Worth a thousand words

I was thinking of how to sum up the last few months of frustration and disappointment - and not being able to see my daughter on Halloween - when I came across a photo I took of her a few months ago.  She had grown tired of being the focus of my camera and let me know without uttering a single word...I feel the same way about the way things have gone.

The old axiom is true - photos can say so much.  That's all I have to say about that...

Front Sight

I am about to take the mystery out of my trips to the Nevada desert. For the past couple of years now I have been a lifetime member of Front Sight FirearmsTtraining Institute near Pahrump, Nevada. Pahrump, or 'Pahrumpistan', as we refer to it, is a heaven-forsaken town about 45 minutes west of Las Vegas. This is what the area around the facility looks like - a terrorist training camp right out of some middle-eastern country:

It is a barren waste land in the middle of nowhere.  Pahrump's claim to fame is that at one time it was the brothel capital of America and still boasts the world's only brothel museum (though I don't know why anyone would be proud of that and I cringe at the thought of what would be in it).  It is a sad little town with 3 small hotel/casinos - none of which are in any way appealing.  We stayed in one of them on one of our trips and found it more desirable to sleep out in the desert in a tent than to ingest all of the cigarette smoke.  The area surrounding the shooting ranges is all BLM land so we just find a nice flat spot and set up camp.  For some reason the terrain reminds me of the movie Tremors, with Kevin Bacon.  That movie still makes me laugh - I love it.

The Courses

Front Sight offers a pretty good selection of firearms and martial arts classes - though we have only taken the gun classes.  We have taken the handgun, shotgun and rifle courses - some of them more than once.  We took the 4-day practical rifle class this past weekend and we took a few photos so I'll use them to explain what the class entails.
The rifle class takes place on the 200 yard rifle range which is shown below. 

It's not much to look at and it always seems to be hot and dusty but it really is a pretty good facility.  The weather is almost always warm - last weekend the highs were in the mid 80's and the lows in the mid 50's - perfect (except for when the wind blows too much or not enough).  The 4-day 'practical' rifle class is basically an assault rifle class, as you can tell from the assortment of AR-15's in the gun rack.  The AR-15 is a great little gun.  It is the civilian version of the M-16 which you have probably seen in every movie that has anything to do with Vietnam - or any American military conflict since.

Like all gun courses at Front Sight the rifle class starts with 'this is the butt stock, the trigger, the muzzle, etc' and is followed by a thorough safety rundown.  It is always a little surprising to me that every time we go down there we hear a new story of someone who accidentally shot himself and it's always on the pistol range.  Oddly enough the only fatality at Front Sight in its 14 years of operation was from an accident on the zipline on the rope/rappel course and had nothing to do with guns.  The last guy that accidentally shot himself during a handgun class was apparently back on the range the next day - and he shot himself through the thigh with a .45.  Hand gun wounds are not as serious as rifle wounds.  There is a reason why the military fights with rifles - the bullets generally travel faster than half a mile per second,  have much greater range than hand guns, and do a lot of damage when they hit the target.  For that reason, the rifle and shotgun ranges are run as 'cold' ranges, meaning that anytime you leave the firing line, your weapon is verified to be unloaded.  There is also, including the range master, 4-5 people watching everyone on the firing line to make sure they don't do anything stupid - and they do a commendable job.
In the rifle class, one of the first things you do is 'zero', or sight in, your rifle.  This involves taking three series of 3 shots at a target to verify that your sights (or your scope) are lined up correctly so that you are shooting accurately during the course.  This is done by laying prone behind your rifle while propping it up on two sand bags - one under the barrel and one under the stock as shown in this photo.

 

The only part of the gun you are touching is the grip and trigger (with your firing side hand) and the stock (with your cheek).  You lay as comfortably as possible until your heart rate slows down to its resting rate.  Then you focus on the 3 keys to accurate shooting - sight alignment, sight picture, and trigger control.  Sight alignment - with a scope it means looking through the scope so that it is bright and clear and their are no shadows around any of the edges.  If you look through a scope at the wrong angle, black shadows appear around the edges and indicate that you have bad sight alignment.  Sight picture - you have the intersection of the cross hairs right where you want the bullet to go.  Trigger control - you slowly build pressure on the trigger until you get a surprise 'break'.  You literally want to be surprised when the gun goes off because if you anticipate it, you tend to jerk and it messes up the sight alignment and picture.  With your heart rate slowed down you wait for the natural respiratory pause that comes after an exhale.  If you have good sight alignment and sight picture you slowly build pressure on the trigger until the gun goes off.  You never force it.  If you do it right it looks like this - three nicely grouped holes that tell you how far you have to adjust your scope turrets so that where you are looking matches where the bullets are going.

With your gun zeroed, you're now ready for the fun part of the class - the shooting.  We went through about 500 rounds of ammo which, in the shot gun class is painful, but the rifle class isn't so bad.  The AR-15 is designed to have very little recoil or 'kick' and can be fired one handed if you are strong enough to hold the gun up - but it still packs a very good punch.  AR's shoot .223 caliber rounds and do so at about 3000 feet per second - which is smoking fast -and contributes to it's flat trajectory.  At 400 yards a .223 bullet will only drop about 22 inches or so - very good ballistics.  (Sorry, I got a little nerdy there - I couldn't help it).

As I was saying, the shooting part is the fun part.  The instructors run you through several scenarios from quick reaction/short range shots from a standing position to 200-yard take-your-time prone shots.  Just for fun, on the third day, they take you out to 400 yards and spot for you while you shoot at a 24 in. square steel plate.  The first time I took the rifle class I hit that target with open sights (no scope) - the credit goes to the instructors and the rifle.  It's no wonder that the M16 has been the main battle rifle for the military for so long - I love the 'Little Black Gun' (as it is sometimes called).

The exercises they take you through are designed to prepare you for the skills assessment on the last day of the class.  It's a timed test and includes the following:

1 - shots, while standing, to the cranio-ocular cavity (or the snot box as we call it) and thoracic cavity (chest) at 15 yards in under 3 seconds

2- shots, while standing, to the cranio-ocular cavity and thoracic cavity at 25 yards in under 4 seconds.

Nate taking a 25 yard head shot.

3-then they back you up to 50 yards and give you less than 5 seconds to get a shot in the thoracic but they let you sit, kneel or stand - whichever you prefer.

4- after that it's back to 100 yards wehre you have 5 seconds to go from standing to prone and get a shot on the target.  It's hard but doable.

5- the last distance shot is at 200 yards.  6.5 seconds is all the time you have to go off your feet and onto your belly and get a shot off.  It's not as hard as it sounds.

Kirkus and me getting ready for a 200 yard shot.

With the long range portion of the test over it's time for the hostage shot.  The hostage shot is a 7-yard, untimed shot on a target that looks like the one below. The hostage is in white - the hostage takers have their cranio-ocular cavities designated by a box.   The message?  Get it right the first time and never, ever shoot the hostage.  In the handgun class they actually have you write the name of a loved one on the hostage before you take the shots.  In this exercise, it is a point of pride, that I have never shot the hostage.  A perfect score is one bullet hole in each hostage takers snot box - and none in the hostage or off the target.

They also teach you to clear malfunctions (often incorrectly referred to as jams) and include them on the test.  The three malfunction types are 1) hearing a click instead of a bang, 2) getting brass stuck in the ejection port, or 3) having your gun try to chamber two rounds at once.  They are also timed and have spoiled the hopes of many aspiring Distinguished Graduates...

DG

The prize at the end of each course is the coveted 'DG' - or qualifying as a 'Distinguished Graduate'.  Besides bragging rights it allows you to take the more advanced courses at Front Sight.  I am sad to say that I did not DG the rifle course this time.  I did on the practice test but not the real one - but you gotta bring your A-game every time - practice doesn't count.  I was hoping to DG this time so I could take the Precision Rifle (or sniper) course with Nate and Brady but, alas, I will just have to make another trip back in the spring to try again :)

I DG'd the handgun class but that's easier than the rifle class.  To give you an idea of how hard it is - of the 42 people in the class last weekend, only one DG'd this time around - Nate.  Look at him bask in his DG glory.  I personally think it was the T-shirt.  If you look closely, that's Burt from the movie Tremors.

We will never hear the end of it!

It is unlikely that any of us will ever need to use the skills we have acquired at Front Sight but I haven't needed my seat belt yet and I still wear it every time I get behind the wheel.  You just never know...

The Real Point of Front Sight

The real reason we go to Front Sight is the comraderie.  The first time we went it was just Brady and me.  Then we got more of the fellas to sign up and it has the beginings of a great tradition.  Here we are at lunch solving the world's problems.

The Sports Mobile in all its glory

The Sports Mobile (that is its real name) is one of the coolest things I have ever seen.  I won't say whose it is because I know he doesn't seek the recognition that comes with having stuff like this.  He doesn't really care that much about 'stuff' but I could write a whole post geeking out about it.

Here we all are on the last day of the class.

Nate, Brady, Jeff, Me, Kirk.  Though I own camo pants, I refuse to wear them.  Mostly because it's so freaking hot!

It is sad to leave when a class is over but 4 days in the Nevada desert is more than enough.  That's why the best part of these trips is what we do at night...

Nevada Night Life

I have said before that Front Sight is the most fun a bunch of Mormon guys can have in Nevada.  We go into nearby Pahrump at night to eat, shower, and buy supplies - and by that I mean explosives.

We usually eat at a place called Terrible's casino - and the name fits.  It is a smoke-filled cavernous casino that has cheap food and it's actually pretty good.  I recommend the blackened salmon or the T-bone steak - both of which may be had for $9.99.  It's funny because every time we go there they tell us it's at least a 20 minute wait - even with a bunch of open tables.  We figured out that they are probably trained to tell everyone that get you to spend some time in the casino while you are waiting for your table.  When we just stand their waiting they usually will just seat us.  I hate casinos but we eat there almost every night because Brady and I both have to be careful what we eat and somehow Terribles sits well with both of us - everyone else in the group is kind enough to just humor us.

Casinos, to me, are very sad places.  It is remarkable how many people in there are in wheel chairs and need oxygen tanks to help them breathe.  There is a heavy feeling in such places.  The blank stares of the gamblers hoping against hope that the next one will be 'the big one' is depressing to see.  Brady and I have seen this car with the wheel chari lift on the back, no kidding, every time we have gone to Terrible's.

If the whole real estate thing doesn't work out - Brady always has pole-dancing to fall back on (not that I have ever seen a pole dancer....)

Once dinner is over and we have showered off the casino smell - it's off to Walmart for propane and to the fireworks store - and Nevada has great fireworks - especially the improvised ones. 

What you are about to see is a bunch of old friends reliving parts of their childhood.  Yes, it is juvenile - but it's also good clean fun.  All of the supplies purchased for these activities were done so legallly. 

A brief explanation of Tannerite is required.  Tannerite is an inert binary explosive compound - which by the way, may purchased at most local sporting goods stores (Cabela's and Sportsman's Warehouse to name a couple) under the label 'reactive target'.  It is a mixture of amonium nitrate (fertilizer) and aluminum powder.  It is not flammable or explosive in its unmixed state and even when mixed and ready to go it can only be detonated by hitting it with something traveling faster than (I think) 2500 feet per second - or a bullet from a rifle.  I can neither confirm nor deny that I have any knowledge of the orgins of the following video.  The dwellings seen therein were long-abandoned and the one you see in the video is one of the few remaining with more than one wall.  I realize that the following may dissuade certain people from associating with me - but be that as it may - here it is - bringing it home with a little help from Katy Perry...

Perspective

Perspective - It’s good to get a healthy dose of it from time to time. I got one last night. I had planned to write a fun post about what I was doing last weekend because I know my family and some of my friends wonder what it is that I really do when I go out into the Nevada desert to shoot guns. I have pictures and videos I was going to post to prove that we aren't as crazy as some fear. Deep down inside I think some of my siblings and friends are waiting to see if my shooting buddies and I end up on the 6 o'clock news.


Anyway, I was feeling kind of crappy about myself yesterday. I'm trying to sell the house, find a new job closer to Haley, and get my divorce finalized and none of it is working out the way I would like it to. Dang it, I have stuff I want to do! I found out yesterday afternoon that the judge signed the motion to waive the mandatory 90 day waiting period but didn't sign the divorce decree which would have made me officially divorced. Today, right now, I would have been a free man. What's up with that? Is he part of a judicial union that only let's him sign his name so many times per day? Seriously, man, help a brother out!

It's funny how our problems seem so big to us and can cause us so much unhappiness. Well, I got a nice reminder last night that my problems are really not that serious.

Two weeks ago a friend of mine and his wife went to the hospital for the birth of their second child - a boy - named Weston. Weston was born via C-section like his brother Bridger was. There was a small complication during the delivery. After that first C-section my friend's wife's bladder healed so that it was fused to her abdomen and during Weston’s delivery it tore and the OB couldn't sew it back together because he said the walls of her bladder were so thin it was 'like sewing tissue paper'. He had to call in a specialist to repair her bladder, which he was able to do. That, in and of itself, would not have been that bad. What is bad is that it was just the beginning of their troubles.
Weston was fine for the first couple of days but then he started to have difficulty breathing. His symptoms indicated that he might have just been dehydrated so the nurses gave him a bottle, which he gulped down - and it appeared to help. Unfortunately, it didn’t last and he began to have a difficult time breathing again so he was moved to the NICU for observation wherein his condition worsened to the point where the Neo-natal doc was at a loss as far as an explanation for the cause. Weston’s skin started to turn a purple/grayish hue and his little body started to shut down. He guessed that he might have some sort of metabolic disorder but he, to his credit, admitted he didn't know how to diagnose him so he got on the phone with a doctor at Primary Children's Medical Center at the U, the end result of which was a hasty middle-of-the-night helicopter ride to Salt Lake.
Fortunately, a pair of world-renowned geneticists work at the U and had little Weston diagnosed within only a few hours. It turns out that he has a metabolic disorder (the Dr. in Ogden was right) which I cannot pronounce that affects only one in 80,000 kids and prevents him from metabolizing certain proteins. He is still in the NICU at PMC and has a long road ahead of him. Even when he is well enough to come home, which may not be for another month or two, he will be on a special diet for the foreseeable future and probably for the rest of his life.
Because he had so much trouble breathing and also had seizures, it is believed that he suffered some brain damage, though, at this point, it is not clear to what extent. Needless to say, he and his parents, have a tough row to hoe.
You’re probably wondering why I would burden you with such a depressing story. Yes, it is a hard story, and one that could be depressing but as I sat and listened to my friend tell his story I didn’t get the impression that he was depressed. A little sad and pretty worn out from basically living at the hospital for two weeks – but not depressed or feeling sorry for himself – and don’t you think he would be justified in indulging in a little self-pity? I do. I don’t know how he isn’t a complete basket case. But I think he understands the principle of becoming “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father (Mosiah 3:19). Instead of being bitter or angry he acknowledged the hand of the Lord in everything that happened in diagnosing and treating his tiny son. Crappy things happen to good people all the time. So much of happiness depends on how we react to it all. I am amazed at the ability of some people to endure trials.
I once heard someone say (wish I could remember who) that if we could pile all of our troubles together into a big heap and then were given the opportunity to go choose which ones we wanted that we would probably just find our own and be glad to take them back. Makes sense to me. Someone always has it worse. We expect things to go a certain way and sometimes they just don’t. It’s life.

My sister-in-law told me that her daughter asked her if she was happy with my brother. The conversation went something like this:
Niece: Mom, are you happy with dad?
Sis-in-law: Yes, why do you ask?
N: You’re always reading books about relationships. I just thought that meant you were unhappy.
SIL: You know the happily-ever-after in fairy tales and Disney movies?
N: Yes.
SIL: That’s not real. Edward Cullen does not and never will exist (OK, so I added the jab at Twilight).
N: (audible sound of bubble bursting) What!
SIL: Relationships take work and reading about them is one way to help figure out how to make them better…

I don’t remember how the conversation ended but my young niece learned a tough lesson – one that I hope will help her in her adult life. We never know what will happen to us. Marriages fail, health deteriorates - bad things happen – even to the best people. Life is a perpetual struggle. Our individual story is made up of such things. The challenge is to keep pressing forward - even when it means crawling or clawing your way up. Everyone has a story and I’d love to meet the person whose story has gone exactly according to plan. Even when we think other people’s stories seem ‘happily ever after’ we don’t really know what they have already been through or are about endure. The good thing is that all of our stories will have a happy ending if we can hang in there until the end and we can ‘sit down with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob to go no more out’.
I hope these posts don’t seem self-righteous because they help motivate me to keep going. I would much rather have someone to just tell them to but I can’t yet. I try to take my own advice but I’m not great at that sometimes. So thank you for reading my story. Even though it’s a one way conversation it is good to know there are still people reading it. I think my next one will be a little more on the fun side – and not so serious. Have to keep a good balance…

Why I still believe - in the church

I figured after my last post that I should chase it with a more normal one.

The biggest reason I still believe in the church is that it has saved my butt - literally. The great friends I have, my calling, and mostly, the way I feel when I am there. There have been many Sundays where I have thought: "I've been really good at going to church every week, I don't really feel like facing the world today, so I can skip this week and pick up next week". I'm glad to say that I have gone every Sunday anyway. If one can drag one's self kicking and screaming anywhere, then I have done it on my way to church. I'm such an idiot. If I could always just remember the peace I feel and the strength I get from just being there, then I wouldn't ever doubt the need to go. I have, without fail, always felt better (and by that I mean stronger and more at peace) after having been there than when I reluctantly arrived 3 hours earlier.  All of this in spite of being shunned by some people.  I have sometimes wondered if I have a scarlet letter tattooed on my forehead - not sure if it's 'D' for Divorcee or 'P' for Poophead but I'm not upset by it.  We don't always know what to say to people who are suffering publicly.  I hold no grudges.  What has helped me is some advice I once heard that has really stuck with me.  It goes like this: "be where you are supposed to be - when you are supposed to be there."  Sounds a lot like 'Just Do It' to me.  The church, and the great members of my ward have been a tremendous blessing to me.
That is why I don't get people like the latest zealot, (why does it seem like they are always from Texas?) a Dr. Robert Jeffress, to claim, in his infinite wisdom and expertise that I am not a Christian. And how does he know this? Because he has a PhD from a 'seminary'. Didn't you know? All the apostles and prophets from the Bible went to 'seminary', got a PhD, preached at a mega church for hours about how Oprah Winfrey is the devil and judged other people who didn't share their beliefs with impunity and authority. Or was that the Pharisees? Sorry, us dumb Mormons don't know our bible 'that good.' After all, we are a cult. Just like all the other cults that have millions of members and have been around for almost 200 years. Last time I checked most cults were of the 'flash-in-the-pan' variety like the ones led by Jim Jones and David Koresh. They have far more questionable beginnings than the church, much shorter life spans, and the worst part about them is their endings -which are never good and almost always involve the FBI. Unfortunately for Mr. Jeffress, and others who share his opinion, the Mormon 'cult' has no end in sight. It will be a thorn in his side until he can either decisively prove it is an illegitimate cult or accept it for the only real alternative to that - the true and living restored church of Christ. To the honest casual observer it has to look more like the stone, seen by Daniel, cut out of the mountain without hands that is rolling forward to fill the earth and much less like a group of deranged people whose faith is built on a sandy foundation. Many storms have descended on the church in the last 180 years which would have washed it away if it was built upon anything besides solid bedrock. If Joseph Smith was the fraud some claim him to be then he is by far the most successful charlatan in modern history. He must have been a gifted liar to perpetuate his lies for such a long time after his death. That is an amazing feat.

Another of the great reasons I still have faith is one of my friends here in our ward. I share part of  his story here (we all have a story, don't we?) and I do so with his permission:  Kenny is in his mid-twenties, is married, has two really cute kids and is one of a handful of men I regularly put my arm around and say “I love you, man”. Every time I see him, which is usually Wednesday nights (when we do our elders quorum visits) and Sundays, I tell him that he renews my faith in humanity. And I sincerely mean it. When I first met him about two years ago he was just starting to come back to church after years of what I will only describe as 'riotous living'. He was shy and unsure of himself but he wanted to make a change in his life and had begun the process. It is a process that involves more than just praising Jesus and 'accepting' him as your Savior. It is hard work and it can be painful. I don't know all of the details of Kenny's journey back to the straight and narrow but I know some of them and I admire him for his dedication. He is now a secretary in our elder’s quorum presidency and in his words "lives for Wednesday nights".  He likes that he can go out and tell his story and encourage others who are struggling and promise them that if the Lord could help him then He would surely help them. I love it when I get paired with Kenny for visits. When it's his turn to talk I just sit back, watch and listen. Kenny is not a scriptorian or a doctrinal expert like many consider Mr. Jeffress to be. He is just a humble, peaceable follower of Christ doing his best to serve God and others and I love him for it.  When Kenny speaks he does so from his own well of personal experience. He speaks simply and openly about his faith and testimony and he makes a difference.
No one can tell him he is not a Christian. Kenny knows the Savior and the power and personal nature of his atonement from his own upward journey. He doesn't have a PhD that gives him authority to tell his story - he has lived it.  How can you tell someone their experience is wrong?  I don't get it.
In my opinion that is what Mr. Jeffress is up against - and I don't think he has any idea of the depth of his problem. There are millions of Mormon 'Kennys' out there with similar stories and the number will continue to increase. So to Mr. Jeffress I would ask this: how could an illegitmiate, fraudulent cult produce so much good in the world? Until you can answer that I don't think you have any business calling the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints a cult.
Some would argue that Mormons are guilty of the same rhetoric when discussing other religions. And, yes, at times, we are. When we call others names and act like we know everything then we are not acting Christlike at all. Shame on us when we treat others like that.  LDS missionaries don't do it and are taught not to do it - it's counter-productive anyway!  All they do is seek out anyone who will listen who may be looking for something more.
One night after our visits Kenny and I sat in my car and talked for a long time about life, our personal struggles, and our shared hope for the future. He told of some of his mistakes (I assured him he was not the only one who ever made any) and his struggles to get back to where he is. We talked about the atonement - its 'infinite and eternal' nature and the reality that it can help us with all of our problems - not just our sins. Infinite and Eternal. To me that means it covers everything and that it does so forever. At times during that discussion it felt like the Lord was very close to two of his sons who had suffered through some tough times - both from their own mistakes (believe me I’ve made my share) and the actions of others. We both felt an assurance that we were loved by God and that He would help us with our troubles. How can Mr. Jeffress tell me that I am not a Christian when I profess faith in him, back it up with trying to help others to know Him, and then feel so close to Him when I do it?
I have had the privelage of watching Kenny's transformation and it has been really fun to see.  His story gives me hope that better things are ahead for me too.
Kenny texted me a few nights ago when I was on my way home from work and asked if he could borrow some sugar - don't worry, I didn't text him back while I was driving:). He was making cookies for his kids for family home evening and was a cup short. He came over to get it and then wanted to pay me for the sugar. I told him that I would not accept his money. Instead I told him: “you just keep being you and we’ll call it even”.  He said he could handle that.

Worth Dying For

I meant to post this sooner but have been delayed for two reasons: 1) I spent a delightful weekend with Haley at my brother-in-law's house and did not have time and 2) I'm still not sure of the best way to say it without sounding like a zealot. Let me say up front that the following has nothing to do with the fact that I found out today that my divorce case has been sitting on a judge's desk, unsigned, for 11 days now. Initially I was led to believe that it would be only a matter of a couple of days to get it signed and mailed out. Now the story has changed to "sometimes it takes 1 day, sometimes it takes weeks". Very frustrating. I will err on the side of caution and assume that the judge's 90 year old grandmother is on her death bed and that it has nothing to do with golfing in this beautiful fall weather.

You're probably wondering what the title of this post is all about .Well, this is just fair warning that I have no future with a woman who does not allow guns in the house. She doesn't have to touch them or even like them but they are coming with me. I have always had guns, except for the short period of time when my daughter was a toddler up until 2007 when Suleman Tulovic walked into Trolley Square with a shotgun and killed 5 people and wounded 4 others (who would also be dead if he had been using heavier loads). The only reason I got rid of them was because I didn't have a safe place to keep them. Mr. Tulovic convinced me it was time to get them back – that and 9/11. September 11th changed a lot of things. Some of our innocence was lost. Until that point; wars, death, and carnage were something that happened in other people’s countries – not ours. But on that day the fragile nature of civilization was revealed as was the astonishing destruction that can be wrought by only a hand full of people who are blinded by hate. Articles I read about hurricane Katrina contributed as well. It was a little surprising to me that a hurricane could cause so many gunshot and stab wounds! What was not surprising was that the majority of them happened to people who had no way to defend themselves. All of these instances reminded me of when Lehi and his family arrived in this hemisphere and Nephi came to the (I assume reluctant) conclusion that he would need to provide a way for his people to defend themselves:

And I, Nephi, did take the sword of Laban, and after the manner of it did make many swords, lest by any means the people who were now called Lamanites should come upon us and destroy us; for I knew their hatred towards me and my children and those who were called my people. 2 Nephi 5:14

Hate and desperation are illogical and cannot be reasoned with. It is unfortunate that some folks only understand the language of violence and that good people throughout history have at times been forced to become fluent in it (Captain Moroni and George Washington are two examples).

Some would say: "why not let the police do their job?"   I think the police, in general, do a very good job of keeping the peace. One thing they do not do well, and only because it is impossible to do so, is prevent crimes from happening. They have gotten increasingly better at investigating them but the investigations always involve victims (the ones who survive) of something that has already happened. Yes, the presence of a police force is, most of the time, an adequate deterrent. Sometimes, however, it is not.  It is worth noting that a great deal of damage was abated at Trolley Square that night because an off duty police officer, Ken Hammond, was in the mall having dinner with his wife.  He was armed and was successful at distracting the shooter until the SWAT team could arrive. Had he not been there surely more people would have been injured or killed during the 6 or so minutes it took the police to arrive - and six minutes is a pretty darned good response time.
Surprisingly, my desire to have guns in the house again was met with little resistance so I began to rebuild my collection. I am not a violent person. In fact, there are two things that surprise others about me when they discover them: that I'm (almost) divorced and that I have guns - and not just that I have them but that I know how to use them.
About the guns: I have always enjoyed shooting as a sport though I have never been a hunter. I like shooting clay pigeons and 'plinking' - but what I have really enjoyed learning is long range shooting. I like the challenge of it. It's tough to control your breathing, to slow your heart rate down, control the trigger and focus so intently on the target that not even the guy shooting the elephant gun in the lane next to you is a distraction. At long distances, even the smallest unintentional movement, like a heartbeat, can throw your shot off. I liken it to shooting free throws – only a little more dangerous and the target is farther away.
At this point I should clarify that I am not a violent person. Some have asked me, “why would you ever want to shoot someone?” The fact is I NEVER want to shoot anyone. I never want to hurt another living soul. I think that by now the general consensus is that I’m a nice person. Unfortunately, the reality of the matter is that there are people in this increasingly dangerous world who don’t feel the same way.  The only thing I want to do less than hurt someone else is to be powerless as someone harms or kills me or one of my family members. In my opinion there has to be good people willing to stand up and say, “I’m not going to sit idly by while this is going on”. In that sense I am like Captain Steve Rogers (from this summer’s Captain America movie) who was asked by Dr. Erskine “so you want to go kill Nazis, do you?” His response reflects how I feel: “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies; I don’t care where they’re from.” A man who walks into a crowded mall and starts shooting defenseless people with a shotgun, no matter his state of mind, is a bully - as is anyone who tries to come into your house in the middle of the night, or morons who fly airplanes into skyscrapers.
There is an old saying in the marine corpse that goes like this:  Be be polite, be professional, have a plan to kill everyone you meet.  Sounds like a close cousin to 'walk softly and carry a big stick'.  So do I have a plan to kill everyone I meet? Of course not. That is just one of the things the old retired Marines say (only half-jokingly) at Front Sight Firearms Training Institute where I am a lifetime member (thanks to my brother-in-law). I have taken several classes at FS in the last 2 years and have learned a great deal about what I did not know before I went there. What I love about FS is that it is very comprehensive training – from classroom lectures about decision making and the consequences of using a firearm in self-defense to range instruction that begins with identifying the parts of a gun and ends with even the old ladies (and yes they are there) becoming very competent shooters. Plus, it’s just plain fun to shoot 500 rounds of ammo in a weekend at different targets and in different scenarios. For me it is the most fun a bunch of Mormon guys can have in Nevada! I highly recommend FS to anyone who has guns but isn’t sure (like I was for a long time) if they are ‘doing it right' and for people who are unfamiliar with guns or are a little afraid of them, the training at FS is perfect. They totally take the mystery out of guns and how to safely handle them. FS also claims to train the average Joe to a level that exceeds the majority of military and law enforcement personnel.  And after having taken classes with cops and soldiers - I believe them.  I am returning this weekend with some old high school buddies and am really looking forward to it.
When I first expressed a desire to get my guns back, the worry, and I’m not saying it wasn’t a legitimate one, was that I would want to be some vigilante/hero with an itchy trigger finger a la John Rambo. Not so. The lasting impression you get from FS, concerning the use of a firearm, is this: When you consider the use of a gun in any situation where you could harm another person be prepared to answer the following question: Is whatever has gotten you to the point where you are considering inflicting harm on another person worth dying for? In other words: If you press that trigger and harm or, heaven forbid, kill another human being will it have been worth all of the heartache that will follow? Would you shoot someone for cutting you off on the freeway, or if they want your wallet, or your car keys? Some people might (and if you watch the news you know they have) but I never would. If you are threatening me with a knife or a gun for my car keys or my wallet you will get them without a fight – in fact I will smile at you as I hand them over. I would even help you empty my house of all my possessions and pack up the truck if all you want is my ‘stuff’. Who cares about ‘stuff’? On the other hand, if you threaten a loved one, especially a female one, with bodily harm and a verbal warning does not deter you - that is where the line is crossed into the 'stopping you is worth dying for so I will shoot you' realm.  Sound harsh?  Consider this:

And again, the Lord has said that: Ye shall defend your families even unto bloodshed. Alma 43:47

Some have asked, “why not use pepper spray, a taser, or a baseball bat?” That’s fine for some people and if it works for you, great - but the bad guys will most likely have a gun.  I’m not advocating that everyone have and carry guns.  Some people should NOT have guns. Like the guy in Utah County last year who dropped his pistol in the bathroom at Chili’s (I think). It discharged a round and shattered the toilet. Not only is that a great way to ruin your date and get yourself arrested - it’s stupid. That person should not be carrying a gun. Baseball bat? If you want to allow a threat to get that close then be my guest. By the time they are that close to me they will already have been looking at the business end of my Glock long enough to rethink their intentions.

One case is worth noting.  I don't remember how long ago it was but there was a shooting in Bluffdale, in my parents' neighborhood, actually.  A teenage girl was walking home after dark one night when she claimed to have been harassed by some members of the local neighborhood watch about being out late.  There had been some car burglaries in the area and they were out patrolling.  Nothing wrong with that.  My understanding of what happened next was that the young lady went home and told her father what had happened.  She was upset - which naturally upset her dad.  Being the father of a young girl I can understand the protective instinct.  In my opinion, the thing to do at that point would be to call the police and report the incident.  Stay home and enjoy the evening with your family.  Or you could do what this guy did and grab your .45 and go looking for the dirt bag who upset your daughter.  He was able, from the description of the vehicle, to find the men in question.  What happened next is a little fuzzy but the result was that 4 grown men ended up in the street pointing guns at each other.  Shots were fired and one man was severely injured and is now in a wheel chair.  The man who shot him is in prison - and from conversations my mom has had with his wife - it appears that he would do it again if given the choice.  I don't get it but I wasn't there.  I would rather still be free and living with my family.  If my daughter came home and told me some men were harassing her I would sit down with her and get the story so that I can repeat it to police dispatch.  If they pull up in front of my house and are cat-calling her from the curb - I call the police again and tell them that what is going on.  At this point I am thinking through at what point this becomes worth dying for.  If they approach the house they get a distinct and unmistakable verbal warning.  If they start acting like they want to come in the house then they are crossing the line and I am defending what is precious to me - things that are worth dying for.  Hopefully you get the idea.

Unlikely scenario?  Extremely unlikely.  As would any other scenario be where a law abiding citizen would be forced to use lethal force.  I am banking on the fact that I will most likely never be put in a situation where I need to use my skills to defend myself or my family. 
I earnestly hope that we will never be required, as we sing  in the last verse of the Star Spangled Banner, to stand 'between (our) loved homes and the war's desolation' and fight 'like dragons' as the people of Limhi did to protect our loved ones (Mosiah 20:11).  But if it ever does come to that, I will be more prepared than most to do it. 

I also hope I didn't lose any friends by posting this, but it is part of who I am.   

Stranger than fiction

So I have to share the experience I just had with a realtor.  It will be nice when I have someone to share this stuff in person with again.

I had come home earlier in the day to unlock the house and put the dog away so that someone could come show my house because I wasn't going to be home. Turns out I made it home in time. We all converged on my house at the same time. I think I freaked them all out when I opened the garage door because they looked around like they had broken something. The young couple seemed really nice - I found out they are getting married soon. The realtor was...well, she was different. This is how our conversation went after we exchanged pleasantries:
Realtor: Why are you moving? (she claims she said 'where', I heard 'why')
Me: I'm getting divorced
Silence...
Realtor: I said 'where'.
Me: Oh, I don't know yet. Let me get the dog and you can go inside and look around...
I took the dog for a walk to give them some time. I came back about 20 minutes later and the realtor was sitting by herself on the front porch.
Realtor: You can sit up here with me.
What I thought: Did you just invite me to sit on my own front porch?
What I said: Oh, thank you.
Realtor (after I sat down): Fifteen years huh?
Me: What?
Realtor: You were married for 15 years. I saw the plaque on the wall.  That's a long time but it's usually for the best.
What I thought: Where is this going? 
What I said: Yup. 15 years - a long time.
Realtor: So what do you do for a living?
Me: I'm an engineer.
Realtor: Really?  Where do you work?
Me: At K-C in North Ogden.
What she thought: A potential client.
What she said: So you looking for maybe a town house up that way?
What I thought: Why am I having this conversation?  I should have taken a longer walk.
What I said: Nope, moving down toward Salt Lake.
What she said: Engineers make the worst clients.
What I thought first: I just told you I was an engineer, right?
What I thought next: This is turning into a blog post.
What I said: Really, why is that?
What she thought: Yup, this guy's an engineer.
What she said: You guys have a different way of seeing things. I always give up on the engineers because they're to hard to satisfy. They get caught up in the details too much.  Your brains are different - not that that's bad because I don't get the stuff you have to work with so I guess it's good somebody does.
What I thought: It's what we get paid to do.  You drove a car here that was designed by engineers - lots of details in a car.  Tell me again why I'm having this conversation?
What I said: Well I did recently read a quote by a science fiction writer that said "engineers are all basically high functioning autistics who have no idea how normal people do stuff".
What she thought: Bingo
What she said: That's so funny because it's so true!
What I thought: Are your clients done in my house yet? I have to pee and I'd really like to eat dinner.
What I said: Yeah, I guess it kind of is.

Fortunately the young couple came out to rescue me.  They were very nice kids (they all seem like kids to me now) and I hope they buy my house.  I think they would be a good fit in the neighborhood.
Realtor:  Thank you for letting us see your home
What she thought:  Was that guy patronizing me?
What I thought:  I'll bet you would have left my front door unlocked just like the last 5 realtors, even though I left the door open with the handle locked when you got here so all you would have to do is CLOSE it on your way out - details...
What I said:  Good night.

Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction...

Why I still believe - in love and other things

My friend (and elders quorum pres) read the blog and asked if it was cathartic.  I have to admit I didn't know what cathartic meant - I had to look it up.  Yes, it has been a catharsis of sorts.  The original purpose was to answer the questions I would routinely get - or at least the ones I thought people wanted to ask but did not dare.  I know there are still people reading this – some have asked me to continue. I want to keep writing stuff but I’m running out of things to talk about.  I’ve told my story and given what I feel is ample warning about the mess another woman might be getting into if she is brave enough to enter my life. I don’t have much going on right now.  The highlight of my day is the phone call with my daughter when I get home from work but neither one of us is a great phone talker. I’ve been getting home at 9 p.m. so far this week and probably will be thru tomorrow – and no, that’s not normal. I’m usually home by 4 in the afternoon.
I’m watching the mailbox like a hawk because I am expecting a signed divorce decree any day now - which will make me officially a free man. Did you ever watch the Clio (not sure I spelled that right) awards when you were a kid? The Clio awards were the ones they handed out to the best TV commercials. I don’t know why but I have always remembered one in particular. I don’t think it won anything but it was very clever. It starts out with just a white screen and in the back ground you can hear the sound of someone cutting something with a hacksaw. This goes on for like 20 seconds and then suddenly a large ball with a chain attached falls into view and rolls across the screen. Then a simple graphic comes up showing the name of a law firm followed by “Divorce Attorneys” – then their phone number. I’ve always thought that was funny. I’m not saying April was a ball and chain, but my marriage has sure become one. A lifeless weight that’s keeping me tied down. I’m ready to get on with things. I had to leave work today for an hour (unfortunately I had to go back) to go tidy up the house and put the dog away for a showing tonight – of course I stopped at the mailbox. Nothing today - hopefully tomorrow. I have been thinking about some things I want to write about. I need to explain my gun collection so as to give fair warning to anyone considering getting involved with me who might have a problem with guns in the house. Also, how all of this has affected my faith. There are a few others too. One I have thought a little bit about of late is this one:

Why I still believe in Love

Some who read my story might think I would have a reason to be bitter or cynical - and I could see their point. I've had some pretty crappy things happen to me. What is my answer to that? This:  A lot of people have had much worse things happen to them - and so many of them are happy in spite of it all. Happiness is so much a choice. I guess I don't want my failures and bad experiences to define me - I don't want to be the guy who couldn't forgive, rise up, move on, look for the good in people, trust again, etc. It has been said that that which does not kill us makes us stronger - I'm not dead so I must be stronger - and I think in some ways wiser. I really feel like someone out there has been waiting for me - someone is looking for Kevin 2.0, the new and improved and slightly more polished version of the former rough stone with his mad new skills. I don't know - I at least hope that is the case. I truly look forward to the journey - wherever it takes me. I have felt increasingly over the last couple of months like there are much better days ahead. Maybe it’s because my divorce should be final this week (my lawyer told me yesterday that the judge was scheduled to sign everything last Friday – woohoo!). I guess I still believe in love because I need it. I need someone to laugh and cry with, share failures and triumphs -burdens and joys with. Doing those things alone sucks. If possible, I would like more kids. I feel that my story is not complete - rather that it is just beginning. I need someone with whom I can weave the rest of the tale and see what pattern emerges. One thing I have learned is that you really just don’t know where life will take you but that it’s possible to be happy no matter what happens to you. Here are two quotes that make a lot of sense to me now – more so than when I first read them:
Gordon B. Hinckley once said he enjoyed the words of Jenkins Lloyd Jones written in a 1973 Deseret News column:
"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he's been robbed.
"Most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise.
"Life is like an old-time rail journey — delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride."
Abraham Lincoln summed it up this way: "Most folks are about as happy as they make their minds up to be".

I don’t have anything to top either of those so I’ll leave it at that.

Ha! this was my most rambling post yet, but I'm going to leave it as is.  I must be a little tired after getting off work so late.  I promise I haven't been drinking!  I want to keep writing because it makes me feel connected to the world though I would much rather have someone to talk to. I have a couple of posts left in me but I hope that by the time I write them that I will be free to move forward.  Then, who knows what will happen.  I don't - and it doesn't bother me...

The Talk

This is kind of random but I entered uncharted waters tonight with my daughter - we had 'the talk'.  The queen mother of all discussions - and truthfully, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Because I don't see her as often as I used to (and I really hate that) I'm concerned about her on many levels.  I know she is a great kid and is as pure as innocent as they come, but I still just don't get to visit with her like I used to.  In some ways it's better because now the time we spend together is more condensed - and by that I mean that it's more meaningful because we both know our time is limited so we often just cut to the chase.  She seems so much more mature and open - divorce has a funny way of breaking down some barriers.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, for the first time ever (as far as I know), the word 'sex' came out of her mouth as she was recounting a conversation she had heard at school.  I panicked.  She said it kind of non-chalantly like it was so 'yesterday's news' that she knew what that word that keeps fathers of young girls awake at night meant.  I let it slide right on by without any acknowledgement.  Yeah, I know - nice going moron.  I was not prepared to talk about that with my 13 year old daughter!  That's her mother's job, right?  Well, I no longer have any idea what they talk about and don't have the relationship with my (still-soon-to-be) ex-wife to be able to discuss such things with her and find out.  It had kind of been bothering me since I let it slide so I decided to take the plunge while I was down visiting her tonight.
I asked her, out of the blue, if she knew where babies came from.  I think it would have surprised her less if I had asked, 'Hey, wanna stop and rob this bank with me?  You drive, I'll shoot!'  She gave me one of those 'Dad, what are you doing?' looks but that didn't stop me.  I reminded her that I heard her say the word 'sex' recently and wondered what she knew about it.  I wasn't surprised that she wasn't excited to tell me - but she didn't want to talk about it at all.  I didn't know where to start so I just kind of vomited it all out.  I found out that she knew a lot less than I did at 13 but that she knew more than I thought she did.  I didn't go into a lot of detail but I gave her a pretty clear picture of how things work.  She kept saying 'that's gross', 'disgusting', and 'sick, dad'.  I assured her that some day she would think differently but that it was totally OK with me that she felt that way about it now - and for as long as she wants.  I mostly wanted to help her understand that a man who really loves her will never ask her to break the Lord's commandments - especially that one.  I'm really glad I talked with her about it because as we chatted I could feel barriers coming down.  If we can talk about that - then we can discuss just about anything.  My parting shot was this:
"Make sure you tell all your friends who are boys that your dad lifts weights everyday and has lots of guns and is especially proud of his 'disappearing boy friend kit' which is a 12 gauge shotgun and a shovel - and that he is always mumbling something about being able to make it look like an accident".
She just smiled and roller her eyes but I really think she understood how much I care about her and her happiness - and that I was only half kidding about the disappearing boyfriend kit...

My Story Part five - Sleepless in South Weber

I'll apologize up front for the title of this post - I couldn't help it - but I have seriously had a lot of sleepless nights wondering what I should have done differently - and how things might have been.  I have gotten no answers.  So by now I feel like the guy pulled over on the freeway getting a ticket - or better yet, the one who flipped his car over and was able to crawl out and now notices that everyone is slowing down to get a look at the poor idiot who has had his world turned upside down.  The difference is I'm OK with the rubber-neckers. This has been a really good thing for me.  I appreciate all of the kind remarks and encouragement.  I've said it before - I don't want sympathy or to make April look bad.  I'm still not sure it was the best idea - I just feel increasingly compelled to tell the story.

I found out a couple of days ago that my mom read my story to my dad on their way home from Saint George - neither one of them had any idea how bad things were at the worst times - my fault not theirs.  I really have learned the importance of getting things out in the open and not being afraid to ask for help.  Maybe if I had written all of this 3 years ago I wouldn't be doing it now. So many what ifs - too many.  It's really not fair to ask those questions.  Hind sight is always 20/20.  When you are in the middle of dealing with something difficult you really can't see the forest for the trees.  I'm an engineer and a big part of my job is making 3-dimensional computer models of machine assemblies and making sure they fit together properly.  There have been times where I have been staring at my computer wondering why stuff isn't quite working and someone will walk  up behind me and say - hey, dummy, your problem is right there.  Sure enough - sometimes we are just too close to the problem to see it.  Maybe that's why good consultants make so much money.  They can walk into a situation, quickly identify the problem and offer a solution.  Done.  We could have used someone like that...

So I said at the end of the last post that about a year ago there was a ray of hope for us.  I thought we still had a chance.

April and I were both miserable and didn't know how to be un-miserable.  While my performance at work suffered a little I had thrown myself at church because I got a lot of positive feedback from my friends there and it helped me to recharge my batteries every week.  Because both of the girls were sleeping in until church was over I was going by myself every week (though about half the time I could get Haley to come with me).  I had no idea what to do.  I fought with April, I pleaded with her, I tried just letting things be and I tried motivating her.  I felt like if I could get her out of the house and back to church where she had some really good friends that it would help her out of her funk.  She had been to counseling before and didn't want to go back.  Instead, it was my turn.  She convinced me that I had a passive-aggressive personality and that if I could change that then things would get better.  I didn't know what else to do so I did it.  I went to LDS family services to learn how to be a better communicator.  It was awful.  When you get there you kind of look around at the others who are there and it feels like prison in that you want to ask "what are you in for?".  The assumptions (as unfair as they are) are that the teenage girls are pregnant, the men are all porn addicts and the women are depressed.  It was uncomfortable to say the least.  My heart wasn't in it because I didn't feel like I needed to be there and that it was her last ditch effort to see if I was willing to try to make it work.  I didn't do all of the stuff the counselor had asked me to and I eventually quit going.
About a year later she convinced me to go again - this time with an 'or else' ultimatum.  I went and really liked the counsellor but again, I just didn't see the point.  I didn't feel like it was just me that needed help.  She came with me to a couple of the sessions and I think the counsellor was a little surprised at how hostile she was.  He did say something that I found interesting.  He said that some married couples may not fully and completely understand each other until they are dead - when our mortal limitations are lifted.  Until then we just have to love each other and do our best to give and take.  And it's totally possible to be happy that way.   She became incensed at that - I thought it made perfect sense.
Without going into mundane details I will shorten the story.  I learned some new skills and put them into action and for awhile it seemed to be working.  We communicated a little better and the hostilities seemed to be abated.
Last November we went on a trip to Mexico with all of April's family and it was incredible.  We had such a great time - best trip I have ever been on, hands down.  I have to share some of the photos because it was a truly beautiful place.  We rented a huge beach house in Akumal, Mexico which is about 75 miles south of Cancun and is beautiful.  It was a riot!  It was a truly relaxing vacation.  We could literally walk out the back door of the beach house, grab our snorkel stuff and go exploring.  We caught a sea turtle, I found a conch shell and I even came face to face with a shark (yeah, I almost peed my pants - it was as big as I am.  The funny thing is that it was a nurse shark - no teeth.  I didn't know that.  My brother-in-law had a good laugh at my expense.  I must have looked pretty funny).

Sunrise off the back patio the morning we left to come home.

Akumal beach - great place to snorkel.

The Longs (all of them) and the Webbers.

The trip to Mexico seemed like a turning point.  We got along well and had a very relaxing and enjoyable time - what a vacation really should be.
Funny story  -  sorry but I have to keep injecting these into the story and I think it's for two reasons: 1) It keeps the story from being so depressing and 2) We really did have some great times!.
OK, here's the story:  we were all feeding frozen peas to the large schools of fish that frequent the shallows.  They would come right up to you and eat the peas out of your hand. The kids thought this was the about the coolest thing on earth - and it was really fun.

April researched and then bought an underwater case for the Flip video camera.  It was really cool and worked great.  One neat thing about Flip cameras is that you can extract still photos from the videos. 

There were hundreds of these little fish.

Yes that is a large sting ray and yes, Brady has it by the tail.

Catching sea turtles is one of his specialties.  I'm sure it's illegal but it was neat to see them so up close.

Well, my brother-in-law, the human fish and marine science expert just has to touch everything (as you can see from the above photos).  That's why, when we were feeding those fish and someone (I think it might have been April) screamed 'Octopus!' he was immediately on top of it and had his hands on it.  I was kind of far away and so I don't remember the exact sequence of events but this is what I saw:  there was a (I want to say Greek) family sitting in the shallows letting the small waves lap at their feet, some were half in and half out of the water. They were all just minding their own business, relaxing and enjoying a beautiful day at the beach.  Well octopus (or is it octopii?) are very quick but Brady had cornered it  under a rock (I think) near this Greek family when the dad walks over and says, "what are you guys looking at."  Just as Brady says the word 'octopus' he grabs it.  Well, needless to say, octopii do not like being handled!  It immediately inked, darted away and latched on to this poor guys leg.  This was about the time I had turned around to see what was going on.  I will never forget the way that guy screamed - you would have thought it was a shark attack.  It was contagious - as his entire family (it seemed like there were at least fifteen of them) started screaming and jumped up and stampeded out of the surf.  It's a good thing grandma wasn't in the way or she would have been trampled.  It didn't end there - they ran all the way up the beach and scaled the 4 foot retaining wall 25 yards away. All we could see of any of them was their eyeballs frantically scanning back and forth over the top of the wall as we could hear them animatedly chattering in some foreign language.  We laughed so hard we cried.  Every day during that trip someone would say 'octopus!' and we would all bust a gut.  There were some truly great times on that trip - and other trips that we took.  I wish the good times could have spilled over and helped during the bad times.  It might have helped (another 'what if').
Continuing on:  she also had gone to education week at BYU last summer and listened to a speaker that really resonated with her.  He had had a bad experience with adoption too - worse than ours.  I don't recall all of the details so I won't attempt to pass them on but his experience was heart breaking.  Later when people would ask him to interpret the reasons why they had passed through certain trials in their own lives and get his advice on what to do he would tell them:  "I don't know, live longer and it will make sense later!" and he meant it.  I love that.  We always want answers up front like we can go through the drive up window and demand things 'our way'.  We don't know why (at least I don't) we are asked to pass through certain nasty things that we think we didn't sign up for.  This message struck a chord with her too.  She seemed genuinely touched by this good man's message and it seemed to make sense to her.  I thought it would be the beginning of better days and it seemed to help.
Christmas came and it was really  a good time - a happy time.  She told me I was doing everything she wanted and with the new year coming I was optimistic that things would work out.  Our new church time was 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. and she had indicated that it would be easier for her to attend at that time and that she would start coming.  There was a light at the end of the tunnel!
Well, sometimes that light is an oncoming train. 
The girls had been working on me for a long time to get a cat.  I don't have much use for cats and never have.  Dogs are such loyal and good friends and are always glad to see you while, to me, cats are the antithesis of dogs in that they just do whatever they want whenever they want.  But I was feeling good about things and wanted to keep the positive momentum going so I thought, why not?  So on January 6th they had found a lady who was looking for a home for her cats and I agreed to go with them to look at it.  We ended up getting one of the two and bringing it home.  The girls were instantly in love with him (we originally thought it was a boy but it ended up being a girl - or maybe it was the other way around I can't remember - and yes I know how to tell, I just didn't look that closely). 
At one point during that night I had, out of the blue, this feeling that I needed to check her phone.  I had never had that thought before - ever.  I looked in her email inbox and didn't see anything unusual but felt I needed to dig a little deeper.  I looked in her outbox and her deleted mail.  What I saw was a game changer.  It was as if I had just been kicked in the stomach and the world had stopped turning momentarily.  I will not say what I saw - only that it had been going on for a pretty long time - even back to when I was 'fixing' my personality (almost a year).  I was shocked but somehow knew I shouldn't have been.  I didn't want to make a scene or do anything rash so I just went to bed and laid there all night wondering what to do.  I knew it was over and that we would not recover from this but I didn't know what to say to her.  I was hurt deeply and feared that I would say something I would regret - and that Haley would hear it.   I will always remember the date this all happened because the next day was my 38th birthday.  I called my brother-in-law in the morning when I got to work to tell him what had happened and he said to just send them down there.  It was kind of an unspoken plan we had for 'just in case'.  Not wanting to talk to her I sent her an email asking her to go to her brother's house and to plan on a long stay.  They moved in with her brother and Haley was enrolled in school with her cousins (where she has been attending ever since) and has done remarkably well.
I have only seen April up close once since January 6 of this year and that was at mediation in August. We still can't talk on the phone (her choice not mine) and I would really like to at times so we can talk about Haley - I don't really like texting or emailing everything (as much as I like my iPhone I still hate typing on it).
So there it is.  That is how I ended up divorced.  There are details I have not include and I'm sure April would have a very different take on some of the things that happened and how I reacted to them but that is my side of the story.  I know I wasn't a perfect husband (poop head), but who is?  I really did try.  I have debated a couple of times about just taking the whole blog down - I don't know how fair it is to her to do this but it has helped me to process what happened.  I don't think I have been unfair in telling the story.  Most importantly I wanted family and friends to know that I did not easily lay my marriage aside and that April had very real reasons to be as sad as she has been.  I feel badly for her.  I feel like I failed her in that I couldn't help her.  She is still in pain.  Haley adores her mom and I know it hurts her to see her mother like this.  I wish she could be happy.  I think that is why we are counselled not to judge one another.  We really don't have the ability to see one another's hearts and minds - especially when they have been injured deeply.
So here I am.  Living in a mostly empty house waiting for it to sell and looking for a new job that will get me in closer proximity to my daughter.  My precious daughter who doesn't deserve any of this...
I am in a holding pattern of sorts - waiting, waiting, waiting. The story of my life for the past 9 months.  I realize that I have opened myself up to criticism and may be shooting myself in the foot by laying myself bare like this but I just needed to get the story out there.  Early on in the time we were separated my neighbor across the street emailed me the following quote from Teddy Roosevelt which has become a favorite and has brought me some solace:

It is not the critic who counts,
nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
... who strives valiantly;
who errs and comes short again and again;
who knows great enthusiasms, great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those timid souls
who know neither victory nor defeat.

So, what's next?  Wouldn't I love to be able to answer that question!?
I think that for my heart to fully heal I need to be able to give it away again. I need to be able to love and trust again but the bare-naked truth is I'm scared to death to do it (though that won't be enough to keep me from trying).
One of the reasons I have written this is so that anyone entertaining the idea of joining this train wreck will know what they are getting themselves into.  I have baggage:  though I will never refer to my daugther as baggage it is complicated to integrate children into a new marriage, I am financially obligated to my (soon to be) ex-wife, I am pretty much starting over financially, I don't know how April will react to someone new, etc.
I have my quirks too:  some people don't get my sense of humor, I snore (at least I have been told I do but that may have changed since I lost all the weight), I'm still introverted.  My fear is that I will find someone I like and we will get married and then she will say, 'so that's why he was hard to live with'. 

But I really feel like someone is out there looking for someone just like me.  Whoever you are and wherever you are (whether our paths have already crossed or not), for when I find you and recognize you for who you are, I say this:  I don't care what happens in the future just don't quit!  Don't give up on me, don't give up on yourself, just don't give up!
Until then I will continue to wait, to stick it to the devil by doing my best Forrest Gump impersonation (the running part, not the 'stupid is as stupid does' part), and hope for a brighter day.
You haven't heard the last from me.  I still have things to say and will need to fill some of my idle time constructively.  If you have read this far - thank you for your interest in my story.  It's not over yet...