A New Hope, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Jane Austen, Part II

It takes a big man to admit when he's wrong, and I am that big man.

Back in September, if you recall, some friends and I learned that there were a handful of girls in the ward who had not yet seen Star Wars. So, Nick planned and hosted "Star Wars Induction" night, for which we watched Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope. After that, I posted what I suppose came across as a diatribe of sorts, complaining about how girls wouldn't give Star Wars a chance.

Well, I was wrong - as wrong as Obi-Wan was about thinking that he could train Anakin Skywalker to be a Jedi. Or, at least, my friends proved me wrong.


In November, I hosted "Star Wars Induction, Part II," for which we watched the next chapter in the films, The Empire Strikes Back. Jill and Shannon, surprisingly, came and didn't hate the movie - which I consider a success. Then, a week-and-a-half ago, Adria and Julia took the initiative and hosted Part III, for which we watched Return of the Jedi, completing our viewing of the original trilogy. Kristen, who had never before seen any of the Star Wars films, came to this one, and - though we needed to give her a brief synopsis of the first five episodes - I daresay that she enjoyed it. Jill and Shannon also made a cameo appearance, singing us a Christmas song (well, Shannon mostly) and bringing us a plate full of goodies.

One important thing about good friends is that they will still love you even (or especially) when you're wrong or out of line. So, thank you, friends.
Keep in mind that Han Solo, too, started out as a jerk and then evolved into a good guy. Though I'm no Harrison Ford, I'm likewise trying to be better than I have been.

For the record, I also believe I wrote something in September to the effect that I didn't consider the relatively new, animated Star Wars film, The Clone Wars, to be a true part of the series. Well, I was wrong about that, too. I recently rented it and watched it with some low expectations going in. Turns out that I enjoyed it quite a bit, and I have been enjoying the TV show, as well.

No Place like Home for the Holidays

There is, indeed, no place like home for the holidays, just as the old song says. The Plowman bunch managed to have a very nice Christmas celebration last week.

On Christmas Eve, we first went for some sledding on the big hill next door at Hannah Holbrook Elementary. That was followed by a very nice Christmas dinner, which rivaled our Thanksgiving in size and scope.

Biz wrote and put together a fun Christmas pageant, with pretty much everyone getting the chance to either narrate or act out different parts of the story.




Two-month-old Kira, being the youngest member of the family present, probably had every right to play the baby Jesus. Instead, she chose to be held by her mom.


Eight-month-old Jackson got that part in her place:



Kylee, who has already been rehearsing to play a Munchkin/monkey in The Wizard of Oz, played an angel:


Dallin and Xena portrayed a couple of animals in the manger (at least, I think that's what Dallin is doing here):


Jenna and Luke were, respectively, cast as an angel and a shepherd.


Mike, Dallin, and I portrayed the three wise men. (No, I don't think we were typecast, per se.)



Steve accompanied us on the piano as we sang some Christmas hymns.



Adding a new dimension to the holiday this year, we had a family talent show after the pageant. Ben participated by playing "Orange Blossom Special" on his violin:


Kylee, Jenna, and Kenna sang some songs of their own. Mike, Ben, Dallin, and I also performed a couple of skits that Mike had previously taught to his Cub Scouts.

After that, everyone got to open the gift(s) given to them through the name-in-the-hat exchange. Jackson was looking great in his new Batman PJs:


Dave's family and Biz and Jeff returned to their homes, but Mike, Jana, and their kids slept over for Christmas. The kids looked up Santa's location on the Internet - he was in Canada at the time - and quickly went to bed. The rest of us fell asleep watching The Muppet Christmas Carol, a family favorite.

Christmas Day itself was loads of fun. The kids had us up by 6:45 a.m. to open presents, and watching them enthusiastically rip through wrapping paper and discover their gifts was the highlight of the day. I was especially grateful when Kenna squealed with delight when she saw the DVD I bought for her family, The Chipmunk Adventure, and ran over to give me a big hug.

Moments like that kinda make your day.

Wherever you were, or however you spent your holiday, I hope that you, too, were surrounded by loved ones.

My Grown-Up Christmas List

If you read my recent post on Christmas music, then you already know that Amy Grant's Christmas tunes are among my favorites of the holiday season. One of those songs is "My Grown-Up Christmas List." The chorus is as follows:

No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.
Everyone would have a friend,
That right would always win,
And love would never end -
This is my grown-up Christmas list.

I wholeheartedly echo those sentiments.

I don't have a whole lot on my Christmas wish list this year. I'm pretty much happy with whatever anyone chooses to give me. As I write this on Christmas Eve, I have a few other items on my own grown-up Christmas list (assuming I were a grown-up, that is):

- A world not-yet-gone-to-pot for my seven nieces and nephews

- Independence from worry, doubt, and fear

- Some of Lucy Pevensie's miracle-cure firefly juice for all of the injured players on the Jazz roster

- A blonde to share a sleigh ride with. Or a nice redhead. A brunette would be great, too. Most any girl with a pulse will do, really. (I may as well ask for one for my brother Steve while I'm at it.)


- For BYU Cougar QB Max Hall not to fumble nor to have his Christmas gifts intercepted when he passes them out tomorrow

- To wake up Christmas morning and find my car's brakes replaced

- Open message to GEICO: Please, for Pete's sake, stop the caveman commercials. That goes for you, too, Furniture Warehouse (the "Road Redwood" people).


- To just once be able to beat Biz in "Scramble"

- A nice mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich

I hope it's not too much to ask. We can always dream, right?

What's on your Christmas list this year? Assuming you reply on or after Christmas, did you get it? Pres. Monson also once asked an important question: "What did you give for Christmas this year?"

As Tiny Tim would say: God bless us, everyone.

To Auld Lang Syne

Thanks to Facebook, I have recently gotten back in touch with several old friends from my elementary school (Hannah Holbrook in Bountiful) and junior high school (Baldwin School in Bayamon, Puerto Rico) days - some of whom I hadn't seen or spoken to in 15 or more years.

It's been great catching up with these people and finding out about what has transpired in their lives. Many have gone on to successful careers (or are working towards it); most are married with kids; some have fallen away from the Church; a few have, unfortunately, known the pain of divorce or become widowers/widows.

One thing that we all share in common is that we got to go through those carefree, formative years together. Gas prices, the economy, the Internet, gay marriage, and terrorism were the farthest thoughts from our minds. We shared many good times in the classroom, in assemblies, on the tetherball courts, or in jacks tournaments. (Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I used to be a champion jacks player.) Each of these people has, in one way or another, influenced me for the better over the years.

I was saddened to learn today that one of my elementary school buddies, Steven Barber, passed away not long ago, leaving a wife and two young children. I didn't learn about it in time to be able to attend the funeral.

Reading Steven's obituary, however, also brought back good memories, such as shooting hoops on the basketball standard at his house as Glenn Frey's "The Heat Is On" blasted from a neighbor's radio and staying up until what we thought then was late, watching cartoons at a sleepover.

If there is any kind of a lesson to be gained from this, it is perhaps to tell my friends, both old and new - before it is too late - that I am grateful to have you in my life. You do more good for me than you will ever know. I have been blessed to be surrounded by people who influence me for the better.

It is close to the time of year when we sing "Auld Lang Syne," a traditional ditty for New Year's. Loosely translated, it means "the good old days." (Jamie, you will have to correct me if I'm wrong. I believe it's an old Scottish toast.) I would like to think that it refers to good times past, present, and future. Thanks for letting me come along for the ride.

Thank You for the Music

All week long, I have been listening to the Mamma Mia! soundtrack, which features the songs of the Greatest Thing to Ever Come Out of Sweden (Other Than Pres. Monson's Ancestry): ABBA. And I'm not afraid to admit it, either. "Super Trouper," "Honey, Honey" and "I Have a Dream" are just a few of the catchy tunes that tend to get stuck in your head without your even realizing it.

The two leads, Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried, have surprisingly good singing voices. But Pierce Brosnan should, honestly, not quit his day job.


It started innocently. Biz, who had recently been to see the movie on a girls' night out (what I like to call an "Estrogen-Filled Power Hour"), left her copy of the soundtrack at home after stopping by to make a Christmas CD mix. Out of curiosity, I put the CD in the computer and listened to it. Then, I listened to it again. And here we are.

For the record, I first became an ABBA fan many years ago. A lady who cooked meals for us in the mission field was a big fan and would often play the tape as we waited to eat. (Peru still hasn't heard of CDs, to my knowledge.) Missionaries aren't and weren't allowed to listen to things like ABBA, but she was not yet a member of the Church - she is now a Relief Society president - and we didn't have the heart to ask her to turn it off.


Well, if ABBA helps turn people into Relief Society presidents, then by gum, it is good enough for me. Upon returning home, I sought out and bought the album Oro: Grandes Exitos, which is a collection of ABBA's greatest hits in Spanish. I often play "La Reina del Baile" ("Dancing Queen") when it is my turn to deejay at ComedySportz. There are always at least a couple of confused looks on people's faces when they begin to hear the words being sung in Spanish.

I have no desire to see the film, unless Person A, B, C, or D can help me to change my mind. (That is another story.) But, then again, the plot in many musicals is irrelevant. (Consider Carousel as a classic example.)

Call me geeky, if you will. But the geeks will inherit the Earth . . . right?

First Impressions and Blind Spots

My topic today is dating blind spots, and I'm choosing to pick on: myself.

What are dating blind spots? you ask? Anyone with a driver's license knows that a blind spot is the area to the left or right of your car (or even behind, if you're backing up) that can't be seen in side-view mirrors. When changing lanes, it is important to check your blind spots, or you could cause an accident, run over an animal, or worse.

Dating blind spots, then, are personality flaws we don't see in ourselves that may be all-too apparent to our dates or to our friends (think double- or triple-dating). We may think things are running smoothly when (surprise!) we may be acting like an idiot.

I'll give you an example from my own experiences. It was a hard lesson to learn, but it was one that helped me to be more vigilant from that point on.

A few years ago, I became acquainted with a good friend's sister at a dance. She was cute, friendly, smelled nice, and, on top of all of that, was a great dancer to boot. So, I asked her out to (you guessed it) a school dance. I had to drive through a torrential rainstorm all the way out to northern Davis County to pick her up, drive her to the dance at the state Capitol, and then take her home afterward - putting more than 100 miles on my car in one night. No matter, though, for she seemed like a good sport about it, and we talked and laughed throughout the evening. At the dance itself, I gladly taught what was to her a new dance, merengue, and she seemed to enjoy learning that, too.


We had gotten along quite well, I thought, and I was excited about the possibility of going out with her again. A week or so later, I called her up to ask for a second date. When I heard her voice over the phone, however, she seemed, well, not interested in talking to me at all. She flatly told me no. Not no, I'm busy that night, but simply no. She wasn't impolite or rude; she just didn't seem to be the friendly person I had gotten to know the week before.

I tried calling her a third time a few weeks later, just in case the previous occurrence had been some sort of fluke, and again I was given a flat no response. I was puzzled. I wondered for weeks what had happened to cause her to react this way. And, then, I ran into her brother (my friend) at the Institute and asked if he had any input. That turned out to be a stupid question on my part.

She generally enjoyed herself at the dance, he told me. But, early on in the evening, I had made some sort of joke poking fun at Weber State - a school I had previously attended and one that she was currently attending - that had given her a bad impression of me. I thought I was obviously kidding, but the damage had been done. Futher, at the dance, she thought I was a "wallflower" and didn't ask her to dance as much as she would have liked.

As I wrote before, it was a hard lesson for me to learn. I found out that I had at least two major blind spots - ones I didn't know I had - that had made her experience an unpleasant one. In the years since, I have tried to be more careful in what I joke about on first dates, because you never know where people are coming from or what their sense of humor may turn out to be like. What's funny and sarcastic to one person may be insulting to another.

I was hurt when I was given a flat no to those date requests. But, with time and perspective, I have come to respect this girl for being completely honest with me when she had no desire at all for another date. Being told no is so much better than being fed lame excuses, wasting the time of both people involved and prolonging the inevitable.

In other words, you can either hurt somebody a little (by turning him/her down early) or a lot (by stringing him/her along). She chose to hurt me a little, and (now) I appreciate that.

All of this leads me to the discussion questions: Which is the best way to find out about what your dating blind spots are? How do you go about getting feedback for a date? What are the keys to getting a second date?

I would appreciate any and all feedback.

Mattress Wars

My 16-year-old cousin Eden, who has already won both national and Utah filmmaking contests for high school students, is entering the following commercial in a local competition hosted by Intelli-Gel. If he wins, the commercial will air on Utah TV. Please take a look at it and vote for him, if you are so inclined:



On his YouTube profile, you can find links to Eden's other amazing animated Lego films.

Slip Slidin' Away

I love the snow. Sledding or making a snowman are among my favorite things to do in winter. I do not, however, enjoy shoveling snow nor driving when snow piles up on the road. At these times, I am not so much a fan of the snow.

Yesterday, Biz and I faced a dilemma. We normally carpool down to Provo once a month to perform at Comedy Sportz, and we were scheduled for both of last night's shows. But it was snowing pretty much all day and snowing quite a bit. Some friends I saw in the afternoon told me horror stories about their experiences driving on I-15 earlier in the day. I think it was even snowing in space.

For much of the day, it wasn't looking like we might get down to Provo at all. We considered calling the top brass and asking if they could find someone else to fill our spots. But, in the afternoon, the weather cleared up. We decided we would go after all. Just in case the weather got bad again, Jeff offered to drive us in Bunny (Biz and Jeff's new car), which we agreed would do better in the snow than my box of bolts.

For the trip down to Provo, the coast was totally clear, and we made great time. We had a fun evening with our Comedy Sportz colleagues, taking part in two enjoyable Improv shows. We were at the club until a little after midnight, after which we packed things up and headed back.

For most of the trip home, the roads were once again clear. As we came into the middle of the Salt Lake valley, however, we drove into a new storm. Jeff slowed down to about 50 MPH, as circumstances seemed to permit, but, before we knew it, we were spinning like the Tilt-a-Whirl at Lagoon. (That's really the only thing I can compare it to.)

In what felt like an hour later, but was in actuality only about 10 or 15 seconds, we came to a stop - which, thankfully, was not due to our having collided with the concrete divider, which I feared may happen twice - in the middle of the freeway after two consecutive 360-degree turns.

In the middle of this rather scary moment, I remember uttering a quick prayer for our safety. This was one of those times that an answer was given right away. Jeff did something very important in that moment that is crucial when you're behind the wheel of a car: He didn't panic. It was also a good thing that this took place at about 1:00 a.m. on a somewhat empty road. About any other time, and we probably would have collided with one or more cars.

Every so often, something happens that reminds you that you're being looked out for.

"Why Is He Singing It Sexy?"

There are some things you never expect to hear your mother say.

A few years ago, Mom and I were in the car together, on our way someplace, and, as we traveled, we listened to Christmas songs on the radio. I don't remember the name of the song, but a holiday ditty sung by Kenny Loggins soon came on the air.

It's a Christmas song, she said. Why is he singing it sexy?

I guess maybe she thought Kenny was trying a little too hard. Whatever the reason, this moment has since become one of my favorite Christmas memories.

The songs of Christmas are one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. They are a big part of helping me to feel the Christmas spirit - at any time of the year. In July, I break out the Christmas tunes, mostly to celebrate reaching the halfway point to the next Christmas. On November 1, to combat the post-Halloween blues, I am already tuning into the 24/7 Christmas music wars between local radio stations FM100 and KOSY 106.5. (If I were DJ for a day, I would really shake up both of their lineups. But they both try hard.)

What are some of your favorite Christmas songs/albums?


For me, it just isn't Christmas without Amy Grant. I had a copy of her "Home for Christmas" album on tape with me in the mission field, and listening to it always made me feel like home wasn't so far away. Amy now has four (yes, four) holiday albums, and they are all great.

I also grew up with "John Denver and The Muppets: A Christmas Together." Say what you will about the Muppets' singing (or John Denver's, for that matter), it brings me memories of many good years. John Denver and Jim Henson (as well as other Muppeteers) are now gone, but it is still not Christmas without this CD, either.


Among other CDs in my CD player right now are Michael McLean's "The Forgotten Carols," the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's "Sing, Choirs of Angels!", Sarah McLachlan's "Wintersong," "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and Shawn Colvin's "Holiday Songs and Lullabyes" - to name just a few. A new album I bought just this last week, "O Holy Night" by Sara Groves, is already a favorite. This lady has one of the most amazing voices I have ever heard.

Speaking of amazing voices, last night some friends and I got to go to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square's annual Christmas concert, thanks to a ticket from our friend Mollie, who plays bassoon in the orchestra. It had been a few years since I had been given the chance to attend one of these concerts in person, and it was a fantastic show. The "Hallelujah" chorus is always great to hear, and "Once in Royal David's City" is one of my favorite hymns. I was not really a fan of organ solos - my grandmother used to say that they were "like a mouse running loose on the keyboard" - until last night, when organist Richard Elliot's rendition of "Go Tell It on the Mountain" (played partly with his feet as he snapped his fingers) brought down the house.


The MoTabs's guests for this concert were narrator Edward Herrmann (aka Richard Gilmore on "Gilmore Girls") and Broadway star Brian Stokes Mitchell. I enjoyed Mr. Herrmann's commentary on the origin of the hymn "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," which is a great story. And Brian Stokes Mitchell - though he reminded me of Barack Obama as he spoke (take a look at the adjoining picture, and tell me if I'm crazy) - had everyone's attention whenever he sang, particularly on "The Friendly Beasts" and "Grateful."

Mom might have said that his voice was sexy.

A Life Wirth Emulating

Last week, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles passed away at age 91. This is already news to most of you, presumably, but I just wanted to write a few words about this good man.


During his final years, Elder Wirthlin would often visibly struggle to deliver his general conference messages. (Regardless, I hope I'm doing that well if I make it to 91.) The rumor was that this was because his eyesight had gotten worse and it was harder for him to read from the teleprompter.

Whatever the reason, one image that I think will always stay in my mind was created during one of Elder Wirthlin's last talks. During this talk, he began to shake and wobble. At first, I feared that something serious was taking place, like a stroke. (I later read that it was due to his knees becoming locked together.) It was obvious that he was having a hard time giving this talk, yet he kept right on speaking. (His topic, which I suppose was no coincidence, was on enduring to the end.) Elder Russell M. Nelson soon stood up and held onto his colleage in the Twelve, supporting Elder Wirthlin as he gave the rest of his talk. My mom and I watched this on TV together, and we could not stop crying. I will remember the courage that Elder Wirthlin showed in these few minutes, and I won't I forget the important lesson I learned about the true sense of brotherhood and love that exists among the members of the Quorum of the Twelve.

Though his delivery struggled, Elder Wirthlin's talks were pure gold. For my birthday last year, some of my siblings chipped in and bought me Press On: Messages of Faith, Hope, and Charity, a collection of several of his messages as an Apostle. I read through this book during a particularly difficult time in my life that came not long after, and the words and counsel from Elder Wirthlin gave me added strength to face my trials that I sorely needed.


I also got to meet him on two occasions: once at a Missionary Department social, back when I worked at the Church Office Building, and again at a University of Utah football pep rally, where he came and spoke about his days as a running back nicknamed "Speedy" during the 1930s.

The title of Elder Wirthlin's final general conference message, "Come What May, and Love It" serve, I think, as a fitting epitaph to his life. He had his share of Fridays, but his Sunday, and a well-earned rest, have come.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

The whole Halloween to New Year's stretch is actually my favorite time of year, so I think of the Christmas/New Year's season as kind of the grand finale of it all. As I write this, it is (finally) snowing outside and making things look like a true winter wonderland.

One of my favorite holiday traditions is wearing Christmas socks. This tradition was inspired by both the Christmas episode of "Mr. Bean," in which Mr. Bean gets a pair of Christmas socks, and a gift from my friend Jacob Lowell in high school, which was the result of a gift exchange in our A.P. Spanish class. (Some of you know Jacob's brother Jonathan, aka J-Lo.) Jacob gave me a pair of red socks, on which Santa Claus was playing basketball.

After that, I began to collect Christmas socks of all kinds. I even had a pair that played a rap song by Santa Claus - until they went through the wash. I now have six or seven pairs of Christmas socks that I rotate throughout the month of December.

Someone at church yesterday pointed out my mistletoe socks, and it wasn't long before a handful of girls were gathering around and commenting how much they liked them. (Yeah, so, you can see now why I wear them.)

Thursday night, I attended the ward Christmas party. In spite of what I mentioned in my last post about a little incident that occurred at dinner, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening spent with many good friends and ward members. I am still not the world's greatest gingerbread house construction worker, but I was sorted onto a team with a professional architect in charge for the gingerbread house-making contest and was happy to take orders and try to help my group out as best I could.

For Saturday's Improv rehearsal, I got to play Santa Claus in one of the games, with my brother Steve and my buddy Ryan Huff as some of Santa's helpers. You really had to be there to understand it - the game ended with Santa dying when a child stopped believing in him, coming back to life at his funeral as a zombie, and going out to kill the Easter Bunny - but Improv, likewise, is now helping me to enjoy the holiday season.


In ward choir, we are rehearsing four excellent numbers: Mozart's "Jesus Savior," "The First Noel/Pachelbel Canon" medley, "Were You There?", and one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs, "Still, Still, Still."

Pepe once again gave me two tickets to attend last night's First Presidency Christmas Devotional at the Conference Center. The Tabernacle Choir sounded great, and the talks by Presidents Monson, Eyring, and Uchtdorf were all fantastic and really helped me to put some things into perspective. After the meeting, my date and I wandered around Temple Square, gawking at the Christmas lights and enjoying the holiday air. Among other friends, I ran into my old Institute choir leader, Bro. Paul Hanks, and his wife, Jean, both of whom I hadn't seen for a few years. It was great to see them both.

Incidentally, since a few of you have asked me about how I have been handling the Person A/Person B situation, I asked Person C - meaning someone else entirely - to go with me to the devotional. I am still trying to figure out Person A and Person B's personalities, and someone who is nice all of the time seemed like a better choice.

In the next few weeks, I'm looking forward to the Tabernacle Choir Christmas concert, family festivities, watching my nieces and nephews open their presents, egg nog, bowl games (way to go, Cougars and Utes!), Christmas caroling, friends' birthday/graduation parties, and the like. There are so many things out there to enjoy.

Friday Night

Green Eggs and Comfort Zones

As I came into sacrament meeting today, I found a copy of Green Eggs and Ham that had been left on the bench.

I had a few minutes to kill before the meeting began, so I picked it up and flipped through its pages. One of the members of the bishopric gave me a funny look from the stand. A couple of the girls seated across the aisle giggled in my direction, too.


You can really learn a lot from Dr. Seuss if you're in the right mindset. On its surface, Green Eggs and Ham is a story that teaches rhyming and shows children how fun reading can be. A deeper meaning - at least one that I get from it - is that it is okay for us to come out of our comfort zones every now and then and try something new. You never know what you will end up enjoying once you have tried it.

In high school, I went to just two school dances. Generally speaking, I pooh-poohed the idea. It wasn't that I didn't want to go; I had just never learned to dance and felt like an idiot when I was out there on the dance floor.

Time passed. I went on a mission to Peru. Missionaries obviously don't - and shouldn't - dance, but with awe I would occasionally observe Peruvians at their parties. The concept of having a party and not dancing does not compute in their minds. They are practically born knowing how to salsa. Little kids would blow me away with their ability to cumbia.

More time passed. I returned home and got back into school. On a whim, I decided to sign up for a Latin dance class. To my own surprise, I was able to (eventually) pick up the cha-cha. Then, I learned rumba, merengue, samba, and tango. I took another dance class, and then another. When I graduated, I had taken five semesters of ballroom/Latin dance.

What had once been a weakness had become a strength and a favorite pasttime. It is fun, and it is great exercise, too. It has helped my social life more than any other course I took in college, I might add.

So, you think you can't dance? If I can learn, then anyone can.

It's nice to sit in the hot tub for a while. We like the feel of it and the temperature of the water. But there is warmth to be found in other places, too.

Incidentally, I have tried green eggs and ham. And I liked them. All it takes is a little bit of food coloring . . . and some will power.

Pepe-roni

It was my good friend Pepe's birthday Thursday. On Friday afternoon, I was invited to help celebrate Pepe's big day by joining him, his sister Sarah, and Sarah's friend Jolene at Chuck E. Cheese in Layton.

Yes, that wasn't a typo: Chuck E. Cheese, a place I hadn't visited in perhaps two decades. You're never too old to get back in touch with your childhood - right? - so I was happy to tag along for the excursion.

The pizza was good but not great, and more video/arcade games than not were geared toward the elementary school-aged set. I think we were the only ones our age there who didn't bring their kids along. But, at Chuck E. Cheese, it's all about the environment.

We particularly enjoyed posing in front of the blue screen - similar to the kind that TV weathermen use for their forecasts - which put us in the middle of some sort of Chuck E. Cheese music video. (I don't remember the names of all of the creatures involved, but one of them, we agreed, was a cross between Barney and Cookie Monster.)

Here's Pepe, showing how it was done:



Here's my attempt at it:



I also tried to do my best Phil Connors (the weatherman played by Bill Murray in Groundhog Day) impersonation:


We are on our knees for these shots because, well, we were about twice the height of most of the kids who used the screen.

As we ate lunch, it suddenly became "birthday parade" time (or whatever it's called) at Chuck E. Cheese. This involved the kids who were celebrating birthdays joining Chuck E. for a song and dance in front of everybody. We encouraged Pepe to join with them, but he declined. As these kids' ages were shown on the TV screen, we noticed that none of them was older than 14.

Pepe is, well, a few years older than that.

After lunch, we played several of the games in the arcade area. Sarah and Jolene won several tickets for our gang - which we later traded in for Pop Rocks - with a "Simpsons"-themed pinball-type game. It turns out that Pepe is quite the skilled skee-ball player.

Thanks, Indeed

Yesterday, I got to spend Thanksgiving with my parents, siblings, and my siblings' families, including Mike's dog, Xena. As an added bonus, my cousins Scott and Jared and their respective clans also joined us for dinner, making it a grand total of 30 Plowmans and Sanders under one roof.

It had been literally a few years since I had seen Jared's family, and it was great to spend some time with them once again.

All of the trimmings were there, too: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, and - my personal favorite - pumpkin pie. I don't think I have ever seen that much food at the house at one time, counting all of the other Thanksgivings, missionary farewells and homecomings, birthday parties, etc. A lot of good cooks contributed a lot of time into preparing it all.


At dinner, Jared - who lives and works in California as a highway patrol officer, or one of the "CHiPs" - entertained us with various humorous stories from his experiences on the job, including pulling over cars that were filled with illegal drugs. (Yeah, the kids weren't around for this part.)

While most of the gang stayed indoors and played "Catch Phrase," I joined my cousins Eden and Jordan and my nephew Dallin in the garage for several rounds of what Eden called "Scar Pong." Unlike regular ping-pong, this game involved the four of us traveling around the ping-pong table, each taking his turn at hitting the ball and trying to keep it bouncing without stopping. Anybody who messed up earned a letter towards "SCAR" (as in "Horse"). When anyone reached "SCAR," the other three of us got to take turns trying to hit him, with his back turned to us, with a ping-pong ball. If you hit him, you got to try again. At one point, I had hit Dallin 17 times in a row. But he was a good sport about it.

It's not too hard for me to take a look around and realize how many blessings I have in my life. My family, many of whom I got to spend the day with, are foremost among them. There are other aunts, uncles, and cousins in Utah, California, and England whom I didn't get to see but who were, nevertheless, in our thoughts. Between last Thanksgiving and this one, I have gained a a nephew (seven-month-old Jackson), a niece (six-week-old Kira), and a brother-in-law, Jeff.


The above picture is from Biz and Jeff's wedding in June. It's missing Kira, who was born in October, but it's the most current family photo that I have.

I am likewise grateful to have many good friends - probably more than I deserve - who help to keep me on the "straight and narrow" and who inspire me to be a better person. Many of these people are in my ward, which I feel is the right place for me to be right now. Others are people I have known for most of my life - some as far back as pre-school - who continue to influence me for the better.

The restored gospel of Jesus Christ still blesses me on a daily basis. I don't know where I would be without it.

Wherever you are or were, I hope that you enjoyed your day, too.

Split Personalities

There is a girl in my ward I have been interested in for some time now. She is cute, smart, funny, happy, and a good friend to a lot of people, among other positive qualities. In spite of all of that, I think she might like me, too. I have enjoyed taking part in several conversations and activities with her and found that, in spite of our differences, we actually share a lot of things in common. (I'll refer to her as "Person A," for future reference.)

So, what are you waiting for? you might be thinking. Why don't you ask her out, you big sissy?


We get along like that only about half of the time. I will explain.

The other half of the time, she seems to be . . . someone else. (I'll call her "Person B.") She seems to either avoid or ignore me. Not long ago, I approached her out of the blue and greeted her with a "hello," to which I received no response at all. She then resumed talking to the person next to her. Embarrassed, I left.

I don't know if she's just not interested and is too polite to tell me, or she doesn't know that she's doing it, or she's tired at these moments, or I did/didn't do something that offended her, or I'm just misinterpreting or misperceiving circumstances, or what. I'm trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. What I do know is that I have seen a healthy dose of both Person A and Person B, often during different parts of the same day.


If I call her up for a date, will I get Person A or Person B on the phone? That's what is holding me back.

For those who have stuck with me this long, do you have any thoughts on the matter? comments? complaints? I honestly would like to know. I have my fair share of dating "blind spots," too.

(If you enjoyed these comic strips and are interested in seeing more of the same, please visit: http://garfieldminusgarfield.net/, one of my favorite new sites on the Web. It is only a coincidence that the main character and I share the same first name.)

Random Thoughts from the Road

This afternoon, I drove into Salt Lake City to run an errand. However, when I arrived at my intended destination, I found that the door was locked, the lights had been shut off, and all of the employees had decided to pack up and leave an hour early, without telling anyone about it.

I could consider this a wasted trip. But the journey there and back was such an entertaining experience for me. Among other things, I observed:

- It's autumn out there! Autumn is my favorite season of the year. Today may have been the first time this season that I really noticed the colors of the leaves outside.

- About 30,000 banners advertising the Body Worlds exhibit have been placed along 400 South (which turns into 500 South up at the U.) alone. (No, I wasn't a math major.)

- I'm pretty sure that the U. student walking outside of Rice-Eccles Stadium would have shot laser beams out of his eyes, if he could have done so - like Cyclops from X-Men - at a car with BYU flags that drove past and would have scattered it to the four winds. There is definitely no love lost between Ute and Cougar fans, especially during rivalry week.

- I'm convinced that most orange barrels remain on the roads and highways not because of actual construction taking place but because somebody is too lazy to put them back where they came from.

- The guy wearing the dark-grey hoodie and jaywalking across the street (in a 40 MPH zone) at a leisurely pace, in the dark - which made him very hard to see - was obviously perturbed at me when I flashed my bright lights on him to make sure I didn't run him over and turn his body into ravioli. That was rude of me. I apologize, dude.

- The guy who ran up my tailpipe at a speed of at least 90 MPH - though I wasn't even in the fast lane - wasn't really doing it to bother me, nor was he late for traffic court. He was just trying to get his flux capacitor working again and return home safely to the year 2038.


- There are a lot of weird-looking churches out there, architecturally and otherwise. Though I will never set foot in most of them, I must admit that they have some clever signs posted out front.

Random Scripture of the Day:

"And Moron did that which was wicked before the Lord (Ether 11:14)."

I have nothing further to add.

The Bald and the Beautiful

Yesterday, I wrote a post about some of the terrible things that hate and anger are doing in our society. Today, I'd like to focus on quite the opposite.

Local TV station KSL (Channel 5) featured a story today about Emmalee Havertz, a third grader at Morgan Elementary School in Kaysville. This little girl recently started chemotherapy for liver cancer and, as a result, lost all of her hair.

Emmalee's classmates - eight- and nine-year-old kids - didn't fully understand what their friend was going through. They wanted to help her, but they weren't sure how to do it.

Eight of the boys in the class chose to shave their heads as a sign of support. My nephew Dallin was one of them.


I'm so glad that Dallin chose to do this. (It was his choice, and not his parents'.) I didn't even hear about him shaving his head until after the fact.

Dallin has always had a big heart, so I shouldn't be surprised. He has set a good example of kindness and compassion to this uncle.

A little of that goes a long way.

You can see video of the full story here: http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=148&sid=4824304

Anger Management

People all over the place are really angry about a lot of things right now. I read about several of them tonight as I perused the pages of today's Deseret News. (There was an excellent article on the same topic in last week's paper by columnist Doug Robinson: http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,705262181,00.html)

You see these irate people everywhere. They are on TV or on YouTube. They are even picketing around Temple Square and the state capitol building. And they are definitely not afraid to hide that fact that they are hopping mad about, well, almost everything.

The anger thing isn't going to get any better this week. The annual BYU vs. Utah football game is coming up this Saturday, and we all know what that means: The Mr. Hyde in many Cougar and Ute fans will be coming out for a visit.

Bring up any number of topics, and - want it or not - you will get their opinion on any number of current events, often with clenched fists, beet-red faces, and little volcanoes emerging and erupting from the tops of their scalps. Some of these topics include, but are not limited, to: the release of the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince film being postponed until next summer (okay, not so much of a problem, really), George W. Bush being responsible for everything wrong with this country, having to endure living on the same planet and breathing the same air as Sarah Palin, gas prices, the economy, and - oh yeah - the LDS Church's involvement in California's Proposition 8, which passed in the election held two weeks ago.


If you dare disagree with these Proposition 8 people, in their book, you are therefore labeled (by people who largely don't want to be labeled) "homophobic," "intolerant," "bigoted," "hate filled," "ignorant," and a "hypocrite," plus you will be told that you need to come out of the cave and into the 21st century and/or you must die a horrible, painful death - possibly by being smothered in peanut butter and being dropped onto a pile of killer ants, like those in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - at the earliest possible moment.

They use big words like these, while at the same time their actions show that they are clearly the ones who are full of hate and intolerant.

In Peru, they have a saying: El ruido de tus acciones no me permite oir tus palabras. Loosely translated, it means: "The noise from your actions blocks out the sound of your words." I think it applies here.

The Proposition 8 protests have saddened me a lot. The election is over, but they refuse to accept the results. (Just imagine what would happen if John McCain acted in a similar manner and encouraged his supporters to send hate mail to the president-elect.) Their demonstrations are also being directed at my church, even though the LDS Church was just one of several in a coalition to support Proposition 8.

My Improv colleague Tonia wrote a letter to the editor in defense of Proposition 8 that appeared in Thursday's Deseret News. Saturday night, I performed in a show with Tonia's husband, Curt, and mentioned to him that I had read the letter.

"We've already received hate mail," he replied.

Over the past two weeks, LDS meetinghouses in Utah have been vandalized. At one building, a copy of the Book of Mormon was set on fire. Last week, an envelope containing white powder - at first feared to be anthrax - caused an evacuation of Temple Square.

Yes, whoever is doing it is using terrorism.

So, what can we do about it? What do we have left to "turn" when we have used up your "cheeks"?


I recently read an excellent article by Paul Bishop that sheds important light on the subject. Bro. Bishop writes from personal experience about the protests that have been held outside of the grounds of the Los Angeles temple. If you haven't already done so, I hope you take a look at it:

http://www.meridianmagazine.com/ideas/081110hate.html

Reading this article created all kinds of emotions inside of me. I felt sad, then annoyed, then angry, and then the cycle started all over again. Ultimately, though, Bro. Bishop concludes his article in just the right spirit. He quotes Elder Robert D. Hales on the true spirit of tolerance. He also adds the thought that Pres. Monson, in the face of this kind of persecution, knows what's going on and is leading us in the right direction.


I'm very grateful to have both a prophet and an exemplary man to whom I can look for guidance and counsel.

Fighting anger with anger and hate with hate has never solved anything - at least, not since Old Testament times. As the scripture says:

"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance" (Galatians 5:22–23).

I am also reminded of this excerpt from the life of Elijah:

"The Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:

"And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice" (1 Kings 19:11-12).

I know from experience that you can win converts to your cause - so to speak - only by kindness, civility, and rational thinking.

And that speaks louder than words.

Hooray for Bollywood!

On Friday night, I attended Shannon's "Bollywood Initiation," which featured a screening of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (Something Happens). It was the first official Bollywood film I have ever seen. (I was told by someone who knows that Bride & Prejudice doesn't count, and neither do Gandhi or Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. So, I guess I have to take her word for it.)


It turned out to be a three-hour movie, but it felt more like two movies put back-to-back into one plot line. The first half was like "Saved by the Bell" meets Grease and High School Musical, while the second half was partly The Parent Trap and The Great Outdoors mixed in with High School Musical 2 - all portrayed by Indian actors, singers, and dancers.

In addition to being a Bollywood film, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai is also a chick flick. You better believe that more than a few "somethings" happen. There's a romantic triangle, cheesy singing and dancing, (purposely?) bad acting, enough pastel-colored clothing to choke a camel, new-age sound effects, GAP shirts, several fantasy scenes set in the ruins of a medieval Scottish castle, slam dunks on basketball rims set at seven feet, another romantic triangle, fans blowing in the hair of the lead actors, and crying - several gallons' worth of crying. In fact, Schindler's List didn't feature that much crying.

I will admit freely that I enjoyed the movie. Part of that, perhaps, was due to the fact that our little gang was collectively doing its best Statler and Waldorf impersontation throughout - shooting off commentary at will from the peanut gallery. Another part is due to this being a movie that doesn't take itself or its subject matter too seriously - for the most part.

It's so family friendly, kissing on the lips is considered taboo. How can you not like Bollywood?

Thanks to Shannon for helping to expand my cultural horizons.

A Whole New (Body) World

Last night, I went to see the Body Worlds exhibit at The Leonardo in Salt Lake City. My friends Marc and Mollie went along for the ride.

In school, science was never my best subject. I endured rather than enjoyed classes like Biology, Chemistry, and Earth Science. And I never took an Anatomy course. So, I stood to learn a lot from this experience.

One of the main things I gained from Body Worlds was a sense of awe, really, at the marvelous creation that is the human body. I felt an awareness of the millions, if not billions, of things that go on inside me each and every day, things I all too often take for granted, that make me what I am. Marc, Mollie, and I each expressed this thought - in one way or another - at various points throughout the exhibit. How fragile we are, indeed (as it says in the song by Sting).

I was also intrigued by things like the pair of lungs - charcoal black in color - from a smoker who had contracted lung cancer. That's about the best visual aid I can think of to dissuade anyone from taking up smoking or to persuade a smoker to kick the habit.

Human bodies were not the only bodies on display at Body Worlds. We stopped for a moment to look at the camels, in particular.

I'll admit that there were a few displays here and there that were a little bit creepy for me. (Whoever put it together certainly had a bizarre sense of humor - or something.) But those moments were few and far between.

If I'm not mistaken, Body Worlds will remain at The Leonardo until January. So, if you're at all curious, I would recommend checking it out.