Freebasing on a Train

In Holland, where Heidi served a mission, the country is much more permissive about drug use. In fact, marijuana is legal, and while the harder stuff ain't, Heidi tells me that the laws prohibiting harder drugs are not rigorously enforced.

So, while Heidi and her companion were commuting one day, they discovered a passenger in the seats behind them freebasing. You can see him and his crew behind the fortuitously posed (and mocking in a coke-snort sorta way) Sister Thurston.

While the drug use photo had been my favorite from Heidi's mission, she discovered this other one in the process of searching her big box o' photos, and now this is my new favorite: Heidi all dolled up in tradtional Dutch lady-wear. (Ooh-la-la).

I dig her crazy Oompah-Loompah hat, the barrel-shaped candy-cane colored skirt, and the elfin-pointy wooden clomper shoes. It all screams "HOTTIE." Who needs drug hallucinations when one can see someone dressed like this?

Mea culpa to all of Heidi's Dutch friends who may read this and be offended by my off-handed remarks about the traditional dress of their culture. Forgive this ugly American.

NEXT STOP: Ferris Bueller's Day Off from Church

A Friend from Holland

In January, Heidi's friend from her mission in Holland, Paula Achuo, stayed at our house for a weekend. Her daughter, Chantal, and our daughter, Lora, hit it off rather smashingly.

And speaking of Heidi's mission, on the next post, I shall share my favorite photo of her missionary days in the Netherlands.

NEXT STOP: Heidi's Holland

Various Unflattering Photos of Myself, Part I

This entry will be the first in an ongoing series. Certainly I have no shortage of raw material -- bins of various unflattering photos of myself -- to draw on. I'll try to zero in on the mildly amusing ones and veer away from the nightmarishly hideous ones. Of course, some might argue that all the images in this series are simultaneously amusing AND hideous. I'll grant that there's probably some merit to that argument.

Today's freak show is courtesy of Brigham Young Univeristy, where I teach part-time.

Twice a week, eight months out of the year, I teach a night class of Freshman Composition at BYU. BYU maintains strict dress and grooming standards. For example, men cannot have long hair or goatees. Because Heidi prefers me with long hair and a goatee, I allow my mane and chin to grow shaggy in the teaching off-season (summers and the Christmas break between semesters). However, I need to hit the barbershop once I'm back in class.

These photos document the night before a haircut. For the occasion, I muffed up my hair and tried to look like an uber 1970s-era disco schmuck.

At least I got the schmuck part down.

These photos also reveal that middle age is creeping across my face: you can see the birth of a well-fed waddle between chin and neck; the flesh beneath my eyes beginning to sink in; the perma-creases on my forehead.

In my mind, I still feel fairly spry; but after looking at these pix, it's not so difficult to believe that 2009 marks my 20th year since graduating from high school.

NEXT STOP: Dutch Invasion

Father Falls Best: The Family's First Ski Adventure

Thanks to the immense generosity of my nephew, Johnny Graham, and his wife, Kaley, we were able to take the kids (minus Tess, who spent the day with Aunt Ruth) skiing at Snowbird.

Johnny snagged us free passes that he has access to from his work, discount ski clothing, and free equipment rentals. We would not have been able to afford this otherwise. Then, he and Kaley accompanied us and worked with our kids, freeing Heidi and I to make a few runs of our own.

It's been over a decade since I last skiied. "It can't be THAT difficult to pick up where I left off," I thought to myself.

As it turns out, it WAS that difficult. For me, anyway. Heidi zoomed back into action, elegantly and deftly zig-zagging her way down the mountain. I zoomed, too: a tumbling zoom of flailing arms, legs, skis, and poles as I wiped out at various points on the slope. Heidi found great amusement in this and snapped a photo of one of my upendings (see above).

Things only got worse for me after Heidi and I took a wrong turn, and the only way back to our lift was down a black diamond slope. Fortunately, Heidi went first and was unable to photographically document my awkward, freakishly absurd descent, interrupted by multiple, powdery mishaps with gravity.

The kids, however, picked up skiing quite quickly, and Ian was really cruising.

Perhaps if we're lucky, we'll make it back to the slopes before another decade passes.

NEXT STOP: Hair Gone Bad

Chef Lora and Chef Isabel Boil Stuff

On Sunday, Lora and Isabel, hungry, commandeered the kitchen like they were hosting their own cooking show. They needed help getting the water boiling for hot dogs, but after that, they faithfully watched the food, asking every 10 seconds, "Are they ready?" This was cute the first five times.

Next week, we'll try boiling something else.

NEXT STOP: Eating Snow and Fearing Death--Or, How My Body Forgot How to Ski

Donating My Teeth to the Lord

From one I can tell, blog etiquette dictates that the blogger ought to provide regular, near-daily new content. Minus that, followers of the blog will stop visiting the blog altogether, and the blogger will be typing to nobody but him or herself.

That being the case, and noticing that about six weeks have lapsed since my last foray into blogginess, perhaps I'll just be typing this one for my own enjoyment.

From time to time, I thought I might scan pix from the past and share brief anecdotes about some of the karma -- good and bad -- that has landed on me over the years.

Today, a Tokyo tale from the mission I served for the LDS church in Japan (Tokyo South Mission).

On November 7, 1990, only one month after arriving in Japan, I was riding my new mountain bike through the streets of Shizuoka (a city about three hours south of Tokyo). It was around 9:30. My missionary trainer, Elder Travis Hoopes, and I had spent another full day without any appointments, filling our time by roaming the streets and talking about the gospel with anyone who would stop to listen.

We were tired and excited to go home and enjoy what little personal time we had each day. We pedaled fast and zoomed from sidewalk to street, following the path of least resistance, pedestrian or vehicular.

My mountain bike had a quick-release mechanism on the front wheel. By accident or design, this had been loosened. At one intersection, I jumped from a sidewalk curb, lifting my handlebars for a smooth landing. And that was the last thing I remembered.

Next, I was groggy and returning to consciousness in the middle of the road, staring up at the stars.

Reconstructing events based on the evidence, it seems that when I lifted the handlebars, the unlocked front wheel detached from the fork, and kept on rolling. When the front fork of the bike hit the pavement, the bike flipped me face-first into the street.

Both my front, top teeth came through my upper lip, leaving jagged holes. The left tooth broke, exposing nerve, and the right tooth was pushed back at an angle into my mouth, the roots of it mortally wounded.

Above are some photos: the first the morning after the accident just before going to the hospital. The second photo is taken the night of the accident. I'm glad the concussion-groggy look in my eyes remains consistent. The bandages cover most of the gore, but you can see some of the Mick Jagger-esque swelling.

Thanks to those lips, I had to eat through a straw for the better part of a week, and I lost the 20-30 pounds I packed onto my frame at the MTC (missionary training center).

Alrighty then. Nice trip down memory lane, Yates. Hope to see you again in another six weeks...

NEXT STOP: Lora and Isabel Host a Cooking Show