Moab, Utah

Over Memorial Day weekend, some friends and I decided to take a little trip to Mo-to-the-ab (thanks, Michelle), Utah. We didn't have jeeps, ATV's, or mountain bikes, but we did have ourselves, and that's ALL that's needed when you want to have a splendid time! It's not cheesy to say that, but true!! I had a blast.

Here's the crew:

There's the view:This is dead horse point (above picture). Someone told us that way back in the day the indians and cowboys would run all the wild horses that ate their crops off this cliff. I believed it. Then I read the tourist signs and it said that they would herd the horses to the point of the cliff and then block the way back. The horses only had one way to go (over the edge), but I don't think many of them did. Instead they starved to death. Sad.


Of course I siezed the opportunity to pose for a sweet picture (that's Tyson and Chris peeking out).

Though it doesn't look like it, we're really high up. Spoo-ooky!


We're kind of a posey bunch. Just for the record, that is not an exotic bird flying behind my head, it's my hair. The wind decided to blow.


Check it out.

That's us on the left.

*Sigh* She's a looker (all of Southern Utah's red rocks). We camped at slick rock campground, or something like that I don't remember the name. We didn't get there till friday noonish and by the time we did, all the good camping places were taken. But we drove around for a while in search of a good spot and found some seriously bomb places that would be pimp to camp at ("pimp" as I'm sure you knew, means "sweet". My vocab seems to change the more I hang out with troubled youth).

Chris, our amazing driver downer to Moaber got pulled just as soon as we got to Moab area for going 80mph in 75.

Chris: "What's the problem, officer?"

Nice Officer: " I was going 78 and you passed me."

Chris: "At 80?"

Nice Officer: "Yeah, you were just daring me to pull you over!"

We really weren't taunting the cop. We were just trying to get somewhere. Someone must have peed in his cheerios that morning. He straight up had serious attitude. But after the tension in the car cooled down enough to converse, Chris decided he wanted to fight it in court so we are going to come camping again so it'll be worth the trip down. And we're going to try to get in on those pimp sites we saw, I'm excited!

P.S. Can someone help me?? I can't figure out how to post the pictures so you can click on them and make them bigger. I'm retarded when it comes to this. Also, everytime I click "publish post" it deletes the spaces between paragraphs that I just made. it's. getting. annoying.

"Life is too short, so love the one you've got; cuz you might get ran over, or you might get shot"

The other day I went to visit my friend Jake, who just got off his mission. I'm driving along in Lake Shore at night trying to find his house when suddenly, out of nowhere, bolts out this incredibly retarded cat right into my drivers side tire. If I had had time to think about it, I might have tried to avoid the cat. Or maybe I wouldn't have, considering our family's history with the feline race. No matter my ethics, the truth is, after I hit it I felt horrible. Surely Mr. Cat died because of the considerable "thump, thump" (yes, there were 2 thumps) that was heard and felt. I pictured some little girl bent over in sorrow as she found her demolished pet. I called Stew and Jake recounting my experience almost in tears because I felt so bad. But Jake said it was probably a good thing; that there are tons of wild cats that reproduce all the time and become a nuisance. I felt better for a minute until I remembered "the incident" last summer.

It all started on a lazy afternoon in Moran, WY. Jared (Becca's older brother who lived with us), found me minding my own business and staying out of trouble. "You wanna go shoot some chizzlers?" He askes.

"Chizzlers" are the po-dunk name for those little squirrle things that I formerly knew as "pot guts." In all my life, I've never been one for killing animals. When I declined the offer, Jared explained to me that the chizzlers are all over the place and that they are ruining the horses grazing grass, or something of that sort. I can't really remember why they were such a nuisance, but I do remember that he convinced me to go with him. "Population control" he said. I agreed to hold the gun, but I wouldn't actually shoot the little buggers. They were kind of cute...

This is Raphael. He's not a "chizzler" but a little chipmunk friend that we found at Yellowstone. It was the closest picture I could find in my library.

So there I am, holding this gun, merely set on looking like a hard-A, but I didn't plan on doing anything with it. Jared shoots. He shoots again. And again. Nothing. Wow, this guy was really struggling and it was getting annoying. At that moment something came over me. I don't know what, maybe it was satan, but I lifted the gun, aimed, and shot. No, it wasn't Jared I shot at, but instead a cute fuzzy little chizzler maybe 30 feet away. BAM! The little guy started trippin like mad. I hit him good.

"OH NO!! Put it out of it's misery, kill it!" I screamed. But Jared just watched, as the little fellow squirmed around in agony. And so did I. I was shocked. Finally he layed at rest and moved no more. Did I seriously do that? First of all, I couldn't believe I killed an animal. Second of all I couldn't believe I actually hit it. Months before this incident I went shooting with some friends. We shot clay pigeons, milk jugs, little plastic army men, and the likes. It was the first time I could remember shooting a gun, and boy was I having a hard time. I couldn't figure out how to accurately aim. I looked ridiculous bending over everywhich way to get the view thingy to line up. After about 10 or 15 minutes of struggling, someone pointed out that I was looking through the wrong eye. Needless to say, handleing a gun isn't really my forte.

My heart pounded, my face twisted in disgust at myself. I felt white trash and sinful, but there was nothing I could do about it. He was gone. I called my mom nearly in tears. She thought it was funny, but that just made me feel worse. It took a while to live peacefully with myself, but I'm okay now.

I'm not sure why I blogged about this. Maybe it's a sort of confession. Maybe it's an ode to the innocent who fell under my hand. Maybe it's so you all who read it can tell me, "It's okay, you're not a killer."

No matter the reason, I guess all I want to say is, bless that little rodent that he may rest in peace. And also Mr. Cat.

"First, you roast the mallow, then you take the graham..."

My family likes to go camping. We have some family friends, namely the Carters and Greens, that we used to go with all the time when we were younger. This last weekend I went camping at the sand dunes with my family and the said Carter family.

Now, let me just get one thing straight. The sand dunes aren't my favoirte place in the entire world to go camping. Lemme tell ya why. We, the Joneses, like to go ATVing. And the dunes are a great place to ride if you don't value your life. The massive rolling hills of sand which nature blessed us with are all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Luckily none of us did. There was a time when my bro and his buddy took off to go "night riding" and didn't come back for hours. I was pretty certain I wouldn't see him again in one piece. But alas, I still have a a whole brother.

There are some fun places to ride across from the dunes, but needless to say, we live in a desert. The view aint the most stimulating.

I didn't really want to go because of these reasons, but I went, and it turns out don't dislike the dunes as much as I previously thought. I must have had a no-go experience last time I went. But this time I really enjoyed myself. I got to sleep in the back of the truck on an air mattress that my parents were so nice to blow up for me. But do you want to know they funny part? It had a hole in it, and they knew about it, but didn't say anything. A few hours into the night I woke up with the blown up portions on either side of me and my body snuggled up to a thin layer of air mattress and the truck bed. But before my bed deflated I enjoyed a good hour of looking at the stars. It was a little cloudy, but the star visibility was still more than you get here in Provo. It reminded me of last summer when I'd look at the stars in Wyoming. There still weren't as many as Wyoming, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

My dad brought about 8 or so of those torches that you can put in your back yard to set the "summer mood." He put them in a circle around our campfire. We felt like we need to vote someone off the island. And from a distance it looked like we were having some kind of ritualistic sacrifice going on in the heart of our camp. So we sat around our ritualistic campfire, and did a lot of reminiscing of the good old days when we'd all do stuff together. Whenever the adults would get sick of us kids, they'd tell us to go make up a skit and perform it for them. The "skits" we produced always reflected on the weirdness of all of us chillins, I'm sure.

When I got home I came across these pictures. Sorry, the quality is terrible...


That would be Kylee and Me, crushing clods of sand since you can't really tell. We were trying to look strong.

That would by my fam minus Danielle. This obviously isn't the sand dunes. Bryce Canyon, maybe?

Just fun pics.

So, even though I always come home from the dunes so dirty my hair is gray, it is always a good experience that is had when spent with the fam-damily. Some of my favorite family experiences have been when we were camping.

I remember a time (I'm pretty sure no one else does) that we went to Richfield and we were all telling ghost stories. Dani was getting scared I guess, so she decided to take a turn. It was a happy story and it started out something like this, "There was this land full of smily faces..." and then something about a nice talking wolf, skipping, and a chocolate factory. It was so stinking cute, because she was so serious about it.

Wow, I keep thinking of other camping memories, but this post is already long enough for me and if you made it this far, you're obviously really bored (and so am I for writing it, right?).

Love you all. You're beautiful darlin', really.

Better get those bunions removed...

So remember when I thought I wasn't going to live past the age of 20 in my last post because I had to work at the "ranch"? Turns out I'm still alive. Not because it turned out easier than I thought, but because I don't have to work there at all! Woot! I still seem to get busier in the office each day, but since that burden has been lifted I feel about 482 lbs lighter. My boss (and angel), Vicki, decided that she wanted me to stay and focus my time up North, instead of going down there twice a week. Also, the ranch people decided it would be a good idea if I bailed on them now instead of bail of them 3 months from now. Why, you ask (you're all thinking "I didn't ask")? Because today I filled out all the online forms to go on a mission.

Yessirree, I have (officially) decided that I'm going to teach, and preach, and work like missionaries do.

I know, I'm moving forward with it. Weird, thinks me. Before it was all talk; now it's all talk and a little bit of action. This morning I rolled out of bed at ooooh 9:15 a.m.. And I tell you what, it was painful. What time is it again that missionaries are supposed to wake up?! Maybe I should practice early rising since I've got a few months...

This is me venting a bit...

Remember how I said my job is starting to overwhelm me?

That was a slight understatement.

On Tuesday I went down to the Ranch in Mona to train. I was under the impression that it was going to be exactly what I was doing here, but with a few little changes.

Yeah...NO!

Let me just help you visualize what I found when I went down there...

I wanted to cry.

Is that a good enough visualization? No, really. It was a mess. There were papers everywhere, junk food on the desks, files strung throughout the room (it's a big room), etc. The personnel files that are supposed to be easy access in a cabinet are just thrown in no order in closet in one of those skinny filing cabinets. The lady who's job I'm taking was trying to find some important audit papers for me and searched and searched and then finally found them in the corner on the ground under some more files that some kid was going through. Yeah. Who was babysitting these people the last four years?

Nevermind the mess and disorganization, it's just a lot more than I thought I'd be taking on. She told me that It's basically like doing the job of the administrative assistant and a director without the pay. After 4 hours of telling me stuff that needs to be done she said, "Yeah, I'd quit now."

Comforting, huh? This lady has been there since the ranch started so she knows everything so well and has slowly accumulated a lot of work and apparently didn't realize how much it all boils down to.

The scary thing is, this was the only night she was going to be able to train me because "she's a mom and is going to be busy from now on." I understand that, really. But if you don't want to be on the phone with me all day long, you better find some time to hold my hand for wee bit longer. I convinced her I'd need her to come in again next week for a few hours. Hopefully the second time around will be better. I did take notes, but they can only get me so far cuz the stuff they wanted me to do was just confusing shiz.

Yesterday when I went into the Provo office, I wanted to cry again but from happiness because of how much more I like what I do here. I guess it's because I know what I'm doing and I'm good at it. Maybe I can get to that point there, too. ...?! Needless to say that one experinece down at the ranch office was a humbling enough experience for me to suddenly appreciate the work I do up here in Provo.

So Mon, Wed, Fri, I'm going to work at Provo office in the morning and then from 2 to 6 I'll work with the Focus program and I get to work directly with the kids....YES! Like I said before, this is what I want to do. I'm excited to see what it entails, but a little nervous too. I hope I can do a good job. And then Tuesday Thrusdays I'll be working at satans home at the ranch.

Wish me luck, eh?