There is noise everywhere

Okay, this year was rather strange. For once I had a million stories that I wanted to write. Like how I discovered that while I want to write some fiction, I enjoy writing non fiction even more or the amazing time I had with the nieces and nephews during thanksgiving. Maybe I'll write my first memories of holding all the little ones next year. This year I have something that will make you all groan. You guessed it, I am writing about Jujitsu.


There is noise everywhere. Children screaming in the halls, fast food workers yelling out orders, and a dance competition in the ballroom. Who could focus? Wait, who am I kidding. It is a Wednesday night during summer term at BYU. Yeah there are a few kids but most of them are at Harry Potter with their grad student parents. The sun isn't even low enough in the sky to glare in my eyes from the window. It might as well be high noon. Here I am, all alone on the Wilkinson Center Terrace an hour early for a club I joined on a lark. I mean, come on, who can imagine me doing martial arts, especially Jujitsu. For crying out loud, the first time I ever even heard of this martial art was when I watched the Matrix with mom. Yeah, it sounded cool but that was years ago. It does not explain why I am sitting here, cross legged on hard, stone like carpet, at 6:00 PM. Maybe I got the wrong room? Maybe they aren't meeting tonight. My heart is beating a mile a minute and then...oh boy, here comes the instructor. It is only 6:30, I wasn't worried. Just because I stretched so much that I am pretty sure that I won't be able to move some of my body parts tomorrow...no worries. Oh, and here comes Glenn. Whew. He seems like a nice guy and he did invite me to come to the club. Ben tries to take credit for it but come on, he invites a new girl every day. When you realize that you and a guy both love rooster teeth's red vs blue it is an automatic friends for life situation. And there comes Ben and YES! There is another girl! Crap, she has a black belt, whew it is in a different martial art. Then the man that I will forever refer to as either sensei or master comes in the room. I bow in respect at his instruction and he explains the rules of the dojo, the rules of combat and hands me my study packets. He shows me the tools that I will be using and explains to me the origins of this art. All the while everyone is standing around doing some sort of stretch. I learn that when Sensei Paul speaks and does not specify to whom, everyone listens. I learn the reasons for bowing and then we all bow in properly...after I pay my club dues and submit my paperwork that makes me an official member of the AJA. (American Jujitsu Association...next year I am going to submit a five year membership)
My sensei is now teaching me the basic white belt blocks. I have to earn that belt, which seems fair enough. I spend the entire time doing punches and blocks and repeating Japanese numbers. I will be tested next week. At the end of the two hours I bow to my sensei, feeling muscles I hoped to never actually feel. I will not be able to move tomorrow but that doesn't matter. I am starting a life long journey of self improvement that will not only help me gain strength but heal as well (thank you bad shoulder)


The sun is warm, just bordering on hot. The fencing club is setting up their area as I carry a mat that feels like it weighs twice as much as I do down the runway at Helaman Field. After I place the mat I see my sensei drive his truck to our spot. He says he wanted to see how strong I had become, I want to say something else but he has 45 years of experience and I really don't want to get punched. Haha, he would never do that, he treats me like a niece. We set up our tent with all the club information and Kate gives me an extra pair of her socks since the mats are already burning. The guys go to their blue mats and start showing off the complicated moves to some excited freshmen. Kate and I practice our break falls. We are talking with each other and my sensei abruptly asks "Have you tested for your white belt yet?" I shake my head no, thinking nothing of it. I am no where near ready. Then my heart starts to sprint in my chest. "Let's test you today when we have some down time." Right, I cannot breath. My sensei smiles, "Hey, we have some down time now. Let's get started." My heart stops. It is official, I am now dead. First the standing break falls. Right, I have never, EVER, done a standing break fall. Hmmm, adrenaline really does dull pain because I am pretty sure that my back was not supposed to bend like that but whatever, I can get a massage later. Now time to recite the rules of the dojo, the history of Jujitsu, my sensei's sensei's sensei, and the Japanese numbers. Punches, throws, break falls...when did I learn these things? At the end my sensei bows to me and signs the paperwork that says I am passed my eighth kyu. The rest of the day is spend sparring with my friends. The sun is high and I hug them before I go to work. Sadly, it is almost 6 months later and I do not yet have a colored belt but that doesn't matter. I am improving despite my bad arm and I am learning so much. After two straight months of physical therapy and two months in a sling I will be able to practice the throws. My sensei might let me test out for my birthday.

For the first time I understand the mystique of the samurai. I understand the quest for perfection and the joy in strain and for the first time I realize how truly spiritual exercise can be. This isn't just a fighting style, it is a whole new way of life and if it can keep me sane during finals...well that is enough said.

What's better than Chocolate? ~Joshua A

Once upon a time aund aund there was a princess and it was name Ascadillia but it was a nice Ascadillia but Ascadillia...
     Why don't you tell us about your favorite thing in the world?
Ahh Huhhhh :(  But there was a good Ascadillia aund...
     Whait...stop stop...tell me about chocolate.
Huhhh :(  
     What is chocolate?
It's like this.  (Drawing a square on the arm of the chair)
     Do you love chocolate?
Yeah
     What do you love more than chocolate?
Gum.
     What do you love more than gum?
Jelly Beans.
    What do you love more than jelly beans?
(Long pause and deep thinking huffs and puffs)
     How about your little Lu Lu?
Mm Hm.  Aund I like my brother, I mean my sister.  Aund my Mommy and Daddy and Noe.  Aund Anud...
     What is your favorite thing to play?
With trains :)
    What do you do with them?
Drive...aund drive on the train tracks with my trains.
    What else do you love to play?
The End! (while running away)

Hum, I don't know. ~ Noah

Hum :(  I don't know.
     Tell us about going to grandma's house
I don't remember
     Well what do you remember?
I don't know.  Going to a treasure hunt?
     What's the favorite thing you did this year?
I don't know.  Have a birthday?
     Didn't we go on a fun date once?
What date?  We only had a sundae and goed to one of the places to get door fixing stuff then I got a sundae.
     That was kinda fun huh.  What else?  How about falling in the river?
We were down by the river and getting rocks and I fell in and Arwen told dad that I was drowning and dad saved me.
     How did you feel when you were in the river going away?
Sad but it was fun cos I was learning how to swim.
     But it was a little scary?
Head nod.
     Tell us about making gum.
Uh, you get a little gum type stuff then put a flavor in then put a color in.  I know what we could do!  Maybey when it's monday we can make more gum!

Our Sweet Joshua Boy

We had the most fun summer ever.  Aaron had his sabbatical from work, and so had two months paid time off to spend with us.  We spent every free minute playing.  We saw Crater Lake, visited multiple hot springs..with lots of naked hippies, went to Hawaii (while the kids played with Aunt Kelly for 4 days), got to go to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house and lots lots more.  We took a trip to Colorado to visit Grandma Carrot and Grandpa and my siblings and their spouses.  We had lots of fun finding adventures there too.  We went up to Trail Ridge Road to drive on the highest paved road in the Universe!  Later on that day we took a walk in the cute little mountain town near Trail Ridge called Estes Park.  We stopped to let the kids throw rocks in the rushing river nearby.  Noah, being Noah got too close and got wet up to the knee on one of his pant legs.  I warned him to watch it so he didn't take a swim with all the fishes.  Not two minutes later and we heard Arwen scream, "Noah is drowning!!"  Sure enough, he had been swept downstream by the rushing current.  I yelled to Aaron to jump in, knowing he could get to him quicker.  Poor Arwen was pretty hysterical by the time Aaron dragged Noah out. I have to admit that it was pretty scary to think of losing one of my babies.  But, Aaron saved him, Noah was fine and we had more time to enjoy his shenanigans.  A little while after it happened, Joshua said to me, "If you lost your Noah, you would only have a Jelly Bean left."  At the time, Joshua had been calling himself Jelly Bean and he, being just 3, understood that if Noah had been lost, we would only have our sweet Joshua boy.

Fast Forward a few months to Thanksgiving.  We took a trip down to California to visit Grandma Marsha and Grandpa Willy.  The kids had so much fun playing with all their cousins, Grandma's chickens and spending time running around outside in the nice weather.  The Saturday after Thanksgiving, a bunch of us took a trip to San Francisco.  We had two vans and two cars full of people.  We decided to stop in China Town first to get some candy.  If you've never been to China Town, it's quite the experience.  First of all, it's in San Francisco which is full of all those super steep, sometimes windy roads.  China Town, being somewhat like China, I'm sure has about 7 million tiny shops crammed into a few blocks of the big city.  Every shop there crams about 7 million things into their tiny shops.  It is kind of overwhelming.  Then, to top it all off, there are like 7 million Chinese people pushing their way past you to get to their favorite little shop to buy 7 million year old miso to make their yummy soup.  Hardly any of the people speak English which is somewhat comical when they hand you a coupon to one of the shops or restaurants and then try and explain to you what it is for, or where it is located.  At least I think that is what they are trying to explain.  Perhaps they are telling me what the gender of my next kid will be or how many kids they predict I am going to have.  I have no idea.  Anyways, after splitting up and doing a little shopping for yummy Chinese gummy candies and greasy, fatty duck, we all started to head back to the parking garage.  We stopped in a shop that definitely had some American influence because it was not the size of a postage stamp and things were not crammed into every tiny corner of space available.  It even had two floors full of merchandise for all of us tourists to buy.  The kids were busy looking at all the rocks with Chinese characters carved into them, I was looking at the little dresses and outfits and everyone else was looking at whatever caught their fancy.  Larkin was wailing from her stroller so Aaron took her from me and told me he was going to take her for a walk outside.  After a minute I looked up to take a count of all the kids.  I noticed that Joshua was not with them and half assumed and half hoped that he had followed Aaron.  Aaron returned about 10 minutes later and I immediately asked him if Joshua was with him.  He wasn't.  I felt sick to my stomach.  Joshua was lost...and in this crazy town fully of 7 million people who don't speak English and tiny little shops that would take forever to search.  Aaron and the rest of the adults...Grandma and Grandpa, Matthew and Bethany, James, Meghan and Joshua started to search the store we were in and all the surrounding stories.  I stayed and kept a close watch on all the other kids.  Larkin was still whining, and all the other kids were playing in the water fountains and begging for rocks with Chinese characters carved into them.  I looked down and the kids and asked Arwen and Noah to say a prayer that we could find their little brother.  I silently offered one myself.  Noah said the sweetest little prayer, full of faith and love.  I think everyone had searched for about 5 minutes when Marsha came back and asked if I thought it was time to call the police.  It had been 15 minutes since anyone had last seen him and due to where we were, I knew it was time.  So Marsha called and explained what was happening and put me on the phone to describe him.  "His name is Joshua Nielsen," I said.  In the back of my mind I thought, but if asked, he may tell someone his name is "Chlocate Factory", or perhaps, "Jelly Bean," or even "Gum."  I told the woman that he was 3 and that he had on a navy blue shirt and red pants.  She then asked his race.  "Caucasian," I told her.  At least he isn't Chinese, I thought.  That would surely make it easier to spot him, right?  She told me to stay put and they were sending the police.  I was somewhat stung...they didn't even know his hair or eye color and really anything about him.  It was about now that I had the thought that I had lost my Jelly Bean.  I was so scared.  I didn't want to cry because I was still with all the little kids and didn't want to scare them.  Besides, what good would that do?  I so badly wanted to go and look for him.  I was his mother and just knew that when no one else could find him, I could.  I'm the only one who can understand ALL of what the boy says.  I know all of his best hiding places for his blanket at nights when he goes to bed...usually in his toy box of hidden in a box that is normally used to hold treasures.  If a library book has gone missing, I just have to think like Joshua and can then find it hidden under one of the rugs.  It was the longest, most terrible time ever.

Grandpa came as I was about to hang up with 911.  He said that Joshua had been found.  I was frantic!  "Where is he??"  He was about a block up the hill, across a really busy street.  I told the 911 operator that he was found and ran to go and get him.  Uncle Matthew was holding him and talking to the two American ladies who had found him.  The police drove up just now...I don't know whether they had called him or not.  Maybe they did because he stopped where they were with Joshua.  Matthew was explaining to them that he was his uncle and I ran up and grabbed Josh and told the police that he was mine.  I'm not sure I even thanked the ladies that had found him and kept him safe.  I was just so glad to have Joshua back.  We all were.  I asked him where he had gone and he said, "I was going to see the cool stuff."  Then he said, "Why weren't you coming for me?"  It was so sad. 

Later on in the day, I was in the car with Bill and Marsha and Bill shared his experience with me.  He said that after searching for a bit, he offered a prayer and then turned and just knew where to go.  He crossed the street and found Joshua with the two women.  They wouldn't give Joshua to him, but that was okay, because he knew where Josh was and came back to get me.  Matthew found Joshua right after that.  The women gave Josh to him.  I have always been perturbed because relatives always comment on how much Joshua looks like uncle Matthew.  Perhaps because of the dark hair.  It drives me crazy because, duh, look at me!  I have the dark hair and eyes and Joshua looks just like my brother and dad.  But, I was grateful on this day because maybe these ladies saw some sort of resemblance and that was why they let Matthew hold him when they would not let Grandpa.  Joshua was safe with someone that loved him.

This whole ordeal didn't take very long, but it made me sit back and think about how special these little ones are that I have been given.  I am grateful for all of the humble, prayers full of faith offered that made it so we found Joshua so quickly.  I am thankful for family members so willing to help find a baby that wasn't theirs.  And mostly, I am thankful that I didn't lose my Jelly Bean.

We Went For A Trip. ~Arwen

Once upon a time we were at grandmas house in Colorado.  We went for a trip and we were driving and driving and we saw mountains and we saw a duck.  When we went for lunch we saw a duck.  And then we saw an elk, lots of elks, and reindeer and then we saw a ground squirrel and mom lost her glasses over a fence so she had to climb under and get them.  It was funny.  I had to show mama the book* because she didn't remember.  That's how I make this story.  It's true, if you think it's not... it's true.  Oh and Noah he drowned in a river and daddy had to jump in and save him I was scared.  And we went for ice-cream and Joshua he was all messy.  And then we went to a windy mountain that could almost blow us down.  When Noah fell in the river I was really scared I didn't want him to be drown, but he said he floated.  We were walking near a river, we were playing in the river and throwing rocks and then Noah, he was gone and drowning in the river.  And that's why daddy jumped in and saved him, and I told that Noah is drowning, and that's why I prayed that Noah would be safe.  He got all wet.  And Noah was saved.



*Arwen was telling Sarah about that time she lost her glasses and Arwen had to get them for her.  Sarah couldn't remember so Arwen said I'll show you.  Arwen proceeded to go and get a journal that she kept during the trip and helped Sarah remember the glasses incident from a picture she'd drawn about it.  The book with comments by Arwen is below:

We were paying in the little river and it was fun and we got wet.

We at ice-cream when we were done in the river.

Joshie got all messy.

We played in the river again.

We drived in the car to get to another place.

We were driving and driving.

We saw a elk.

And then we were driving again and driving and driving.  We were driving past trees.

There were 10 other driving pictures like this...we must have been driving for a long time.

We're driving up a mountain.

And then we went up a windy mountain.  It almost blew us down.

When we were hungry we went to eat and when we went to eat we saw a bird.  It was a ducky bird.  And we fed it.

I drew Noah drowning.  It made me too sad so thats why I scribbled it up.

And we saw a reindeer walking on the road.

Mama lost her glasses it was funny.  But she got them back.  She had to climb under a fence to get them.

I sitted by a ground squirrel we were taking a picture of my standing by the ground squirrel.

And then we were waking around and then we saw this rock and daddy carried us over there and we got a little wet with our feet in the water.

And then we went back to grandmas house.

Round Here Things Die...If They Don't Git Killed First

Round Here Things Die
If They Don't Git Killed First

Many and sundry creatures have embarked on their journey to the other side within the care of the Nielsen home.  Some noteworthy instances I will present in abridged form merely in appreciation of having heard them as I did not experience them first hand.

I chuckle at the image of a rigor mortis pony bouncing behind a tractor leaving "little bit" bits and pieces along the way to front of the property to be made into glue or jello or whatever useful things they do with dead ponies.  Way to pitch in, Little Bit.

I wonder at the stealth of skelator kitty quietly decomposing under a bed and leaving nothing but a pile of bones, not even a scent apparently.

I smile at the sentimentality of melting bunny left out in the eucalyptus trees,and visited on occasion, as it melted into a puddle of goo.

I cognate on the metaphysical complexity of Nevada's possession of a puppy's mind (how this was accomplished I don't conjecture here, if through mind control, inherited instincts, or some heretofore unthought means, the outcome was the same). Now little Nevada bounding to and fro with weightless ease, chasing down a gopher snack as he was wont to do in his own overweight, arthritic, and decaying body and swallowing it whole to the discomfort and eventual demise of the puppy.

No, I can not dig further into the aforementioned stories and if there is more detail yet to be shared, and I'm sure there is, it will have to be done by others.  Though I can and will proceed to share a few of my own experiences with things dead, decaying and dying.

Chirp It Up Fuzzball
The windows were open in an attempt to catch a bit of fickle breeze on a hot summer day.  Dad sick in bed with the flu listened fitfully to the metronomic chirping of a ground squirrel off in the distance. All of a sudden he got up and zombied into the hall and down toward the kitchen. I followed anticipating the coming excitement.  He found his way to the library and upon entering pushed around in the bottom of the gun cabinet until he located a single .22 bullet.  He then selected a rifle and started back up to his room.  Now this was getting exciting, I could hardly contain myself, but I didn't say a word following suit as I followed dad back up stairs.  He loaded and cocked the gun with a satisfying click, took aim resting it on the window sill, and fired.  Mid chirp that squirrel was blown off it's stump.  The echo died away leaving a still silence.  Lying the gun down against the wall dad walked back over to bed and went to sleep.

The High Jumping High Flying Rabbit
The front 10 was overgrown with the golden weeds of California summer.  Seeing the opportunity to help out a bit I took some rope and a piece of plywood with corrugated steel nailed onto the bottom and made a dirt ski.  The wood was attached with a rope to the old 250 and looped back to be held by the skier for stabilization.  I'm sure we took it slow at first but as we got braver we went faster.  Soon enough we were zipping all over the front 10 knocking down the weeds making jumps* and at one point clobbering a jackrabbit.  We turned around wondering if we really hit it and sure enough there was this jackrabbit jumping five feet in the air on one good leg and smashing back down having gone nowhere.  Feeling sorry for it I decided to put it out of it's misery...but having no other weapon than the 250 I decided grinding it to death under the back wheel would work just fine.  I parked the back tire on it, revved the engine and holding the front break popped the clutch.  The effect was spectacular though unanticipated...the rabbit was hurled off into the distance, out of this life and into the next with a 250 hours power salute.  Watching in awe, mouths agape, the carcass disappeared out of sight.  We scanned the horizon for any movement.  Nothing.  Good.  So back we went to mowing the weeds feeling satisfied by the success of the funeral service we'd rendered.

* It turns out it was Pepper's grave mound.

Good Aim Bad Shot
Joseph and I wandered around the yard pellet gun in hand shooting at various objects.  The metal ones gave a satisfying plink, the wooden ones a satisfying thud leaving a satisfying hole.   But after a while we grew bored of plinks and thuds.  Somehow our attention was turned to a cat off in the distance.  Hunting, what better application for our finely honed skills?  One pump of the gun would throw a pellet hard enough to leave a welt but not much more.  I loaded, pumped, took aim, fired, and was rewarded with a satisfying screeching meow as the cat ran off to a new spot some distance further and on a fence post.  It was Joseph's turn now but not being sure if a single pump would reach the cat and after some consultation I'm sure we decided on two.  He aimed and fired and like any little brother I was quick to poke fun at his failed attempt.  The cat didn't even flinch.  It just sat there on the post.  I reached for the gun to show my superior skills and then the cat slumped to the side and plopped on the ground without a satisfying sound.  And out of nowhere there was one of the little girls asking "what happened to kitty?"  We felt horible and with "Nothing, Nothings" Joseph ushered the little sister into the house and I was left to grab a shovel for the non-satisfying task.  I walked out to the cat to find that it was still alive having been shot though the stomach.  I dug a quick hole and put the cat in and put the shovel square on the neck of the kitty and jumped hard as I could fully expecting the head to pop right off putting the thing out of it's misery.  The head stayed attached through a few more failed attempts but by then cat was gone anyways.  I filled the hole and walked away.  Some time later I shot Joseph in the back*.

*It may have actually been before this incidence that I shot Joseph in the back...ether way I figure we're even.

Sweet The Sound of Bird Song.
It was spring, the day's were cool, the sun was warm, and everything was in bloom.  A mama and her baby birds were nesting in the rafters just out side the boys room.  I made a big deal about how cool it was that they had birds singing them to sleep at night.  They agreed.  Then the heat wave came, the birds flew away, and an illusive stench began to develop in the boy's room.  We first noticed it at night when checking on the kids before going to bed.  It wasn't Joshua's diaper, but that didn't mean it wasn't the boys.  I left the door open to vent out the room and went to bed.  The next morning things hadn't improved.  We sniffed high and low but could not locate the odor.  I suspected Noah's heat baked pee mattress. I eventually took it out of the room as the scent got stronger, it was not the mattress.  As the day drew on Sarah suspected dead mouse as the scent brought back fond childhood memories.  Scouring the room reveled nothing so she quarantined the room locking it and placing a towel under the door to keep the foul stench from further contaminating the rest of the house.  Then it dawned on me...the birds.  I took a flashlight outside and shined it up at the rafters.  Mama bird was strangely immobile, head stuck into a hole in the wire attic vent, legs and body dangling.  A sickening dread of things to come made for a fitful sleep that night.  It was hotter the next day as I crawled up into the attic space.  It took super human control not to add the scent of bile to the putrid potpourri of death that permeated the attic.  Birds frozen in their final throes of death were everywhere.  Already beads of sweat were dripping down my face and stinging my eyes.  I hunted for dead birds in the insulation fluff for two hours praying I'd found all of them.  I was drenched and woozy when I finally had all the birds and tainted insulation stuffed into garbage bags.  In the end I'm left to exclaim "sweeter than bird song is a cool clean shower."

~Aaron 2009

On Imagination

I moved into a new home when I was four. Home, that word feels humble, this new home was immense. I was young enough that I often confused reality with imagination. As I explored and became lost in this new giant of a house I also became lost in my mind. I remember, I use this term loosely, finding rooms in the fragmentary attic consisting of all wood, walls missing. I would crawl in the empty spaces. The light of the sun was my only point of reference for a way out in the dark recesses of this new world. When I think back on it I cannot really separate what was real and what was make believe. I would wake up thinking it had all been a dream only to find out that it wasn't, I really lived here. My dreams, imagination, and the vastness of my new home have all melted into a very alluring memory indeed.