Random Acts

Cheryl and I went running yesterday on a very nice trail the city has built along the river.  To be more precise, Cheryl was running and I was following along sweating and panting heavily enough to be mistaken for a stalking pervert.  We have run this trail a few times in the past and it is rather pleasant with its views and relatively (not quite Disney level) well kept appearance.  This time, as an added feature, someone(s) had written affirmations in sidewalk chalk for at least a mile of the path. 

I don't believe I am the only person who feels disgusted by what I know I look like running and perhaps there are even people who feel disgusted by what they look like while running.  Having a random anonymous stranger tell me that I am loved and I can conquer this mountain had more of an affect on me than I would have anticipated.  I know that I was not the direct target of those sayings and the writer probably had no idea anyone else would derive benefit from them but I still appreciated them very much so, to the random anonymous person, Thanks. 

This reminds me of another topic I have been thinking about.  Sometimes as I walk from where I parked the car to a store entrance (any random store really), I might see some drifting piece of plastic or paper wafting along.  As I see it go by many times I have a brief mini debate on whether to chase after it to throw it into a garbage can at least.  I don't have any hard and fast rules about speed of wind or distance to rubbish but I would like to say that at least half the time I'll grab it.  As I drive along later I might see this same sort of flotsam accumulating in fence lines and I will either feel good about being part of the solution or bad about being part of the problem.  Was it my fault the plastic bag is floating around loss, not really, but it is my fault if I ignore it and my chance to do something about it.

Silver Bullet

I love the cubscout pinewood derby.  When my first born son was put into my arms one of the first things I looked forward to was the derby.  For the last many years, I have taken on running the derby as my own special project and we held our pack's derby this past weekend at church and in coordination with a chili cookoff and had a blast.  A lot of people came out and in addition to the cubs, there was an 'open' class for anyone who wanted to bring a car for separate racing.  The rules for open where more relaxed (i.e. no combustibles) and I also made an effort to keep the event exciting by reducing the time between races.  This seemed to work and the crowd excitement seemed somewhat constant.
I've also helped the boys (and anyone else interested) in making their cars and I really like that one of the lessons of the derby is that there are no shortcuts to making a fast car.  Most folks focus on car shape and design which is one part of the equation but miss out on proper weight and reduction of friction.  These three pieces of the puzzle work together to make a faster car.  The designs this year where great and I wish I had time to take more pictures but I was managing brackets and shuffling cars.
I usually make a car myself each year and this year went with a classic race car design.  It is a model of a 1939 Auto Union Type D And I was really pleased with the results.  I've included pictures of my car and the original below for comparison.

Original

Original

Front View Model

Top View Model

The car also performed well and won the open division but not without some close competition.  I realize of course that I now have a large target on my back for next year but that just makes it more fun.

I'm Dead Chuffed

Since my birthday, I've been working on knitting a Doctor Who scarf (See above).  Tonight I finished it.  It's more than a relief, it's a source of joy and happiness.  I have happy memories of watching Tom Baker's adventures and then Peter Davison.  This project was started on my birthday as a sort of gift to myself.  I got real wool and I'll smile every time I wear it.

Blood

It irritates me that I feel like I have to justify my grief at the loss of my Step-father.  The Grimm brothers and Disney must answer for perpetuating the stereotype that by putting the word 'step' in front of what would otherwise be a close familial relation and it suddenly is turned into a nemesis or at best a passing acquaintance.  I call Owen my Step-father because it was the 'correct' term.  I didn't call him dad because even his own son never called him that but all the grand-kids called him poppy regardless.  My own father is alive and while my parents are estranged I enjoy a good relationship with him as well so what seems confusing to many people makes sense to me that Owen was a surrogate father to me at critical points in my life and I am all the luckier for it.

He was my Bishop
He was my Seminary Teacher
He was my original Home Teaching companion
He ordained me as an Elder and was my guide in the Temple
He taught me to shave and tie a tie
He presided at my Eagle Scout Court of Honor
He was my geocaching buddy (and friendly competitor)
He was my woodworking mentor from pinewood derby to furniture
He was my mother's husband and I never doubted his love for her
He and my father-in-law (another awkward title) witnessed my sealing
They also witnessed the baptism of my three oldest children
He always had a funny story to tell
He introduced me to Tolkien
He is a template for what a father should be

While I was like many teenagers and chafed against house rules, I learned to appreciate him half a world away through letters and memories unclouded by proximity.  There are baptisms and eagle scout courts and weddings which he will not be able to attend in the flesh and they will be the poorer for it.  I have been blessed and I miss him terribly.

In Memorium

Owen Frederick Baynard

March 13, 1952 - February 17, 2012