Conclave

White smoke pours from the chimney above the Sistine Chapel

The eyes of the world were on the Sistine Chapel this week as Catholic cardinals gathered from around the world to elect a new pope.  Personally, I was shocked by the non-stop media coverage of the Vatican firefighters erecting a new chimney and then endless media shots of that chimney on the roof of the Sistine Chapel.

While I didn't care who was elected pope, I have to admit the conclave process fascinated me.  The word "conclave" derives from two Latin words "con" (or with) and "clave" (or key).  "Con clave" literally means "with key" (yes, I admit that I learned that after reading Angels and Demons) and describes the process by which the cardinals are locked in the Sistine Chapel until they can come to an agreement on who the next pope should be.  No one gets in or out to disrupt the process.

Black Smoke

Historically, the cardinals were even denied meals if it took them too long to reach a decision.  Along the way, they literally send up smoke signals to update us on their progress.  They burn the papal ballots after each vote.  Black smoke means no decision.  White smoke means its over.  I'm still not quite sure how they manage to make that happen.

Apparently, even the Vatican hasn't foolproofed the process.  In 2005, when Pope Benedict was elected, someone apparently goofed and sent out gray smoke.  Oops!  No one knew quite what to do.

So conclave ended today, after only two days.  The historic tradition seems to have worked and Catholics all over the world are elated.

Statuary Hall in Washington D.C.

Since conclave worked so well for the Vatican, I'm wondering if we should maybe introduce the concept to our own country.  Its been five years since Congress and the President have been able to actually agree on a budget.  How long do you think they'd be able to hold out if imposed our own "federal conclave" and locked them in Statuary Hall until they were able to reach an agreement?

This or This?

This might not be funny if you haven't listened to some of the dumb stuff that triathletes actually say.  I've actually heard some of these before.  And I've probably been guilty at having said one or two myself...  ;-)

His lines about "following his blog" to see his training progress is pretty funny.  Hopefully none of my readers are sick and tired of  hearing about my triathlons!

Down and Derby

S.'s Pinewood Derby Masterpiece

 January brought more than the new year in our neck of the woods.  It also brought the Pinewood Derby to our ward.  The race this year was a lot earlier than in the past so it kind of snuck up on me.

I'm no Pinewood Derby expert.  (If you want to see what an amazing Pinewood Derby car looks like, check out this blog.)  This was, however, our third Pinewood Derby effort.  The first year with R., I did all sorts of research on how to build a Pinewood Derby car.  I pretty much smothered the topic.  I learned a few things and R.'s car did really well.  He won every single race but one--losing to the overall champion.

The next year, I was flush with confidence--until his car lost every. single. race!  I'm still not quite sure what the problem was.

The bottom line was that I really didn't know what to expect this year.  The only good thing was that now that R. is no longer in Cub Scouts, I only had to build 1 car--not 2.  (Even though S. was too young, I had to build him his own car along with R.'s--making double the work.)

The design was all S.'s idea

I tried to keep S. as involved in the project as possible, but his bedtime was kinda early and we kinda ran out of of time.  He did the entire design himself (along with some suggestion about what I was capable of cutting with the saw) and picked out the colors.  He insisted on the Big Red One on the car.  I had to carve that out by hand with the Dremel and I was pretty pleased with how it turned out.

There was just one hiccup.  I decided that we needed a coat of clear coat to make the car have a glossy finish.  When it was done, S. hated it.  He was so sad and I felt so bad about having forced him to do it that I just re-painted over the clear coat.

I took extra care to dial in the alignment of the car and felt really good about the final product, even if it meant that I missed some sleep.  Race morning, this is what S. came down to find waiting for him.

Ready to Race

I have to admit that I felt like it was Christmas morning and I was really excited to see his reaction.  His reaction didn't disappoint, even if I was still exhausted from feeling the effects of a couple of late night car building sessions.

I gave S. some lessons on how to carry and transport the car and how to properly present the car for weigh-in.

Weigh In

The weigh in was pretty much a zoo.  Luckily, we didn't have to do any last minute modifications to S.'s car. A few of the other cub scouts were not so fortunate.  The big yellow bus next to S.'s car (which was a really cool design) didn't make the weight or height rules.  I was glad that they let the boy race anyway.

One of the other kids car was overweight, so I loaned them my drill (I brought a full tool kit to the weigh in) so that they could drill out some holes in their car.  Then there was another kid whose car was overweight and his dad wasn't there.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't even touch someone else's Pinewood Derby car because I wouldn't want to break it.  But I knew this kid and his family a little, and there was no other option.  He really needed some help, so I grabbed my drill and helped him drill out his car so that he was race legal.  You'd be surprised at how many holes you have to drill in a Pinewood Derby car to drop 0.3 ounces of weight!  (We managed to get his car race legal!  Yay!)

Once the cars get weighed in, you can't touch them any more.

I was surprised at how nervous I got once the races started.  I mostly wanted S. to be happy and have a good experience.  In his first race, he got second (out of four cars).  Then he got second again.  Then something happened and he started winning.  Race after race, his little silver car was coming in first.

Here's a quick clip showing one of these races in action.  The clip is 17 seconds long, but brace yourself for the three seconds of heart stopping, pounding excitement from the actual start to the finish of the race.  S.'s car is the one on your far left:

S. kept winning all the way to the finals.  The final race literally came down to a photo finish.  Here is that photo:

The photo finish from the final race: S.'s car is on the far right

S's car took third by just a hair.  Still I felt like it was a lot of fun and S. was thrilled.  So I'd say that it was successful.

**UPDATE**

Following the race, there were whispers that the winner and runner up (the two cars on the left) had been purchased off the internet.  I really didn't care one way or the other, but at the Pack Meeting last week one of the dads admitted that he and his friend had found a professional Pinewood Derby car maker (seriously, is that a full time job) in Utah and they had ordered their cars.  I wish I had asked how much they paid for them!

Rather than being outraged, I actually took it as a compliment that S.'s car came so close to beating the professional cars!  I already have some ideas about how we can improve next year!

La Isla Bonita

A typical view in the D.R.

This post is dedicated to my former babysitter whose son just got called to my exact mission--the greatest mission on Earth.  So if you don't have a kid going on a mission to the Dominican Republic or aren't going there yourself, feel free to skip this post.  :-)

The Dominican Republic ("D.R." for short) is a beautiful country, but it is (or was) very different from what I had grown accustomed to as a kid growing up in the U.S.  I got my first taste of what the D.R. would be like when we flew there from the MTC.  The last leg was from Puerto Rico to Santo Domingo and I was shocked when some of the passengers boarded the plane with their chickens--yes live chickens!

Your friendly neighborhood "huelga"

The next adjustment that I had to make was to the vocabulary of the D.R.  It was not what we had been taught in the MTC.

First of all, Dominicans have an unspoken language.  They don't point with their fingers--they point with their lips.  If they don't understand something or don't know something, they will wrinkle their nose.

I got more than a few odd glances when I came home from people who didn't understand why I was wrinkling my nose up at them.

Other words are more Dominican specific:  a bus is a "guagua".  A bench on that bus that might seat 3 in the U.S. will accommodate about 7 in the D.R.  Not because Dominicans are any smaller.  Just because you will get squished in that tight.  Not so much fun.

Forget supermarkets.  You will get all your food from the neighborhood "colmado".  It's like a convenience store or 7-11 if 7-11 decided to start opening up shop in people's dirty garages.  I still have some nightmares about some of the food I saw there.  (Don't think I can ever eat "Bacalao" a "specialty made from mummified codfish.  Colmados don't bother to refrigerate most things like butter and eggs.  Think how much energy we could save here in the U.S. if we stopped needlessly (and wastefully) refrigerating such items.

A "huelga" is a riot.  You will know that a huelga has been called when the aromatic scent of freshly deployed tear gas wafts into the church parking lot or when you wake up in the morning to the acrid smell of burning tires in the middle of the intersection.  The "huelga" is enforced by the burning tires in the middle of the street and by spikes that are thrown into the middle of the highway/street.  All commerce grinds to a halt in the face of a huelga.

Note the picture above.  A typical Dominican neighborhood out in the "campo" (campo = anywhere outside the capital).  Yes, it's the middle of the day and no it's not P-Day.  I'm in my spiffy attire because you're not supposed to work during a huelga--it's not really safe.  (I know, I'm walking on the wild side by daring to get that shot.)

Speaking of safety, get used to military checkpoints and soldiers who look like they're about 16 years old handling M-16s.  It won't phase you.  My mom still hasn't gotten over the shock from when they came down to pick me up and take me home.

Note the word "Mormones" on the basketball

Dominicans love sports.  Everyone thinks that they love baseball and they do, but basketball is actually much more popular in the southwest portion of the country.  Even the tiniest towns have an outdoor basketball court at the center of the town.  Usually with a Michael Jordan "Jumpman" silhouette drawn on center court or the backboards or both.  MJ was very big down there. I remember watching one Bulls playoff game, but not because I was slacking off and watching the game instead of tracting.  I was able to watch it because as I walked down the street every house had the game on in the front room with the windows open.  The ratings to see MJ playing must have been astronomical.

One of the scarier moments of my mission

Some towns had had little contact with cars or white people.  My companion thought it was hilarious to snap this shot.  We had pulled into some little tiny town to get some directions or something and our truck was almost instantly swarmed with these kids.  I don't think they had ever seen an American before.  One of them actually reached into the truck to touch the back of my head.  Needless to say, it was very disconcerting and I got out of there as fast as I could.

P-Day in the jungle.  I'm sure I was having a very deep doctrinal discussion in this picture...

The beauty of the land is off the charts.  These pictures really don't do it justice.  We worked hard and on P-Day we would play hard by going to visit some amazingly beautiful locations.

Seatbelts anyone?  The whole district in the back of a truck.
This is how we usually got around.  It's a lot safer than it looks!

Exploring the D.R.

District meeting under a mango tree

But I digress.  Despite the natural beauty of the D.R., the people are even more beautiful--spiritually speaking.  They are a humble people of faith and accepted us into their homes on a daily basis.  I literally had people share their last bowl of rice and scrap off chicken with us.  I felt guilty many times knowing that I had so much and gave so little, yet Dominicans were willing to give so freely despite their humble circumstances.

This couple is getting married so they can get baptized.  I'm making myself useful by keeping the kids entertained.

You will work with people to help them change their lives, repent, be baptized, and become disciples of the Savior.  You may see a marriage to two (see above).

Carlos Cesar, middle, is baptized by his best friend (left) Reino.  Reino was also the ward mission leader.

The Feliz Family (with Hanlet in front) in the town of Neiba

They say that a mission is the best two years of your life.  That may be true, but I also think it's the hardest two years.  You will get out of it what you put into it.  You will be happy.  You will be sad.  You will be frustrated.  You will be excited.  You will share the burdens and sorrows of the people you teach and you will experience joy as you grow closer to the Savior and feel His love.  In turn, you will want to share that love with the Dominican people.

Deanna, your son is going to have an amazing experience in the D.R. I will never forget my time there and hope to be able to go back to visit some day.  I hope that his missionary service among the Dominican people will be as great a blessing in his life as it was in mine.

El evangelio es verdadero!

A Thousand Miles...

The view from my turnaround point

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

-Lao-Tzu

Chinese philosopher (604 B.C. - 531 B.C.)

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about journeys.  When I did my first Half Ironman two years ago, I was struck by how much that race was like life's journey.  I had friends with whom I waited anxiously to start the race, even though we ended up moving at different paces once the race was underway.  I also met new friends along the way.  We shared a few miles together as we encouraged each other to finish the race as best we could.  I was inspired by some competitors along the way.  I'll never forget the competitor I passed with one leg.  She did not let her disability deter her from accomplishing her goal.  I was humbled by other competitors who passed me (including one 70+ year old man)!

But that experience is a lot like life.  In the pre-existence, I'm sure that we were excited to start life's journey with friends and colleagues.  Here in life, however, we may move at different paces.  We will also meet new friends during life's journey.  Some share our path for a short while before moving on.  Others we see only in passing.  And we are inspired by our friends and family (as well as others) along the way.

Baby steps...first run of the season
(I told you it was cold this winter!)

I'm preparing for my own journey later this month.  The California Half Ironman (i.e., "Oceanside") is coming up.  Three weeks from today to be exact.  I remember telling a friend last Thanksgiving that I had plenty of time to NOT prepare for the race.  It was funny at the time, but perhaps not so funny now.

Even though I live in Southern California, I feel like this past winter was long and cold and dark.  I managed to work out a little--mostly swimming (surprisingly even though it's an outdoor pool) and biking--but couldn't bring myself to run in the cold and dark of this past winter.

Luckily, I have some friends who have helped me start my "journey" to Oceanside.  To properly prepare for a race that will require me to swim, bike, and run 70.3 miles in a single day, I figure it'd be great to actually prepare by going a thousand miles.  That's not going to happen, but I have started this journey by taking some baby steps.

Apparently, Lao-Tzu's quote would translated more accurately as follows: Even the longest journey must begin where you stand.  This translation gives additional insights.  I can't cry about lost training opportunities.  I need to start where I stand now and move forward continuing my journey.  Much like life.  I can't worry about past mistakes, but I should (hopefully) learn from those mistakes and resolve not to perpetuate them in the future.

Today, I continued my journey to Oceanside.  I can't worry about the mistakes that I might have made over the past few months.  I need to move forward and not repeat those same mistakes.

So this morning I continued my journey by playing a basketball game (we won!) and then reffing a basketball game.  I even managed to put down a couple dunks.  (Kaari, I spared you by not posting any pics of this on FB or this blog!)  Maybe I'm not as old as I think I am sometimes!

Then I had a 10k run at noon and a light swim tonight.  My run today was notable.  It reminded me of how lucky I am to live in this corner of the world.  It was about 60 degrees, blue skies, light breeze, and I got to run along the ocean and out to the end of the San Clemente Pier.  I wasn't even sure where I was running as I had never done that particular trail before.  I simply kept running until I reached the end of the trail.  Then I went down onto the sand and kept running, staying just out of reach of the waves that washed in and out along the shore.  I ran to nowhere in particular, but once I turned around to head back the view (see above) was spectacular.  I could see all the way up the coast to Dana Point Harbor.  It gave me renewed energy as I completed the second half of my run.

Ironman Florida sold out in 1 minute--How in the heck did I get in???

I have goals for my race at Oceanside.  I'll keep those to myself right now.  I question whether they are realistic, but that's okay.  I don't want to settle.  Whether or not I reach those triathlon goals at Oceanside, I have to remind myself that this year's journey for me will ultimately end in Florida--not Oceanside.  So Oceanside is just a single step on that journey.

I have goals in life as well.  They mirror, at least in a figurative sense, my triathlon goals.  I really don't have any idea of the twists and turns that my life's journey will yet take.  I was reminded earlier today that exactly one year ago today, I was swimming in Kailua-Kona Harbor.  Things turned dramatic when I was caught in a rip current and blinded by a busted goggle strap.  But I finished.  And I expect to finish my journey through life as well.

A lot has happened over the past year, but I will probably look back a year from today and be surprised at the twists and turns my journey took.  Even though I still have thousands of miles to go in my journey through life, that journey will proceed a single step at a time.  I better make those steps count!

Leaping Leprechauns

Happy St. Patty's Day!

It's March and that means a lot of great things....in no particular order, these include the following: March Madness, Easter (in some years), birthdays for some of my favorite people (including my brother and S.), and St. Patrick's Day!

Apparently, I'm not the only one looking forward to St. Patrick's Day.  My son, S., walked in tonight while I was in the bathroom and I could tell that he had a very heavy question on his mind.  (S. is 8 years old.)  I asked him what the problem was.  This was his response:

"Dad, I'm really concerned that a leprechaun might come and try and take my gold."

It took a second for me to figure out what he was referring to, but then I remembered that R. and S. have been busy collecting rocks, minerals, and scientific elements.  (Yes, really.)  In my zeal to not stifle their intellectual curiosity, I had picked up a couple of vials of scrap gold off of eBay for a couple bucks.  I gave one vial to each of my kids.

S.'s Rock and Mineral Collection

S.'s vial is pictured above.  Two things slowly dawned on me: (1) he was referring to this vial of scrap gold (worth about $2.87 for all you burglars out there--don't bother trying to steal it); and (2) he was serious.

This struck me as one of those parenting moments that you really can't plan for.  I thought it was really cute that S.'s emotion was that he was "concerned" about a leprechaun taking his gold.  I was also kind of glad that at 8 years old my kids still believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and leprechauns.

S. has a whole lifetime ahead of him to be worried about adult things.  I hope that he can cling on to his childhood for as long as possible.  Too often, I think, our society forces our kids to grow up too quickly.  I hope that my kids never lose that sense of childhood wonder and awe.  Frankly, I hope I haven't lost it myself.

PS--Don't worry, I reassured S. that I would lock up the gold safely where the leprechaun can't steal it on St. Patrick's Day!  :-)

Maroon 5 - Daylight