Road Trip: Part 1

Short work weeks are tricky. It may seem like an easy week but in reality a calender week is a calender week. So basically I have three days to get five days worth of work done. If that seems a bit distorted it may be because it is.

Monday morning I got a call from one of my foremen informing me that he broke down, naturally it is a speciality tool that are hard to come by. The nearest part was in Long Beach, Ca. I mistakenly thought I had some stoke with the vendor and thought I could strong arm him into rushing the part to me. He wouldn't budge on two days delivery time. I really could not afford to waste a whole day. That's 1/3 of the week! I told him I would come out and get it. So I did.

As I gathered myself I knew I'd be arriving in the L.A. metro area around 3pm knowing that time would be of the essence and HOV lanes run empty I thought it would be a good idea to have a travel buddy. Rachel had pulled Jake from school for a dentist appointment. I intercepted him before he went back to school and he and I made the roadie together.

We had a good time.

Road Trip: Part 2

I was the pilot and Jake was the navigator. I had Jake on Google maps and a local traffic website. He panned through the area and noticed Compton. He got really excited, "Dad, can we go all 'gangsta' and roll through Compton?" What the? Where does this come from? I humored him and told him that I knew where Dr. Dre lived and maybe we could hook up with him and knock back some 40's. He picked up my sarcasm.

As we traversed west on the Artesia Freeway, (only the local old timers call the freeways by name and NOT by number i.e.-the San Burdoo, the Santa Ana, the Long Beach Freeway, etc.), Jake was getting giddy. "Are we in the ghetto now, Dad?" "No, Riverside. Your Grandpa lived here." It was almost like a let down to find out that such a decent man like grandpa lived here. Not quite gangster enough for him. "How 'bout now?" "Fullerton-- your grandma moved here from Salt Lake City, she went to college here, and your great grandparents lived here." When we got to Long Beach I informed him that Snoop Dogg lived here. He started to look for him.

After we got the tool we came for, there seemed to be a few more minutes of daylight so I told him we needed to pay a visit to mother ocean. We headed south to the harbor. I love the ocean. We looped around to San Pedro and headed up the Harbor Freeway, we saw a Torrance sign. I asked him if that had any significance. Nothing. I told him I was born in Torrance. "Whoa, I didn't know you were ghetto, that's cool Dad." He's funny.

It was supper time and I quizzed my son again. "What do you want for dinner?" "Whatever" Ouch. Not the right answer. I explained to him that if we are this close to Tommy's it would be a sin not to partake of it's greasy manna. So went to the nearest one. It was good. It always is.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

Road Trip: Part 3 (may not be amusing)

After rolling through traffic for a few hours, we needed to refuel. We stopped in Indio. It was about 10pm. The gas station was pretty slow, an older gentleman, like mid 60's, approached me and in his words, "Can you help me? How would I get to the San Fernando Valley from here?"

Is this guy serious? He absolutely picked the right guy! I am a map smith. I have done Indio to SFV more times than I could count!

I began to tell him how to get there, probably with a lot of zeal since he pitched one right in my wheelhouse. "Jump on I-10 until you get to the 57/210 interchange, go north for a few miles to the 210. That will take you right into the SFV. I started to ask him what part of the valley knowing that he might want to jump into the 134, but he interrupted me and said "Wait, when do I get on the 60?, and Where is I-10?"

Whoa boy, gather yourself Steve-o, downshift a few gears, this cat is not following you at all.

Bewildered and looking for the hidden camera I slowly pointed to interstate 10. This not-so-obscure six lane divided interstate freeway was 100 yards over his shoulder. Then I explained to my real life Mr. Magoo how that didn't make very much sense. I made an obtuse triangle with both my hands to explain that taking the 60 would take him in the wrong direction and then in my best Pythagoras impression explained that the shortest path would be traveling on the hypotenuse.

He challenged me and said the 60 hooks up with I-5, and that runs into the Valley. Well I know that there was not much else I could do for Mr. Magellan so I decided not to continue with this discussion. So I told him that I didn't really care where he went. I wished him luck and went on my way.

After he left I was still reeling, how do you happen upon Indio, Ca without knowing where interstate 10 is? Why ask someone for directions then disregard them and go nearly the opposite way? How do you live on Earth that long, (6+ decades), and be like that? What a trip that dude was.

Opening the Closet and Letting Out a Skeleton

It started innocently: The year was 1999, I was on the road, in a laundromat exchanging a $10 bill for quarters.


I grabbed the quarters and noticed that a few of them seemed to be tokens. No big deal, I'll use them first. Then I looked closer, this was no token, this was some kind of new fangled piece of United States currency! A quarter dollar with a man on a horse on the back?! This is just the entertainment that a guy sitting in a laundromat in San Francisco California needed to pass the time between wash cycles! Every bill I had in my wallet went though the bill changer. I ended up with 10 of these cool new quarters.

Harmless fun? Maybe then, but nearly ten years have passed and I have devoted far too much time and effort into my quest for eight complete sets of state quarters. Laundromat hijinks is one thing, but driving to coin-op car wash stations with a clean car, manipulating every purchase I make with change to the nearest .25 dollar so I will get quarters back, even having the kids check their quarters when they come home seems to be anther thing altogether. This is no longer a healthy, fun hobby, it's an addiction.

Today I stooped to a new low. I was late leaving this morning and didn't eat. Usually not the end of the world but en route to my second site I saw a Jamba Juice and stopped in. The store was uncharacteristically empty, only one worker in the whole store. She took my order, turned and went to make my drink. This is where it gets ugly.

I cannot explain why but it just happened. It was like a crossroads of sorts, the world turned in slow motion. I stood there, I glanced down and gazed into a small metal pail next to the cash register with the word "Tips" on it. Among other coinage and a few bills were two very shiny quarters.

As my world was in slow-motion, my mind was moving in super fast motion with thoughts like,

"Oh boy those are new, good chance of a Hawaii or Alaska"

"Why are they both heads?...The phrase 'coin flips chance' means that one of those two should be tails!"

"Where's the blender girl?"

"I will put my change in there and extract those two coins....Dang, I only have thirteen cents, I don't want to steal from the tip pail!"

"Blender girl has her back turned, reach in and check, throw a dollar in if you must....wait, I will not pay more than fifty cents for two quarters"

"Time is running out, check those coins man!"

So I did. I reached my hand in pulled out the cold coveted currency. Quickly I flipped them over and saw......OKLAHOHA! and....OKLAHOMA!? I have all the Oklahomas I need.

My hand when limp, the coins dropped back into the bucket, and I felt pretty gross. How could I let myself go there? Why Stephen? Why? I have a real problem. A real problem.

SONOFA.....

To keep my mind off of things that are not Sunday appropriate and to help Rachel out I try to cook on Sunday. It's the only day that I can give a good couple of hours preparing a meal. I experiment with all kinds of meats, sides, and desserts. About six months ago I splurged and bought a mandolin slicer, not because I needed it, I just wanted it. It's been good to have, like another arrow in the quiver.


This past Sunday I decided to make scalloped potatoes. I also decided that the vege holder would not be necessary as I am a seasoned mandolin user. Besides, everyone knows the safety devises are for rookie's and sissy's. So I went to slicing. I needed five russets, these were pretty potatoes. I got thorough the three without and trouble. Then at the end of the fourth I got little greedy and "thwack"! I mistook my thumb for a potato. OUCH!

want a closer look?

not potato.

Next time I'm using the guard.

Dare to Dream.

I was helping my 5 years old daughter Lauren fill out her Student of the Week form and we got to part about what she wanted to be when she grew up. What do most kids dream to be? policeman, sports stars, movie stars, astronauts, veterinarian? Those are lofty dreams, but all are attainable, my little girl, she dreams bigger.

President of the United States? Bigger.

First to walk on Mars? greater imagination.

Cure for cancer? farther reaching.

When my little girl grows up she wants to be....

a MERMAID.

Worry Free?

I woke up this morning feeling very rested and relaxed. For the first time in, dare I say, years I just lay in bed without a care. Are there cares to be had? Of course, but I just couldn't come up with any. I don't have any commitments this morning; no games, no scouts, no moves in the ward, I don't even have a crew working today. So here I lay relishing in this moment.

Rachel just snuggled up to me, perfect morning.