Producing and Commuting

Hey Kids,

Two things:

1. Katie is pregnant. She is about three months along and feels great. The family is excited and no, I don’t know what we are going to do about the car situation. We have until April to decide if we are buying a bus or not.

2. So, I believe most of you are aware on some level of the freelance work I have done over the last couple of years for a little company I like to call SealSource. (They like me to call it that as well, because that is actually the company name.) www.sealsource.com

The owner is Kym Nelson, who is neighbors with the Gardners. A few years back, when Kym was looking to hire help, Dave Gardner was kind enough to mention my name. Well, the company has changed as of late. A new partner stepped in, bringing a great deal of capital to SealSource, and they are quickly growing. Their new business model includes more sales people, and so they asked me to come in and interview last month. I did it, and they have offered me a full-time position, doing sales.

They are headquartered in Provo/Orem. We will live in Las Vegas and commute up to Utah a couple of times a month, for a few days. Katie and the kids are excited to come up once a month with me, as Utah is more family friendly than Las Vegas (I know, weird) and there is much to do there for home schooling kids. We’ll stay with Ma and Pa Fillmore. I will occasionally make additional trips on my own, and will most likely stay with my brother, Dehn, and his wife, Catherine. Until they move from Utah, anyway. 

I start Monday, October 4^th.

So, if you’ve got connections for people who oversee large amounts of property with flooring that needs a SealSource product, hook me up. That means that SealSource will pay for me to fly out there to meet the client. And that means we can hang out and I take you to dinner and get to see you and play with my nieces and nephews!

Thank you for all the prayers offered on our behalf. It has been an interesting year, and I’m grateful to be standing on this platform, ready to start something great. 

Love,

Ken

Dear Jenny Gay-Kay,

Dear Jenny Gay-Kay,

Thanks for friending me on Facebook.  It's been ages hasn't it?  Sounds like you're doing great with your husband Fred Hey-Day and all your brood... Jay, May, and little Pei-Wei.  Well, I just wanted to catch you up on what I've been up to since we last hung out with the Schronks and teased each other about Emmett Budweiser.

  I've been making my way in the world--isn't easy as the fifth girl.  I had to do something to stand out.  So I scowled a lot and grunted, and lo and behold, my dad gave me the name "Butch."

It was a fitting name.  I was the closest thing my Dad had to a son.  I mean, you can shove a girl in tights and make her wear her sister's pink hand-me-downs, but you can't make her happy about it, am I right?

Well, Dad seemed to like me tagging along with him.  We were buddies, me and Dad.  He helped me do all kinds of things like stop sucking my two fingers. 

Bath time was a blast, wasn't it Jenny?  You were squished in there, too, weren't you?  At least you didn't put your ricey legs all over me like everyone else did!

 Then it was off to school... again, following in my sister's footsteps.  That was sometimes rough.  But, I was a good student, kept my nose clean, if you know what I mean.

I have no idea whose arm this is, but Jenny, let me tell you, people liked me.  I was friendly, outgoing and personable.

Don't let the big bow and Pollyanna dress fool you, I preferred jeans and a t-shirt.  This was probably one of my big sisters' dopey ideas to wear that garb.

Jenny, I don't mean to brag, but I was pretty athletic in those days--still am if the truth be told.  Dad made us girls do nightly exercises like pull-ups, sit-ups and throw-ups.  Paid off though, cause I was hot stuff on the diamond if you know what I mean.

Well, then we moved to Kentucky and I kind of lost touch with you.  I caught the typhoid soon after and my posture hasn't been the same--just see the previous blog post if you doubt me.

I was a hard worker there in Kentucky, never one to shirk my duties or even complain about them.  Just work, work, work, that's all we did there day in and day out.  This is me painting the deck for the third time that summer.  But I don't say a word, not a word.

Well, then my junior year of high school I up and went to the land of Emmett Budweiser.  I guess I thought if I spoke his language we'd meet up someday.  That didn't work out, but I had a great time in Germany.

Got myself elected student body president when I returned.  Pretty sure it was my witty personality, charming smile and snappy dressing that got me the winning vote.  Unfortunately, no one told me it was a life sentence with parties to plan every ten annum.

Well, at college I met some really nice fellows and they all talked pretty to me, but I was determined to serve a mission for the Lord before I chose one of them.

So that's what I did.  This is me with Pedro and a herd of water buffalo in rural Venezuela.  It was a great experience.  

Well, Jenny, there's a lot more to my story, but, you know, I just wanted to share a few highlights with you from our childhood.  I've come really far, as you can see.  I've turned into a great mom and wife.  And though I'm still stuck in the middle of 10 kids, I've made a name and face for myself as being the coolest, hip sister that everyone wants to be like AND wants to be with.  And that's saying something!

Bye for now!

(Happy Birthday, Melinda!)

BAD posture

I wanted to share this with you before I delete it forever.

This is me in PE. I was teaching them 4-square.

Do you ever think "Is that what I really look like all day?!"

Jan's latest project

Natalie Culp's getting married and I was commissioned to do the announcements.  

 

The happy couple! (I also edited their picture a little...)

It all went pretty smoothly. I was grateful for good clients!

Gone to work with Dad

 Going to work with Dad in our family is all ways a treat.  Not every day do you get to walk through the halls of the Capitol. 

This is Karly riding in a cart from the Post Office Museum.

This is the box car that goes from the
Capitol to the office buildings.

These are both in the Botanical Gardens.

Thats the rail that takes the box car that Karly was in.

Sorry, I just thought that that was so cute!

Happy Birthday, Jill!

Dear Jill,

You are very far away and I don't even know your address.   I'm writing this in hopes that you'll read it on your birthday and know that I love you and am thinking of you.

You are my very dearest sister.  You and I are very close in age and shared so many experiences together.  Your love and closeness has always blessed my life.

I look at other sisterly relationships and can't believe how well we got along; well, actually, yes, I can believe it and I know how it happened...it was you.  You endured a lot at my hands and bore it all with patience and charity towards me and everyone.

When I describe you to other people I can sum you up in one word...peacemaker.  You are a peacemaker and kept us as sisters from fighting and hurting one another.

You have learned the secret of being a great sister and friend.  You care genuinely for me and my feelings.  You listen with your heart to all I rant and rave about.  You understand that listening is golden.

I have always been so proud of your accomplishments.  You are so intelligent and have used your knowledge to help others.  I remember boasting about your scholarship to my friends at BYU.  I had a Benson Scholar sister!

And remember your junior year?  I was in regular physics and you were in honors physics?  I didn't mind the elbowing from Mr. what's his name (Bell?) because I was so proud that you were/are so smart. You let me sit with you at lunch and we stayed up late at nights talking and doing our hair.  Remember dad banging on the floor and telling us to be quiet?

As a sister, as a mother, as a wife you are a great example to me.  Thank you for being an example of charity.  You endured a lot from me.  Thank you.

Happy Birthday, Jill!  I love you!

Gather 'round the campfire, and I'll tell you a tale . . .

We've had requests to share the story of how Evan got his bear. Well . . .

Evan sat there waiting and waiting in the still and silent stillness of the silent woods. He kept his sharp eyes affixed on the trees near the mound of bait — a pile of dog food covered in chocolate and butterscotch syrup — which lures in bears hoping to satisfy their sweet tooth and also give their fur that Purina purebred sheen. Evan stretched his neck to see beyond the dense patch of foliage just beyond the clearing, and guess what he saw . . .

Nothing!

He settled back down and checked his gun: chamber full, safety on, and pointed in a safe direction? Check, check, and, as always, check. When he's on a date with Danger, Evan never flirts with Negligence or Unnecessary Risk — that would be tacky.

Suddenly there was a rustle in the trees to his left. His whole frame tensed, his eyes searched, his ears tuned to the slightest noise, and he held his breath until his lungs burned. And can you guess what came out of the trees?

Nothing!

. . . Anyway, that's the way it goes. This was the fourth evening he'd gone all the way up to this spot on the mountain and he hadn't seen anything but random bear poop anytime before that. But on this day, after an hour and half of nothing, Evan looked away for a second 'cause he was bored, and when he looked back, there was a bear munching on the dog food. . .

His gun came up with controlled speed, he took careful aim, flicked off the safety, and took a breath. . . in . . . out and squeeze.

KA-BLAM! One shot, right through the heart, and the bear came down.