Dirty Jobs with Simon Warr

Warning - the subject of this post is animal waste, and includes substantial potty language references such as poo, crap and mung.

I'm telling you right now - Si-the-guy is a funny kid. And he is FINALLY starting to earn his keep around this place! Hannah makes these...I think they call them "no-bake" cookies. They're brown and the look like cow pies. The kids love to make them lately just because of Simon's reaction when they eat them. He gets this look of utter horror on his face, points and says "ew, poop!". He thinks the girls are chowing on poo piles. And every morning he takes me out onto the balcony where we can look down onto the back lawn and he can point out any and all of Stella's latest piles of excrement while saying " 'Tella's poo" or "dog poop". There are usually quite a few of these mung piles since it is the girl's job to erradicate the yard of all waste on a regular basis, and they suck at their job.

I went on my regular tirade with the girls about a week ago for sucking at their job after trying to mow the lawn and having the massive piles of poo almost choke out the motor on the mower (my dog is a Lab. Let's just say that Labs like to eat, the proof of which is smattered across my back lawn. Those piles are not small). After making the girls feel utterly worthless for not cleaning said poo, they got their grocery bags and went to work cleaning up the mess.

Simon, of course, is FASCINATED by the fact that you can actually pick this stuff up! I mean, so far he has only been able to OBSERVE the crap! Now he has discovered he can actually TOUCH it! The good news here, before your minds start going wild, is that Simon, as much as he is "all boy", does not like to get his hands dirty. So now, every morning and every night he asks for a "becky" which is really a baggy, or a grocery bag, so he can go rid the backyard of Stella's steamers. It actually involves two bags - one to store the nastiness and the other to be tied high around his hand and arm which he uses to scoop it up.

Here's a picture of him scouring the backyard for growlers this morning. I don't have any pics of him picking any up because A) I don't want pictures of actual poo on my blog and B) there was no mung since he cleaned it all up the night before. The lack of dump piles almost had him in tears until I assured him there'd be one or two for him to clean up this afternoon. Guess I better get Stella a big breakfast.

I have a friend who has what I'd call a "cooler job than me." I'm happy for my job, don't get me wrong. It's .com, it's travel, I work from home, I get paid ENORMOUS amounts of money (that one was a joke, just in case there was a sar-chasm and you didn't get my sarcasm). But let me show you what I look at all day at my job and then I'll show you an example of what HE looks at all day, and then you can decide for yourself. Pictures are worth a 1,000 words, afterall, right?

Without further ado - here's what I stare at for 8 hours:

And here is what my buddy stares at...through a lens:

I've heard the old adage that "life's not fair" a few times in my life, but this just makes me feel like a chump.

The dealer in my backyard

First, I should address this to Mark since, Mark, you are the only person that knows of this blog of mine.

So, Dear Mark,

As you know my folks lived on a golf course while I was a youngin'. I rather enjoyed that - was nice not to have backyard neighbors when I wanted to sunbathe in the nude, my golf game improved marginally since I could sneak in a few holes any evening I wanted, it was a great place to screw around after dark (I recall a few nights of stealing golf carts and driving underage), and of course it was a fun place to take unsuspecting (actually, I suspect they were suspecting) young ladies to make out. I like to think that last one happened more than it actually did, but whatever.

So, when we were looking for a new house to buy I was pleased we found one we liked on a golf course. Here's a pic of the view over by back fence:

One little bonus is that there's a drink vending machine on the next tee box for thirsty hackers. We don't generally stock the fridge with tasty carbonated bevvies, but you know how sometimes you just get a jones on for a tall, cold coke? Well that vending machine has provided a very needed fix on more that one occasion this summer, let me tell you.

Good thing I don't live next to a 7/11.

Proud week for a dad

First, Simon wakeboarded for the first time, as you can see in the picture below.

Second, he came up to me holding the DVD of Talledega Nights and said, "watch, dada". Of course I let him watch it because it is, well, the best movie of all time. So he sat and ate his eggs while enjoying the movie and just as Ricky Bobby started into his Baby Jesus prayer, Simon folded his arms. Man, I love that kid.

In other news, the house we bought has wallpaper in it. Since I hate wallpaper (especially this wallpaper) I've started ripping it off. I must say that I now know why people just paint over it.

My favorite purchase to date

Growing up, my main concern was when the next waterski trip was going to occur. I would scope out any and every body of water I could find, checking depth, wind and all other variables that might make that water a highly desirable ski destination. I always wanted to ski along the freeway out by Tooele, or in the ponds behind the Bountiful landfill. Yes, I know that sounds disgusting. But the true water skier is less concerned with the general nastiness of the water and more into how flat it is. I once skied in a flooded field next to the freeway in Farmington, and one of my favorite spots is in a pond near Logan we affectionately call "Lake Wally" after Brandon Wallin. Winters were spent scouring waterski magazines and buying waterski t-shirts from Marine Products, and looking forward to early spring ski trips to Lake Powell.

Then I got married and that all changed. My dad and my friends' dads sold their boats, and Julie and I moved out-of-state. Add to it that we had no money (I should say "have" no money - who am I kidding?) for way too long and the result was that I did no boating for years and years.

Well that all recently changed with the purchase of this little gem which I'm all too excited about. I'm experiencing the joy of watching my kids learn to love the sport that I loved for so long.

Canyoneering in Zion

My wife has long since accepted that one of my flaws as a husband is that I'm going to leave her on the occasional, but still too frequent, weekend away to charge the ol' batteries. These weekends are generally spent immersing myself in the awesomeness that is Utah.

This past weekend was one of those weekends and just happened to be spent in Zion Canyon. A friend introduced me to canyoneering a few years back and I'm hooked.

One afternoon we had some downtime. Drew wanted to see a "Plyg" and so, after he got a little preview at the Hurricane sports bar (there was a Plyg in there with one of his wives - date night I'm sure. Or a PPI - not sure which) we headed over to Colorado City to ogle the freaks. He was fascinated with the braids, dresses, jeans under the dresses, UEP logos, painted plywood siding on houses and other general wackiness that is the compound. A highly recommended cultural experience for anyone who has not been there.

house and stitches

I have decided to try a new approach to this blogging thing. Long posts are no good – they are too hard to finish and nobody wants to read them. I’ve written novels for this blog and never posted them because I never finished them. Like my “best of the year” post – my 2009 was just way too epic to be summed up in one measly sitting. So, quick hitters, more often is the goal.

I bought a new house a few months back. Interest rates were low, house prices a bit more reasonable and we needed more room. Julie fell in love with this one for its colonial style and so far it feels like home:

This is my favorite part of the house:

My only complains are 1) that it was bank-owned for quite some time and the grass and much of the landscaping are dead, and 2) I’ve added 10 minutes to my lunch commute to the Bountiful fast food scene.

The whole “working out” thing didn’t work out too well. I did some p90x for about a month and was tickled pink with the results to that point. Then I woke up one day and my right arm didn’t work. After a few days of this I figured I should get it checked out since…well…it’s my arm and I need it. A few chiropractor/doctor/physical therapist visits and an MRI later, I have some disc and nerve issues in my neck. Arm is resurrected though, and I’m ready to start up again.

I’d LOVE to start riding my bike if it were not for the December-like weather we are still having. I did go out the other night and this is what happened:


Chainrings. You hate ‘em? I hate ‘em myself. I think this is a sign because I kept hearing this still, small voice whisper “get a single speeeeeeeed.” Nevermind that I was riding my road bike when this happened. After the super glue didn’t take on this cut, I found myself getting 10 stitches in the ER. I thought of Weston as I used my fingers to open and close the cut as I talked…because it looked like a mouth.

The Farm and Escalante

A few years ago my folks moved to Glenwood, UT which we affectionately refer to as a suburb of Richfield. It's in central Utah and is very rural. We shook our heads when they moved there, wondering what they'd do to fill their time. I secretly wondered if they were doing it to get out of babysitting duty with all of the grandkids that had moved back to Utah (my sister Tracy moved back from Idaho, my other sister Shannon moved back from Portugal and we moved back from Seattle). But they love it - they 10 acres, cows, garden and job at the Manti Temple keeps them very busy. And we love it because it's a fun place to visit. The kids love the cows, frogs, etc that they can play with, not to mention the 4-wheelers, fishing, etc, that's right in their backyard. Chickens are the latest addition to the "country home that was never going to be a farm."


In March I took a trip to one of my favorite places on earth - Escalante. A few pics to follow, but first - we're driving down a 60 mile dirt road at about 60 mph when we come to a cattle guard with a cow stuck in it. It was all I could do to stop my Jeep before piling broadside into that beast! Poor thing was resting on its belly with his legs dangling inside the rails of the guard, but not for long. When we pulled up he started bucking violently to escape the guard. He got himself to the side of the guard when his front legs broke free and his hind legs got up on top of the rails, causing him to front flip off the guard and into the pit below. I couldn't believe what I had just seen. It was pitch black so I couldn't see him but could hear it breathing very, very deeply. My friends pulled up behind me and we assessed the situation. The more this cow fought to escape, the more stuck he became as his head and shoulders wedged underneath the guard, legs in the air. My friend Chris was licking his chops at the opportunity to shoot the animal and slice it up for steak dinner. I had just bought a winch for my Jeep so we decided to try to pull it out. I have a tow strap we tied around its hind legs. This took us a while since we were a bit concerned the exercise might snap his legs or strip the skin from its calves or something. In the end, we went for it, assuming the cow would die if we didn't try. So we got the animal secured with the strap and began pulling. he fought a bit at first, but then just let us drag him out. He didn't even raise his head as he dragged along the ground! We got him to safe ground and it just layed there. I thought it may just give up the ghost right then and there. Chris reminded me of a friend who had a horse stuck in the mud, and the only way he could get it moving was to whip the snot out of it with his belt. So what did I do. Took of my belt and beat that cow on the ass until it finally got up on its wobbly legs and wandered off into the night! Our good deed was done. Sorry, no pictures of the cow episode, but here are some hiking pics from the day after.