My grandfather was a rancher. They had 120 acres in Tetonia, Idaho. There was a small one story house. Adjacent the house was a large lawn that was big enough to play baseball on, and to shoot the bow and arrow. On the corner of the lawn there was a massive willow tree that. It's huge limbs would swing back and forth with the wind. A solitary rope hung from a limb. Attached was a swing with a tire knotted at the bottom. So peaceful was this place. No cars could be seen or heard within it's reach. As a child it was litterally my huge playground.
Surrounding their house was a 5 acre pasture. There was a pump house that contained feed for the horses and sadles for riding just inside the gate. At the back of the property there was a creek that was a haven for Cat Tails and minnows. Behind the pumphouse were the remains of a fallen down barn. All that could be seen was the foundation and tiles from the outside walls. I would walk though the rubble imaginging what this place looked like in it's days of glory. I loved to collect old things and fancied myself a junior acreologist. I saw something that caught my attention; an old glass bottom partily covered by an old log. I picked it up and there was a liquid inside so I turned it uside down to let the liquid drain out. Out it came, but it was then I realized that something was dreadfully wrong. Instead of a liquid that dropped to the ground, this water stayed together in a solid mass slowy seeping in a through the opening. A scream erupted out of my lips as I realized that the liquid was indeed a snake that had made it's home in my shiney bottle. I drop the bottle and ran as fast as I could, only to stop a few yards away. I looked at the snake, ready to flee at any sign of danger. The snake slowly slithered away, seemingly not to notice me is his movements. We then both went about our business, but we both glanced back at the other, making sure there would be no more nonsense.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
First Real Day Underwater
I don't know when the desire to breath underwater began. Maybe it was all those marine shows I watched on PBS when I was a kid or maybe it was the day I really saw the ocean, but deep inside a seed was unwittingly planted and the desire has been growing ever since. Last month I finally decided that it was time. Time to shell out the money. Time to feel the weightless feeling of staying underwater without my ears screaming out in pain or my lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. It was time to open my eyes under water without the sting forcing my lids to close. It was time.
Just to be fair this isn't really my first time underwater. We had to pass off all our underwater abilities in the pool before we could go to the open water. So it was my first expierience breathing underwater without the safe confines of a pool.
I arrived at Clear Springs Scuba park ready for the day. I was by myself with my scuba grear next to me in the seat and in the miniscule trunk. I arrived at the dive sight. Hauled all my gear to the tarp. After sociallizing for a few moments it was time. In diving, you NEVER dive without a partner, unless you don't again want to see the light of day. John was my partner. An overweight man in his early forties. He drove a big pickup and had a purple tank. One thing you can say about scuba gear it is sooooo heavy. Of course John picked it up and lug the BCD and tank on his back like it weighed nothing. In class you learn how to pick up your gear with the help of you partner, and it is a good thing. I have always been too stubbornly self sufficient for my own good. So even with the help of John there, I still tried to bolster the bulk of the weight myself. As a picked up the tank to hoist it onto my back, I felt pain rip across the scar where they cut into me to get Logan out. My breath caught in my throat, but I had to laugh to concentrate an what I was doing instead of the damaged parts of me. I straped into the BCD and teetered under it's massive weight. We walked down the rocky slope to the dock, and waited to enter the water. The wetsuits kept the heat in our already sweltering bodies, and the weight of the air tank made all the muscles in my body ache.
I went to the edge of the dock with the anticipation of the cool water beneath. With a giant step, I entered the green glassy surface. In the instant I entered the water, all my discomfort dissapeared. The cool water quenched the fire on my skin beneath my wet suit. The weight that just seconds before had been tearing at my body, wanting me stumble and crash to the earth is nothing. I am safe and weightless in the water. I laid back and just enjoyed the comfortable feeling. We snorked out to a small pink bouy, that marked a sunken airplane and prepared to decend into the murky water beneath. John and I were ready. We gave the hand signal for going down, and we decended down the bouy line.
Nothing can compare to that first breath underwater. When you can stop stuggling to stay afloat and you don't have to fight for every breath. It becomes secound nature, like breathing at the surface. You don't even think about it. It fades from your mind as you are confronted with an entirely different world. Everywhere I looked I could only see the color of vibrant yellow green. Small particles drifted in and out of my view. The visibility was so poor, I couldn't see the plane until I was almost upon it. I had to keep my buddy at arms length so he wouldn't dissapear into the haze. Even with him in my peripherals and the knowlege there where other divers within thirty feet of us, it was so easy to feel alone. The only sound was the inhaling and exahling into the respirator. The water was so gentle, with small currents tugging and pulling my body in different directions. A pale outline of the plane arose against the deeper background below. We arrived, landing gently on the plane, where our instructor was waiting for us. The plane used to be white, but was now covered in a slimy film of light green. Bubbles of air found miniscule cracks in the plane's surface and streamed out, impacient to find the surface. We stood on the plane, waiting for the rest of our comrads. As I waited I turned my attention to the haze. I thought nothing could be visible through the fog, but as I looked I began to deciper images within my vision. About ten feet away, I could barely make out ths outline of a diver slowly moving, paciently waiting for the other divers. I looked down at about my waist and was surprised to see a wide, very flat fish. Although I studied him with interest, he looked at me utterly bored. I reached out to touch him with my finger and he skirted away without a second glance. I remained where I was and waited until more fish swam slowly past me. I picked one and slowy followed it, with my belly closed against the plane's surface. He kept swimming slowly, so i followed him. Slowly I reached out my hand and to my utter astonishment I touched him. His scales were soft and slippery. I was so taken back that he had allowed me to touch him that I jerked my hand back and cried out. For the next few minutes, I chased fish along the surface of the plane.
With my buddy, we began to swim along the outside of the plane. Along the bottom were sharp jagged rocks that pulled at my fins. I unwittingly swam into the thermocline and was greeted by a icy layer that was not unpleasent in lew of the warmth of the day. We continued to the cockpit of the plane. I reached out to one of the windows and found surounding my hand were tiny fish. they were about an inch long and there were hundreds in the area. I had to smile at the great show of life within such a small space. We circled the plane, studying it's features. We came up again to the top of the plane. I saw one of my friendly fishies. I stared at it and it stared back at me. I reached out my finger to touch it, slowly, so not to scare him into the abyss. He continued to stare at me as I reached toward him. Without so much as looking at my finger he charged at it with his mouth wide open, ready to sink his tiny teeth into the pad of my finger. I flinched backed just in time for him to miss my finger. I rubbed it as though he had bitten it, instead of it being a narrow miss. I had to smile at my own stupitidty. Never offer your finger to an animal if you want to keep it.
Regretfully it was time to surface. We ascended along the candycane striped line to the scorching sun above. I swam backwards to the dock. I took off my fins and stepped onto the ladder. With the first step the weight of my tank pulled at me, not wanting to let me leave the water. I hoisted myself onto the dock, and my muscles again screamed under the massive weight. I climbed the slope to the site, and set my gear on the ground. I was again in the sweltering sun, fighting to keep hydrated. All the while I looked longingly at the cool glassy surface off the water.
Just to be fair this isn't really my first time underwater. We had to pass off all our underwater abilities in the pool before we could go to the open water. So it was my first expierience breathing underwater without the safe confines of a pool.
I arrived at Clear Springs Scuba park ready for the day. I was by myself with my scuba grear next to me in the seat and in the miniscule trunk. I arrived at the dive sight. Hauled all my gear to the tarp. After sociallizing for a few moments it was time. In diving, you NEVER dive without a partner, unless you don't again want to see the light of day. John was my partner. An overweight man in his early forties. He drove a big pickup and had a purple tank. One thing you can say about scuba gear it is sooooo heavy. Of course John picked it up and lug the BCD and tank on his back like it weighed nothing. In class you learn how to pick up your gear with the help of you partner, and it is a good thing. I have always been too stubbornly self sufficient for my own good. So even with the help of John there, I still tried to bolster the bulk of the weight myself. As a picked up the tank to hoist it onto my back, I felt pain rip across the scar where they cut into me to get Logan out. My breath caught in my throat, but I had to laugh to concentrate an what I was doing instead of the damaged parts of me. I straped into the BCD and teetered under it's massive weight. We walked down the rocky slope to the dock, and waited to enter the water. The wetsuits kept the heat in our already sweltering bodies, and the weight of the air tank made all the muscles in my body ache.
I went to the edge of the dock with the anticipation of the cool water beneath. With a giant step, I entered the green glassy surface. In the instant I entered the water, all my discomfort dissapeared. The cool water quenched the fire on my skin beneath my wet suit. The weight that just seconds before had been tearing at my body, wanting me stumble and crash to the earth is nothing. I am safe and weightless in the water. I laid back and just enjoyed the comfortable feeling. We snorked out to a small pink bouy, that marked a sunken airplane and prepared to decend into the murky water beneath. John and I were ready. We gave the hand signal for going down, and we decended down the bouy line.
Nothing can compare to that first breath underwater. When you can stop stuggling to stay afloat and you don't have to fight for every breath. It becomes secound nature, like breathing at the surface. You don't even think about it. It fades from your mind as you are confronted with an entirely different world. Everywhere I looked I could only see the color of vibrant yellow green. Small particles drifted in and out of my view. The visibility was so poor, I couldn't see the plane until I was almost upon it. I had to keep my buddy at arms length so he wouldn't dissapear into the haze. Even with him in my peripherals and the knowlege there where other divers within thirty feet of us, it was so easy to feel alone. The only sound was the inhaling and exahling into the respirator. The water was so gentle, with small currents tugging and pulling my body in different directions. A pale outline of the plane arose against the deeper background below. We arrived, landing gently on the plane, where our instructor was waiting for us. The plane used to be white, but was now covered in a slimy film of light green. Bubbles of air found miniscule cracks in the plane's surface and streamed out, impacient to find the surface. We stood on the plane, waiting for the rest of our comrads. As I waited I turned my attention to the haze. I thought nothing could be visible through the fog, but as I looked I began to deciper images within my vision. About ten feet away, I could barely make out ths outline of a diver slowly moving, paciently waiting for the other divers. I looked down at about my waist and was surprised to see a wide, very flat fish. Although I studied him with interest, he looked at me utterly bored. I reached out to touch him with my finger and he skirted away without a second glance. I remained where I was and waited until more fish swam slowly past me. I picked one and slowy followed it, with my belly closed against the plane's surface. He kept swimming slowly, so i followed him. Slowly I reached out my hand and to my utter astonishment I touched him. His scales were soft and slippery. I was so taken back that he had allowed me to touch him that I jerked my hand back and cried out. For the next few minutes, I chased fish along the surface of the plane.
With my buddy, we began to swim along the outside of the plane. Along the bottom were sharp jagged rocks that pulled at my fins. I unwittingly swam into the thermocline and was greeted by a icy layer that was not unpleasent in lew of the warmth of the day. We continued to the cockpit of the plane. I reached out to one of the windows and found surounding my hand were tiny fish. they were about an inch long and there were hundreds in the area. I had to smile at the great show of life within such a small space. We circled the plane, studying it's features. We came up again to the top of the plane. I saw one of my friendly fishies. I stared at it and it stared back at me. I reached out my finger to touch it, slowly, so not to scare him into the abyss. He continued to stare at me as I reached toward him. Without so much as looking at my finger he charged at it with his mouth wide open, ready to sink his tiny teeth into the pad of my finger. I flinched backed just in time for him to miss my finger. I rubbed it as though he had bitten it, instead of it being a narrow miss. I had to smile at my own stupitidty. Never offer your finger to an animal if you want to keep it.
Regretfully it was time to surface. We ascended along the candycane striped line to the scorching sun above. I swam backwards to the dock. I took off my fins and stepped onto the ladder. With the first step the weight of my tank pulled at me, not wanting to let me leave the water. I hoisted myself onto the dock, and my muscles again screamed under the massive weight. I climbed the slope to the site, and set my gear on the ground. I was again in the sweltering sun, fighting to keep hydrated. All the while I looked longingly at the cool glassy surface off the water.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Mother Child
I live in Texas, but I grew up in Idaho. We have no family in our vicinity. I have a husband and a baby that I take care of at home. I make dinner, find shoes, and do laundry. I sweep green beans off the floor and change the air filters in the AC. I get to come home to visit Idaho about three times a year. It is so facinating because although I am still a mother I suddenly become a daughter. I find myself asking my mother if she has seen my purse or whats for dinner. She gets me icecream from the freezer downstairs because I ask if they have any. She makes sure I am taking my vitamins and eating enough protein. Tonight I really remembered what it is like to have a mother. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom before bed and in the reflextion in the mirror on the wall behind me was a vicious, black hairy monster. Ok,OK it was only a spider, but he was really creepy looking. He looked like a giant tick with lobster claws. UG! So I knocked on my parents door and told them the was a really gross spider in the bathroom. My mom picked up a shoe and followed me. Ok, I'll admit I was a bit embarrased that my mom had to come and kill the spider, so I played it up that I didn't know what kind it was or I just wanted to show her how yucky it was claiming it looked like a giagantic tick. She took one look and it and said, "EWWW, Nolan come look at this spider." My dad came and stated that it was indeed a spider. My mom got her shoe poised and ready and smashed that spider into a juicy black hole in one swipe. She then flicked it off the wall onto the floor and hit is a few more times just me make sure it was dead. I assured her it was and we made our ways back to our bedrooms I sercrety glad it wasn't me with the shoe. Then I reallized what it mean to be the mother, because at home I have to kill my own spiders.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Teton, the land of my heritage
I always forget what Idaho is like until I come back here. So Today my mom was having the church youth over at her house. They needed some additional beverages so I went to the closest place to buy soda... Russell's junction. The sign states that it is a gas'n grub bar'n grill, so I'm not really sure what it really is. I am almost ashamed to say that I lived in Teton for nineteen years of my life and I had never gone into Russell's Junction. If those of you don't know Russell's Junction is the only remaining convenient store in Teton after Miles Market AKA Pappy's, cyotes, and a plethora of other names closed down a few years ago. Teton's 578 residents have been forced to seek solitude at Russell's junction, or make the long trek to Sugar City. I was in a hurry today, so To Russell's I went. I was going for a two litter of soda. I walked into the door that had a piece of notebook paper stating that this was the Russel's store. I assume the other door was to the bar and they have to keep them separated. I walked in was was immediately taken back by how truly small the room really was. There is one center shelf displaying common household products such as laundry soap and breakfast cereal. The back wall was lined with coolers containing soda, but no two liter's. I just must be used to the massive Texas grocery stores, with there florescent lights, and grocery isles that go on for miles. It seems like there was one bag of chips, two Snickers, a few packs of gum, all situated on the middle shelf. I collected my soda and waited at the cash register for a long time. The walls were covered in a dark panelling, and there were wooden sign where the words RUSSELL'S had been burned into the wood. Two teens came it and bought Mountain Dew and Bugles (who new they still made bugles, and poked their head into the bar to tease the cashier/bartender. Above their head was a 5 in by 5 in sign written in almost in legible scrawl stating no one under 21 allowed after 4:00. Eventually the bartender/cashier sauntered over to collect my money. He was a thick man wearing a white T-shirt. His mustache looked like it forgot to stop growing when it got to the edge of his mouth and dripped in straight lines off of his chin. At the top of his shirt, I saw a thick rim of chest hair that also forget to stop growing at his chest and was making it's way up his neck. As I got a close look I realized that it was waving a sure hello at me as I kept peering at it, unable to look away for long. He saw the 13 month old baby I held in my arms and got a looks of sure knowledge in his eyes.
"I know what you want," speaking to my son. His right hand reached toward a candy jar full of Dum-Dums. "You want one of these." His grin out shown even his waving chest hair. I politely declined, saying Logan would probably choke on it. He still insisted that that is what Logan wanted. I politely declined 3 times, saying he would defiantly choke before he looked down with a fallen face. Perhaps I should have shelled out the $.05 to buy a Dum Dum. He had moved on to the next customer before I was out the door. Maybe he bought a Dum Dum.
"I know what you want," speaking to my son. His right hand reached toward a candy jar full of Dum-Dums. "You want one of these." His grin out shown even his waving chest hair. I politely declined, saying Logan would probably choke on it. He still insisted that that is what Logan wanted. I politely declined 3 times, saying he would defiantly choke before he looked down with a fallen face. Perhaps I should have shelled out the $.05 to buy a Dum Dum. He had moved on to the next customer before I was out the door. Maybe he bought a Dum Dum.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The Gigantic Bean Bag
So when we lived in Rexburg we babysat Tim’s Love Sac. Needless to say it was my favorite piece of furniture… ever. So Mark said he had been planning for months to get me a bean bag for my birthday. A Love Sac was a bit out of our price range so, last week we ordered a non descript brand from Overstock (who can beat $3 shipping) and finally it arrived on Wednesday. It is Logan favorite piece of furniture too, because it is the only seat he will sit on long enough to have an entire story read to him. The only problem is I have watched more TV in the last few days than I have in a long time because I want to sit on it, and I have fallen asleep on it no less than four times.
It might have been a bad idea, but I’m not saying a word.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
It all began on a drilling rig in Three Rivers, TX
What exactly began on a rig in TX? This blog! After sitting in a logging truck watching the sonde record at 10,000 ft below the surface all day long in the 103 F heat (ok, we have AC in here, but outside it is 103), I came up with the (not so brilliant) idea of starting a Millard family blog. Deep down I am hoping that Erica will take over this and post all of the adventures that we have (or pretend to have) so that I don't have to do it. We will see. At any rate, for those who haven't talked to us in a while, we are currently living in the great state of Texas (hence the blog title). I am working as a geologist for an oil company (I know, complain all you want, but don't blame us! We (the oil companies) are the only ones doing anything about the problem)! Although I havent seen the movie (A day without mexicans (?)), us "oil people" are much like them in a lot of respects. Everyone complains about us and talks about how we are taking all of the money, but if we were to simply not show up to work one day, the world would literally come to a stop! Anyways, enough with taht subject. While I am slaving away at a workstation, or out on a rig, or wherever I may be at the time, Erica is raising our one and only, Logan. He will be 1 in a couple weeks and is (almost) walking. While not caring for Logan, she is working her photography business on the side shooting weddings, etc. Anyways, if I am lucky Erica will dig up some recent photos of us and the boy so that I can look at myself at all hours of the day.
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