<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608</id><updated>2012-02-01T20:47:07.338-07:00</updated><category term='Random'/><category term='Prizes'/><category term='TV'/><category term='Stories'/><category term='Running'/><category term='Ella'/><category term='Michigan'/><category term='Hikes'/><category term='Physics'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Nerdiness'/><category term='Julia'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Fam'/><category term='Politics'/><category term='Wombsly'/><category term='biking'/><category term='Bizarre'/><category term='Rants'/><category term='Church'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='St. George'/><category term='Food'/><category term='Pictures'/><category term='Adventures'/><category term='Cool Stuff'/><category term='Work'/><category term='Home'/><category term='Blogs'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Car'/><category term='Sports'/><category term='Baby #2'/><category term='Funny'/><category term='Shanny'/><category term='Books'/><title type='text'>Bethletard</title><subtitle type='html'>Something out there had to be named Bethletard.  Be glad it wasn't you.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>543</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2859703709515256609</id><published>2012-02-01T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T20:47:07.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Self Locomotion Update</title><content type='html'>Amazingly, we're 1/12 of the way through the year, so here is your update on our &lt;a href="http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/self-locomotion.html"&gt;1000 Miles of Self Locomotion&lt;/a&gt; quest for 2012.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;General Update: We've done ok. &amp;nbsp;Not great, but we haven't completely fallen apart yet. &amp;nbsp;Obviously, the general strategy for the year is to try and do something, anything through the winter, and then make huge gains when the weather is nice, and then try and eek out enough late in the year to hit our goal. &amp;nbsp;We're roughly on that plan. &amp;nbsp;We did make one significant alteration to the rules: playing basketball counts as running 1 mile per hour. &amp;nbsp;I play basketball twice a week, which just eats too much into my discretionary exercise time. &amp;nbsp;I don't want to give up basketball for a year, so we made a compromise. &amp;nbsp;Sure, playing basketball isn't really what the goal was set up to accomplish, but, on the other hand, you have to concede that running a mile is a lot less work than playing basketball for an hour. &amp;nbsp;So far basketball counts for about a third of our progress. &amp;nbsp;Shannon has been going walking at the mall while Julia is in school. &amp;nbsp;Ella hasn't really been pulling her weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The numbers:&lt;br /&gt;Total through 2/1: 53.85 miles&lt;br /&gt;Current pace for the year: 636 miles&lt;br /&gt;Current deficit: 30.85 miles&lt;br /&gt;Left to self locomote: 946.15 miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-so3pKC-llBY/TyoGsNQDs9I/AAAAAAAAAaw/m4axMnytwkk/s1600/chart_1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="393" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-so3pKC-llBY/TyoGsNQDs9I/AAAAAAAAAaw/m4axMnytwkk/s640/chart_1.png" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2859703709515256609?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2859703709515256609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2859703709515256609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2859703709515256609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2859703709515256609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/02/self-locomotion-update.html' title='Self Locomotion Update'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-so3pKC-llBY/TyoGsNQDs9I/AAAAAAAAAaw/m4axMnytwkk/s72-c/chart_1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6088236009944063504</id><published>2012-01-25T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T17:00:05.999-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Crazy Carl</title><content type='html'>Last night I read Julia a book at bed time about a dog named Carl who is left to watch a baby while mom goes up to the second floor of the department store. &amp;nbsp;Mom seems to be gone for a good half and hour while baby and Carl go get into mischief. &amp;nbsp;But right at the beginning of the story, when the baby climbs out of the baby carriage and onto Carl's back, Julia's comment was, "That's not an expected thing to do!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6088236009944063504?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6088236009944063504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6088236009944063504' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6088236009944063504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6088236009944063504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/crazy-carl.html' title='Crazy Carl'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7275341596785970859</id><published>2012-01-24T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T18:40:03.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling . . . well . . . anyone</title><content type='html'>Come one, come all, and marvel at my new technology toy. &amp;nbsp;I call it: a cell phone.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, we bit the bullet and got me a phone. &amp;nbsp;I had a phone through my previous employer for a couple of years, but since moving to Michigan, we've been working on one shared phone, which was essentially Shannon's phone. &amp;nbsp;(People rarely call me anyway.) &amp;nbsp;When we moved out here and my old phone quit working (funny how that happened right when I quit my job) we intended to get a phone for me, but it just wasn't a priority. &amp;nbsp;Getting moved it, unpacking boxes, and setting up all sorts of other things were more important. &amp;nbsp;So we put it off. &amp;nbsp;And off. &amp;nbsp;Here we are 15 months later. &amp;nbsp;Really, we got by pretty well without other phones. &amp;nbsp;The only tricky part is if Shannon is off somewhere (like right now, she's at a meeting for the pre-school) and I don't have a good way of getting a hold of her. &amp;nbsp;Actually, I can use g-mail to call her, which I've done before (and it's free), but she can't call me. &amp;nbsp;So if she &lt;i&gt;knows&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;she's going to be late, she just has to wait and wait until I get fed up of wondering where she is and call her, and then she can explain things to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we've got phones. &amp;nbsp;They've got a camera and a keyboard and all those things, despite being the cheapest phones they had. &amp;nbsp;(Shannon was due for a new phone and got one just like me.) &amp;nbsp;So, if you see a call in the near future from a strange number in area code 989, please pick it up, because it might be me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I'm easily combating the urge to just tell everyone my phone number right here and now by not having any clue what my phone number is. &amp;nbsp;I've never even seen it. &amp;nbsp;It's written down on a piece of paper around here somewhere . . . )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7275341596785970859?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7275341596785970859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7275341596785970859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7275341596785970859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7275341596785970859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/calling-well-anyone.html' title='Calling . . . well . . . anyone'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-9013862853097425912</id><published>2012-01-23T17:33:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T17:33:41.995-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Working Girl</title><content type='html'>Julia recently got a job. &amp;nbsp;She'll be 4 in April, so we figured it was about time to get her to work and become a contributing member of the family. &amp;nbsp;A friend of ours works for a professor at a local university who is doing some sort of study on young children learning or test taking or something like that. &amp;nbsp;(This is clearly a friend that Shannon knows better that I do.) &amp;nbsp;So, she has come over a few times and spends an hour or so with Julia asking her questions, doing puzzles, and testing short term memory. &amp;nbsp;So far, she's earned 40 bucks! &amp;nbsp;(I wish I could get paid to take tests. &amp;nbsp;Especially since taking tests is one of my best skills in life.) &amp;nbsp;Julia has used some of her money to buy a cash register, which is her new favorite toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But things really got interesting when I related all of this to my parents, who asked, "Did she pay tithing?" &amp;nbsp;Oh. &amp;nbsp;Yeah. &amp;nbsp;Tithing. &amp;nbsp;I remember that. &amp;nbsp;And we pay it when we earn money. &amp;nbsp;But for some reason it never occurred to us that Julia should pay tithing, too. &amp;nbsp;The trick, however, is to explain tithing to a 3 year old who barely even understands what money is at all. &amp;nbsp;Or fractions. &amp;nbsp;Let alone making a connection between God granting us abilities to earn money and pay checks and funds for running the church and other related issues. &amp;nbsp;To further drive home the point that this is above age level for her, there is no tithing lesson in the nursery manual, nor the Sunbeams manual. &amp;nbsp;So we made it up ourselves. &amp;nbsp;Hopefully it worked. &amp;nbsp;At the root of it all, we decided, "When you earn some money, we give a little bit of it to the Bishop, because it's a commandment." &amp;nbsp;And really, what else is there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-9013862853097425912?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/9013862853097425912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=9013862853097425912' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9013862853097425912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9013862853097425912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/working-girl.html' title='Working Girl'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5313447680608400854</id><published>2012-01-17T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T13:43:00.099-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Classical music requests</title><content type='html'>At work, I've decided to listen to more music while I work, in an effort to muffle the noises from my co-workers. &amp;nbsp;I love the guys I sit by, but we can get chatty sometimes, and that doesn't make for a productive day. &amp;nbsp;They'll start talking about something (NFL fumble rates, rate of change of daylight, deepest point in the ocean, how far you can jump a snowmobile, the size of the Chinese navy, weather in Sweden, etc.*) and suddenly you're sucked into their conversation. &amp;nbsp;For some reason, I'm the guy who always just has to google it in an effort to settle the matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm combating this with music. &amp;nbsp;Specifically, classical music. &amp;nbsp;You can find just about anything on youtube, so I'm asking you: what should I be listening to? &amp;nbsp;Composers are nice, but specific pieces are better. &amp;nbsp;I prefer long pieces (&amp;gt;20 minutes), other wise I listen to a song for 5 minutes and spend the next 5 trying to pick the next piece; that's not much of a productivity boost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yes, those are all real topics we've discussed. &amp;nbsp;At length. &amp;nbsp;I'd say I would keep track for a month and report back on the results, but would probably be ashamed at the length of the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5313447680608400854?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5313447680608400854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5313447680608400854' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5313447680608400854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5313447680608400854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/classical-music-requests.html' title='Classical music requests'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-100922012043665485</id><published>2012-01-15T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T19:30:00.122-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogs'/><title type='text'>IE?  Really?</title><content type='html'>Blogger has some fun stats associated with it these days. &amp;nbsp;It's neat to see even my rarely updated blog got 284 views in the last month. &amp;nbsp;My all time most important contribution to the world is my comments on a song about Santa using zebras to fly his sleigh in Africa, which I think I've mentioned before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the craziest thing is that 53% of you people are using IE to look at my blog. &amp;nbsp;IE! &amp;nbsp;If you're still using IE, any list of reasons not to use it probably isn't going to have an impact. &amp;nbsp;If you were the sort to pay attention to such reasoning, you would have switched from IE long ago. &amp;nbsp;Instead, I'll just tell you: Quit using Internet Explorer. &amp;nbsp;Go download something else instead. &amp;nbsp;It's really easy. &amp;nbsp;Go get Firefox (23%), or Chrome (10%) or Safari (5%). &amp;nbsp;I've used them. &amp;nbsp;They're good. &amp;nbsp;Each has it's own supporters who would be glad to discuss their various merits, but they'll all agree on one thing: they're each better than IE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and one last thing. &amp;nbsp;If anyone wants to admit to being part of the 489 visits from the Netherlands (2nd place, followed by Russia (321), Germany (254), France (253) and Iran(147)) I'm kinda curious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-100922012043665485?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/100922012043665485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=100922012043665485' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/100922012043665485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/100922012043665485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/ie-really.html' title='IE?  Really?'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8726886636282232315</id><published>2012-01-15T11:27:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T11:27:56.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am an old man</title><content type='html'>Apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is probably going to be a theme here, as I do turn 30 in a few weeks. &amp;nbsp;Recent developments in aged-ness:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Gray hairs. &amp;nbsp;A disappointing number have started popping up. &amp;nbsp;Unless you happen to be trimming my beard, or for some other reason are 3 feet away and staring at my hair, you probably wouldn't notice. &amp;nbsp;But I've noticed. &amp;nbsp;And once you've noticed, there's no un-noticing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Back trauma. &amp;nbsp;As a kid, I remember thinking it was funny that old people complained about things hurting the day after physical activity. &amp;nbsp;As the years have gone by, more and more of that has crept into my reality. &amp;nbsp;But today was a first. &amp;nbsp;I played basketball yesterday, as normal, and last night and today, my lower back was a little bit sore, which doesn't always happen, but isn't terribly uncommon. &amp;nbsp;The real news here is what happened at church. &amp;nbsp;I was carrying Ella to nursery* and when I put her down, something Bad happened. &amp;nbsp;Previously unknown muscles were suddenly on fire. &amp;nbsp;I'll live through this, I'm sure, but it's not comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yes, Ella goes to nursery now. &amp;nbsp;Yes, it is glorious. &amp;nbsp;Of course, back muscles sending&amp;nbsp;Morse&amp;nbsp;code pain messages out during church still make it hard to pay attention to a lesson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8726886636282232315?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8726886636282232315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8726886636282232315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8726886636282232315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8726886636282232315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-am-old-man.html' title='I am an old man'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6626860807951496362</id><published>2012-01-14T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T13:35:16.681-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hikes'/><title type='text'>Self-Locomotion</title><content type='html'>What with the new year and all, we've gone and done something silly. &amp;nbsp;In a fit of can-do-it-ive-ness, our family made a goal to move ourselves 1000 miles this year. &amp;nbsp;No, we're not moving to a new city, state or country, but we will be transporting ourselves as much as possible, before our weary bones collapse in our stationary beds at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The basic "rules" are these. &amp;nbsp;(Rules is in quotes, because let's be honest here, we made them, and we can un-make them and generally cheat however we see fit.)&lt;br /&gt;1. We will walk, run, hike or ski (x-country) 1000 miles as a family. &amp;nbsp;Biking doesn't count, and I haven't thought of any other methods of moving our bodies along a path that would qualify that we are likely to do. &amp;nbsp;(See that rules out swimming for distance -- we aren't likely to do it, and even if we were, it's way more work than just walking!) &amp;nbsp;Things like basketball, which certainly involve running don't count. &amp;nbsp;I don't have to justify why not to you!&lt;br /&gt;2. Each individual's effort counts. &amp;nbsp;If the whole family goes on a 1 mile walk, we mark down 4 total miles.&lt;br /&gt;3. Trips must be at least a quarter of a mile long. &amp;nbsp;This limit needs to be short enough that the girls can contribute in their own way, but long enough that we aren't trying to "nickle and dime" our way, here. &amp;nbsp;None of this "well, I walked over to the neighbors to borrow an egg, that's like 85 feet."&lt;br /&gt;4. Trips only count if you didn't have to make them anyway. &amp;nbsp;This rules out all the mileage at the grocery store and things like that. &amp;nbsp;Essentially, we're trying to measure effort above and beyond what any couch potato has to do just to keep themselves fed. &amp;nbsp;(I suppose they could be having those potato chips delivered?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More rules may be forth coming, should they be necessary, but since only 4 people are playing this game, only 3 of them can form sentences, and only 2 of them even know about the game, how many rules could we possibly need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far we're 12.35 miles in. &amp;nbsp;Yes, in 14 days. &amp;nbsp;I realize that we're a bit behind pace. &amp;nbsp;I realize that the goal is probably a bit over-aggressive to say the least. &amp;nbsp;1000 miles is about 20 miles a week! &amp;nbsp;Winter is tough. &amp;nbsp;Who wants to go on a walk when the high today was like 19°? &amp;nbsp;Who wants to run in the snow? &amp;nbsp;But we'll see how we can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And besides, we've got a whole extra day this year to get it done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6626860807951496362?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6626860807951496362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6626860807951496362' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6626860807951496362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6626860807951496362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2012/01/self-locomotion.html' title='Self-Locomotion'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2915997938758239927</id><published>2011-10-29T12:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T12:12:15.997-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blood Suckers</title><content type='html'>Last week Shannon and I went to get a Health Risk Assessment done.  That&amp;#39;s fancy talk for having someone check height, weight, blood pressure and doing some blood work.  Essentially we get paid to do this by my job.  This was also the first time Shannon has been around when I actually had blood drawn.  I&amp;#39;ve told her the stories, but somehow, she didn&amp;#39;t quite understand.&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically, they take my blood, and right about when they&amp;#39;re done, or even a few seconds afterwards, I go white as a sheet, and remain that way for about 10 minutes.  During this time, I get lots of attention, as no health care professional will let me stand up, or do anything, and they start pulling out treats and drinks and all sorts of stuff!  It&amp;#39;s great!  After a while, they let me go, but Shannon didn&amp;#39;t let me drive home.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once more, I survived the blood suckers, and no, I didn&amp;#39;t (nor have I ever) pass out.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2915997938758239927?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2915997938758239927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2915997938758239927' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2915997938758239927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2915997938758239927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/10/blood-suckers.html' title='Blood Suckers'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3644945969992310124</id><published>2011-10-20T18:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T19:23:08.484-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brown Baggin' It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;How 'bout them lunch-toters,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ain't they a bunch?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Goin' off to work,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A-totin' they lunch&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's bit a bit over 5 years now that I started working full time. &amp;nbsp;As Shannon has stayed at home the majority of that time, she's made me a lunch to take to work almost every day. &amp;nbsp;She must love me. &amp;nbsp;It's cheap, and it turns out that I really don't mind eating the same thing just about every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Totin' them vittles,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Totin' that chow.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Eatin' it later,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;But a-totin' it now.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspired by Shannon's dad, I also started re-using the brown paper sacks I brought my lunches in. &amp;nbsp;As a kid, I'd undoubtedly thrown away thousands. &amp;nbsp;But I'd keep a little stack at work and bring them home every week or two. &amp;nbsp;So, there'd be a dozen or more bags in circulation at a time. &amp;nbsp;Gradually, they'd wear out, rip and get thrown away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Look at them Lunch Toters,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ain't they funny?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Some use a paper sack,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Some use a gunny.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than one person has given me a hard time about it, usually good-naturedly. &amp;nbsp;I'd just tell them I was being frugal, and that someday, when I was rich and they were poor, we'd both know that it was because I had saved all that money on paper sacks. &amp;nbsp;So it went year in, and year out. &amp;nbsp;We left St. George and moved to Michigan, and the stack of sacks came with us. &amp;nbsp;Ever dwindling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Them food&amp;nbsp;frugal&amp;nbsp;Lunch Toters,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ain't they wise?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Totin' they lunch,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Made by they wives.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the day has come. &amp;nbsp;After 61 months, I asked Shannon to get another package of paper bags for when the last half dozen remaining bags finally wear out. &amp;nbsp;They'll still probably hang on for another couple of months, but their time is near. &amp;nbsp;So Shannon went and got a pack of 50 more bags. &amp;nbsp;Which was on sale. &amp;nbsp;For a dollar. &amp;nbsp;A buck. &amp;nbsp;If I'd thrown the bags away, 250 work days a year would be 5 packs of sacks, or 5 bucks per year. &amp;nbsp;So, I've saved about $24 so far with my bag recycling. &amp;nbsp;That means, that by the time I retired, Shannon and I will be able to go out to eat with all that money we've saved. &amp;nbsp;Maybe even 2 or 3 times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;How to be a Lunch Toter?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Iffa may emote it,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Gitchy wife to fix it,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Go to work and tote it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Poem by Mason Williams)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3644945969992310124?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3644945969992310124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3644945969992310124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3644945969992310124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3644945969992310124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/10/brown-baggin-it.html' title='Brown Baggin&apos; It'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5530225926832153807</id><published>2011-10-13T20:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T20:36:15.238-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Kanorado</title><content type='html'>What could be so important as to break my near 2 month blogging hiatus? &amp;nbsp;In a word: &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanorado,_Kansas"&gt;Kanorado.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year ago, Shannon and I moved far away from our families and my family in particular is spread out quite a bit. &amp;nbsp;So, we don't get to see people much. &amp;nbsp;And, even if we visit UT, half of my sisters (and all of Julia and Ella's cousins) don't live there. &amp;nbsp;So, clearly, we should all get together somewhere in the middle. &amp;nbsp;But we're in Michigan, Colorado, Utah and Texas. &amp;nbsp;Where exactly &lt;b&gt;is&lt;/b&gt; the middle? &amp;nbsp;The answer is, of course, Kanorado. &amp;nbsp;Well, about &lt;a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?rlz=1C1GPEA_enUS314US314&amp;amp;q=39+17+2N,+102+4+57W&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;hq=&amp;amp;hnear=0x870caa09c706b425:0xd9faae7ed44acec,%2B39%C2%B0+17'+2.27%22,+-102%C2%B0+4'+23.24%22&amp;amp;gl=us&amp;amp;ei=cZqXTuaIHcqfsQKZopzIBA&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=geocode_result&amp;amp;ct=title&amp;amp;resnum=1&amp;amp;ved=0CCUQ8gEwAA"&gt;3 or 4 miles SSW of Kanorado&lt;/a&gt;, but really, who's counting. &amp;nbsp;So, to minimize total traveling time* I suppose we should all meet up there next summer. &amp;nbsp;Who's game?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Carrie is the big winner here, as she can get there in under 4 hours. &amp;nbsp;My drive will be nearly 20 hours.)&lt;br /&gt;(And because you're curious, before we moved, my family was centered around &lt;a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&amp;amp;rlz=1C1GPEA_enUS314US314&amp;amp;q=37+59+5+N,+107+56+1W&amp;amp;biw=1280&amp;amp;bih=605&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;hq=&amp;amp;hnear=0x873f29742b0bccaf:0x5aedb262116303a8,%2B37%C2%B0+58'+20.62%22,+-107%C2%B0+56'+6.69%22&amp;amp;gl=us&amp;amp;ei=EJ6XTr2BCsKIsgLT5e25BA&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=geocode_result&amp;amp;ct=image&amp;amp;resnum=1&amp;amp;ved=0CB8Q8gEwAA"&gt;Teluride, CO&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Really, this is a "center of mass" calculation for each nuclear family (including my youngest sister with our parents) and assuming "as the crow flies" travel paths. &amp;nbsp;Truly calculating a minimal total travel time would increase difficulty by orders of magnitude. &amp;nbsp;I will not be attempting this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5530225926832153807?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5530225926832153807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5530225926832153807' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5530225926832153807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5530225926832153807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/10/kanorado.html' title='Kanorado'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3372196896642062964</id><published>2011-08-20T05:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T05:54:39.073-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Seat Rotation</title><content type='html'>Back when Julia was potty training, we got her a little potty seat with ducks on it.  She loved it.  Naturally, we took it with us on vacation, and on one of those trips we left it at Grammie and Opa&amp;#39;s house (Shannon&amp;#39;s parents).  As adults, we figured this wasn&amp;#39;t a big deal.  They didn&amp;#39;t have one (my parents already did, as they have 5 older grandkids than Julia), and they cost all of about 7 bucks.  We bought a new one (Sesame Street themed) and figured we were good.  But the new one was never quite the same for Julia.  She used it, but still talked often of the Duckie Seat.  Well, a few weeks ago Grammie finally mailed back the Duckie Seat.  (Turns out they&amp;#39;ll do just about whatever Julia wants.  If Julia ever fully figures this out, they&amp;#39;ll be in big trouble!)&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the Duckie Seat arrived in the mail, you should have seen Julia&amp;#39;s face.  I wish we had a camera there to capture what is probably the happiest moment of her life.  I really can&amp;#39;t over state the joy on her face when we opened that box.  So now we have two potty seats at our house.  You&amp;#39;d think that once reunited with her long lost Duckie Seat, she&amp;#39;d never use the Sesame Street one again, but you&amp;#39;d be wrong.  Instead, we have a rotation.  Duckie Seat in the morning, Sesame Street in the night time.  She won&amp;#39;t go potty with the wrong potty seat on there.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3372196896642062964?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3372196896642062964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3372196896642062964' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3372196896642062964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3372196896642062964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/08/potty-seat-rotation.html' title='Potty Seat Rotation'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1186083624230930593</id><published>2011-08-08T12:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T12:30:02.025-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanny'/><title type='text'>Shanny Turns 30!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;With the whole 30 by 30 thing, Shannon obviously isn't too shy about announcing her 30th birthday to the world.  Well, it's finally here.  So, I think it's fitting to share a few photos through the years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's gone from this little chubber:&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bpgsesjXSws/Tj8xUYNn0gI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/aaHYI5wjX1A/s320/151%2B-%2BShannon%2BApr%2B1982.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638279484657881602" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;To a cute little kid:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ml5HodLKS_c/Tj8xuU12oxI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/8F-opUTbZ2M/s320/259%2B-%2BShannon%2Band%2BKim%2B4%2BApr%2B1985.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638279930429481746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then through a few years that Shannon would only describe as "frumpy".  Since it's her birthday, we'll skip past those and on to the girl I met:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cbI8Edn20zg/Tj80h27f7LI/AAAAAAAAAaE/0YdCwcwI9Z8/s320/shannon1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638283014776548530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And fell in love with:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0hxSB47gOEE/Tj80h7Do1kI/AAAAAAAAAaM/flduwo90Cic/s320/sc7.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 207px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638283015884428866" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And then, after I'd scared off all the other guys who followed her around in a pack . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YDtFU66s4kQ/Tj80ilStcuI/AAAAAAAAAac/FBs6uWLERq0/s320/DSCN5119.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638283027221934818" /&gt;I got to marry her:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pbxjjwvCHto/Tj80iYNIIiI/AAAAAAAAAaU/K61-dzGWW9o/s320/IMG_1222.tif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638283023708856866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So, even at the ripe old age of 30, and as a mother of 2:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iuBIPEIZH3Y/Tj80i1COBJI/AAAAAAAAAak/aVRqBbSsV1k/s320/DSCN4808.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638283031447733394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;(Apparently this is the last picture we took with Shannon and both the girls in it.)  Shannon is still my smokin' hot wife:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2VdDM2dRiVY/Tj83at5aUaI/AAAAAAAAAas/YXNLoHqPgbs/s320/DSCN1081.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638286190627672482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Happy Birthday Shannon!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;(p.s.  Shannon, if you're keeping track, and at this point, I suspect that you are, this is number 16.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1186083624230930593?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1186083624230930593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1186083624230930593' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1186083624230930593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1186083624230930593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/08/shanny-turns-30.html' title='Shanny Turns 30!'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bpgsesjXSws/Tj8xUYNn0gI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/aaHYI5wjX1A/s72-c/151%2B-%2BShannon%2BApr%2B1982.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8389213336489800347</id><published>2011-07-30T16:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T16:39:34.990-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>Having every other Friday off means that we have extra time on the weekends to wear ourselves out.  Weeee!  This weekend we went to:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- &lt;a href="http://www.dowgardens.org/whiting.html"&gt;The Whiting Forest&lt;/a&gt;.  This is the forgotten little brother of Dow Gardens.  They&amp;#39;re operated together and your $10 annual pass gets you into both.  Whereas the Gardens are all prettified, the Forest is, well, a forest.  There are paths through the various areas that show a half dozen different types of forests we have in Michigan.  And, there are forts.  Julia loves the forts.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Frisbee Golf.  Turns out we have a disc golf course in Midland.  (The sport can&amp;#39;t officially be called &amp;quot;Frisbee&amp;quot; golf, because that&amp;#39;s a brand name.)  There were a surprisingly large number of people there.  Probably a few dozen, if we could have seen them all at the same time.  We were not your typical group, because of two things we didn&amp;#39;t bring and one thing we did.  First, we didn&amp;#39;t have fancy disc golf frisbees.  They make special ones that aren&amp;#39;t good for catching, but are good for flying long and straight.  Secondly, we didn&amp;#39;t bring any beer.  And finally, we brought little kids.  The basic demographic for disc golf seems to be guys in their 20s, drinking and smoking their way around the course.  We weren&amp;#39;t terribly good, but I still had fun.  We didn&amp;#39;t get anywhere close to doing all 18 holes, because Julia was melting down.  Every.  Ten.  Feet.  This also filled one of Shannon&amp;#39;s 30 by 30 requirements, so I hope I haven&amp;#39;t stolen her thunder too much here.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Basketball.  Yeah, me playing basketball at the church isn&amp;#39;t that noteworthy, but it&amp;#39;s still something we did.  Shannon came to play the organ, and the girls got to play with all the other kids that come.  The older ones had a lesson and everything in the nursery.  They learned about firemen, and had pictures to color and everything.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Blueberry picking at &lt;a href="http://www.therussellcorp.com/"&gt;Russell&amp;#39;s Blueberry Farm&lt;/a&gt;.  We did this a few weeks ago, and this time Shannon wanted even more blueberries.  We picked about 4 pounds (for $7.50) plus, you can eat all you want for free while you are picking.  And, as always, fresh stuff tastes better than the stuff at the store.  Julia did a pretty good job of picking them, and then a good job of spilling almost all of the ones she picked.  Ella, meanwhile was eating them as fast as she could.  From our buckets, picking them from the bushes, or off the ground.  Hopefully mostly from the first category and not much from the third.  We tried to keep an eye on her, honest.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now, it&amp;#39;s Saturday evening.  The girls are in the tub, we&amp;#39;re exhausted, and the house is a mess.  Something tells me that it isn&amp;#39;t going to get cleaned up tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; (A disadvantage of the every-other-friday-off work schedule that I have is that it makes little daily tasks harder.  I work a little bit more each day, which makes things like picking up the house that must less likely to happen.  And then, when I get all that time back in the form of a 3 day weekend, we sure aren&amp;#39;t going to spend it all cleaning!  Essentially, this is a system of converting 1 hour a day that might well be used productively, into an extra whole day of play each fortnight.  But, it&amp;#39;s much better than the last job, where my hours changed 7 or 8 times in the last year I was there, and included early morning, 12 hour shifts, afternoons, weekends and just about everything but graveyards and Sundays.)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8389213336489800347?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8389213336489800347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8389213336489800347' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8389213336489800347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8389213336489800347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/07/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-739779425376999355</id><published>2011-07-30T11:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T11:05:07.336-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-feeding</title><content type='html'>Julia came into our room today eating one of her favorite foods, a peanut butter tortilla, and said to us: &amp;quot;I made myself a peanut butter tortilla!&amp;quot;  Now, it&amp;#39;s not like this is a difficult recipe to master or anything, but she&amp;#39;s never made one before, even with our help.  So Shannon and I shoot each other a look that says: &amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m afraid to go look and see what she&amp;#39;s left behind in the kitchen.&amp;quot;  I offered to go scope it out.  And . . . there&amp;#39;s nothing to report.  The peanut butter jar is sitting on the table with the lid on, there&amp;#39;s a knife in the sink, and, best of all, no peanut butter smeared on the table, floor, walls or carpet!  So, I guess Julia is about ready to take care of herself now. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-739779425376999355?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/739779425376999355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=739779425376999355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/739779425376999355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/739779425376999355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/07/self-feeding.html' title='Self-feeding'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5525998851927214689</id><published>2011-07-03T16:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T16:19:58.828-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The ants go marching</title><content type='html'>A few quick hitters from Michigan:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Julia really, really likes to type her name whenever anyone is at the computer.  Even if she is busy dressed up in her candy corn outfit, complete with high heels, giant flower headband and pom poms, she still wants to use the computer.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have a small ant problem at home.  And I don&amp;#39;t mean that the ants are small (though they are) but that the problem is very small.  We find ants very regularly, but only a handful at a time.  It&amp;#39;s like in Michigan ants don&amp;#39;t believe in working together in large groups.  So, we find a few, get rid of them and then they are gone for a few days.  But they keep coming back.  It&amp;#39;s not like we don&amp;#39;t have huge amounts of food on the floor at all times.  Apparently these ants just aren&amp;#39;t very good.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ella cannot be contained in a small space anymore.  Attempts to hold her are futile.  Even with food, books, toys, you name it, you can&amp;#39;t keep her on your lap.  Any attempts result in tears and screaming.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In related news, we&amp;#39;re going on a 3 hour long plane trip in 2 weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In further related news, we&amp;#39;re going to Utah in 2 weeks.  I think I&amp;#39;ve talked to both of my Utah readers in the last week, so this isn&amp;#39;t really news for anyone.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, we played soccer yesterday at the local high school.  (&amp;quot;We&amp;quot; being the elder&amp;#39;s quorum and friends.)  I hurt today.  But things are made somewhat better knowing that of the 8 goals scored, I had 2 of them, and an assist on another.  This is not indicative of my soccer skills.  This is indicative of luck.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5525998851927214689?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5525998851927214689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5525998851927214689' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5525998851927214689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5525998851927214689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/07/ants-go-marching.html' title='The ants go marching'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3080823571030644476</id><published>2011-06-17T18:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T18:01:24.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Licensed Michiganders</title><content type='html'>I hope we&amp;#39;ve learned our way around town, because we no longer have out of state plates to blame if we get lost.  Shannon went out and got us new license plates today.  It&amp;#39;s fun that one car ends in 001 and the other in 002.  I&amp;#39;d post pictures, but standard internet protocol would be to then blur out the plate.  Which kinda defeats the point.&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, if anyone has insight into why people blur out license plates on the internet or TV, go ahead and share that knowledge with the rest of us.  Makes no sense to me.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3080823571030644476?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3080823571030644476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3080823571030644476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3080823571030644476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3080823571030644476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/06/licensed-michiganders.html' title='Licensed Michiganders'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4358331199976524003</id><published>2011-06-07T20:02:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T20:10:09.077-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Boat Rides</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The weekend before Memorial Day, we went to Canada to see Niagara Falls.  Shannon had never been, and I hadn't been in over a decade.  It was a short weekend trip, but we enjoyed it.  While there, we took the boat ride on the Maid of the Mist, which was excellent.  I'd recommend it to anyone who goes to Niagara Falls.  The ride was pretty intense for the girls, but they both survived it.  It was amazing to be that close and experience the power of the falls; it made me feel a bit like those reporters on tv getting drenched by hurricanes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34LXQb9pEJU/Te7Y6GcScaI/AAAAAAAAAZk/J0IWto0J3Ds/s320/DSCN5829.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615664278050861474" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then we thought about taking another boat ride.  This one would have been longer (a three hour tour, I think).  But in the end, we decided against it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JyvYb3zJ6Ws/Te7ZvBc3hLI/AAAAAAAAAZs/vMTYRkL7ce0/s320/DSCN5843.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615665187244180658" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4358331199976524003?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4358331199976524003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4358331199976524003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4358331199976524003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4358331199976524003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/06/boat-rides.html' title='Boat Rides'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34LXQb9pEJU/Te7Y6GcScaI/AAAAAAAAAZk/J0IWto0J3Ds/s72-c/DSCN5829.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1523624409221535943</id><published>2011-06-06T18:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T19:57:45.312-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Do as I'm Doing</title><content type='html'>So, it was probably sub-optimal that I moved to the other side of the country, and then quit blogging.  But, amazingly, only a week or two ago I had an actual request from someone that I update my blog.  So, my adoring fan, this one's for you.  (If you even remember who you are.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been thinking lately about the difficulty in keeping in touch with my sisters.  (Not doing anything about it, mind you.  Just thinking about it.)  Over the last few months we've been busy with moving and kids and life in general.  And my sisters have been busy with moving and kids and more kids, and jobs and college and life in general.  (Aside: I seriously don't understand how people survive with more than 2 kids.  My house is about a foot deep in toys and blankets and clothes and mess.  Is my sister's house 2 feet deep?)  The specific thing that stuck out in my mind was that I'm really not sure that any of my sisters could give a description of what I do for a living these days.  (Whether they could do that before I got a new job, we may never know.)  So, for my sisters, and anyone else who is tagging along on this adventure, here is what Clark does at work now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi, I'm Clark, and I'm a Process Engineer.  My business card says that I'm a "Bulk Growth Process Engineer".  Let's look at that title one piece at a time.  "Bulk Growth" describes the fact that I grow big things.  "Big" is relative, and in this case it means something you can hold in your hand.  Our finished product is silicon carbide wafers.  (see picture below)  The bulk growth step is first, in which we grow crystals which are then sliced into wafers.  One of the last steps that we do is to grow an epitaxial layer on top of the wafer.  The epi growth is very thin, only a few thousandths of an inch.  Which is why we get to describe our growth as "bulk".  My dad gave me a hard time about the "Bulk Growth" part.  I guess it sounds less than flattering.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTU5OF2VNErvnKuEJNUyIOruEgV08uNyLbOUwzwgI9v4UOfdZX_" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next comes "Process Engineer".  The engineers are divided into three groups: Manufacturing Engineers, Process Engineers and R&amp;amp;D.  I haven't used an analogy yet, so it's about time.  If we were in charge of a fleet of cars, the MEs would be in charge of all the many day to day things.  Oil changes, tires, fuel grades, tune-ups, that sort of thing.  R&amp;amp;D people are at the extreme other end.  They're in the back room drawing up some wild ideas for building a completely better car.  You know, put the engine in the back, headlight that turns with the wheels, 6 wheels, fins, wankel engines, and all that good stuff.  A lot of their ideas are probably going to fail miserably, but that's ok, provided that stumble into some really good stuff once in a while.  In the middle are the PEs.  PEs take something that is already working, and make a significant change, but without completely starting from scratch.  The analogy here would be to re-build an engine, but leave the rest of things alone.  (You like the car analogy?  I'm trying hard to fit in in Michigan.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, before this gets any longer, what do I actually do?  Well, today, I sat at a computer all day and drew pictures.  (That's what I told Julia.  And it's true.)  We grow our crystals inside what is basically an intricate little graphite bucket.  We put a wafer in there, along with a bunch of silicon and carbon, heat it all up until it's glowing and the silicon carbide vaporizes (it's like 2000 °C in there) and then condenses on the wafer, which slowly grows.  Once it has grown big enough we let it cool down, take it out and slice it into lots of wafers.  (We save some to repeat the process.)  These graphite buckets are a bit more complicated than your average bucket, and we're regularly trying out minor modifications.  One of my jobs is to produce the drawings that we send out to get the parts manufactured.  Then, I set up experiments where I vary a few parameters, throw everything in the furnace and let it run for a few days and see if it worked or not.  I collect up all the data and eventually get around to writing up a report detailing the findings.  Is it better?  Is it worse?  (Or, better in some ways but worse in others.)  And what have we learned in general about the whole process?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I feel like this has turned out both very generic and simplistic, but way to long at the same time.  That's what you get for asking an engineer what he does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1523624409221535943?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1523624409221535943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1523624409221535943' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1523624409221535943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1523624409221535943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/06/do-as-im-doing.html' title='Do as I&apos;m Doing'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8306671645233315629</id><published>2011-02-14T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T13:24:00.522-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><title type='text'>Valentines day post: My new love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Some time ago Shannon brought home some Corn &amp;amp; Black Bean salsa from Meijer*.  I'm in love.  We seem to always be out of either salsa, or chips now.  Just thought you should all know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="data:image/jpg;base64,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" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Meijer (pronounced like "Meyer") is like Super Target out here.  It's named after the owner, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Meijer_(businessman)"&gt;Fred Meijer&lt;/a&gt;.  As far as we know, he's not related to &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_G._Meyer"&gt;Fred Meyer&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8306671645233315629?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8306671645233315629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8306671645233315629' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8306671645233315629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8306671645233315629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day-post-my-new-love.html' title='Valentines day post: My new love'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7128398937655094967</id><published>2011-02-13T17:33:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T18:47:43.174-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><title type='text'>Birthday Report</title><content type='html'>I'm now 29.  Woooo.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am pretty much awesome.  I got my birthday off because I exude awesomeness.  So we went skiing.  If there is anything more awesome than me, it is my wife.  She is awesome.  And hot.  But mostly awesome.  So she took me skiing in the city forest.  We only fell down a couple of times.  Did I mention it's cross-country skiing?  I was disappointed that we didn't see any &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4w7sVSMbjyM"&gt;cross-country snowboarders&lt;/a&gt;.  That would have been awesome.  Also, rad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So then we had a nice, relaxing day.  I got some mail.  I opened some awesome presents, including Cinnamon Toast Crunch from Julia (though no one is sure why, it was all her idea), and Shannon made me Monkey Cake, which was a creation from my own brain.  Julia has been suggesting that I have a Monkey Cake for months, so it had to be done.  And since Shannon is not cake decorator extraordinaire, we had to come up with a back up plan.  We made a chocolate cake that included marshmallows, chocolate frosting, and pecans on top, and then sliced a banana for garnish.  See, Monkey Cake.  I think I need to send it in to a recipe contest.  Maybe &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dK21SZoXoa4"&gt;Sandra Lee&lt;/a&gt; can feature it on her show.  It's &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=we2iWTJqo98"&gt;Semi-Homemade&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cocktail time!  Gotta run!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7128398937655094967?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7128398937655094967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7128398937655094967' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7128398937655094967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7128398937655094967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/02/birthday-report.html' title='Birthday Report'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-967164473123922917</id><published>2011-01-21T17:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T17:09:26.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Book of Julia</title><content type='html'>Julia likes to read scriptures with our family.  Each night we try to let her &amp;quot;read&amp;quot; at least one verse.  We read it a few words at a time and she repeats what we say.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, Julia pulled out her Book of Mormon and asked who wanted to read a scripture.  She says a few words at a time, and we repeat what she says.  So far, she has a couple of favorite scriptures &amp;quot;memorized&amp;quot;:&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;And it came to pass . . . . that I Nephi . . . . did go . . . . go to the wilderness.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;And it came to pass . . . . that I father . . . did die.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;And it came to pass . . . that I Nephi . . . go and get the plates.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She&amp;#39;s obviously his upon a few of the literary patters of Nephi&amp;#39;s writing.  It is also interesting to see which things she is remembering from our reading.  (The second verse she likes is referring to Lehi dying.  Apparently this was pretty memorable.)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-967164473123922917?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/967164473123922917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=967164473123922917' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/967164473123922917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/967164473123922917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2011/01/book-of-julia.html' title='The Book of Julia'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3821530133360929670</id><published>2010-12-18T13:57:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T14:14:39.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><title type='text'>Michigan Minutiae</title><content type='html'>We've been in Michigan for nearly 2 months now, so I thought I'd let you all know what it's like:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- We live in a small town.  How small?  Between 10pm and 6am, most of the traffic lights in town are turned "off".  They blink yellow one way and red the other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- It's cold here.  The lowest we've seen thus far is -4, I think.  The wind chill at that point was something like -11.  It's snowing right now, and Julia and Shannon have just come inside from playing in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- The butter is a different shape here.  It has a smaller cross section, and is longer.  Why? I have no idea what the purpose is.  But it does mean that our butter tupperware doesn't work now, unless you've used at least 2 tablespoons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Back to traffic, they've got blinking left turn lights here.  Blinking yellow means yield.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Back to weather, it's cloudy here.  Every day.  We've been told that there are as many cloudy days here each year as there are in Seattle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Lots of houses and apartments don't have overhead lights inside, particularly in the bedrooms.  We now own a lot more lamps than when we used to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, back to watching the BYU football game, where UTEP has -40 yards rushing so far.  (Their QB apparently doesn't know how to take a 5 yard sack.  He avoids those so he can run back and lose 12 yards.  I like this guy.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3821530133360929670?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3821530133360929670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3821530133360929670' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3821530133360929670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3821530133360929670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/12/michigan-minutiae.html' title='Michigan Minutiae'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1425978191175558338</id><published>2010-11-30T17:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T17:37:07.295-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Bum Jokes</title><content type='html'>Julia is officially 2 1/2 how, which means we've hit the age where anything can be made funnier by replacing any word with "bum".  Examples:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Blues Clues:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it's from"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;becomes . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We just got a bum shake, we just got a bum shake, we just got a bum shake, wonder who it's from"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or, if you're feeling slightly sacrilegious:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The Lord commanded Nephi to go and get the plates"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;becomes . . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The bum commanded Nephi to go and get the bum"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While Julia makes the jokes, the rest of us try our best to pretend they aren't funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1425978191175558338?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1425978191175558338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1425978191175558338' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1425978191175558338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1425978191175558338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/11/bum-jokes.html' title='Bum Jokes'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8403738220700062998</id><published>2010-11-19T12:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T12:40:00.748-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>X-ray vision</title><content type='html'>In my previous post, I made reference to x-ray vision.  The typical view of x-ray vision is that it lets you see through or inside something.  Let's clear up how x-rays actually work.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;X-rays let you see through your skin and look at your bones.  This is true.  What happens is that the x-ray go through your soft skin that is mostly made up of light elements.  Carbon, oxygen and hydrogen are probably the three most abundant elements in your skin.  They have atomic masses of 12, 16 and 1 amu, respectively.  The x-rays react very weakly with the light elements and hit the x-ray film.  Your bones are made up of many of those same elements, but also one more: calcium!  Calcium has an atomic weight of 40, so it stops a lot more of the x-rays, leaving a white spot on the film.  Ta-da!  You can now see your bones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The problem is in adapting this to other uses, like Superman's x-ray vision.  It only works if you're looking through something made of light elements, to see something made of heavy elements, which has a film behind it.  But apparently Superman can shoot x-rays out, which travel through walls (note: sheetrock is made of gypsum, which is made of . . . . calcium! (and sulfate ions, and water)) (also, cement or cinderblock is pretty good at stopping x-rays, because cement is made from limestone, which is made of . . . . calcium carbonate!) bounces off of soft people, goes back through the walls and then is processed by his hi-tech x-ray eyes.  It just doesn't work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, even with fancy x-ray equipment, Julia would have been hard pressed to identify the sugar and paper sucker inside the paper bag.  (Sugar is made of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, and sadly, no calcium.)  We're down to exceedingly impressive spelling skills and ESP as the top two explanations.  And ESP isn't looking too likely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or maybe it was ghosts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8403738220700062998?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8403738220700062998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8403738220700062998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8403738220700062998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8403738220700062998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/11/x-ray-vision.html' title='X-ray vision'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2926667343417423894</id><published>2010-11-18T19:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T19:40:45.036-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Julia the Psychic</title><content type='html'>Somehow, Julia seems to have developed special powers.  She is constantly coming up with stuff that we can't figure out how she knows it.  And this isn't stuff that she could have over heard, or seen on TV.  As we are driving towards Target she says "there's Target".  Can she read road signs?  We just moved, and we went a way to get there that she has never been on.  Maybe she can read, or at least recognize the Target logo.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then puzzle me this one: A few weeks ago we drove past PetSmart.  Julia says "can we go to the pet store?"  She's never been to a PetSmart before.  In St. George we had a PetCo that she loved to go to (its our poor person's zoo).  How does she know what these buildings are?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And finally, we went out to eat at A&amp;amp;W a week ago.  I don't know that Julia has ever been there.  She got a kids meal.  We pulled out her food, leaving the treat in the bag.  I looked in the bag to see what she got, and told Shannon it was a "t-o-o-t-s-i-e-p-o-p".  Shannon told her if she ate her food she would get a treat, and she said "a sucker".  I asked her "how many suckers?".  She said "two".  I asked what color.  She said "red".  I asked for the color of the other one.  She said "blue".  But she was wrong.  There was one red and one brown sucker.  HOW ON EARTH DOES SHE KNOW THESE THINGS???  The bag was never tipped over such that she could see in.  I checked, and the bag is not translucent enough to see what is inside when it is held up to the light.  Either that girl knows what "t-o-o-t-s-i-e-p-o-p" means, or she has x-ray vision, or she has ESP.  I just don't get it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2926667343417423894?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2926667343417423894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2926667343417423894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2926667343417423894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2926667343417423894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/11/julia-psychic.html' title='Julia the Psychic'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5755098852815818517</id><published>2010-11-02T17:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T17:22:38.507-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Small Things</title><content type='html'>I don&amp;#39;t expect everyone one out there to appreciate this, but this afternoon at work I put my pen in my drawer.  Yes folks, that&amp;#39;s right, I put my pen in my drawer.  It was a big day for me. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5755098852815818517?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5755098852815818517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5755098852815818517' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5755098852815818517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5755098852815818517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/11/small-things.html' title='Small Things'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4471517837627084881</id><published>2010-11-01T17:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T17:49:32.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Update from MI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We are live and in Michigan.  Today was the first day of work, and things went fairly well.  Our stuff has not yet caught up to us, so we are still living in a hotel.  But, we managed to get library cards today, so the library is our new best friend in town!  (Because we have oh, so many other friends in town for the library to compete with.)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The drive went about as well as any 2,500 miles trek across the country with two small kids can go.  It was long, and very windy.  We did get to stop and see friends/family/former residences important people in Canon City, Lawrence, Olathe, Omaha and Nauvoo.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It&amp;#39;s a bit early to have much to report at work.  After 1 day, I have a badge and a computer.  There is a phone there, too, but I&amp;#39;m not completely sure if it works yet.  I have my own little cubicle with my name plate already afixed outside!  (And a real desk with an actual drawer!  This is the big time FOR SURE!)  The first week(s) will consist of getting lost in the building, reading and asking dumb questions.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Our stuff should arrive here soon, so then we can start getting back to &amp;quot;regular&amp;quot; life.  (aka: life with constant internet access)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4471517837627084881?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4471517837627084881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4471517837627084881' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4471517837627084881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4471517837627084881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/11/update-from-mi.html' title='Update from MI'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3876585988908444466</id><published>2010-10-27T22:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T22:58:00.385-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Update from the Road</title><content type='html'>This is a total psych-out blog post.  I wrote this like a week ago!  We're still driving across the country.  I totally fooled all of you!  Ha ha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3876585988908444466?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3876585988908444466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3876585988908444466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3876585988908444466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3876585988908444466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/10/update-from-road.html' title='Update from the Road'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3830140251885125071</id><published>2010-10-21T22:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T23:04:19.380-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. George'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><title type='text'>Incommunicado</title><content type='html'>96% of our stuff is all packed up.  At this point we have beds and a computer.  Obviously these are the things we can't live without.  Chairs, dishes, food.  Meh.  Who needs 'em.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once we tear this thing apart tomorrow we will have very sparse internet access for about 2 weeks, give or take.  The rough outline has us pulling out of here Sunday morning.  We plan to make stops in Canon City to see my sister, Kansas City to see multiple old friends, Omaha to look at houses and cemeteries (a Blockburger vacation standby), Nauvoo and then finally Michigan.  Provided no one goes insane along the trip, we will be in Midland in time for the ward Trunk or Treat on the 30th.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, I know of a great home for sale in St. George, if you know anyone looking to over pay for some property!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3830140251885125071?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3830140251885125071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3830140251885125071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3830140251885125071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3830140251885125071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/10/incommunicado.html' title='Incommunicado'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5124088040277858397</id><published>2010-10-20T18:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T21:03:19.517-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. George'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>Marathon</title><content type='html'>It's been 2 1/2 weeks since the St. George Marathon.  And now that its receded a bit into my memory, it almost seems like a story, not like something I actually did.  But, I did it.  Here's a recap of the day:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Got up about 4am.  Brian (and family) stayed at our house and Chet (and dad) came to pick us up at 4:45.  We headed into town to get on a school bus to take us to the starting line.  I was 1st!&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; (on the bus)&lt;/span&gt;.  Never forget that folks: I was the very first in the entire marathon &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;to get on that particular bus&lt;/span&gt;.  The starting line was packed with people.  Not surprising since there were 7500 of us.  They had food (I had some banana) and music and big fires.  The fires were ok, but not super necessary, as it wasn't that cold, even at 5200 ft at 5:30am.  This was a theme that would build throughout the day.  We packed into the masses for the start.  Just behind us were 2 guys running the first of 2 marathons in 2 days.  Just in front of us was a woman with a prosthetic leg from about the knee down.  It took 5 1/2 minutes from the gun for us to get to the starting line.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first few miles were very crowded, and very normal.  An interesting phenomenon is that when you are running with that many people, it is kinda stinky.  7500 sweating bodies spreading out along the course.  With the fastest running doing about 5 minute miles, and the slowest runners doing about 15 minute miles, the pack stretches out quickly.  About 2 miles in my friend Luke suddenly appeared next to me, which was very nice.  (Particularly since my regular running buddy ditched me at about mile 7.)  (To be fair, he did end up beating me by about 20 minutes, so I can't blame him too much.  I expected him to beat me, but figured we would stick together until 15 or 20 miles, and then he would get about 5-10 minutes on me over the last half dozen miles.)  Luke and I stuck together until about mile 20.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After so many Saturdays running all summer long, and doing a number of them on the course, it kinda just felt like a regular Saturday morning run, only about 7300 extra people showed up.  I hit the half way mark at 1:59, which was essentially where I wanted to be.  They have people with balloons and signs that run at a designated pace to help you out.  The 4:00 guy "balloon boy" as we called him was safely a few hundred yards behind us for much of the first 2.5 hours of the race.  If only it would stay that way. . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Turns out, it was warm.  St. George experienced some triple digit days around the 1st of October this year.  While it wasn't that hot at 8 in the morning, it was still too hot for running.  As things heat up, everyone slows down.  Balloon boy caught up around mile 18 or 19, and officially dropped me at about mile 20.  Also, there is a stretch of road here in Southern Utah that hates me.  On the marathon course, it is the stretch from mile 20 to 23.  It is the steepest downhill, mixed with short uphill.  Oh, and you've been running for 3 hours when you get there.  And it was hot.  Luckily, at this point the aid stations were every mile.  My routine was: 1 cup of water on my head, followed by 1 cup of gatorade to drink, followed by 1 cup of water mixed between my head and drinking.  I slowed down a lot during that stretch.  I only stopped moving forward once, which was to stretch for 30 seconds or a minute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll admit that there was a nagging though in the back of my head that I could stop at any aid station or ambulance along the way and just say "I'm done".  And it would all be over.  I can't say it was some sort of supreme victory of will that kept me going, but it was just what you do.  You keep running.  More than anything else, that's what marathon training is.  You train yourself to just keep going, hour after hour.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The extreme hydration routine actually made me start feeling better, and the last 3 miles went better than the 3 proceeding them.  The last 3 miles is also where there are actually people along the course.  The bibs all have the runners first name on them, so it was interesting when people would call out my name to encourage me.  The last 3 miles were a very interesting experience.  Exhaustion.  In every conceivable way.  Muscles tightening up, brain shutting down, people cheering you on, and still nothing to do but to keep running.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hit 25.2 miles right at 4 hours according to my watch, so I told myself that surely I could do just one more 10 minute mile.  On through downtown St. George I went.  I passed quite a few people over the last couple of miles.  (Mostly those who had passed me half an hour before, I think.)  In the end, I finished in 4:10:00.  (That's 2585th place, out of 5694 finishers and about 7400 starters.)  26.2 miles at 9:32 per mile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Turns out, it was the hottest St George Marathon ever.  I'm not sure that anyone beat their expectation for the day.  You'll have to quiz others about my state immediately after finishing.  I was too exhausted to think or remember much.  Physically, I did pretty well though.  I could walk around reasonably well later that day, and could certainly move better than Brian the next day.  For the next 10 days or so any time I took even a few steps running, I could feel it in my knees.  It was over 6 miles further than I had ever run before in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, that was my marathon.  Will I ever do another?  I'm not sure.  For now, I'm happy with a few weeks "off" where all I have done is quit a job, pack a house, plan a move and now I get to drive across the country.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5124088040277858397?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5124088040277858397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5124088040277858397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5124088040277858397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5124088040277858397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/10/marathon.html' title='Marathon'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3613349102337325708</id><published>2010-10-10T11:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T11:58:50.341-06:00</updated><title type='text'>DW</title><content type='html'>Well, today was the day that I finally met my identical name twin. &amp;quot;How can that be?&amp;quot; You must be wondering, since I have the most unique name in the world. Well, I met David Wilson at church today.  Other than the name, we didn&amp;#39;t seem much alike, but we only spoke for a moment. &lt;p&gt;Beyond Bro Wilson, church was great. Lots of people came to introduce themselves and we even got a dinner invitation. I met another Hillcrest graduate (who knew my sister Melissa) and lots of Utahns. (Not that surprising).  Now we just need a place to live.&lt;p&gt;And just so you don&amp;#39;t think I&amp;#39;ve forgotten, I do intend to blog about the marathon and the last days at Sylarus. I just don&amp;#39;t know when I will get around to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3613349102337325708?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3613349102337325708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3613349102337325708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3613349102337325708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3613349102337325708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/10/dw.html' title='DW'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5917719468407323682</id><published>2010-10-09T10:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T10:21:23.159-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Santinental Breakfast</title><content type='html'>We are in Midland (Michigan) today looking around town. We went to get breakfast and we discovered Santas. Everywhere. There were like 15 Santas sitting around eating and talking. Evidently the Santa school in town is in session this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5917719468407323682?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5917719468407323682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5917719468407323682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5917719468407323682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5917719468407323682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/10/santinental-breakfast.html' title='Santinental Breakfast'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5401992053522337984</id><published>2010-09-29T21:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T21:59:05.803-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>The Time Has Come</title><content type='html'>This summer I've run over 370 miles.  It's been hot, long, sweaty, painful, beautiful, fun and tiring.  And it's all been in preparation for this Saturday.  370 miles down.  26.2 miles to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5401992053522337984?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5401992053522337984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5401992053522337984' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5401992053522337984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5401992053522337984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/time-has-come.html' title='The Time Has Come'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3310182587330434504</id><published>2010-09-29T09:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T09:59:01.144-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><title type='text'>Crazy Lives -- Crazy Phones</title><content type='html'>We're moving.  Which means we have 8 million things to do.  I'm falling behind on about 2 million of those things right now just by writing this blog post.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the results of our move is that my phone number will change.  (My work pays for the phone, and something tells me that once I no longer work there, they won't want to pay the cell phone bill anymore.)  While my phone won't work anymore (or might possibly be given to someone else at work), Shannon's still will.  My number is a 435 number, so don't try and use that one after Oct 7th.  Keep using Shannon's 801 number.  If you have any more questions, send an email or leave a comment and we'll make sure you know how to contact us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3310182587330434504?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3310182587330434504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3310182587330434504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3310182587330434504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3310182587330434504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/crazy-lives-crazy-phones.html' title='Crazy Lives -- Crazy Phones'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2118787033155506802</id><published>2010-09-28T18:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T18:59:20.862-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fam'/><title type='text'>Onward and Eastward</title><content type='html'>Shannon broke the news on Facebook already, but if you haven't heard yet:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WE ARE MOVING!  TO MICHIGAN!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a new job out there, and it is time for us to say farewell to St. George.  We'll miss a lot of things here, but we're excited for a new adventure, a new job and everything else that goes along with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll be heading out there in late October, and I'll start work on Nov 1st.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To help get everyone excited, we've got this musical selection:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kGEdVOOsuS4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kGEdVOOsuS4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2118787033155506802?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2118787033155506802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2118787033155506802' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2118787033155506802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2118787033155506802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/onward-and-eastward.html' title='Onward and Eastward'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7124820089439563115</id><published>2010-09-26T16:55:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T17:09:44.502-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>BYU's football team is not very good.  This much is obvious.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are a few reasons for optimism:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our 3 losses are all to teams that are fringe top-25 teams.  Nevada, FSU and AF have all been ranked, or were within a few votes of being ranked this year.  AF gave OU everything they could handle.  Nevada is 4-0 for the first time as a FBS team.  Sagarin has BYU's schedule as the 4th toughest in the nation thus far.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The schedule gets much easier from here.  Utah State is improved, but still beatable.  Then SDSU at home, TCU (who we never had a shot at beating anyway), and then Wyoming, UNLV, CSU and UNM (3 of which are at home).  So that's 6 winnable games out of the next 7.  We picked the right year to travel to TCU and Utah, because the home field advantage probably wouldn't have been enough to matter anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With Heaps getting all the practice snaps, and all the game time snaps, maybe the team can improve over time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But here is the thing that worries me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Against Nevada, BYU was +2 on turnovers committing none themselves.  BYU had only 1 penalty for 5 yards.  No missed field goals.  And yet, BYU was never in danger to win the game.  This wasn't a game where you could sit back afterwards and point to a bad call, or a bad bounce, or bad luck as the turning point of the game.  This is who they are.  This is apparently the talent (or lack thereof) the team has.  And there just isn't much there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7124820089439563115?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7124820089439563115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7124820089439563115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7124820089439563115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7124820089439563115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/byus-football-team-is-not-very-good.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-9107016190074752094</id><published>2010-09-25T08:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T08:41:39.385-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>Fish Ponds</title><content type='html'>Its official.  I am now a champion racer.  I am the absolute fastest person in the whole world.  Well, the fastest member of my stake.  At the 5k distance.  That wasn't out of town this weekend.  That chose to get up and run the stake 5k this morning.  That wasn't pushing a stroller with 2 kids in it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But still, I WON!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I suppose it is just a trick to find a race with sufficiently few racers to increase the odds of winning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The race was rather interesting for another reason, too.  It was so short that I had to get in more running today, so it's the first time that I've ever gone running to the start line of a race.  All told, I did about a mile to the start line, then the 5k, then back to the mid point with a friend to pick up his car there, and then another mile back home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 more week to the marathon.  I'm getting pretty excited, and pretty anxious.  Wish me luck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-9107016190074752094?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/9107016190074752094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=9107016190074752094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9107016190074752094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9107016190074752094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/fish-ponds.html' title='Fish Ponds'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1092686002780604782</id><published>2010-09-20T21:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T21:14:13.791-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Home Business</title><content type='html'>At our house, we don&amp;#39;t have Family Home Evening, we have Family Home Business.  According to Julia, at least.  I guess she picked up on the fact that at the beginning we have announcements, and then we have business.  I suggested this once years ago, modeling the beginning of sacrament meeting where there are announcements before the opening prayer/hymn and then ward business afterward.  Just to clarify, no, I don&amp;#39;t know what sort of Family Business one would expect to be coming up on a weekly basis.  Not a lot of sustainings and releases going on in our family.  But out of tradition, we call for family business every week, so Julia has renamed the whole evening.&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, she picked up the FHE/FHB lesson manual (which is the nursery lesson manual) which was opened to the lesson on scriptures and said &amp;quot;Today, we&amp;#39;re talking about candles and fire&amp;quot;.  You see, up at the top there is a picture of scriptures open on a table which happens to have a candle on it.  So clearly, the lesson is about candles.  Any time she start into a lesson or presentation of any sort it begins with &amp;quot;Today we&amp;#39;re talking about ________&amp;quot;.  Not sure where she picked this up, but it sure is funny.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1092686002780604782?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1092686002780604782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1092686002780604782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1092686002780604782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1092686002780604782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/family-home-business.html' title='Family Home Business'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1110456959273199978</id><published>2010-09-15T18:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T18:35:12.029-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baffling Conversations with a 2 Year-Old</title><content type='html'>Me: &amp;quot;Julia, do you want pizza for dinner?&amp;quot;  (Yeah, because we&amp;#39;re awesome parents who feed their children only the most wholesome foods.)&lt;div&gt;Julia: &amp;quot;No, I don&amp;#39;t like pizza.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;What do you want for dinner then?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Julia: &amp;quot;I want sweet potatoes.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sweet potatoes?  Really!?!?  I mean, they&amp;#39;re good and all, but since when does a kid turn down pizza and ask for sweet potatoes.  I think she&amp;#39;s only had them once or twice in her life.  And she didn&amp;#39;t seem to enjoy them all that much then.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1110456959273199978?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1110456959273199978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1110456959273199978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1110456959273199978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1110456959273199978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/baffling-conversations-with-2-year-old.html' title='Baffling Conversations with a 2 Year-Old'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2044930407283005016</id><published>2010-09-13T16:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T16:08:57.971-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Running is boring</title><content type='html'>to blog about.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;No one wants to hear about work, which leaves me to blog about my spare time.  A lot of that gets taken up with running right now, and I&amp;#39;m just not sure how to write about it to make it interesting.  &amp;quot;Today I ran X miles in Y time.  It was tiring.&amp;quot;  Rinse.  Repeat.  For the record, I don&amp;#39;t find running itself boring.  I do the longer runs with a group of people, so there is generally someone to talk to (unless they ditch me for the last 4 miles like they did on Saturday).  And we tend to bump into someone new each week to provide a little variety.  On the last two long runs I&amp;#39;ve spent a mile or two with someone I&amp;#39;ve never met before until someone&amp;#39;s pace finally separates us.  And for my regular running buddy, we talk about sports, politics, religion and the latest work gossip.  The scenery is nice, too.  Our runs start early in the morning and out in the middle of nowhere (Veyo) so there are plenty of stars to enjoy, and then we get sunrise and Snow Canyon.  After that I&amp;#39;m too tired to pay attention to anything but moving my feet forward.  Again, great to experience.  Boring to blog about.  So, you&amp;#39;ll just have to take my word for it.&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2044930407283005016?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2044930407283005016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2044930407283005016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2044930407283005016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2044930407283005016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/running-is-boring.html' title='Running is boring'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6580792499051138208</id><published>2010-09-09T20:24:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T20:42:17.037-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>26.2 to go (er, 23 that is)</title><content type='html'>If I were on top of things, I would have written this blog post about 5 days ago.  You know, when it really was 26.2 days before the marathon.  But, maybe it's fitting, since this probably describes my whole marathon training process: almost what it should be.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the last 4 months, I've run about 315 miles, which sounds really impressive, but is probably about 2/3 of what it should be.  I'll be relying on my dormant Kenyan genes to pull me through.  My longest run thus far is 20 miles, and I'll be doing something around that distance this Saturday.  It could be as many as 21, which would then be the longest before actually doing the marathon.  I keep trying to remind myself that the whole point of the first marathon is just to finish.  And the slower you go, the easier it will be to put up a new PR the next time!  (If there is a next time.  I'm not completely convinced there will be.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6580792499051138208?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6580792499051138208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6580792499051138208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6580792499051138208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6580792499051138208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/09/262-to-go-er-23-that-is.html' title='26.2 to go (er, 23 that is)'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6823687326374424033</id><published>2010-08-30T19:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T19:38:55.171-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fam'/><title type='text'>FHE</title><content type='html'>Family Home Evening tonight was about temples.  That is, it was about temples until it got hijacked.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What is this a picture of?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"A temple!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What is a temple?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Let's get ready for Halloween!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The temple is the House of the Lord"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Can you do 'candy, candy, candy, candy'?" [I think this is a Garfield reference.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Because of temples our family can be together forever"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We need costumes!  And candy!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes, when you think your kids aren't listening, they really are, and they're learning from you.  Other times, they're just thinking about Halloween.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6823687326374424033?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6823687326374424033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6823687326374424033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6823687326374424033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6823687326374424033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/fhe.html' title='FHE'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7725479596908589491</id><published>2010-08-29T21:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T21:28:00.167-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Carolina Chocolate Drops</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I was first introduced to the Carolina Chocolate Drops around 6 months ago, and every now and then they pop back into my brain.  I thin what I find most appealing about their music is how simple and genuine it feels.  Maybe we forget sometimes that music can be created just about anywhere.  Recording studios and mixing boards are not required.  No re-mastering, no mixing, no reverb, no laying tracks.  Just music, without all that other stuff in the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't get to play the piano very often these days; someone either needs to be held and played with, or is taking a nap.  But when I do have a minute, as often as not I just sit down and start hitting keys and see what comes out.  I'm never quite sure what sounds I'll find.  I'm not saying it's particularly good, but its a few moments of pure creation, which isn't something that is a regular part of my day.  And that's what the Carolina Chocolate Drops feel like to me.  A banjo, a violin, a guitar, a kazoo, a jug.  Music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wjyw-nW0D90?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wjyw-nW0D90?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7725479596908589491?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7725479596908589491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7725479596908589491' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7725479596908589491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7725479596908589491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/carolina-chocolate-drops.html' title='Carolina Chocolate Drops'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3372105718624716863</id><published>2010-08-28T11:41:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T11:41:46.792-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever doesn't kill you . . .</title><content type='html'>Is supposed to make you stronger.&lt;p&gt;Does this therefore imply that the closer you get to death, the stronger you become?&lt;p&gt;If so, I am going to be super strong now. 20 miles in 3:10. Oh and I can barely move now. Every muscle and joint I am aware of in my legs hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3372105718624716863?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3372105718624716863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3372105718624716863' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3372105718624716863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3372105718624716863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/whatever-doesnt-kill-you.html' title='Whatever doesn&apos;t kill you . . .'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4656309388518372668</id><published>2010-08-28T08:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T08:45:00.609-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More tubes</title><content type='html'>We watched this movie recently.  More than once, I think.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rbhrz1-4hN4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rbhrz1-4hN4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4656309388518372668?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4656309388518372668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4656309388518372668' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4656309388518372668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4656309388518372668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/more-tubes.html' title='More tubes'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8905240016806582302</id><published>2010-08-26T20:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T20:45:06.586-06:00</updated><title type='text'>youtube</title><content type='html'>Lets marvel at the world we live in for a minute.  The World Bank estimates that by 2008 there were over &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/publicdata?ds=wb-wdi&amp;amp;met=it_net_user&amp;amp;tdim=true&amp;amp;dl=en&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;q=world+population+with+internet+access"&gt;1.5 billion internet users&lt;/a&gt;.  Extrapolating from their data, we should be around 2 billion in 2010.  And anyone who has spent any time at all on the internet knows that there are 10,000 morons out there for every person doing something interesting.  (Hmmm .. . . lets make another category and say that there are an additional 10,000 people who are doing things that most people really don't care about (like this blog), which allows me to not fall in the moron category.)  So, that gives us 1 in 20,000 that is doing something interesting.  Which leaves 100,000 people doing awesome stuff on the internet.  That is an amazing pool of talent.  (The trick is weeding out the 10,000 morons.)  So, here is a video of something that I never thought possible.  I never would have thought about it period.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o0Bn4m6dQbI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o0Bn4m6dQbI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I just associated that video with the words "interesting" "amazing" and "talent".  Yes, that was a dippy looking kid rocking out some Vivaldi on his accordion.  Yes, I'll admit that I've wanted an accordion for a long time.  Yes, I'm a dork.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8905240016806582302?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8905240016806582302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8905240016806582302' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8905240016806582302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8905240016806582302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/youtube.html' title='youtube'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4575794883089169218</id><published>2010-08-25T21:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T21:01:45.957-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poopy Diapers</title><content type='html'>Because that is what parents blog about.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ella is now 6 weeks and a day old.  I think I&amp;#39;ve changed 1 poopy diaper.  It&amp;#39;s not that I&amp;#39;m a bad parent, it&amp;#39;s that she never poops!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, she only poops like twice a week.  If they both happen while I&amp;#39;m at work, what can I do about it?  (The doctor says that breast-fed babies can poop 7 times a day, or once every 7 days.  As long as she is happy, the Dr isn&amp;#39;t too concerned.)  (I&amp;#39;m always amazed at the stuff doctors don&amp;#39;t even blink an eye about.  &amp;quot;Your 2 week old baby hasn&amp;#39;t pooped in 4 days?  Well, once it&amp;#39;s been a week, then I guess you could bring her in.&amp;quot;)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4575794883089169218?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4575794883089169218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4575794883089169218' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4575794883089169218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4575794883089169218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/poopy-diapers.html' title='Poopy Diapers'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5525524938578301710</id><published>2010-08-07T12:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T12:59:26.000-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stanley</title><content type='html'>Maybe my sisters can provide some insight here.  My childhood is filled with memories of Stanley Fudge Cookies.  (I have no idea where the Stanley part comes from.)  They are made from sugar, butter, oats, milk, and cocoa.  Maybe there is another minor ingredient in there, but those are the basic ones.  Melt the butter, mix in the sugar and cocoa (and milk?).  Then mix in the oats.  Stick them on some wax paper on cookie sheets and toss them in the refrigerator.  Once they set up a bit, eat!&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the issue is that whole &amp;quot;setting up&amp;quot; part.  My childhood memories are of cookies that come off the wax paper nicely and have some internal cohesion.  You could break them in half.  But these days, we seem to end up with puddles of viscus goo.  They still taste excellent, but they don&amp;#39;t seem to solidify.  What is going wrong?  Is this yet another social blight I can blame upon the deterioration of margarine in America?  Do we need to work on our stirring techniques?  Ideas?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5525524938578301710?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5525524938578301710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5525524938578301710' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5525524938578301710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5525524938578301710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/08/stanley.html' title='Stanley'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8963882511120239154</id><published>2010-07-31T10:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T11:08:56.135-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>Running</title><content type='html'>I haven't mentioned my recent running escapades much.  Maybe for fear that, like past attempts to get back in to running, it would go out with a whimper after a few weeks.  Maybe because it's fun to casually throw in statements like this:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gosh, I'm tired today.  Maybe it's because I ran 16 miles yesterday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And those statements work better when the other person is unsuspecting.  In March I ran the Rex Lee Run as always (at perhaps my worst time yet for the race) and our stake had a not-quite-5K race in April.  Then, somewhere around the first of May, under the influence of a few friends, I did something stupid.  I signed up for the St. George Marathon.  As a Washington County resident, I'm guaranteed a spot in the race.  So, I've been running ever since.  In the last 3 months I've run 215 miles.  And spent somewhere north of 30 hours doing.  Once you add in the stretching time, the cool down time, and the lying-prostrate-on-the-grass-in-a-state-of-exhaustion time, that number grows quite a bit.  So, it's finally time to start blogging about what I've been doing with myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been quite surprised, really, at how easily I've been able to run longer distances.  (So either I'm awesome, or I had expected it to be much harder than it really is.)  Before this year I had never run further than about 7 miles.  I hadn't run more than 3.1 miles in several years.  Now I've topped 10 miles 7 times.  As expected, the hardest part is just getting out the door in the morning.  (Oh, and the heat.  Let's not forget that.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we ran from Veyo to St. George which is part of the marathon course.  There was a head wind most of the way, and it was cloudy, so we traded heat for humidity.  The first 14 miles went really well, and the last 2 seemed to have way more hills than I remember.  Felt like it took forever.  But I made it.  63 days until the marathon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8963882511120239154?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8963882511120239154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8963882511120239154' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8963882511120239154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8963882511120239154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/running.html' title='Running'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8713952558116991728</id><published>2010-07-29T12:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T12:37:37.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Butter</title><content type='html'>Time for a whole blog post about butter.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;First off, when I was a kid, &amp;quot;butter&amp;quot; meant anything that came in stick form and was used for cooking.  &amp;quot;Margarine&amp;quot; was whatever came in the tubs that was used for &amp;quot;buttering&amp;quot; toast or other things.  (At least, that&amp;#39;s what I remember.)  I recognize that it was all margarine, but that&amp;#39;s what we tended to call it.  (I now live in fear that my sisters will all comment and refute this claim.)&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;My other memory of butter is that back in the day, it was a solid.  Our tubs of blue bonnet margarine could sit on the counter for hours and it was fine.  It softened up a bit and was easier to spread around, but it was still solid.  These days, not so much.  The various brands we&amp;#39;ve purchased over the years (personal favorites: &amp;quot;A Change for the Butter&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;Butter It&amp;#39;s Not&amp;quot;) are all very similar.  They are very, very soft.  Even right out of the refrigerator they are quite soft and easy to move around anywhere.  But if you leave them out for more than a few minutes (particularly on a hot St. George day) look out!  They melt and get very soft.  It just starts soaking into your dinner roll.  And by the end of dinner, it&amp;#39;s turning liquid and separating.  And once that happens, it&amp;#39;s just yucky.  It never quite solidifies up the same.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;I suspect that the problem is caused by the progressive move away from anything that is partially-hydrogenated, or mono-unsaturated.  The world is so afraid of certain types of fat, that we&amp;#39;ve switched to butter substitutes that don&amp;#39;t have them.  End result: runny butter.  I just want my regular Blue Bonnet back from 20 years ago.  Something soft enough to spread even when right out of the refrigerator, yet firm enough to be identifiable as a solid.  At the rate things are going, I&amp;#39;ll just be squirting some vegetable oil on my toast in another decade.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;(Oh wait, we already have that, it&amp;#39;s &amp;quot;I Can&amp;#39;t Believe it&amp;#39;s Not Butter Spray&amp;quot;)&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8713952558116991728?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8713952558116991728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8713952558116991728' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8713952558116991728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8713952558116991728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/butter.html' title='Butter'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-9051577202962196488</id><published>2010-07-26T07:55:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T07:55:59.685-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pink Stick</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="gmail_quote"&gt;We went swimming tonight with my family who is in town. One of my sisters had some sticks that sink to the bottom of the pool for diving fun and Julia was playing with the pink one. She still had it when we left the pool, but it vanished by the time we reached the hotel room. We searched the pool area, the halls, the rooms and both elevators. We even checked to see if someone turned it in at the front desk. But no pink stick.&lt;br&gt;  &lt;br&gt; So now it is 10:30 at night and Julia woke up sobbing. After 5 minutes she finally managed to get out the she wants the pink stick. 15 minutes of crying so far. All this over a pink stick.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="gmail_quote"&gt;This is why we can never have pets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-9051577202962196488?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/9051577202962196488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=9051577202962196488' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9051577202962196488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9051577202962196488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/pink-stick.html' title='The Pink Stick'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-392444451006143416</id><published>2010-07-15T22:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T22:18:37.367-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ella Update</title><content type='html'>No pictures today, because while our baby is adorable, any possible square inch of our house that might appear in the background would be unsuitable for others to view.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are so many little things that are so easy to forget when you don&amp;#39;t have a little baby.  So, I&amp;#39;m making a list.  For those who remember some that I&amp;#39;ve forgotten, feel free to add on.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1: They tend to come out all mixed up between day and night.  So what few hours a day Ella does spend awake tend to be at 3am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2: Somehow, they can tell the difference between walking and anything else.  I have never found any bouncing, swaying, rocking or swinging motion that is a successful imitation of walking.  So while Ella is awake at 3am, she wants me walking (stumbling), and simply won&amp;#39;t stand for anything less.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3: Babies are so little.  They roughly triple their weight in the first year.  Even tiny little PJs are just so big on her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4: Babies are yellow.  Well, at least my babies are.  As with Julia we were back doing another Bilirubin test.  Whereas Julia&amp;#39;s was low enough that they were satisfied, for Ella we will be going back tomorrow so they can siphon yet more blood from her feet.  So, she is kinda yellow.  Of course, any pigment added to the naturally white pallet she inherited from her parents would be expected to show up pretty well.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5: Beware the post birth hormones.  (In mom, not the baby.)  I&amp;#39;ll be ok posting this because Shannon recognizes that she&amp;#39;s kinda all over the place the last few days, crying every time a hat drops.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, things are going reasonably well though.  Julia is always super excited to do anything to help out baby Bing.  Yeah, she primarily calls her Bing still, and we aren&amp;#39;t fighting that.  She at least doesn&amp;#39;t object to us calling her Ella, and will sometimes call her Ella, too.  She said today that she was waiting for Ella to say &amp;quot;binkies, binkies, binkies&amp;quot; and then she would bring her binkies.  All day long she is fetching burp clothes, diapers, toys and blankets, whether we&amp;#39;ve asked her to or not.  And she loves to hold her little sister (though her attention span for that is only a minute or two).  It&amp;#39;s all really quite adorable.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-392444451006143416?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/392444451006143416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=392444451006143416' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/392444451006143416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/392444451006143416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/ella-update.html' title='Ella Update'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-610439784325930860</id><published>2010-07-13T14:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T14:52:35.013-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ella'/><title type='text'>Ella Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We present to the world &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ella Joy Blockburger&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDzP3WN5TiI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GWBFzALhRb4/s400/DSCN4820.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493494195248778786" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone wants updates on the baby, but other than finally having a name, there isn't a whole lot to say.  She's got a cute hat, which is covering up her blonde hair.  Some people have still tried telling us there is some red in there, but we're too smart to fall for that trick twice.  If anything, it is just her red scalp shining through.  She doesn't cry much, and seems to be eating and pooping about on schedule.  Julia bounces back and forth between being excited and nervous.  She really wants everyone to come home, but woke up this morning saying "I don't want to be a big sister" and "I don't want to hold any babies."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-610439784325930860?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/610439784325930860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=610439784325930860' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/610439784325930860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/610439784325930860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/ella-joy.html' title='Ella Joy'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDzP3WN5TiI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GWBFzALhRb4/s72-c/DSCN4820.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-770473131786006696</id><published>2010-07-12T23:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T23:18:29.107-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures of Baby "Bing"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm not sure how, but the blog post pronouncing the birth "baby!" somehow passed up the previous entry.  I can see how that could be confusing.  It's a good indication of how quickly everything happened.  We can tell stories about it later.  I know that everyone wants pictures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2rSF20aI/AAAAAAAAAYg/6Hni-b1cEaM/s320/DSCN4797.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493255393959661986" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2r8Fic_I/AAAAAAAAAYo/yyw5dAo6Srw/s320/DSCN4801.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493255405232616434" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2smHyBdI/AAAAAAAAAYw/bLMlgaATZm0/s320/DSCN4803.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493255416516314578" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2tMT8PQI/AAAAAAAAAY4/zDFrvnOp2VI/s320/DSCN4808.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493255426767863042" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2tmPWzmI/AAAAAAAAAZA/17VfNrs9LWI/s320/DSCN4810.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493255433727954530" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-770473131786006696?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/770473131786006696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=770473131786006696' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/770473131786006696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/770473131786006696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/pictures-of-baby-bing.html' title='Pictures of Baby &quot;Bing&quot;'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TDv2rSF20aI/AAAAAAAAAYg/6Hni-b1cEaM/s72-c/DSCN4797.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4796663809595937149</id><published>2010-07-12T18:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T18:57:44.283-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We are now a family of four.  We had to take a break so everyone could eat, because I'm the only one who had eaten more than toast today.  The hospital meal was tasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our little girl looks great.  She seems to have long fingers, but not long eyelashes.  (We can't remember if Julia had long eyelashes birth.  She sure has them now.)  She had her first bath, so we can say that her hair isn't obviously red.  It looks mostly blonde, but who knows on that front.  She's had a go at eating, which worked reasonably well, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shannon is doing great.  They are keeping us in the labor/delivery room, possibly over night.  As long as she is here, they can have her heart monitor beamed over to the other hospital campus in town (babies in St. George are all born in the "old hospital") where someone continuously monitors the heart patients.  Julia will be coming over soon to say hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pediatrician just got here to check her out.  Things look ok, except for that nasty tar spill that seems to have happened in her diaper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4796663809595937149?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4796663809595937149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4796663809595937149' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4796663809595937149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4796663809595937149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-are-now-family-of-four.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4127327347742402547</id><published>2010-07-12T16:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T16:39:04.228-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>19.5 inches.  7lbs 6oz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4127327347742402547?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4127327347742402547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4127327347742402547' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4127327347742402547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4127327347742402547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/19.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6032242864908997077</id><published>2010-07-12T16:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T16:15:00.503-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>4:10pm -- She's got the shakes and is going to try the first push just to see what it's like.  Contractions are certainly more substantial in the last 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse is very confident that there will be a baby before she gets off her shift at 6pm.  And that was before the last 5 minutes.  So, things look very promising.  And the blogging may get fast and furious.  Right up until the point that it stops completely because I've got more important things to do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6032242864908997077?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6032242864908997077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6032242864908997077' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6032242864908997077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6032242864908997077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/410pm-shes-got-shakes-and-is-going-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7759143951531948458</id><published>2010-07-12T16:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T16:29:52.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7759143951531948458?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7759143951531948458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7759143951531948458' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7759143951531948458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7759143951531948458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/baby.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5473798696398750968</id><published>2010-07-12T16:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T16:08:33.748-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Baby Bing still doesn't have a definite name yet.  Her middle name is almost 100% decided, but not her first name.  The nurses just asked, and Shannon told them the top three names, and mentioned that she has eliminated the rest that we had still been considering have been eliminated.  So I guess we're down to the final 3.  I'm certain that we'll be waiting for her to be born before picking anything.  It will probably be sometime tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5473798696398750968?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5473798696398750968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5473798696398750968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5473798696398750968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5473798696398750968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/baby-bing-still-doesnt-have-definite.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6872065754660555316</id><published>2010-07-12T15:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T16:03:14.478-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>3:57pm -- Shannon is at an 8/9.  I guess she gets up to 9cm during contractions, but backs off to more like an 8 when the contraction ends.  Things are getting a bit bloodier, so I don't look much.  (Don't worry folks, I stay firmly planted on the couch they have for me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor was just in here to check on things.  Whatever hand/elbow/whatever might have been up by her head earlier is no longer there.  The doctor said that her cervix may have torn slightly, but that doesn't seem to be a big deal.  (Of course, I've never heard him talk like anything was a big deal.)  Shannon is now on oxygen.  The baby isn't quite facing the right direction yet, so they pitched Shannon up on her side to try to get her to rotate a bit more.  (Her head is down, don't worry folks.  But we want her facing backwards, not sideways or something weird.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have a very hard time fathoming 10cm of dilation.  At work we make wafers that are very precisely 10cm in diameter, so I have a very good idea of just what size that is.  Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We appreciate all the comments and good thoughts from everybody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6872065754660555316?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6872065754660555316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6872065754660555316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6872065754660555316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6872065754660555316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/357pm-shannon-is-at-89.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3066226502570143228</id><published>2010-07-12T15:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T15:32:30.970-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>3:28pm -- Slow and steady.  Cervix is at about 8cm.  Evidently Bing has a hand up by her head.  She clearly isn't going to get out that way.  (or it might just be an ear)  Things down there are now "super stretchy" according to the nurse.  I guess you're supposed to go about 1cm per hour, so we're in that general ball park.  Shannon remains mostly comfortable, other than being hungry.  There is some bleeding, but I suppose that's normal.  Last time Shannon had the shakes, and threw up a few times and was generally more unhappy.  So things are much improved this time.b&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3066226502570143228?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3066226502570143228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3066226502570143228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3066226502570143228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3066226502570143228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/328pm-slow-and-steady.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-517845182750747949</id><published>2010-07-12T14:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T14:21:11.949-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>2:19pm -- Nothing real major going on.  Nap time for Shannon, internet time for me.  We've already played Phase 10 (a labor tradition for our family!) and done the crosswords from the Sunday paper.  I'm munching on the snacks I brought and looking for a good time on the interwebs.  It'll be a handful of hours yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-517845182750747949?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/517845182750747949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=517845182750747949' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/517845182750747949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/517845182750747949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/219pm-nothing-real-major-going-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8121297188330431003</id><published>2010-07-12T12:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T12:35:54.095-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>12:32pm -- And, her water is broken.  I now see how we missed this last time, as it was pretty darn boring.  Maybe if she wasn't numb it would have been more eventful.  Dr Fagnant checked things out and put her at 4cm and still 80% effaced.  His exact words were, "Not as stretchy as I'd hoped."  He says we've still got a ways to go.  Pitocin will very soon be increased to 30 mL/hr.  Clark remains chilly.  Shannon feels warm.  I'm munching on granola bars, Shannon gets ice and suckers!  Julia seems to be having a good day with the Martinsens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8121297188330431003?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8121297188330431003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8121297188330431003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8121297188330431003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8121297188330431003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/1232pm-and-her-water-is-broken.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4920886714254173898</id><published>2010-07-12T12:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T12:18:33.721-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Note to self: Next time, bring a jacket.  Or wear long pants.  It's cold in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Fagnant is in surgery for another 45 minutes or so, at which point he will come break the water.  In the mean time we're just hanging out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4920886714254173898?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4920886714254173898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4920886714254173898' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4920886714254173898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4920886714254173898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/note-to-self-next-time-bring-jacket.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2136443586791483068</id><published>2010-07-12T11:43:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T11:44:42.316-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>11:43am -- Dilation is at 4+ cm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2136443586791483068?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2136443586791483068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2136443586791483068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2136443586791483068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2136443586791483068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/1143am-dilation-is-at-4-cm.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6631926786182146435</id><published>2010-07-12T11:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T11:43:33.418-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>11:35 -- Epidural is in.  I didn't watch, but things seemed to go well.  Not real sure how the contractions are going now, because they are a lot easier for Shannon to ignore now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next up is a catheter, and then a check of how things are going.  Then we'll have to get the doctor in here at some point to break her water.  Its funny that we have no idea when her water broke last time, because it was in the middle of the night and we were both partially asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're on to the Food Network on TV.  This all seems somewhat less exciting than last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and now the catheter is going on right now.  I'll just keep typing and not pay too close of attention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6631926786182146435?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6631926786182146435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6631926786182146435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6631926786182146435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6631926786182146435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/1135-epidural-is-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-9038249324000525620</id><published>2010-07-12T10:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T10:30:58.439-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>10:25am - Pitocin is up to 16mL/hr.  Saline is steady at 125mL/hr.  We are nearing prep-time for the epidural.  Normally when you go have a baby (from what I hear) they pump you full of fluids when you arrive, and then can do the epidural any time they want.  In Shannon's case, lots of extra fluid means extra work for her heart, so they don't do that.  They do however need to give her a bit of fluid before doing the epidural (which can cause drops in blood pressure).  The real impact of this is that they have to give her the extra fluid 30 minutes before they can do the epidural, so we have to plan ahead.  Contractions are about 2 minutes apart.  Shannon's heart rate drops during the contractions, the baby's is pretty constant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shannon now updates me that she's gonna do one more contraction and then hit the button for the nurse to start the epidural clock.  She is now dilated to 4cm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for how I'm doing, I'm kinda hungry, and we're watching GSN, because the hospital has cable!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-9038249324000525620?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/9038249324000525620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=9038249324000525620' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9038249324000525620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9038249324000525620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/1025am-pitocin-is-up-to-16mlhr.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6609072944819040347</id><published>2010-07-12T08:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T08:33:53.459-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We arrived at the hospital around 6:20.  First, they hooked Shannon up to every monitor they could think of.  They've got her heart monitor hooked up, and are beaming the signal over to the other hospital.  Evidently there are people over there who sit around all day and watch everyone's signals.  So, I guess if her heart stops or something, they call over here and let us know.  Then there was the mundane urine sample, blood samples, medical history questions, weighing, blood pressureing and everything else.  (It was fun when they set up the machine and then it took Shannon's blood pressure 7 times in a row.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about 8:00 they started the IV with pitocin (oxytocin) which should get things going.  She is currently dilated to a 2+ and is 80% effaced.   The monitors are showing regular contractions every few minutes that last a minute or two.  Pretty much there are plenty of graphs around to keep me entertained.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6609072944819040347?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6609072944819040347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6609072944819040347' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6609072944819040347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6609072944819040347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-arrived-at-hospital-around-620.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2668308003392004451</id><published>2010-07-12T06:03:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T06:03:24.558-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We have heard the call</title><content type='html'>And are heading for the hospital at 6:00. Shannon may have slept last night. I&amp;#39;m not quite sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2668308003392004451?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2668308003392004451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2668308003392004451' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2668308003392004451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2668308003392004451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-have-heard-call.html' title='We have heard the call'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1683996628227531028</id><published>2010-07-11T22:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T08:20:43.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Late to bed and early to rise</title><content type='html'>Makes a man stupid and blind in the eyes. &lt;p&gt;Heading to bed assuming that we will get a phone call early in the morning inviting us to have a baby. Our bags are packed, and all that's left is for Shannon to keep fretting over everything. Julia is at a friends house for the night. Our entire ward has been very generous to offer us more help than we can figure out how to accept. I know I will sleep ok tonight, let's hope Shannon can, too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1683996628227531028?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1683996628227531028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1683996628227531028' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1683996628227531028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1683996628227531028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/late-to-bed-and-early-to-rise.html' title='Late to bed and early to rise'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1627317038735806071</id><published>2010-07-11T13:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T13:34:39.717-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard</title><content type='html'>We were at IHOP last night and got to hear this from the table next to us:&lt;p&gt;Customer: &amp;quot;Do you have any Russian dressings?&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;Waitress: &amp;quot;No we don&amp;#39;t. This is IHOP.&amp;quot;&lt;p&gt;Um, remind me what that &amp;#39;I&amp;#39; stands for again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1627317038735806071?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1627317038735806071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1627317038735806071' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1627317038735806071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1627317038735806071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/overheard.html' title='Overheard'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8748972276867238204</id><published>2010-07-10T11:42:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T11:42:59.385-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Planning</title><content type='html'>Turns out, we haven&amp;#39;t done much of it.  And the baby is somewhere around 48 hours away.  Time to get cracking!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - got the desk out of Bing&amp;#39;s room and into the garage.  It&amp;#39;s listed on Craigslist, and we think someone should buy it.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; - moved Bing&amp;#39;s dresser into location and loaded it up with clothes.  Not as good as our other Ikea dresser, but sadly there isn&amp;#39;t one within 4 hours of us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - vacuumed.  Turns out it still works after all this time!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; - dusted&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - re-discovered the floor in our house.  (obviously a pre-requisite for the vacuuming.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - did the dishes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - bathed Julia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pretty much the theme here is finding things we haven&amp;#39;t seen in much to long a time.  (floors, counters, Julia&amp;#39;s natural skin color, etc.)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it&amp;#39;s not even NOON!  (plus, I went and attempted to run much, much further than my body wanted to this morning.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, we&amp;#39;re feeling reasonably prepared, though we are still undecided on a name.  It&amp;#39;s proving more difficult than last time, and I haven&amp;#39;t been much help.  So far my best idea is to name the next one Julia, too.  (or maybe Julia Two?)  But I&amp;#39;m sure we&amp;#39;ll come up with something. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, don&amp;#39;t forget the live baby blogging to start early Monday morning (probably).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8748972276867238204?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8748972276867238204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8748972276867238204' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8748972276867238204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8748972276867238204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/baby-planning.html' title='Baby Planning'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-722032936152309072</id><published>2010-07-07T12:56:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T12:56:22.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Live Blogging!</title><content type='html'>My blog has been around for a few years, but I think about 50% of all traffic and comments over that time came during one 36 hour period in April of 2008.  Well, we here at Bethletard want to do whatever it takes to increase viewership, and apparently what the people want is more babies.  With then end in mind, we&amp;#39;re having another baby, who is currently scheduled to be induced on Monday, July 12th.  So get ready to hit the refresh button folks, because Bethletard Baby Live Blogging is back!&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;Of course, that baby could come earlier, but at the very latest labor should be induced early Monday.  (We&amp;#39;re praying for early, so we can avoid another 5:30am thing like last time.  I explained to the doctor that it probably cost me a half dozen comments at least.)&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;This post is also serving as a test of the Email Blogging System.  (To go with the previous Text Messaging Blogging System.)  We&amp;#39;re getting more technologically advanced with each kid!&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-722032936152309072?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/722032936152309072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=722032936152309072' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/722032936152309072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/722032936152309072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/baby-live-blogging.html' title='Baby Live Blogging!'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-7506020467963769666</id><published>2010-07-07T12:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T12:54:36.905-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is a test of the text messaging blogging system.  This is only a test. If this were an actual blog post, I&amp;#39;d have a better joke than this one. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-7506020467963769666?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/7506020467963769666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=7506020467963769666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7506020467963769666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/7506020467963769666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-is-test-of-text-messaging-blogging.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-5389452976280472368</id><published>2010-06-28T18:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T20:28:51.902-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Julia</title><content type='html'>Tonight at dinner Julia shut her eyes tight and said, "I'm hiding behind my eyes."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday Julia got to jump on a trampoline for the first time ever.  How would you know which kid out there was her?  She was the one hopping around saying "Sauté, sauté, sauté".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight's prayer: "Bless us to go to Wal*Mart to see the fish that sucks on the glass."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-5389452976280472368?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/5389452976280472368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=5389452976280472368' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5389452976280472368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/5389452976280472368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/06/julia.html' title='Julia'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8754357932361939796</id><published>2010-06-15T08:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T09:03:25.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Intestinal Fortitude</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Shannon has a stomach with a strength comparable to paper.  So, when things are functioning well, her stomach can be represented as a house of cards:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TBeV47PaBdI/AAAAAAAAAYI/qo3JnAtdk2k/s320/houseofcards-780238.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483015876554393042" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, when things go terribly wrong, the house of cards falls apart.  Sure there is a mess to clean up, but it looks kinda like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TBeV5KQWlqI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/nAToGFv4H0k/s320/52cardpickup.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483015880584894114" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, on the other hand, have a stomach built like steel:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TBeV5mm3BqI/AAAAAAAAAYY/rFHoWKdAhLo/s320/steel.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483015888195487394" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The downside here, is that when a steel bridge fails, the results are a little more impressive than that pile of playing cards:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TBeV4SdogTI/AAAAAAAAAYA/RvD-ut8trCA/s320/bridge+collapse.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483015865608208690" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The moral of the story here?  It's no fun to spend a few hours in the middle of the night sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for your body to finally just go ahead and let the "bridge" collapse.  And when it does finally go, it might just wake up the neighbors.  (Assuming, of course, that the neighbors stinkin' dog is also up all night making an obnoxious din.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8754357932361939796?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8754357932361939796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8754357932361939796' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8754357932361939796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8754357932361939796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/06/intestinal-fortitude.html' title='Intestinal Fortitude'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/TBeV47PaBdI/AAAAAAAAAYI/qo3JnAtdk2k/s72-c/houseofcards-780238.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1737176520047098001</id><published>2010-06-13T11:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T11:26:15.985-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Harry Potter</title><content type='html'>What if Harry Potter were a scientist?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At it's most basic level, being a scientist doesn't imply and special knowledge about physics or biology or geology, (or computers, but I've never really understood how that was a science).  Being a scientist means studying the universe in a methodical, fact based way.  It's looking for laws that define how the universe operates that then allow us to make predictions on future events.  Anyway, someone out there has re-written Harry Potter with Harry as a rational scientist.  I find it entertaining at least.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5782108/1/Harry_Potter_and_the_Methods_of_Rationality"&gt;http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5782108/1/Harry_Potter_and_the_Methods_of_Rationality&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1737176520047098001?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1737176520047098001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1737176520047098001' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1737176520047098001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1737176520047098001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/06/harry-potter.html' title='Harry Potter'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2163834913375736898</id><published>2010-05-06T07:32:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T07:42:43.387-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Baby Juice</title><content type='html'>The other day, Julia started asking for "baby juice".  This isn't the first time she's come up with a name for something that has left us completely baffled.   What on earth is Baby Juice?  (Surely she doesn't want juice made from babies!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we asked her to show us what she wanted, she went right to the refrigerator and asked me to open it, which I did.  "Do you see it in here?" I asked.  "Baby Juice!" she said, pointing to the top shelf.  And there it was, the only thing on the top shelf that she doesn't know the correct name for:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S-LGicMtMEI/AAAAAAAAAX4/p2b7pQnSul4/s1600/mug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 305px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S-LGicMtMEI/AAAAAAAAAX4/p2b7pQnSul4/s320/mug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468151192568541250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week or two ago, Shannon bought a 2 liter bottle of root beer, something we don't normally have around the house.  Julia found it in the pantry and was carrying it around the house, so I asked her if it was her baby.  We wrapped it up in a blanket and rocked it for a bit and had a good laugh.  10 days later when she wanted it, how else was she supposed to describe it?  It was sweet like Juice and you play with it like it's a Baby.  It's "Baby Juice"!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2163834913375736898?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2163834913375736898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2163834913375736898' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2163834913375736898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2163834913375736898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/05/baby-juice.html' title='Baby Juice'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S-LGicMtMEI/AAAAAAAAAX4/p2b7pQnSul4/s72-c/mug.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3095971541418413267</id><published>2010-04-23T20:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T20:11:55.913-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fam'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S9JS7s1NzgI/AAAAAAAAAXw/fKkOTFd83xw/s1600/cakes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 261px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S9JS7s1NzgI/AAAAAAAAAXw/fKkOTFd83xw/s320/cakes.JPG" border="0" alt="Pretend the match is a candle" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463520483553955330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3095971541418413267?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3095971541418413267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3095971541418413267' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3095971541418413267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3095971541418413267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/04/pretend-match-is-candle.html' title=''/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S9JS7s1NzgI/AAAAAAAAAXw/fKkOTFd83xw/s72-c/cakes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8072080483719336750</id><published>2010-04-21T16:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T16:38:22.618-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home'/><title type='text'>Rain rain go away</title><content type='html'>It rained overnight in St. George.  Normally, I love rain.  It makes things cooler and cleaner.  It sounds nice.  It can be fun to watch.  But this morning, I was laying in bed at about 5am listening to the rain and wishing it would stop.  Why?  Because it's watering the weeds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've spent a lot of time in the last 2 weeks trying to get rid of weeds.  They're everywhere.  They grow so fast.  We've been ripping them out, whacking them, mowing them, spraying them and just about anything else we can think of.  And now they just got another batch of water over night.  They'll be 4 feet tall again by tomorrow.  Grrrr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8072080483719336750?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8072080483719336750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8072080483719336750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8072080483719336750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8072080483719336750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/04/rain-rain-go-away.html' title='Rain rain go away'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2354853882717500421</id><published>2010-04-08T14:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T14:36:11.871-06:00</updated><title type='text'>P.S. You really don't need to use P.S. anymore</title><content type='html'>I tend to write in a very conversational style, which can be difficult and confusing at times.  And when I write emails, I commonly put things in after my "signature" as a post script.  We're all familiar with "P.S." and it's usage.  It really comes from the Latin "post scriptum" meaning "written after" which you probably could have guessed if you didn't already know.  But, if you think about it, the internet age has eliminated the need for post scripts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were writing someone a letter a zillion years ago, or even typing someone a letter a few decades ago, you could easily conclude your letter, sign it, and then remember one more tidbit that you wanted to include.  The only logical way to do it was with a p.s. at the end.  No one wants to re-write a whole page just to insert a small paragraph.  But these days, who writes?  In the amount of time it takes to type "p.s." you could scroll up into the body of your letter/email and put your additional comments in the body of your text and no one need know that you only added it at the end.  And yet, I still use it.  Many others undoubtedly use it as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I suppose it's a good thing, because if we ever quit using it all together, our children or grandchildren would read some old book (Austen's characters always seem to be writing letters to each other) and encounter a mysterious "p.s." at the end of a letter and end up all confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2354853882717500421?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2354853882717500421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2354853882717500421' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2354853882717500421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2354853882717500421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/04/ps-you-really-dont-need-to-use-ps.html' title='P.S. You really don&apos;t need to use P.S. anymore'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8495274728883355097</id><published>2010-04-01T09:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T09:58:20.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Handed items</title><content type='html'>Handedness has been an interest of mine for many years.  The majority of people are right-handed.  I am left-handed.  Neither of these things are anybody's fault.  Likewise, no one is to blame for the fact that a great many objects are right-handed.  In some cases, poor design leaves things very awkward to use for a lefty, when some better engineering could yield a more ambidextrous item.  A computer mouse, for example, can be designed to be symmetrical allowing for use with either hand.  Or, it can be very "form fitting".  That fancy right-handed mouse is ok if you're going to use it in your own home, but please don't stock a whole computer lab with right-handed mice!  (Note: I use a mouse with my right hand, as a majority of lefties do.  This is because most of us don't want to have to rearrange every computer we ever sit at.  Additionally, the most common windows shortcuts are left handed (select all, cut, copy, paste, save), so using the mouse with your right hand can speed up many processes.  (What about on a Mac?  Seems like that funky "apple" button is on the left.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other times, there is simply no way around it.  There are many things that fall into this category, like screws.  Yes folks, screws are right-handed.  In general, putting a screw into something (a wood board, for instance) is harder than taking it out.  Putting a screw in means twisting to the right, which for a righty means twisting your arm "out" (Shannon would know the technical term for this direction of twisting).  Twisting in this direction is a much more powerful move than twisting "in".  Try it.  Even if you're just turning an imaginary screw driver.  Twisting "in" makes your elbow poke out weird, and anything that makes your elbow poke out weird is probably not a very strong move.  For lefties though, we're forced to drive screws with that awkward elbow poke.  We're much better at taking screws out.  That's where our power lies.  But, a screw has to be either right handed or left handed.  It just wouldn't work otherwise.  So it might as well benefit the greatest number of people.  (For the engineers out there: can you design an ambidextrous screw?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always on the lookout for items that are handed (either right or left).  And they crop up in places that you wouldn't expect.  The one I've discovered (or maybe just been reminded of) lately is zippers.  About 2 months ago, my right thumb nail underwent some unknown trauma.  I really have no idea what happened to it, but it seems to have died and then restarted.  So, for the last few weeks, I've had tattered ends of half a nail on my right thumb.  It's a bit tender, and I notice when I have to use it.  And zippers on pants are all right handed.  BUT, all this time in the bathroom thinking about handedness has made me realize that toilets are generally LEFT handed.  Apparently people don't want to zip up their pants with the same hand they just flushed with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8495274728883355097?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8495274728883355097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8495274728883355097' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8495274728883355097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8495274728883355097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/04/handed-items.html' title='Handed items'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6913249887417590405</id><published>2010-03-20T11:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T11:46:18.325-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogs'/><title type='text'>Good thing we have Google</title><content type='html'>Because if we didn't have Google, some questions would just have to go unanswered.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For instance, let's say you were thinking to yourself: "Where can I learn more about 'fast mathlong on.comcom'?"  Now, I can't say &lt;i&gt;why&lt;/i&gt; you would ever be thinking that to yourself.  You're the one thinking it, that's your problem.  But if you &lt;b&gt;were&lt;/b&gt; thinking that, you could turn to Google to help you out with all of your fast mathlong on.comcom problems.  You'd type in "&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?q=fast+mathlong+on.comcom&amp;amp;ie=utf-8&amp;amp;oe=utf-8&amp;amp;aq=t&amp;amp;rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&amp;amp;client=firefox-a"&gt;fast mathlong on.comcom&lt;/a&gt;" into Google and it would let you know that the third best place into the whole internet to find out about fast mathlong on.comcom is . . . . THIS BLOG!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's right folks, I am a leading world authority on fast mathlong on.comcom.  The third hit from Google on the topic is &lt;a href="http://cloark.blogspot.com/2008/06/quick-math-long-post.html"&gt;this post of mine&lt;/a&gt; from two years ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6913249887417590405?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6913249887417590405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6913249887417590405' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6913249887417590405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6913249887417590405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/03/good-thing-we-have-google.html' title='Good thing we have Google'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-2911213009907118359</id><published>2010-03-14T19:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T19:35:41.908-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>inFAQ</title><content type='html'>One of my faithful readers asks: "Did you quit blogging because everyone else did, too?"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, here at Bethletard Blogs, we care about our reader(s), so I'm here to answer the question.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Answer: No.  I did pretty much quit blogging, but not just to fit in with the rest of the quit-blogging crowd.  I'm my own man.  I quit blogging because:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- December, January and the first part of February were a pukey ordeal at our house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- January, February, March and the immediate future have been a worky ordeal at work.  I've been working a lot more, at home a lot less, and blogging time has been hit hard.  As has cleaning time, playing with Julia time, and just about everything else.  The most discouraging part is that many days I get up and leave for work before anyone else is up, and then I get home an hour before Julia goes to bed.  And even with all the work, it doesn't feel like much is getting done at work.  But I'd like to get off that topic now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend we went up to the Wasatch front to do the Rex Lee Run.  As I haven't been running (or exercising in any other way.  remember that bit about working too much?) it was an accomplishment that I finished, didn't die and never had to stop and walk.  The race results aren't up yet, but my watch put me at about 27:30.  We barely got there before the race started, so we were way in the back.  That isn't a huge problem because each runner has a chip on their shoe to individually track their time.  I didn't cross the start line until several minutes after the race had started.  But that means I did get to spend the first mile weaving amid the slower runners.  I probably passed up about 1,000 people!  So, at least I got to feel like I was really, really fast when in reality, I never even saw the fastest third of the field.  Shannon walked the 5k with her mom and pushed Julia in the stroller.  Shannon's dad also ran the 5k.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We've been doing the Rex Lee Run for a long time now and have quite the collection of t-shirts.  So last year I started a new tradition which frankly isn't getting the attention that it should be.  Those familiar with the run know that the t-shirts are almost the same every year, generally only changing the color scheme.  But I've got enough shirts now that whatever color they pick, I already have a shirt of that color.  Last year they did orange, so I wore the orange shirt from 2001(?).  This year was blue, so I wore my blue shirt from 2000.  (2010 was a royal blue, 2000 was a much darker blue, almost a little bit purple-ish.)  Anyway, no one is observant enough at the race to notice that I'm the only person there wearing a shirt that is almost the right color, but slightly different.  So, if you're at the race next year, look for me.  I'll be the guy wearing the shirt that is very slightly different than everyone else's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sdf&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; "&gt;Did you quit blogging because everyone else did, too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-2911213009907118359?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/2911213009907118359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=2911213009907118359' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2911213009907118359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/2911213009907118359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/03/infaq.html' title='inFAQ'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3688011462620982238</id><published>2010-01-09T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T21:59:00.498-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes</title><content type='html'>This year I missed singing "Ring Out, Wild Bells" at church.  It's one of those songs that you've really only got one shot to sing each year, so you might as well do it.  If you miss it once, you've got to wait a whole year longer.  (Related sadness: there is but one week a year where we sing Easter hymns at church, and the hymnal has 3.  "He is Risen" and "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" always get picked over "That Easter Morn" which I appreciate because it is musically unique in the hymnal.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I went to look up the song to fill that void in my life.  The lyrics were written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson and it turns out there are another 4 stanzas that are excluded from the hymn in the book.  A few of them probably wouldn't fit as well into the song, but that doesn't mean they should be forgotten entirely.  So, I present the entire piece for your consideration:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,&lt;br /&gt;    The flying cloud, the frosty light:&lt;br /&gt;    The year is dying in the night;&lt;br /&gt;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out the old, ring in the new,&lt;br /&gt;    Ring, happy bells, across the snow:&lt;br /&gt;    The year is going, let him go;&lt;br /&gt;Ring out the false, ring in the true.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out the grief that saps the mind,&lt;br /&gt;    For those that here we see no more;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring out the feud of rich and poor,&lt;br /&gt;Ring in redress to all mankind.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out a slowly dying cause,&lt;br /&gt;    And ancient forms of party strife;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring in the nobler modes of life,&lt;br /&gt;With sweeter manners, purer laws. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out the want, the care, the sin,&lt;br /&gt;    The faithless coldness of the times;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,&lt;br /&gt;But ring the fuller minstrel in.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out false pride in place and blood,&lt;br /&gt;    The civic slander and the spite;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring in the love of truth and right,&lt;br /&gt;Ring in the common love of good. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring out old shapes of foul disease;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring out the thousand wars of old,&lt;br /&gt;Ring in the thousand years of peace.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ring in the valiant man and free,&lt;br /&gt;    The larger heart, the kindlier hand;&lt;br /&gt;    Ring out the darkness of the land,&lt;br /&gt;Ring in the Christ that is to be.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3688011462620982238?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3688011462620982238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3688011462620982238' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3688011462620982238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3688011462620982238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/01/ring-out-ring-out-my-mournful-rhymes.html' title='Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1878326868142757899</id><published>2010-01-09T11:38:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T11:59:31.343-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogs'/><title type='text'>The Blogs are dying in the night</title><content type='html'>Looking through the list of blogs that I follow, I see that about half of them haven't been updated in recent memory.  I haven't blogged as much as I did a year or two ago, but some people seem to have stopped entirely.  I suppose Facebook is partly to blame for this, as it allows people to similarly update the world on their lives, but it's a poor replacement in my opinion.  I'm not anti-Facebook or anything.  If you want to tell the world that you made cookies today, I suppose it's an excellent method for doing so.  (side note: I find it interesting that apparently we all believe that every single one of our friends (and by "friends" I mean anyone we've ever met) are interested in every little thing we say or do.  "I'm waiting in line at the library."  or "I'm facebooking from my phone."  (yes, a "friend" of mine felt the need to tells us all that he was enjoying facebooking from his phone.))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I don't see people using facebook to convey substantive ideas about things.  No paragraph long stories, explanations, or anything.  Text messaging taught us that anything worth saying should be able to fit into 160 characters.  Twitter says we should be able to do it in 140.  Facebook gives you about 250 characters before it truncates your status, essentially telling you "we all want to hear about your every thought, provided you thought can fit in this little tiny box."  Up to this point, this blog post is already over 1400 characters long.  That's 10 full length tweets, or almost 6 facebook status updates.  So, it's a new year, add a resolution to your list to not only exercize your body, but also your brain.  Don't let the brevity police restrict you any longer and go blog something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1878326868142757899?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1878326868142757899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1878326868142757899' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1878326868142757899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1878326868142757899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/01/blogs-are-dying-in-night.html' title='The Blogs are dying in the night'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6742409103161069383</id><published>2010-01-08T08:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T10:26:26.723-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'>Away</title><content type='html'>Neither Shannon nor I have blogged for a while.  Clearly you've all been wondering why.  Well, any extended absence on our part is usually indicative of one of a few events: vacation, holidays or sickness.  In this case, all three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacation/Holiday: It was Christmas!  And a New Year!  We spent about 10 days in SLC skipping all over the valley.  It can be a bit annoying as everyone lives close enough that we can see everyone, but far enough that we still spend a lot of time driving.  It's about 30 minutes from her parents to my parents.  But we had a good Christmas.  Julia started missing home, as she only spent about 10 days in the month of December at home.  But we're back now.  We also got a Wii for Christmas, but then left the controllers in SLC.  So, if anyone wants to look at a Wii, come on over.  The controllers will be making the trip down here in another 10 days or so.  It's not like we have any extra time for recreation anyway . . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sickness: Yeah, Shannon is still sick.  But it seems to be getting better, and it's not as bad as last time.  So far she's only had 2 IVs.  Here's the chart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S0dqm94WaQI/AAAAAAAAAXo/r-jFM7ISO0c/s1600-h/image%282%29.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 451px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S0dqm94WaQI/AAAAAAAAAXo/r-jFM7ISO0c/s320/image%282%29.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424421493869537538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6742409103161069383?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6742409103161069383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6742409103161069383' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6742409103161069383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6742409103161069383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2010/01/away.html' title='Away'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/S0dqm94WaQI/AAAAAAAAAXo/r-jFM7ISO0c/s72-c/image%282%29.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-392061813696965412</id><published>2009-12-20T11:46:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T11:50:36.169-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Pink</title><content type='html'>I don't know how it happened, but Julia is a pink girl.  Now, despite rumors I've heard to the contrary, I have nothing against pink.  I did make comments before Julia was born that we didn't need to &lt;i&gt;overload&lt;/i&gt; her in pink.  We don't need 50 pink outfits, a pink crib, pink sheets, 11 pink blankets and a sign for her room that says "Julia's Pink Kingdom".&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, Julia loves pink anyway.  If we let her pick anything, she's pretty much guaranteed to pick the pink option.  Pink bowl for breakfast, pink shirt, pink blanket, pink pajamas, pink toys.  She's just a pink girl, I suppose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, this still doesn't mean that we need to overload her with pink stuff.  In 6 months, her favorite color could be orange.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-392061813696965412?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/392061813696965412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=392061813696965412' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/392061813696965412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/392061813696965412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/pink.html' title='Pink'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-462529550033993968</id><published>2009-12-16T19:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:58:45.763-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Diapers</title><content type='html'>Tonight getting ready for bed:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clark: Are there any poops in your diaper?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Julia: Nope.  Just a wet diaper.  No wipes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-462529550033993968?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/462529550033993968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=462529550033993968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/462529550033993968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/462529550033993968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/diapers.html' title='Diapers'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4425634088936335491</id><published>2009-12-14T15:34:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T15:37:54.794-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby #2'/><title type='text'>Chart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We are in absolutely no position to be promising any sort of regular updating at all, but various people have been interested in a current puking chart.  So, here it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/Sya9pGKEM3I/AAAAAAAAAXc/ycQYPJUBiDw/s320/pukes" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 187px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415224115684717426" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The mayhem is staying at fairly reasonable levels, though Shannon still doesn't feel well.  Julia is doing admirably with 2 parents that have both been battling their own issues.  I am nearly better these days, except for the cough that shows up around bed time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You'll note that this post has been tagged "Baby #2" because we still haven't come up with a name for it yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4425634088936335491?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4425634088936335491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4425634088936335491' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4425634088936335491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4425634088936335491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/chart.html' title='Chart'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/Sya9pGKEM3I/AAAAAAAAAXc/ycQYPJUBiDw/s72-c/pukes' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-4054240514184441113</id><published>2009-12-11T19:57:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T20:03:20.942-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><title type='text'>Terror</title><content type='html'>They say that you should do something every day that terrifies you.  I'm now set for about a week.  Tonight I was the musical entertainment at the ward Christmas party.  It was supposed to be me and Shannon, but as she is both sick and in SLC, I did it by myself.  I've been sick for the last 2 weeks, and while I am generally recovered, I still have a cough, and my voice starts to disappear each night at about 8pm.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I did it.  I played one song on the piano AND SANG, then did Mele Kalikimaka on the ukulele, and then lead everyone in the 12 Days of Christmas.  I'm not sure I've ever sung a solo in front of a group bigger than about 5, let alone two numbers, on two different instruments.  It wasn't perfect, there will be no calls from any recording studios, but I made it through alright.  There's even video of it, but I don't think I need to see it any time soon.  In fact, I don't think &lt;i&gt;anyone&lt;/i&gt; needs to see it.  Ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-4054240514184441113?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/4054240514184441113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=4054240514184441113' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4054240514184441113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/4054240514184441113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/terror.html' title='Terror'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8598258341105329499</id><published>2009-12-10T07:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T07:21:11.469-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanny'/><title type='text'>Puking Chart</title><content type='html'>Apparently my promise of a graphical accounting of Shannon's queasiness was a big hit.  So here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SyEDhKPA7FI/AAAAAAAAAXU/PKNIevyB6d4/s1600-h/image.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SyEDhKPA7FI/AAAAAAAAAXU/PKNIevyB6d4/s320/image.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413612095293942866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A "puke" is defined as any trip to the toilet (or other puke receptacle as available) in which heaving is accomplished, without regard to the presence of actual vomitus.  After successive "pukes" throughout a single day, they tend to degenerate into dry heaves, but are tallied for this chart anyway.  This is not a count of heaving events, which would be at least equal to, but in fact much greater than the number of pukes; heaving events generally occur 2 to 5 times per puke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Analysis:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hyperemesis gravidarum is certainly a complicated issue and a full study of all related factors will not be done at this time.  It would require much more data than is being collected with regards to diet, hydration therapy, weight, time of day, etc.  One interesting fact is this: the embryo hates St. George.  The red boxes below enclose days that Shannon has been in SLC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SyEDgrOyQCI/AAAAAAAAAXM/uo4zUmnJac0/s1600-h/pukes+by+location.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 187px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SyEDgrOyQCI/AAAAAAAAAXM/uo4zUmnJac0/s320/pukes+by+location.PNG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413612086971482146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Since the 20th of November, Shannon pukes 5.6 times per day on days that she is not in SLC, and only 0.2 times per day on days that she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; in SLC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8598258341105329499?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8598258341105329499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8598258341105329499' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8598258341105329499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8598258341105329499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/puking-chart.html' title='Puking Chart'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SyEDhKPA7FI/AAAAAAAAAXU/PKNIevyB6d4/s72-c/image.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-1670193505103849948</id><published>2009-12-07T06:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T06:37:00.515-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fam'/><title type='text'>Announcement</title><content type='html'>Here is the big announcement.  Everyone head for the edge of your seats . . . . &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last Thursday, Shannon and Julia packed up their things and moved up to Shannon's parents house in SLC for a little while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; . . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   . . . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     . . . . . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is because Shannon had been puking her guts out, because she is pregnant!  (I hope you weren't too close to the edge of your seat!)  Yeah, I know that probably borders on distasteful, but you just don't get an opportunity to throw something out there like that very often.  If I were really tricksy I would have let that sentence up there just hang out by itself for a day or two before explaining.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, for those of you who remember, Shannon and pregnancy don't quite get along.  (Question of the week comes from my dad: Do other species get morning sickness?)  Last time she threw up a gazillion times, got many IVs and lost 15 pounds.  This time she also had to deal with a sick husband and a child.  It wasn't working well, so she's in SLC at her parents.  She'll be back on the 12th probably.  And probably her mom will stay down here a few days after that.  We're playing things by ear here.  She's doing reasonably well up there, and I'm bored down here.  Its even worse that I'm sick, because I can't get out and do much, so I just sit at home by myself and sniffle.  Anyway, back to the topic at hand: babies!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Baby #2 should arrive in mid July.  We haven't given it a fetus-name yet.  Feel free to offer one up.  If last time is any indicator, Shannon has another 2 months of unpleasantness to go through before things normalize.  But, on the upside, this time we've got graphs!  Yes, we're tracking the vomitous activities, doctors appointments, medications and other key indicators so I can really quantify for people Shannon's discomfort.  Then I don't have to use phrases like "she threw up a gazillion times" and can instead reliably say that she found herself bent over the toilet 18 times in a 36 hours period from Monday at midnight to Tuesday at noon last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, I think that covers it.  Don't worry, we still have lots of time to discuss puking yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-1670193505103849948?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/1670193505103849948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=1670193505103849948' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1670193505103849948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/1670193505103849948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/announcement.html' title='Announcement'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-6486667841128902944</id><published>2009-12-06T16:25:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T16:37:31.979-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Absenteeism</title><content type='html'>Neither Shannon nor I have blogged much at all lately.  Usually this is ascribable to either traveling or illness.  In our case, it is both.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to SLC for Thanksgiving, and got to see all the Grandmas (ours and Julia's).  That's not always an easy thing to do, as they live in Salt Lake City, South Salt Lake, Taylorsville, South Jordan and Sandy.  Among the highlights were:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Turkey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Not working&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- BYU beating Utah.  (My very brief comments on that game: this is 3 out of 4 close games where BYU has beaten Utah.  I thought Utah was supposed to be the team that came up big in the important moments.  On Halls comments: a small percentage of fans on both sides are absolute jerks.  Let's not try to deny they exist, or pretend that it is easy to turn the other cheek when they do get in your face.  It would be nice if Max had done a better job of ignoring them, but he didn't.  But just because he made some stupid and unfair comments doesn't mean that all of us should go join that small percentage of jerky fans.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the vacationing was over, we decided to start the illness phase of our non-communication.  I started Sunday on the drive home, Shannon shortly after, and Julia on Wednesday (I think).  I am still fighting through the cold that will not die.  I don't have a fever.  If anything my temperature is abnormally low.  So, I don't think I have the pig virus.  But whatever I have has made the rounds from my head (as achiness), into my throat (as soreness), to my whole body, back to my throat (as an inability to speak) and back to my head (as every imaginable sinus issue all at once).  I like to think that as it has made the rounds, it's got to be just about ready to leave my body.  For the last 24 hours it has been doing its darnedest to escape via my nose, taking every last mucus membrane with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, I would like to announce a big announcement.  But, the announcement deserves it's own blog post.  So, like all good bloggers do, I'm telling you that I'm going to tell you something, and then make you wait.  Unlike the other bloggers though, I'm not going to string you out for days or weeks.  It'll be up in 18 hours or less.  (For those of you who know (or think you know) the secret, you can hold onto that little treasure of knowledge for another day.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-6486667841128902944?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/6486667841128902944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=6486667841128902944' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6486667841128902944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/6486667841128902944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/12/absenteeism.html' title='Absenteeism'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8021170890983380518</id><published>2009-11-11T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T19:05:00.248-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><title type='text'>Leftovers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Shannon made waffles for dinner.  Pumpkin waffles, with apple syrup.  They're very tasty.  And that's a good thing, because these are the leftovers.  Yes, this is after three of us ate all we could.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SvjLKm5cDlI/AAAAAAAAAXE/_PSCc8RfBco/s320/DSCN4460.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402291136131501650" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8021170890983380518?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8021170890983380518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8021170890983380518' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8021170890983380518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8021170890983380518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/11/leftovers.html' title='Leftovers'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SvjLKm5cDlI/AAAAAAAAAXE/_PSCc8RfBco/s72-c/DSCN4460.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-8089294048713803219</id><published>2009-11-10T19:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T19:37:00.492-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Planning our family vacations</title><content type='html'>The video is long, but I wanted to show off Julia's talent.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.onetruemedia.com/share_view_player?p=9d496478a7a6346a29bebd" quality="high" scale="noscale" width="408" height="382" wmode="transparent" name="FLVPlayer" salign="LT" flashvars="&amp;amp;p=9d496478a7a6346a29bebd&amp;amp;skin_id=701&amp;amp;host=http://www.onetruemedia.com" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="margin:0px;font:12px/13px verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:20px;padding-bottom:15px;width:408px;text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.onetruemedia.com/landing?&amp;amp;utm_source=emplay&amp;amp;utm_medium=txt0" target="_blank" style="text-decoration:none;"&gt;Make photo slide shows at &lt;span style="text-decoration:underline;"&gt;www.OneTrueMedia.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the record she can locate (to the best of our knowledge) the following countries: Canada, USA, Greenland (we know this isn't really a country, but she doesn't), Mexico, Peru, Chile, Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, Madagascar, Cote d'Ivoire, Egypt, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Sri Lanka, India (sometimes), Kazakhstan, China, Mongolia, Russia, Japan, Philippines, Australia, New Zealand, Turkey, Greece, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, Spain, Ireland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Finland.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-8089294048713803219?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/8089294048713803219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=8089294048713803219' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8089294048713803219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/8089294048713803219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/11/planning-our-family-vacations.html' title='Planning our family vacations'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-527574139900609612</id><published>2009-11-09T19:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T19:05:09.812-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>Gizmo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I think my sisters (at least the older ones) will see a resemblance.  (I sure think it is there.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SvjKPKOEDQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/6wTimQKkmiw/s320/DSCN4457.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402290114821098754" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-527574139900609612?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/527574139900609612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=527574139900609612' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/527574139900609612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/527574139900609612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/11/gizmo.html' title='Gizmo'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sMhjpd-eScI/SvjKPKOEDQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/6wTimQKkmiw/s72-c/DSCN4457.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-3849741579157637805</id><published>2009-11-03T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T12:04:00.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, every so often (annually, biannually?) my dad would pull out his big piggy bank full of change and set all us kids to work rolling all the coins.  He always seemed to have tons of change, and we'd roll up 30 or 40 bucks worth.  Similarly, I had my tootsie roll bank and I'd pull the change out of there occasionally to trade in for "real money".  A bit later in life, my friend Spencer and I would refer to change as "free money".  If we wanted to go ride our bikes somewhere to get a slurpee or something, even if we "didn't have any money" we knew we could go find a little pile of dimes and go get something.  The point is, piggy banks always seemed to be full.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is not the case anymore.  Shannon and I have but one change receptacle, which basically just sits there.  (Unless she's moving stuff in and out when I'm not home.)  In years it's never filled up, and its very rare that we go take anything out of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-3849741579157637805?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/3849741579157637805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=3849741579157637805' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3849741579157637805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/3849741579157637805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/11/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35877608.post-9191492245047140331</id><published>2009-11-02T17:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T17:13:15.701-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. George'/><title type='text'>November</title><content type='html'>It's November.  I may not own a snow shovel, but I did just mow my lawn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35877608-9191492245047140331?l=cloark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/feeds/9191492245047140331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35877608&amp;postID=9191492245047140331' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9191492245047140331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35877608/posts/default/9191492245047140331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cloark.blogspot.com/2009/11/november.html' title='November'/><author><name>Clark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03145994948747483468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
