I like to do drawings.

I've been doing these ballpoint drawings on 3x5 cards lately. I did the first one because I needed a bookmark. Ok, I didn't NEED a bookmark. I have plenty. I wanted to make a bookmark so I did. Anyway here they are.

The hair she is a cut!

Well here is the new hairdo.

Juggling with the nephews.

(Back yard Casa de Bolt. Uncle Jason watches 18 month old Porter while Frodo, aka Mr Stinky, frolics about. Walking around in the back yard Uncle Jason steps on a half eaten apple. Moments later Porter has picked up the apple and is eating it.)

Uncle Jason: No Porter that's yucky. (Takes apple and throws it into the garden.)
Porter: Eee (Looks at Uncle Jason as if he has been told he will never have chocolate ever again.)
Uncle Jason: Let me get you a good one. (Approaches apple tree. Noticing that the apples are just about palm-size he picks three.)
Uncle Jason: Watch this Porter. (Proceeds to juggle the apples. Porter smiles, then holds out his hand wanting his apple. Uncle Jason hands him the apple dejected at the nephew's lack of interest in the juggling. He sits and begins to juggle two apples with one hand. Enter three year old Heston.)
Heston: What are you doing?
Uncle Jason: Juggling. (Heston watches enthralled.)
Heston: Do it with your other hand.
Uncle Jason: I can't.
Heston: Why? (Pronounced Whyuh.)
Uncle Jason: I'm no good with the left hand.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: I'm right handed.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: I was born that way.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: (Sighs and smiles.) Just because ok. Hey go get me another apple.
Heston: Ok. (Runs full out to the tree. Uncle Jason slowly stands and begins to follow. Heston returns with an apple.)
Uncle Jason: (Waves his arms and puts on his best dramatic voice.) Give me some room.
Heston: Ok. Come on Porter. (Runs to the back fence, turns to watch Uncle Jason and pushes his back into the fence to give as much room as possible. Uncle Jason begins to juggle. Porter oblivious to the entertainment charges his older brother and rams him. Heston unfazed continues to watch the juggling. Enter Papa Bolt checking his tomatoes.)
Heston: (Running up to Uncle Jason.) Let me try. Can I try coach? (Papa Bolt and Uncle Jason smile.)
Uncle Jason: (Hands the apples to Heston.) Sure. (Heston throws each apple one at a time into the air as high as he can letting them fall to the ground.)
Heston: Look I'm juggling.
Uncle Jason & Papa Bolt: Yeah! (Heston continues his juggling for a minute or two. Papa Bolt exits.)
Heston: (Hands the apples back to Uncle Jason) Juggle them high coach.
Uncle Jason: Alrighty. (Throws the apples ten feet into the air. He has difficulty keeping them all in the air at the same time while throwing them so high. Focused on the apples high above, Uncle Jason runs into Porter nearly knocking him down and treading on him.)
Uncle Jason: Whoa Porter! (Grabs Porter in a hug.) You ok? (Porter nods and smiles.) Ok that's enough juggling.

Disclaimer: The above is in no way a documentary account of what happened. The number of "whys" may have been exaggerated for comedic effect. Brother Dustin, his friend Ben, Ben's girlfriend Rachel, were all present for some of Uncle Jason's and Heston's juggling, but since the scene had gone on long enough the author thought he should cut that bit out. Also, the author was focused on keeping fruit flying in the air so may have missed other items of interest.

Poll time: Should I cut my hair off?

It's come that time again when I have the desire to take the clippers to my head and remove the shrubbery that is now my hair. As some of you may know, I get this itch every 12-20 months. Buzz! The hair is off, and then there is the year or so waiting for it regrow, only to cut it off again when it starts bugging me. This seems to have been the cycle for the last six years. I am now heading into month 17 of the latest round of growth. So the question for you dearest readers is this, what should I do with my hair?

A. Continue the tradition and break out the clippers.
B. Get a "normal" haircut for once.
C. Let it grow for another 12 months.

For a frame of reference I give you the following picture taken about two months ago.



Let the voting begin!

Cleaning can lead to odd finds.

Whilst cleaning up some boxes that have sat in the living room for far too long I came across some "treasures." There was a fifty pack of blank CD's, a USB toy microscope, a brand new LAN card, miles of cable, and a very nice backpack Mark misplaced sometime ago. Also found: a used up compact, some slippers, and two crochet hooks, all of which he got when his grandmother died. It was rather an eclectic mix of odds and ends that made the evening's work actually enjoyable. I couldn't wait to see what was in the next box.

By far my favorite find was the set of books that were behind the boxes. They are Mark's and have been here since we moved in, but I never really noticed them before. Each book is bound in brown cloth with gold lettering. The lettering, however, is pretty well worn off. That's why I had only noticed them before as a brown mass of book spine. It wasn't until I was down on the floor removing the boxes in front of them that I could see them for what they were—a time capsule from the past.

The whole bottom shelf of a bookcase is lined with these books. They are all part of a set published in 1924 entitled The Outline of Knowledge. The knowledge outlined appears to cover the whole range of human thought. Take the first volume is Evolution and Romance Through the Ages. As far as I can tell the first half of it explains evolution up to the coming of man. The second half then tries "to make the actual human life of the past understandable and interesting from the romantic angle." And this is only the first book! There are books on philosophy, religion, all the sciences of the time, poetry, art. A little of everything from everything. All the stuff that was considered knowledge. Or at least everything J. A. Richards, the editor, considered knowledge. I can't wait to thumb through all this stuff.

It's crazy how the more books I read the number books I want to read grows exponentially. When will there be an end? When I am finished.

Make a billboard for McDonald's.

I came across this on Treehugger . In protest to McDonald's putting toy Hummers in their Happy Meals a parody website Ronald McHummer has been created. On it you can make fake McDonald's billboards like the one above. They also have a form email you can send to the president of the company complaining about the promotion.

Tony is SO lucky.

Yesterday while scuba diving the young Tony lost his wallet. There was much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. How was he to get home with no governmental id? Phone calls were placed and ideas floated, mostly centering around getting a copy of his birth certificate faxed to him. Great then was their joy after coming back to their friend's home from a day of revelry to find his wallet on the counter. Billy's (the friend they are staying with) mother found it midst of swimming in the ocean earlier in the day. Can you imagine? The whole ocean and she finds his wallet. I want his luck!

Am I dead inside?

While Melissa and Tony are in Hawaii for a week, I'm going over to their home and taking care of their three basset hounds. They are a rowdy bunch. Barking, jumping up on me, licking my feet and legs; basically running around in chaos. When I told my roommate Mark that I didn't particular care for being pounced upon, or the tongue action, he said I was "dead inside." Apparently I'm missing the "accepting love from an animal by being slobbered on" gene. I don't mind petting a dog that sits calmly while I do, however when they get all hyper and bouncing around I kinda freak. Part of it may be my irrational fear of them, but even when I know the dog is friendly I still don't like the craziness. So, is there something wrong with me?

TV is a DRUG!

About fifteen years ago Disposable Heroes of Hipocrisy sang a song proclaiming that television was "the drug of the nation." In a new study it appears that watching television can reduce pain. No wonder I feel doped up when I watch it.

Seriously, do all dogs do this?

As many of you may know, the young Dustin brought home a dog, a Jack Russell Terrier, from Wyoming. He left again, leaving Ma and Pa to care for the creature. Since I was over at their house last night-really when am I not-they asked if I watch him while they went out for their 39th anniversary. (Can't believe it's going to be 40 years next year. The clan better plan a party or the matriarch may disown us.) I figured no problem. I let him out to do his business a couple times while they are gone and no worries. Little did I know.

About 30 minutes after the parents have departed, he is looking at me then the back door. I let him out then go back to the sudoku puzzle in the paper. Five, maybe ten minutes later I remember him, open the door and yell his name. Well the latest name anyway. In the last week he has been called Zeus, Napoleon, Norman, The Dude. Frodo is the new flavor, Mom's idea. So I'm standing on the back porch shouting the name of a hobbit to the neighborhood. After a couple minutes of announcing the nerdity of my family to anyone within the sound of my voice, the little beastie comes running.

On his entering the door I notice a gray-brown mess all over his back and the blue nylon harness he is wearing. I think, "Is that..." and then the smell hits me, "yup!" "Out, outside!" I command and he complies. I sent him out to do his business, and once he was done he thought it was a good idea to roll around in it. Having no prior experience with animals taking mud baths in their own mud, I spend the next few moments chasing him around the yard with the hose. I thought it might be a bad idea, but having no other ideas going I tried it anyway. It was clear it wasn't going to work.

After I found his hiding place, I coax him out to at least get the harness off. As I spray it off with the hose, Melissa and Tony show up. My heroes! "They own dogs, they'll know what to do." Tony tells me to get a bath running and then heads back into the bathroom with Mr. Smelly. I stay in the kitchen talking to Melissa, since I assume bath time is going to be thrash about in the water time for little Frodo. Not hearing any splashing I go back to see Tony sweetly talking to the dog, and the monster quietly waiting while he is washed. I'm glad someone has more patience than I do.

I asked if their dogs do this. "Yes." WHY? Why would an animal feel the need to smear itself with such foulness? I'll admit to wallowing in my own crap sometimes, but that's wholly on a metaphorical level. Never literally. Can someone explain this to me?

A poem on the set of a sun.

Been working on this one for a couple days. Still feels a little undone. I should maybe let it rest a bit, but I lack any sort of patience. So I going post it for a little feed back on it. Good, so-so, needs salt, less pepper, a waste of pixels, anything. Of course as the writer I reserve the right to ignore all critique. Well, all but my own. I can never ignore that sadly. Anyways, here it is.

The coming night

Cloud lips, rose colored
Kiss my eye,
Then turn gray
As sun from them runs.
Cobalt hangs a moment,
Over poles and house peaks.
Holding, oh too shortly
The last of day's
Luminescence.
But failing,
Fades away to Blackness
And her starry chains.
With which she binds
Breath to beauty.

Damn the Big Mac!

I've been reading Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation and I just may never have a Mcdonald's burger again. I am weak however so I probably will break down with time. Still it's been on my mind so I composed a bit of silliness. Enjoy.

That clown stole my food!

Ronald smiling brings hamburgers in his hand,
Children now grow fat throughout the land.
The King may not have the numbers yet to rule,
But America’s girth he does fuel.
Wendy comes with her wondrous frosty,
Too many consumed causing dropsy.
Bell, Del, Time, taco stands three,
Making meat from which even rats flee.
Huts send messengers with pizza door to door,
Hungry masses eat, yet feel empty wanting more.

Fast food found failing to feed,
Taking money for grease in the name of greed.
Still I go and order the meal with a prize,
And say yes when asked if I want it in super-size.

Me = Wittgenstein?

In one Jenny Davidson's resent posts on her blog she quotes some aphorisms by Wittgenstein collected in the book Culture and Value. The last one she quotes hit me.

What is it like for people not to have the same sense of humour? They do not react properly to each other. It'’s as though there were a custom amongst certain people for one person to throw another a ball which he is supposed to catch and throw back; but some people, instead of throwing it back, put it in their pocket. Or what is it like for somebody to be unable to fathom someone else's taste?

It was the same thought I posted about a month ago when I ask What is funny? I guess the Preacher was right: "...there is no new thing under the sun."--Ecclesiastes 1:9. Still it is nice to see your own little notion match up with an idea from a great mind.

A wandering poem I.

Being the erudite readers of this blog that you are, I'm sure you could use more poetry in your life. If so head over to the Wondering Minstrels and sign up for their Yahoo! group. I've belonged for awhile, and sometimes it can make for some serendipitous moments. The other day, after weeks of heat, it was raining heavily. I open my email and what do I find? Summer Rain a poem by Longfellow. The opening line "How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat" was exactly how I was feeling. The Minstrels is a nice way to have a daily dose of poetry even if you find yourself too busy to pick up a book of poems.

A metaphysical question: what the heck am I doing?

The last few posts have left me obsessing over the direction of this blog. "When are you not obsessing about something?" I hear you say. Well, yes it's true. I'm hoping the Prozac helps with that; I say that only half jokingly. As I was saying-nipping the tangent in the bud-I've been thinking about the last few posts. I want this blog to be an expression of me. Not necessarily a day to day journal, though I want part of that here. But since I feel that my life is pretty boring most of the time, I'd rather give glimpses into what's going on in my head. Now don't go running in fear. I said glimpses, not full mind monties. Even I can't handle those most of the time. What I mean is pretty much what I have been doing. Random thoughts, poems, "hey look at this" or "I found this cool" kind of things. Basically an eclectic mix of bric-a-brak that is interesting to me.

Which brings me to the last few posts. They where of the "I found this cool" variety but they seem to be to sterile, unconnected to me and my life. Just reviews of products. That's something I definitely don't want this blog to be, reviews of crap. Of course I want to point out interesting, enlightening, or humorous things, but place them in the larger context of my life; how it relates to me in way that doesn't also come off as narcissistic nonsense. Tall order.

Let me take the post I made this morning on Sara Gran's novel as an example. I gave the viewing public a basic run down. Here is a book, I liked it, you should read it. I didn't mention that I had heard about it from this editor's blog. Or the fact I decided to read it, at least in part, because of reading Sara's blog. Now perhaps I didn't need to add that, since I had already linked her blog in a post because I dug what she said about writing. But given the transitory nature of this thing called the blogosphere a reminder to old readers and a heads up to new ones would have been nice. Something more than a simple "review." More than what I gave.

So here's hoping for more effort, more relevance, plain more. Ok, not plain more. I know people don't like plain more. Sparkly more? Yeah sparkly more. This has been a fairly long post, I hope it was interesting enough. If you read this far thank you for hanging in there. If not, I am sending my apology for boring you telepathically.

My new TV obsession.

I've only seen two episodes but I'm completely hooked on Life on Mars. Sam Tyler is a detective in 2006 trying to track down a serial killer when he is hit by a car. When wakes up, he is in 1973. Is he just in a coma dreaming? Has he really time traveled? Or in a weird way is it both? Besides the sci fi element possed by the time shift, Life on Mars is also a solid cop show. While Tyler tries to figure out what happened to him, he also has to solve the murders that are taking place in his new reality. It's well written and well acted. Hopefully, dear readers, you have BBC America, then you can become an addict like me.

Dope is dope.

Earlier this morning after posting about Joseph Vogel's book on the Michael Moore visit, I realized that for someone that likes books as much as I do, I haven't posted that much about them. I will attempt to rectify that in future. Let me then recommend a book that I finished a couple of days ago, Sara Gran's noir novel Dope. The story takes place in 1950 New York. Josephine Flannigan, the protagonist and narrator, is an ex-junkie and petty thief. The book starts with her being hired to find a wealthy couple's daughter. But as in any good noir story, things are not what they seem. No I'm not going to give away the ending, unlike one reviewer on Amazon. The book rolls along with some nice twists and turns as Josephine works her way through the underbelly of 50's New York. If you get a hold of a copy, give it a read.

First impressions of Vox.

It's only been one day and two posts, so is it too early to have an opinion on Vox? Probably, but I'm going to plow ahead anyway. While I like the tagging system it has and the way you can set up a community of bloggers-they call it your neighborhood-it feels too constricted. Blogger feels more intuitive, and straight forward. All the bells and whistles on Vox create a cacophony that seems to stifle creativity. Or maybe it's simply something new and I'm not used to it. Also to be fair it is still in testing. Anyway we'll see.

Please sir I want some Moore.

The Deseret News reports Joseph Vogel has written a book about Michael Moore's visit to Utah Valley State College in October 2004. He was the student body vice president at the time. From the story:

"The book is not about Michael Moore or his visit to campus," he said. "It's about issues about free speech (at colleges and) universities - which are supposed to be places for free exchange of ideas -— being held to the strings by legislators and donors and things like that," he said.

Sounds like something I need to read; get an insider's view rather then watching the craziness from the outside. There is of course the Steven Greenstreet documentary This Divided State I need to get a copy of (cough Cassandra cough) and watch. It deals with the same material.

Tell me what you think.

About a week or so ago I requested an invite from Vox. It's a blogging service and after reading a couple blogs there I thought it might be cool to try it. I'll probably be double posting for a while until I decide whether to stay here or move there. Of course I might decide to do both. Vox seems have more networking type tools, but seems lacking in linking outside itself. I guess we'll see. Anyway my blog there is here. Not much there at the moment. Couple pictures and one lame post but take a look and let me know what you think. Oh if any of the Bolt Clan - family first ya know :) - wants an invite to create a blog there let me know. I have two.

These are cute: Il Buddino, Buddha pudding molds.

My last post was a bit heavy, so here is something a on the lighter side. I saw these on [BB-Blog] and my first thought was, "Hey, I can make a pudding me!" Ok, the first thought was really, "I want," but it was second I swear.




The company website nobodyandco. Now everyone can have Buddha inside them. Of course they must make some pudding, put it in the mold, then eat it. Enlightment through dessert! That's something I can get behind.

Are there even words?

I came across this link on the creativity/machine blog, From Beirut to ... those who love us. From their website:

This video letter was made on July 21, 2006 at the studios of Beirut DC, a film and cinema collective which runs the yearly Ayam Beirut Al Cinema'iya Film Festival. This video letter was produced in collaboration with Samidoun, a grassroots gathering of various organizations and individuals who were involved in relief and media efforts from the first day of the Israeli attack on Lebanon. It was also broadcasted at the Biennial of Arab Cinema, organized by the Arab World Institute in Paris.

There are links on the site to a couple different video formats if the one I found on YouTube doesn't work.



The video is quietly sad. The news from around the world, not just Lebanon, has left me feeling numb lately. "Can't we all just get along?" It may be a trite phrase, but it runs through my mind a lot these days. Not love, not like, just get along with others. A new poem:

I see the news

Worlds warring wears the soul.
Struggling for the right to spit
In enemy's eye.
While the cry of children lost
Drowns
In hungry army's roar.
Horror
Through lens projected.
Image, and sound,
Reveal, and conceal,
It all.
I stand safe yet fearing,
I will losing feeling.
My soul swallowed by sorrow,
Left shallow, powerless to the pain.
And all my tears,
Dried up, unshed,
Dust blown through my empty heart.

A Poem

Something I have been working on for the last few days.

Soporific Sauce

From the depths of an early morn,
Addled ideas struggle and are born.
Through mind’s eye seen,
Muddled thought honed razor clean.
Waking dreams dance the play,
With stomping foot and clapping hand they pray.
To ghosts and whispers come and gone,
Fleeting images not latched upon.
By their prayers color’s great hue,
Changes mood once gray and blue.
Now sunlit brilliance holds full sway,
And neuronic nymphs laugh happy in the day.

By Poet’s pen these bucolic scenes are born.
Out of Poet’s heart these idyllic worlds are torn.
Now his burden lifted,
In his bed, he is sifted.
Smiling, his head he rests upon the pillow.
From the wind comes the weep of willow.

An ode to my foot.

I love wearing sandals, not just in the summer. Occasionally however they can cause aggravation, hence the poem below.

Pain in the appendage.

There’s a rock in my sandal and I can’t get it out.
Left and right I fling my foot about.
I kick high with all my might,
But still the rock he is stuck in tight.
Reaching down I undo the strap,
That holds my ankle in its trap.
Banging this article on the ground,
The offending partial is found.
Back on goes the footwear,
And my journey to nowhere.
I take a step and with a flip,
The sandal picks up a rock in its tip.
Screaming and hollering, in a rage I pout.
One more rock that I have to get out!

And the wind it blow!

While the wind in Orem wasn't too bad yesterday, Provo, just to the south, got a dose of Mr Toad's Wild Ride.

1600 west, Provo
It huffed, and it puffed, and it blew a lot of things down. From the story linked above: "About 2,000 residences and businesses in - Provo mostly in southwest neighborhoods - may not have power restored until Thursday or Friday." Can I say eewww? Eewww...I knew that I could.

The thief might not even know he had a wallet.

Whilst cruising Boing Boing I came across these sweet wallets.
One of the four designs below:


Say you left your wallet in your car or dropped it in a public place. The not so savvy klepto probably would see it as a plain piece of paper. Thus missing a prime source of monetary gain with which they could continue their nefarious rampage. Of course I'm going to pick up every scrap of paper I see from now on. I might get lucky!

Vacation Mark happens to get away.

Mark has left me all alone for a week. He went off with his Comedy Sportz Utah friends to San Jose California to get into some kind of nonsense. Now I have the whole place, all two bedrooms, tiny bathroom, even smaller kitchen, and average livingroom, to my lonesome. If anyone wants to party very much unlike rock stars, grab some corn and we'll watch some vids. If not that's fine too, but an email saying "HI" would be nice.

On a less pathtic note, the rain fell upon the house tops this afternoon. Kinda muggy at the moment but the cooling sure felt nice. Only supposed to be in the 80's for rest of the week. Back to the 90's for next week though. Ah well I'll melt faster.