Slapping My Best Friend

 A few weeks ago, I got a call from my good friend, Aaron Allred. In fact, while I have many good friends, whom I love and care about, if I was forced to name my one best friend (my wife excepting, of course), it would have to be Aaron. Even though we haven't lived near each other for many years, we talk regularly, and try to get together whenever he's in town. That was the purpose of this call. His niece was getting married and he'd be in Grantsville a couple of weeks hence. Would I be available for a Saturday morning run?

That's usually the form that our get-togethers take. Since when he visits, it's usually for specific family event, and I have my own activities and responsibilities, it's often not possible to get together in the evenings. But we seem to usually be able to schedule time for a run early (but not too early) on Saturday morning.

This time would be no different. I was planning to run some miles (7) that morning anyway, so it worked out well. At 8 AM sharp (well maybe a few minutes after because I hadn't accounted for The Willow / Durfee intersection being shut down and had to go back and around) I met him at his parents' house and we took a run around Grantsville. West on Durfee to West Street, then north to Clark, east to Hale, north again to North Street (Grantsville has a North Street, a South Street, a West Street, but no East Street, but it does have an Eastmoor Drive), then east to Maple, south back to Clark, east to Bowery, south to Main, west to Willow, and south back to his parents'. This was a little over five miles, but Aaron had to get back to get ready for the wedding (don't worry, I ran another couple to get in my seven).

While we run, our conversation spreads over many different topics, our families, politics, religion, Grantsville (who currently owns the Drugstore and the BlueBird and if they might be willing to sell), and many other things. On this run, we talked about our friendship. I mentioned that I thought it was interesting that even though we'd grown up in the same small town and had obviously known who each other was for most of our lives (I definitely knew who Aaron was, he was the tall kid who got to be both the Ring Master in the 1st Grade Circus and the Nutcracker in The Nutcracker. I had to settle for a lowly Hippity-Hop and the Mouse King), we hadn't become good friends until our Sophomore year of High School.

In fact, our one interaction I could recall before then was a negative one. My best guess is that we were probably in the Sixth Grade. We were playing touch football at lunch and as time was running out and the score was tied, I urged the other people on my team not to rush the opposing quarterback on this next play. The opposing quarterback was another Aaron (Sweat) and he was very fast. And if we rushed, that meant he could then run, and would likely score a touchdown.

Well that was exactly what happened. Nobody rushed initially, but eventually Aaron (Allred) rushed, Aaron (Sweat) took off running, eluded the rest of our team, and scored. I, who admittedly was overly competitive as a child, was not happy. As we headed back into school after the bell rang, I got in Aaron's face, wanting to know why he rushed when I had said not to (like I was the coach or something) and that he'd caused us to lose the game. Aaron, who was always more laid-back than I was, didn't understand what the big deal was (a much more rational response) and told me as much. I think there was maybe a couple of light shoves and then I up and slapped him across the face. Aaron rightfully mocked me. As I recall he said something like "Oh, you're real cool. You can slap. Can I shake your hand?" I don't remember anything else about the interaction, but obviously we did not leave that confrontation as friends.

But once we became friends again in high school, we were basically inseparable. I spent as much time at the Allred house as I did at my own. We played sports together, did comedy sketches together for different assemblies, double-dated, many movie nights and sleep-overs (Rocky, Star Wars, Back to the Future, Big Trouble in Little China).

My first kiss came on a night when we pulled the old "telling each of our parents that we were sleeping over at the other's house" scam. That ended up being foiled when someone called my house late that night and asked if I was there and my parents took that to mean that something was amiss and my dad came looking for me. As it turned out, we had left the girl's house where we were just in time and got back to my house before my dad found us somewhere else. But I'll never forget pulling into my driveway and seeing my mom sitting in the living room, waiting for us. We lied and said we'd been at Aaron's and left to come to my house and sleep out on the trampoline. The kiss actually happened later that night on my trampoline when the girls we'd been with sneaked over to my house in the middle of the night. And yes, for those wondering, Jeanell was the girl I kissed. I'll let the other girl, who Aaron was dating at the time, remain anonymous.

Aaron thought that the reason we became really good friends once we became friends is that we had similar interests and a similar sense of humor. That's probably true, but another part of it is just that Aaron is a really good guy. He was always someone that everyone liked to be around. He tolerated my intensity and helped me to be a little more relaxed.

A few years ago, I went back east to visit Aaron and attend a BYU football game with him. A couple of things stand out from that trip.

The first is that I flew into Nashville late on a Friday night and we went downtown to get something to eat. I remember going to a restaurant and as the hostess was telling us some of the specials, told us about a particular dish that cooked for eight hours. In near unison, we both said "Oh, well we don't have eight hours." cracking ourselves up by both making the same lame/hilarious joke. We didn't get back to Aaron's house until 2 AM (Jeanell still teases me about that because I am not really a night-owl, so she calls this version of me "Tennessee Rich", but I am quick to point out that due to the time difference it was really only midnight Mountain Time, but now as I think about it, it might have been 1 AM Mountain Time (I can never remember if Nashville is Eastern or Central, but I think it's Central)).

The other thing I remember about that trip is that we went to the BYU pre-game and I was amazed at the number of people there who both knew Aaron and wanted to talk to him. I know the dynamics of BYU fans / members of the Church are a little different in Tennessee, but it was still just amazing to me the number of people who came up to talk to Aaron while we tried to chat and eat our pulled-pork sandwich.

Aaron is one of the good ones. Someone I look up to (both literally and figuratively). Grateful for our 30+ year friendship that I'm sure will continue throughout our lives.

Late-night Cat Vomit

 As you may have heard, we have cats. And not just one or two cats, but four. And sometimes those cats (especially one in particular) vomit. And that's just part of life when you have four cats. Just like emptying the litter box every morning and vacuuming up oodles of cat hair. You just clean it up and move on with your life.

So Jeanell and I are in bed the other night and I'm starting to drift off. It's a little before 11 and I had been reading and falling asleep a little bit and now I had put my book away and was within minutes of drifting off to peaceful slumber. Suddenly, we hear the unmistakable sound of the cat vomiting. And to make matters worse, the sounds are definitely coming from under our bed. Where I'm almost asleep, I'm all for dealing with it the next day, but not Jeanell.

In what now seems like a surreal dream, the mattress is off the bed (no easy feat). Then the box springs are tipped so we can get underneath, and an assortment of blankets and boxes that were stored underneath are moved out of the way. Now Jeanell's in the kitchen, getting hot water and Pine-Sol, along with the special pet cleanup spray. She gets the vomit cleaned up, but now she's in high gear. She gets the vacuum and now she's vacuuming (my job is to hold the canister). It's now 11:15, maybe 11:30. Lila stumbles in and asks what is happening. "We're vacuuming," I tell her. She goes back to bed. Jeanell finishes the vacuuming, we replace the items that were under the bed, put back the box springs and mattress, and by 11:45 are back in bed, this time for good.

For me, that story perfectly illustrates Jeanell and her boundless energy. She goes full bore all the time and you either try to keep up or you get left behind.

Those who connect with us through social media know the time and effort she puts into decorating the house for every holiday and every change of season. She works full-time at the store, splitting her time between Store Director of the Grantsville store and Dairy assistant in the Stansbury store. She takes care of the flowers and decorations at my dad's grave. She drives Lila all over the county and to Centerville once (or more) a week. And on and on.

Something Jeanell will do once in a while is ask me, "What's your favorite thing about me?" This is always a difficult question for me to answer because there are so many things I could say. She's an incredibly hard worker. She's beautiful. She's caring and compassionate. She has a terrific sense of humor. She's fun and adventurous. She's an amazing mother (our kids adore her in a way that they will never adore me, and that's ok).

This morning (after I had already written most of this post), Jeanell asked me this question again (it seems that often this question will come about following intimacy, but sadly, this morning, that was not the case). I was again left pondering which of her many terrific qualities I would answer with. I reflected on last night, when we spent the evening at Uncle Scott's house, singing songs around the piano with Scott, his dear friends, the Watsons, and Jeanell, Lila, and myself. I don't know the Watsons well, but I noticed how Jeanell has this way of making everyone in a situation feel welcome, comfortable, and accepted. I answered, "I love the way you make people feel comfortable," I told her, but realized that made it sound more like she gave people a comfy place to sit down, which wasn't quite what I meant. "I love the way you put people at ease and make them feel accepted when they're around you." I don't know if I said exactly those words, but that's what I tried to convey. And I don't know if that will always be my favorite thing about her, but for today, that will do just fine.

I've known Jeanell for most of my life and now been married to her for over half of it. What a blessing she is to me. So glad she's mine.

Cate

 I have a double-niece by the name of Cate (meaning she is the daughter of my brother and my wife's sister). Because Cate lives next-door to us, and is several years younger than both my youngest and her older siblings, and maybe a little because she is the youngest grandchild on the Jefferies side, we have a pretty close relationship with Cate.

The closeness of our relationship is almost entirely due to Jeanell. Cate loves her Aunt Nellie and will frequently come knock on our backdoor, just to see if Aunt Nellie is there. They've been watching Harry Potter movies together and once in a while Cate will even sleep over.

I'd say my role is more as just someone who Cate tolerates, but I like to tease her about how I'm her favorite uncle. She'll quickly tell me that in fact Uncle Scott (not my brother Scott, who is also Cate's uncle, but Jeanell's uncle Scott, who is technically Cate's great-uncle, but who is really keeping track? I am, that's for sure). Usually she'll let me know that I am somewhere around her 9th or 10th favorite uncle (she only has 11 uncles, 12 if you count Great-Uncle Scott, so I'm definitely toward the bottom). It's an ongoing joke between us.

A few birthdays ago, (Cate's) Grandpa Jefferies asked me to say the blessing on the food at a dinner we were having to celebrate Cate's birthday. I decided to take that opportunity to have a little fun with Cate. In the middle of my prayer, I said something like "and I'm thankful Heavenly Father, that I was able to say the blessing today for Cate's birthday, since I am her favorite uncle." What could Cate do or say, at least immediately? She couldn't interrupt the prayer. But as soon as the prayer was finished, she made sure to let me know that I was still not, in fact, her favorite uncle.

Last week, I attended my niece Hallie's missionary farewell. Jeanell was out of town for work and my kids are not really church-goers, so I was the lone representative from my family. When I went over to Hallie's parents' house after the meeting, Cate was there (that's the thing about double-nieces, they're at every family function, regardless of which side). Cate asked me if I would go out into the backyard with her (you'll notice she didn't ask Great-Uncle Scott, but I digress). I agreed and we went into the backyard where she started playing on the swing set.

I asked Cate about her friend Claire who lives next-door to Grandma and Grandpa Jefferies, but who is moving at some point. When Claire moves into her new home, Claire's grandparents are going to move into Claire's current home. So I was asking about that, whether Claire had moved yet, and if her grandparents had moved into the home next to Grandma and Grandpa Jefferies.

Cate told me that Claire hadn't moved yet, but would be in mid-February. She then told me that probably only Claire's grandma would be moving into the house because her grandpa was in the hospital and "his body was shutting down."

I don't know Claire's grandpa well, but I know who he is. A couple of his kids are around my age and they lived not too far from the house on Eastmoor where I grew up. I hadn't heard anything about this man being in the hospital and so I wanted to have this confirmed.

Later that day, I asked my mom if she had heard anything about that. She hadn't. We asked Uncle Scott if he had heard that. I asked Grandpa Jefferies (my father-in-law) if he had heard anything. He hadn't heard anything either. I asked my own brother Carl if he knew what Cate was talking about. Nope.

All week, the question was out there and hadn't been definitively resolved one way or the other.

Finally, Jeanell took matters into her own hands and texted Claire's cousin, Lauren, who is the same age as our twins and used to do Jeanell's eye-lashes. As luck would have it, Lauren was coming out to Grantsville to visit. The next day, she texted Jeanell back "I just saw my grandpa and he is good. He was working cattle all day yesterday so he probably has at least a few years left."

We were glad to hear that Claire's grandpa was well. I'm still wondering where Cate got her information or if she was just messing with me.

I'm grateful for Cate and the fun she adds to my life.

OCD and Wetting My Pants

As I've become older, I've decided that I have OCD, not to a debilitating degree, but enough that I notice it. For me, it's that most of what I do has to have a pattern or a schedule to it. I have a routine, and when my routine is disrupted, my mood suffers.

Some examples:

• I do laundry every Wednesday and Saturday. This happens pretty much without fail. The only exceptions are if Christmas falls on one of those days or if I am out of town on one of those days.
• I wash my hair every Thursday and Sunday and I condition my hair every Sunday. I might have this wrong but it seems like I learned on an episode of Queer Eye (first iteration) that you should wash your hair every fourth shower or something like that and that you should condition half of the times you washed your hair. I don't know if that's right or wrong, but that's where I got it and that's pretty much what I do.
• I shave every Sunday. I've rarely gone with a clean-shaven look in my adult life so I can get away with shaving once a week. When I was a church-goer (maybe we'll get into that at some point), it made sense to do that on Sunday and I've maintained that since I ceased being a church-goer.
• The last Friday of every month, I run the "basket clean" cycle on our washing machine.
• Every April, I order a new water filter for our refrigerator and new furnace filter for our furnace.
• At the end of each year, I map out my exercise plan for the entire next year. For example, on May 16, 2024 I will do P90X2 Yoga and run three miles. I would be extremely surprised if that doesn't happen.
• Every Sunday I fill up both our cars with gas. And every other Sunday I wash them. (This is something that started after I stopped being a regular church-goer).
• After I finish a run at the gym, I go to the drinking fountain and take 30 sips/swallows of water. Next I get a wipe and go and wipe off my treadmill. I then return to the drinking fountain and take 25 more sips of water. Then I stretch (same set of stretches every time with a 10-second hold of each position). Finally, I take 20 sips of water, gather my things, and leave.

There are probably other examples, but I think that's enough to give you an idea.

One other aspect of this part of my personality is that it is very difficult for me to stop working on a task before it is finished. And I can recall a specific incidence in the 2nd Grade where this had a detrimental effect.

My 2nd Grade teacher was the wonderful Christy Syndergaard. I have nothing but fond memories of her and her class and she remains one of my favorite people.

On this particular day, we were working on a math worksheet in class and as I got going on mine, I suddenly needed to use the bathroom. But I couldn't just stop with the worksheet half-done and go to the bathroom. I remember thinking, I'll just finish these last problems and then go ask if I can (may) use the bathroom.

But the urgency of the situation increased, and the need to go became so intense that it began to interfere with my concentration so I was doing the problems slower, creating a terrible negative feedback loop. The more I needed to go, the slower I could do the problems and psychologically I couldn't go until those problems were finished. I just couldn't bring myself to leave the unfinished assignment and go to use the bathroom. 

As you may have guessed from the title of this post, I didn't end up making it. At some point before the assignment was finished I lost control. And let's be honest, it wasn't just a little pee. In fact, I don't know if to this day I have ever urinated as much at one time. My pants were soaked. There was a puddle on my chair. It was not a good situation.

This would have happened late 1984 or early 1985 so I don't remember a lot of details about the rest of the day, but two things I do remember.

The first is that it was winter, and that not too long after my accident it was time to go outside for recess. And I remember it was oh so cold. If I had been outside when the accident occurred, it's possible there would have been an initial sensation of warmth as in Dumb and Dumber, but where I went outside some time after the accident, all I remember was the cold.

The second thing I remember about it is that no one said anything about it. I don't know if it was that no one noticed (I don't know how that would be possible) or if everyone was just trying to be nice about it, but neither Mrs. Sydergaard nor any of my classmates said anything about it. I went home at the end of the day and came back the next day as if nothing had happened.