. Somehow.

Saturday went exactly as predicted. Exactly.

Afterwards, all the in-laws came by for what was, I assume, a planned open house. I think I was expected to just be OK with everyone coming over and acting like my hospitality was a given in this situation.

I retreated to my room and said as little as possible to anyone. Anti-social? You bet your ass it was. The gaul of everyone involved has me steaming still. I'm pissed at Donna for sneaking around about the whole deal and, in the end, not weighing my feelings or opinions.

I stood naked and vulnerable in the bathroom as I readied myself to take my morning shower on Monday.

"I should have told you this sooner," Donna began. "Marie is being baptized on Saturday."

She waited for my response knowing this was the first mention of the event to my face. She waited, knowing the entire day had been planned, relatives had been invited, and interviews had been conducted. There had been plenty of meetings and conversations with strangers but this was the first moment the child's father had been included. Not so much included as informed. A formality. The last check off the list.

Eat that, Ansel Adams

It is an understatement to call the Grand Canyon deep. It's a grand understatement to call that an understatement. It's easy to lose scope of the sheer size of the place in the same way you lose track of altitude in an airplane. The Grand Canyon is deep in exactly the same way that Nebraska isn't.

Don't believe me? Find the thirty-seven foot raft carrying fourteen people in this picture.

...read the rest...