Study: Facial Hair & Personality

Over the recent holiday I took time out of the normal routine to conduct a scientific study (Yes, I am very noble). My hypothesis was thus, Facial hair style has the ability to alter and shape personality. I chose myself as the experimental subject and these were my findings.

BEARD

Definitely my facial hair of choice. I found myself more sage introspective and wise. Also more carefree. The beard isn't groomed or styled it just is what it is. In the Utah winter it served as some additional warmth.

SIDEBURNS & GOATEE

This one was tough for me. I was only able to keep it like this for a few hours. I felt like I was trying too hard. I also felt like I should be playing for the Red Sox and have some chaw in my mouth. Youklis eat your heart out.

FU man chu (non-asian style)

This one was definitely interesting. I developed a major attitude. Kind of like... "look at my mustache... do you think I care what people think?" It was also interesting how others treated me. When looking at the stache, their eyes said I'm a little scared & intrigued. My sweet mother-in-law could actually barely look at me. I rate this one as the funniest and most impact.

THE PURE "STACHE"

What can I say? the Magnum PI vibe was in force and I inadvertently called Heidi Higgy Baby several times. Luke also loved all facial hair phases and now creates his own using assorted goods around the house. Anything that is somewhat sticky... tape, stickers, and food.

So here are my findings...
Having trouble focusing at school or work? grow a beard
Want to look like a poser? burns and goatee
Need a little more confidence and pep in your step? fu man chu will fix you
Feeling the winter blahs? grow a tropical magnum "stache"

this last photo is for Kathryn... who wanted conclusive proof the FU stache was gone.

California No No's

As some of you may be aware, I spent a good deal of time in Southern California during 2008. Our most recent trip was two weeks and total on the year I spent 3 months in the golden state. Now I am well aware and agree that California has many positive aspects relative to other locations and Hollywood along with the mass media do a good enough job promoting them without my help. So this top ten post is about the things I DO NOT enjoy about precious SOCAL. ( I realize that about half of my readers currently or at one time lived in California. Please take your sensitive, easily offended hats off now and read on:)

10. "Best Doughnuts" of Manhattan Beach. Your French Cruellers have been the source of more eating remorse and self loathing than I care to recall. (truth: I would eat a box right now if I had one. Oh sweet french pastries made by kind immigrant americans).

9. Locals complaining about winter weather a balmy 68 degrees or the devilish Santa Ana winds. Seasons do have an upside... it's called a reality check.

8. The amount of beach walking dog lovers displaying obscene degrees of PDA. I even saw some toy poodles being wheeled around like babies in a $700 stroller. I'm like, "Dude I get it. You are too career focused & selfish to create a lasting relationship with a human being. So you bought those things and dress them up to fill the void. Good luck with that."

7. The prop 8 circus.

6. Having to figure out how to drive while talking on the cell phone while not looking like I am talking on the cell phone (For those non-Californians who are unaware, it is illegal). Although I did get an adrenaline rush every time I did it. On one exchange my caller asked "ummm. why are you breathing so heavy?" and I'm like "hey...inhale/exhale... I am watching... inhale/exhale... out for the FUZZ!"

5. My sweet wife asking me weekly, "Soooo when are we going to go to Disneyland? I was thinking Tuesday day, Thursday night, and all of Friday." We had 2008 year round passes and I have determined it is possible to get too much of a good thing. Sorry Mickey.

4. The pure house envy desperation injected into young SoCal couples is so real, you can taste it. I remember realizing one day while living there that even if someone gave me a nice house, I would not even be able to pay the property tax and insurance. Hang in there you guys. 1100 sq ft 2 bedroom apartments are kind of cool when you think about it?

3. Stingrays. Let's just say my right big toe had a vicious run in. Words cannot describe the pain. Jellyfish ain't got nothing on those guys.

2. The lack of fountain drinks at gas stations. I am sorry but Utah had got this one in the bag. I walk into a local Maverick and have a 28 wall bank of every kind of soda, juice, sports drink, and energy drink under the sun along with complimentary flavor squirters (I am choosing to ignore the demographic implications of this business success in Utah). The best LA had to offer was a choice of six incorrect syrup to soda water ratio coke products at the 711.

1. Female Asian drivers. I know I am treading in dangerous generalized stereotype waters here. BUT I swear I get jacked twice a day by some random car. As I drive up to perform the standard inspection of the offender I think to myself,
"Please don't be a an asian lady...
literally anyone else...
please don't be an asian lady...
don't feed my ignorant stereotype...
Plea....

Ugh it's an Asian lady."

sidenote: forgive me. this personal stereotype began during a traumatic Cheesecake Factory outing where I was boxed out and verbally assaulted by a woman while waiting in line. She got in my face like Jet Li on Jackie Chan. Be patient with me as I work through it.

A Tangible Hammer

Unlike your average consumer, my mom rarely ever just bought "something". Even purely functional items had to have character and in a sense, life. With freedom and financing, her home came alive and evolved into a folklore mecca of hutches, sideboards, wardrobes, hoosiers, book cases, benches, and quilts. As a teenager I would desperately try to entice friends to my house, the RC Willey antithesis, as the location for movie night. The typical response went something like, "I don't want to watch a movie on "the wood!"". Our lone upholstery had been a puffy blue couch that little Jackson had worn out into oblivion. It was replaced with a 19th century wooden church pew that no matter how hard I tried could only remain as comfortable as... well... a church pew.

Throughout the years she would breathe new life into homemade crafts or storied antiques that she had discovered. Like most creative geniuses her decorative spark would fully manifest itself at odd hours. Usually late at night or early in the morning. All the menial tasks of the day kept her from her art. But when free, it would be very typical, while I was trying to fall asleep, to hear her tinkering around, kitchen drawers opening, plastic crinkling, and even a hammer hammering. And like the unique creations she was installing, her tool of choice was not the reliable aluminum Estwing in my Dad's tool box, it was a wobbly wooden antique hammer. With reckless abandon and no regard for 2 x 4's or drywall, that woman would hammer away and hang all manner of objects throughout the house. Preparation and excessive measuring was against the rules. There had to be a certain wildness about it.

With her gone, all of her belongings exist as tangible reminders of their intangible owner. If they could speak, I am sure we would mourn together because, like me, they have realized that she couldn't have loved them more or given them more meaning. I have been doing some late night creating of my own recently. A few weeks ago I purchased a poster from the Ray LaMontagne concert. I also bought some framing and matting supplies at Roberts Crafts (yes, I actually went into a craft store) and tonight I finally got it all put together. For the finish, I needed a good hammer to nail the hooks to the frame and then hang on the wall. This one happened to be resting in my tool box waiting for some late night action.

It was wobbly and worked just fine.

.

Friday Eve lives...

Anyone reading this is invited:)

(*if this statement confuses you read a few posts further down to learn about friday eve.)

RIP election 2008

I am bidding farewell to the elections of 2008. I am ready to move on with my life and once again forget about political activism:)

I invite all readers to write in their memoriums...

Thoughtful prop 8 article.

Well done Orson.
Just click the title above or here is full link...

http://mormontimes.com/mormon_voices/orson_scott_card/?id=4740

"Friday Eve"

I just invented a weekly holiday called "Friday Eve". I figure life is short with the end of the world around the corner (economy, bird flu, and that "terrorist" Obama in the White House). We better get while the gettin is good.

The rules are simple...
1. Standing invite for weekly Thursday evening fun. (a simple RSVP if coming).
2. Good food provided by us your gracious hosts. (you can bring some too if you like).
3. Games, Good TV (Earl, Office, etc), and movies if we experience reruns.
4. Any food, game, or media requests are welcome (Heidi wants to play red rover in the back yard but I am worried about injury and litigation.)
5. If no one comes... me heidi, luke, and miles will have have fun without you. so there.

Holy crud... I just realized tomorrow is Friday Eve! Hurray!!!

Proposition 8

Get out and rock the vote.

My 100% hope is that what I say here is thoughtful and objective.

I support California's Prop 8. I could probably write all day about the ins and outs of this complex issue but the short and sweet version is thus. While I am not in favor of a theocracy and government legislating morality, it is impossible to completely remove a moral value system from the core of government. Every government assumes some level of "the good" and its policies advocate and protect it. As America has progressed the definition of "the good" has changed in good ways (slavery abolished, civil rights, women's rights etc.) and not so good ways. While this current issue of gay marriage echoes past equal rights movements it is NOT the same as the efforts made for women and African Americans.

Today I read several no on prop 8 articles arguing that the pro prop 8 groups are using misleading fear tactics (kids taught in school, religious litigation, etc.) to generate interest. My friends it goes both ways and the no on prop 8 push comparing their current situation to the African American civil rights efforts is playing dirty. The "now its our turn" logic goes... if gay rights are the continuation of these past civil rights causes then conversely anyone now against them is a also continuation of bigotry. For obvious reasons that doesn't sit well with me while also clouding the issues.

What is so wrong about these arguments is the fact that if gay rights activists are correct in their desire for equal treatment under the law then gay marriage should be taught and expressed as equally in school as conventional marriage. Why not? Gay couples who are discriminated against in anyway, from adoption, to wedding photography, should sue those groups and win. It would be like civil rights activists from the 60's saying, "Hey you know what? We want equal treatment but don't worry, businesses can still discriminate against us, schools leave us out of the books, and really all in all not much is going change."

A few more weeks and we'll see what happens
Learn more here...
http://www.protectmarriage.com/



ps-This was my first attempt writing about a HOT political issue and after re-reading this, it might be my last. It is tough not sounding like a jack ass. Simple pleasures like OP shorts, cycling, and luke and miles from here on out:)

New picture

The winner is...

Star Wars (Luke really wanted it) related stuff and John's speedo pics were close runners up. But Magnum PI is too cool and with winter around the corner it will help me feel a bit more sunny.

New Photo

For those of you who may or may not have noticed, my blog photo ID below.

When I found this picture I thought it was the coolest thing ever. A ripped 80 year old in "man thigh" shorts pole vaulting.  What a stud.  However, I am feeling a change coming on.  So this post is a contest for my new photo ID.  Entries will be considered throughout the week and a final decision will be made next Monday.

 

just a photo.

We seem to get more perspective on how much we love them while they are sleeping... but with Luke it is especially so.  It really is the only time he is not moving.

ps-lance is coming back. thoughts?

"So... what's up with the blog?"

Travis- "I am on a blog-cation".

Inquisitive Friend- "Ummmmm. that's stupid."

Travis- "Stupid? check out my profile. Blog member since 2005. I was blogging before the blogging bomb went off. Staying with this thing requires a dosed effort."

Friend- "Dosed effort? that doesn't make any sense."

Travis- "To paraphrase the immortal Ice Cube, " Life (and blogging) is not a track meet, it's a marathon."

Friend- "I see. So what about all the current hyper-bloggers?"

Travis- "The blog youngsters are only blog binging which can only lead to one place.... Blog Bulimia."

Burn, Burn, Burn Yes It's Gonna Burn

List of views I like to see out of my home's windows...

1. landscape panoramas
2. mountain peaks
3. blue skies
4. fluffy clouds

and

5. 50 foot flames

Yes our house is right in the thick of all this, it is currently in "evacuation notice".










Let this be a lesson to each of you. If you lapse in your posting, the blog gods will burn your house down.

What does wood glue have to do with Nissan Titans?

Keeping with my title format from a few posts ago I thought I would explore this question. One of the blessings of our newborn Miles is that Luke and I have been spending a lot more time together. He is my bud... good or bad as you will see.

This last week, we went to see the movie Kung Fu Panda and not coincidentally went to his first Karate class a few days later. Watching him sprint around the dojo like a madman is a post in itself. Suffice it to say he doesn't lack enthusiasm, flexibility, or "Hi-Ya!" yelling abilities.

Well this evening Heidi seemed a bit strung out from her "Snyder boyz" so I took Luke to the store to get a new garden hose and sprinkler. I get a kick out of cruising around with him as he asks endless questions about everything that enters his little head. Well I took him out of the truck and walked into the store holding his hand. After a few steps I noticed that his hand had some kind of gunk on it (for non-parents and those who may have forgotten this is very normal for 3 year old boys). I kind of shrugged it off and continued shopping. As I stood in front of the gas powered weed wackers debating the merits of 2 cycle engines I noticed Luke had the stuff on his pants and shirt as well. I began growing more concerned about what this might be and finished up shopping and headed back to the truck. When I got there I opened the back door and noticed the same stuff all over the back seat and dripping down the sides and onto the floor.

Wood Glue ... "Are you freaking kidding me??? Wood Glue!"

It is everywhere.

Luke is crying his eyes out.

I am ticked.

As I began cleaning the mess and calming myself down I look back at sobbing Luke, who I tossed into the "timeout" truck bed, only to see blood all over his hands and face from a bloody nose.

Freeze frame this image in your minds... This moment, this insane moment is fatherhood.

Eventually he and the truck got cleaned up and we got home to have Heidi ask casually,

"How was the store?"

Answer. "We need more wood glue".


Behind the scenes ironic bonus material: The wood glue was in my truck because a few days earlier our Kung Fu Luke grabbed onto his bedroom drapes and swung off his bed only to tear down the curtains and the wooden rod which held them up. To fix this problem I needed several things, some screws, new drywall anchors, and the infamous wood glue.

What I hated I learned to love through obedience.

One of the most memorable talks I heard during my MTC stay was one entitled, "What I hated I learned to love through obedience." The speaker used his evolving reaction to brussel sprouts to demonstrate the process of obediently going from hate to love.

Since then, I have been on self examination searching for my own evolution from hater to lover. Here are three examples...

1. Mowing Lawns

HATE- I began my mowing career as an 11 year old needing cash. This necessary evil turned into a neighborhood business and I would cycle through lawns all spring and summer. It was the bane of my existence. October couldn't come soon enough so that dang stuff would die!

LOVE- I now love the melodic sound of a mower running in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass, and even the green chloroplast goo that sticks to your shoes. I think this "love" evolution was complete when watching the 2002 world series I was more fascinated by the outfield grass than the game itself.

2. Running

HATE- My running career began around the same time as my mowing one. The catalyst was a family reunion in sunny St. George complete with a swimming pool and tanned sinewy California cousins. As soon as I put it all together, I was lacing shoes up and heading out the door. As my squishy frame rumbled along the first couple hundred feet I began doing math, "Okay if today is May 21 and the reunion is June 3rd that gives me almost 2 whole weeks!" (My concept of metabolism and weight loss was a little off at this point.) I ended up making it about a mile and a half. My Dad found me an hour later lying down on the sidewalk next to a lawn with a rotating sprinkler that sprayed me every 11 clicks. Two weeks later I wore a shirt in the pool.

LOVE- The other day I was in Orem and drove by that same piece of sidewalk and smiled. I have no idea how many miles I've run since then but I love it. Endurance sports have brought a lot of happiness these last 20 years or so. Whenever I've moved from place to place I have never felt truly at home until I've established 5-6 running routes. One of my dream trips is to take Heidi back to England with running shoes in hand and go from area to area to do all the I'm stressed out, I need a break, oh look a sheep, It's raining again, my companion is annoying running trails.

3. Heidi (yes I mean my wife)

HATE- When I first met that leggy blond summer of '00 I was smitten. But then she turned all cold on me. Turns out her roomate "claimed" me or something and so out of loyalty Heidi turned on the ice when around me. I of course didn't get the new attitude and my affection turned to extreme dislike. Spurred on by my secret love I became the "Heidi Hater" and looked for any opportunity to be annoyed by her.

LOVE- Luckily the dust settled and we were both "obedient" to the magical love between us! Now she is it... Plain and simple. The Bees Knees.

So what can we learn from this post?

-Most hating happens during teen and early adult years.
-If given creative license I will most likely mow your lawn for free.
-If you are going to wear a shirt in a pool do your best to blame it on UV rays.
-Heidi is only so loyal when a HOT man is involved.

Miles Edward Snyder aka Mello Yellow

Here are some photos. He has a bit a jaundice and is really chill so his first official nick name is mellow yellow.

Welcome.

He is here!

Blond Blue eyes
7lbs. 1 oz. 19 1/2 inches long
and a very good boy

pictures to come

What does Led Zeppelin have to do with road biking?

Whenever I leave for a bike ride Heidi usually takes a moment to express some form of worry about my safety. I usually laugh it off like "Hey Babe... my cat like reflexes will take care of me just fine." The truth is I am scared to death of crashing. It's been about 4 years since I last tasted asphalt going down the Alpine Loop. I went over the handle bars on a particularly sharp switchback and as any roadie knows the longer it's been since your last crash, the chance of a new one looms ever near.

My current great fear is descending down the canyon and colliding with wildlife, a deer to be exact. Last summer I had some near misses as random deer jumped out of the brush as I zipped by on my 17 lb. carbon fiber bullet. Luckily we missed each other but every time I thought I was toast. I think the sight of a middle aged man in a helmet sporting spandex hypnotized the deer long enough to keep them from moving into my path.

They looked kind of like this as I rode by.

Today was my first '08 ride up the canyon and I enjoyed the peaceful climb with no thoughts of deer crashing. (It does help that when riding up the canyon I average about 6 mph). However when I hit the turn around and got ready to begin the descent, the thought hit me "Those damn deer are out there waiting to get you killed." Now at this point I should mention that one of my theories is that cyclists are particularly susceptible to deer collisions because they are so quiet coming down the road relative to cars.

Here is where we find the answer to this blog's title question, "What does Led Zeppelin have to do with road biking? the answer...

I clipped my feet into the pedals and started the descent. As my speed and deer fears began to rapidly increase, I said to myself, "Those deer are going to hear me coming this time." Just then I let out a true Robert Plant siren scream, "You need coolin' baby, I'm not foolin'I'm gonna say it, yeh! Go back to schoolin." The trees were whipping by while the adrenaline and inability to hear myself kept urging my siren song. "Ohhhhhhhh I gotta whole lot of love... dun dun dun uh a whole lot of love." By the time I made it back into the flats of the city I was unharmed having seen no deer and completing "Whole lot of love" and half of "Dazed and Confused".

At this time I'd like to thank the CD player in my truck for inspiring me these preceding weeks (I've been on Zeppelin kick lately) and Mr. Robert Plant for that freaky falsetto voice that must have had those deer scared to death.

Now Hiring: Contract Killer.

One of my earliest memories is standing in a park feeding ducks. This experience is memorable because of one thing... fear. Don't imagine me as a little 3 year old interacting quietly with mother nature on a sunny afternoon. Instead, picture my little legs running in terror as I am chased and snapped at by a swarm of wildlife.

Since this occassion I have harbored a subconscious hatred for water fowl.

Fast forward 20 something years and I hate them even more. You see, I have a little event coming up this June, where some 1000 triathletes will descend on the Salem Pond for competition. Every year since we first started this race more and more ducks return from migration and decide to set up shop at my race venue. They show up quacking and making a mess of everything. The city wants to get rid of them but is powerless to stop them due to some duck equal rights activists stepping in to protect them.

What is a duck hater to do?

I'll tell you... murder for hire. I posted this ad on craigslist.

Wanted:
Experienced hunter with flexible morals willing to work nights from 1am to 4am. Need to have appropriate firearms with silencing capabilities. Pay to be determined per head. Will provide black garbage bags.

Making Peace with Lance.

When Heidi and I were first married we had a large framed poster of Lance Armstrong hanging over our kitchen table. In addition to matching our kitchen colors, it was flat out cool. It showed Lance out on a training ride and in the corner was written, "People want to know what I am on? I am on my bike busting my ass six hours a day."

Lance in simpler times, a pre testicular cancer speedo wearing triathlete.
I don't think it is a coincidence that he is a "man thigh" master during this cool phase of his life.

I have been a fan of Lance pre-cancer when he first showed promise in "le Tour". I read his books and consumed his total domination of his sport. All the while fearing his fall from grace. In recent years he seems to be more of a retired athlete/ celebrity/ mid life crisis guy.

This is the cycle as I've observed it...
Cool punk triathlete kid,
cocky American cyclist,
sickly humble cancer victim,
cancer survivor tour champ,
married family guy and Tour favorite,
into my kids I'm inspiring guy,
I'm divorced and care about being famous guy,
I'm retired bachelor I hang with celebs guy,
mid life crisis Paris and Mary Kate guy
who turns into ?

I am not sure anymore but I think it can only get better unless he joins the Taliban or something. As my fanhood for Lance has evolved, all that remains is his discipline and pure athleticism. During a more naive phase myself, I thought that someone who had gone through the cancer and was that disciplined and hard working was by extension a great person. Like most things in life, I guess it is just more complicated than that.

My recent hope with Lance is his recent training and racing of marathons. Maybe with all that time to think on those long training runs he will regain some of his soul. He races the Boston Marathon in a few days and I still hope he annihilates. If I am totally honest with myself, I know I would watch the entire 26.2 if it was televised. The magic memories I have of watching him on OLN racing at 5am (thanks Euro time change) every July for seven years are that good.

Hmmm. I wonder if that old poster is still in the basement?

*see video below for a sample of the discipline and athleticism referenced above.