Thursday, August 25, 2011

Fun Facts about Our Trip

We recently moved to San Antonio, and by recent, I mean we moved in a week ago. Here's something interesting things we saw or learned on the way:
  • Miles Traveled: 1620
  • KOA's are really nice. The one in Cortez, Colorado had free showers, electrical hookups, and wi-fi. That night of "roughing it" involved us sitting in our tent, watching Modern Family.
  • There was a synagogue in the middle of New Mexico. It consisted of a double-wide with an Israeli flag, and a sign. It was most impressive.
  • Had a terrific IHOP experience with Nikki. Thank you for your, your aunt, and uncle's hospitality in letting us spend a night in Las Cruces.
  • Between El Paso and San Antonio, there is nothing. Literally. There were a few times when we would try to fill up, and there would be advertisements of gas stations in a few miles. Sadly, Hil (who was driving the Cobalt) found these stations closed, and the towns deserted.
  • A Budget van is economic, but driving one at 80 miles an hour sounds as if the passenger door will rip off at any second. The air conditioning, however, was excellent.
  • Sean Hannity is a bad word. I listened to his program, as he denigrated another man's religion, and blustered his way through no points. I felt the urge to call him up, and call him bad words, but I shan't waste my breath on him or his types. And if you are reading this, my conservative friends, rest assured I feel this way about any political pundit. They are the poison we listen too.
  • The drought in Texas is awful. Estimated losses are in the billions for the agriculture sector. Something to think about.
  • Hil's contribution: It's freaky driving through El Paso, and seeing the Mexican side of the border. The difference is stark.
  • Another Hilary contribution: Southern Utah is still incredibly beautiful. The red rock in Moab was bursting when we drove past it.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Because I love her...

I'll go dumpster diving. That's right, ladies and gentleman (there has to be at least one gentleman who reads this blog, right?), I went dumpster diving with Hilary a few weeks ago. If not for our move to San Antonio (more blog posts about this forthcoming), this would have been posted sooner. But better late than never, right? So, without further ado, here for your enjoyment: The Colander Story.
It was a normal afternoon. Hilary and I had just a few short days before the move. Hilary had just finished her final exam, and was now a graduate from BYU. To celebrate, we headed up to Pleasant Grove to eat at the Purple Turtle, because nothing says fancy better than a purple turtle. Our trip also meant a stop in Alpine to look at some computers and check on Sammy, the pug we would take down to Texas. After eating some decent burgers, we were headed to Alpine to finish our trip. This was when the adventure started.
We turned onto Ridge towards Hil's home, casually noticing the garbage cans lining the road. Jack FM was playing a classic eighties song which seemed to stage the scene as if we were in a John Hughes film. We went around a corner when she spotted it: a yellow colander crowning the top of a garbage bag, a treasure among the unseemly.
A sharp inhale of breath preceded, "Mike, did you see that colander in the trash? It's just the color for our kitchen."
"That's nice, Hil," I said, taking a sip of my fruit punch.
"It didn't look broken," Hilary continued, "let's go back and take it."
I laughed. "Dumpster diving? In Alpine? What will the neighbors think?"
Undeterred, Hilary said, "Nevermind. I'll just swing the car around (for some reason, people find it strange that Hilary does most of the driving in this relationship. That's for two reasons: 1. She's the better driver. And 2. I'm lazy, so it works for both of us), and you can pick it up for us."
The plan seemed flawless: Hilary would get us close enough for me to grab the colander. That was the plan, until we came car to garbage truck with... the garbage men. They were two houses down from the prized kitchen piece. Rhetorical questions about neighbors aside, I wondered to myself, "Will Hilary still want the trash strainer?"
She did. "There's the garbage truck," I said.
"Well, we'll have to get there before them," she answered, pulling the car around in front of the truck. She didn't get close enough to the can. I opened the door, taking the few steps to claim the yellow colander.
It was, well, something. The perfect yellow was rusting on the perforated bottom. A handle swung from its spot, and the entire thing gave a faint odor of its former thrown out abode.
"It stinks," I said as we drove to the in-laws. "And one of the handles is messed up."
"It doesn't stink. We'll wash it up at the house. Besides, it's a project."
I have come to a knowledge that project is a key term in marriage. When something doesn't go right, or doesn't look well, or isn't progressing as fast as one would like, simply shrug a shoulder, and say, "It's a project."
We took this project to the house. After washing it, Hilary said, "You're right: it does stink a little, and the rust is bad... I don't think we can fix this handle."
"Do you want to keep it?" I asked.
"I'll tell you in a minute," she said pensively, studying it.
A few deliberating moments later found the discarded colander back in the trash. If there's a moral to this story, I haven't the faintest idea what it is. Maybe, "One man's trash is another's eventual trash," while "The Circle of Life" blares from speakers.