The Times They Are A-Changin'

This one goes out to all the faithful followers of The Faylor's Blog, those who have bled, cried, and wept alongside me in my reign as defender of truth, and the trump for all things pertaining to the blessed union of Taleesa and I. I regret to inform you that this will be the last of my bloggetry. America's economy has met a Humpty Dumptyian fate, Matt Harpring can't help the Utah Jazz defense, research papers have stolen my soul, and socialism is knocking on the door. Michael Jackson is gone, and I see no one other than Mitt Romney who will stand and fight for America's right. What I'm saying is that my efforts, much to the chagrin of countless cult followers, are needed elsewhere. I've decided that I should make a difference in the world. I don't know where to start, but entertaining the masses with pictures, and wallpaper is more a part of my wife's superheroism than mine. I thank you for your devotion, and I pray that you show the new author of this blog the same kindness you have showered me with. We'll meet again.

My Wife

I started out writing about the St. George Marathon, and how great that was, as it always is, and how I was thankful for my lovely little nieces and their collaboration of poster board and chocolate, crafted with a little help from their friends, and all the support of my family both new and old. I've thought of parables related to the gospel about running, training, and preparation, but as I was looking at pictures to post I kept running across pictures of my wife, and that turned me on to another much more important topic.
Many months ago, I sat in my bishop's office, a scared and foolish young man. I knew I loved her, but I didn't know how I could make things work out with money, jobs, buying a ring, and all the other discouragments brought on by fear of the future. My bishop told me something to the effect of, the minute you marry this young woman, your life will be blessed far beyond that which you ever could imagine. I have and always will remember that conversation. I took that idea, and held tight to it.We've been married so little a time, but that statement is ever so evident. This young woman helps me each day to be a better man. She never fails to lift us when we sink for even a moment. The things of most importance in this life are the most dear to her. She loves the gospel, her family, and the Lord, and it shows in all that she does. Without her I could not have ran this marathon. She sacrificed time all year long to allow me to run and train because it was important to me. She has been there for massages, dinners, five a.m. rides to drop me off for runs, and has even ran many miles alongside me when others bailed on me.The way that she has supported me through this marathon is the same way she supports me in everything I do. She gives her all all of the time. She is a magnificent woman and I'm thankful for her. I apologize to all those who will be grossed out with this post, next time I'll write about heavy metal, or the World Series.

"Give Us Of Your Oil"

Today, Taleesa and I received much sobering instruction in being prepared temporally, and spiritually. It was very discomforting. Pain literally struck Taleesa's stomach like a bolt of lightning. We were nearly convinced to leave church, and run to the grocery store. It didn't happen quite this fast. I guess I should start from the beginning. I mixed pancakes for the first time in my life. Jalapeno bacon was sizzling in a pan, and right next to it was a smaller pan of eggs frying. It was a true breakfast. A meal that reminded me of fonder times. I remember eating similar breakfasts as a child with my grandparents. I remember watching my grandpa stare out the window over his estate while sipping apple juice, like he was a man, and he deserved that breakfast. This was one of those breakfasts. We finished our meal and headed to church. The first speaker spoke about being prepared, then the next, and then the next. We went to our next meeting only to be greeted by senior missionaries. One, an elderly woman of the usual shape and size of any grey-haired grandmother. She stood, though not very tall, and draped in a modest and plain flower print dress, in front of the class. Beside her stood a crude display of poster board and glass jars filled with what I presumed to be various spices, or dried fruits. Her husband stood at the back of the room wearing rubber gloves working on some concoctions of food I imagined they would eventually try selling to us. The woman instructed us on ways to improve or begin a food storage, where to store, what to store, and where and how we could obtain such dried powdery goodness. All these things were explained as well as a fierce rebuke to never store anything in any type of garage, or shed. Following her instruction was a slew of questions most of them focused solely on what could be stored in one's garage. "How about flour?", one said. The answer was, "no". "Peas, could we store peas?", asked another. Again the answer was, "no". To tell the long version of this story yourself just refer to the questions asked above only substitute flour, and peas, for just about every other fruit, vegetable, or anything else you could imagine. After the meeting we made our way slowly to the refreshment table set up at the back of the classroom. We tasted the rehydrated refried beans, and the wheat berry salad both of which could sustain the life of one starving quite easily. However there was a bit of hesitancy to try the pinto bean fudge; not to be confused with black bean fudge. I stood staring at the little brown lumps trying not to let anyone see me doing so. I was mesmerized just looking for any signs of bean shrapnel. Just as I was trying to break out of my trance an elderly woman with small pieces of chocolate gathering in the corners of her mouth said sweetly , "don't be a chicken", and quickly thereafter I did indulge. Shortly following our turn at the refreshment table we turned to our last and final class with the sweet mixture of beans and fudge still dancing in our mouths, the ratio of which is unbeknownst to me. Our final class focused on the second coming of the Savior Jesus Christ. We talked about the signs that will precede His coming. There are some that are quite evident, some that have already happened, and some that are happening at this time. The gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored through the prophet Joseph Smith and is being taught by the missionaries of the Church in just about every country of the world save roughly forty. The spirit of Elijah has visited the earth with the power and keys to seal families together for eternity, and the promise of turning the heart of the children to their fathers is coming to pass as advancements in family history technology increase daily. There are most definitely wars taking place, there are rumors of wars, and many many other signs that are or have happened. Get your storage on. And be good.

Kolob Pictures

Three Months Now

Here's what's new. Taleesa and I have been married for three months now--and they said it would never last. Things are going super swell. Taleesa is turning up the heat on her cooking skills, we're talking chicken, cookies, enchiladas, chicken, you name it. We try to keep it somewhat healthy. The St. George Marathon is coming up on October 3rd, so we're trying to get ready for that. We spend a lot of time stretching and running, and not eating as many cookies as we'd both really like to. Hopefully this will pay off. We've also received a few callings in our ward. Taleesa watches the little ones in the nursery it sounds like the children are taking to the lessons quite well. A few have hinted toward a not too-distant baptism, we'll keep an eye on it. Myself, I teach once a month in the Elders Quorum, and as of two weeks ago have been called to serve as Assistant Scout Master, or Assistant to the Scout Master. Yes scouts! I think I could probably still use my old scout shirt seeing how there was never a patch sewn onto it. It should be a good time, I can't wait to whittle some new slides for my neckerchief collection. Other than that we are way pumped for school, and homework, and other stuff.

Like Pancakes

My mother would often say, "oh they're just like pancakes the first ones never turn out right", or maybe it was kids, I don't remember, but we'll go with pancakes. Anyway, here is our "first one". Taleesa set up this beautiful blog a month or so ago, and I've been too scared of mispelling words or boring people to death to post anything, but here goes. Taleesa and I have been married now for just over two months. We live in a quaint upstairs apartment near the heart of St. George with a lovely view of the freeway. It's a one bedroom beauty with space for days. Taleesa and I have the swollen elbows, and bruises to prove it. We both work at the Pizza Factory, so come on in and see us (that's a freebie). We work a lot. We're trying to save up for school, and who knows what else. We're both going to school in the fall. Taleesa is finishing up a few classes, and will be applying for the dental hygiene program in the spring. As for myself, I'm planning to excel in the studies of all things general, and one day become a very succesful something. We'll see how that all plays out. As of now heaven smiles upon us, gladness spills over the brims of our goblets, and rapture sits like a roasted duck upon our four-legged card table for two.