Pictures From My Phone & Weekly Distractions

Happy February's end, Strangers. We have had a very odd February in Salt Lake City. For several weeks it has been sunny and warm. I'm talking t-shirt weather. I noticed just yesterday that tulips have started busting through the ground. Typically February in SLC is miserable. I think I really need to go watch that documentary about the Polar Bears because right now I feel like there is no downside to climate change.

And now, your pictures and distractions:

Daniel and Emily

DON'T SEND ME A PICTURE OF THAT EVER PLEASE!!!!

I've been having . . . well . . . issues for the past many weeks. With my body. With the inside of my body.

So, naturally, I decided to share this with anyone who would listen. Also, naturally, Bob and Cathie and Daniel were the only people who showed any interest.

Bob and Cathie typically start sending me an infinite amount of articles about how whatever ailment I've described to them most definitely means that I'm dehydrated and will die by the end of the week. Daniel typically asks me fifty or so intrusive questions and then changes the subject. Then I ask him why he asked all of those questions if he wasn't going to offer some kind of advice or diagnosis. And he usually just says some variation of, "Oh, I was just curious."

Leading up to Mexico, I decided to text him and give him a warning.

A History of Daniel

It was strange to see Daniel last weekend. For months and months our lives were one. They were totally one. And then, suddenly, they weren't anymore.

Daniel and I spent countless hours training for an Ironman together. We lived together. We backpacked across eastern Europe together. And then we moved to the quiet Pacific together.

We lived, alone, in an apartment on top of a tall hill overlooking a tiny island nation. It was there that we both grew up considerably. It was there that we both learned lessons in sacrifice, compromise, charity, patience, disappointment, hope, trust, and a number of other crucial things that I can't seem to wrap my vocabulary around just now.

Daniel Can't Do Cartwheels

Remember one million years ago when I posted the Daniel diving videos? Remember how he was remarkably bad at diving? Remember how he somehow thought he was diving head-first into the water when in fact he was just jumping in feet-first with his hands clasped together? Remember how I had to record videos of him "diving" in order to prove to him that he was in fact not diving?

Well. I found something that Daniel is even worse at than he used to be at diving. Cartwheels.

We were playing on the beach in Mexico over the weekend when Anna Swayne started shooting videos. She told me to do a cartwheel because she had some creative plans for the video that I didn't really understand or try to understand. I just did what I was asked to do.

Sleeping in Mexico

I mentioned yesterday that by the time we got to Mexico on Friday, I hadn't slept for a few days. Between working through the night and traveling and listening to Daniel update me on the last several months of his VERY ODD life, I was a total zombie.

We checked into the hotel on Friday afternoon and immediately went out to eat and wander the streets a bit and try our darndest to pick up a new version of ringworm since Axel left too soon a few months ago.

One of the reasons we wanted to go to Rosarito, specifically, was to check out the surprisingly nice art scene and to hopefully come away with a couple of paintings. Daniel and I looked at every piece in the town and listened to the life stories of every artist and fought over every contemplated purchase until finally threatening and blackmailing one another sufficiently to make our final selections. This is a scene we've practiced together in about half a dozen countries across the world now. And we've become very proficient at it.

And Then We Went To Mexico

This weekend I went on a magical journey to the land of tortillas. Many wonderful things happened. But I'll just cut to the chase and give the people what they want.

This guy was there:

2013

I just read the 2012 wrap-up post. I read about how it was my best year. About how our past can be an asset or a liability depending on how we use it. About how if we are living the right way, the best year of our life should always be the last one that we lived.

Here I sit in a cozy coffee shop in Salt Lake City at the end of 2013. Thousands of miles away from where I was when I wrote those words last year. Thousands of emotions away from where I was when I wrote those words last year. Thousands of heartbreaks, laughs, tears, and growing pains away from where I was when I wrote those words last year.

2013 was the most difficult year of my life. And because of that, in some ways, 2013 sort of feels like the first year I ever really experienced life. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the sentimental. And the strange.

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

I'm back in town and things have slowed down again. FYI, I've had a sore throat for about two weeks so I expect to be dead any day now. Will someone please make sure O2 gets enough water after I pass? And keep Kurt and Anna Swayne away from him. Also, all of those VHS tapes of recorded Full House episodes in my closet aren't mine. Same with the slap bracelets that appear to have been recently purchased.

And now, your pictures and distractions.

Beach in San Felipe, Mexico.

Grandma & Lizards

Over the past several days I've been in southern California and northern Mexico, visiting family and attempting to find the seemingly ever elusive hand-made flour tortillas.

Guys. I don't require much in this life. Just really nice things, constant praise, 5 hours of direct eye contact every day with Paul Simon while we read one another the vows we have tattooed onto our chests and torsos, and an infinite supply of fresh hand-made flour tortillas from Mexico.