So my wife thinks I am crazy as noted in her many previous posts and while I do not contest that it may be partially true, I do feel that I must explain my reasons for thinking that I do carry a NORMAL life most of the time. When I look at people around me that I think are NORMAL, I often take note of those activities that they are doing, and vice versa for those who I deem not NORMAL. Allow me to give specific examples.
Darrell, despite his gifted powers as superhero Petunia Boy, lives a NORMAL life working in the profession of law and enjoys spending his free time engaging in such activities as getting lost in the woods to prove his navigational skills to his family or descending from an ice wall without full knowledge of whether his rope will be long enough. This is NORMAL.
My mother, who works in the ER everyday dealing with trauma and stress, will often find herself watching the ER channel (who ever would of thought they would have one of those) for sheer pleasure after spending 12 hours already that same day dealing with it firsthand. Case and point…not NORMAL.
Sydney fills her free time by enclosing herself in a 7 foot by 2 foot room known to her as the place where all “magic” happens (aka. “the kitchen”). In this room that in no way possible can fit two people simultaneously, or open the dishwasher and oven at the same time, Sydney truly creates “magical” potions of which my stomach has not once denied. Sydney has many tools and appliances to help her in her potion making, most of which I am convinced are more dangerous than any ice axe, and yet produce items far tastier than anything an ice axe could. I must pose the question, is it normal for a person to spend hours upon hours in this same room that would cause many to feel the influence of claustrophobia and actually enjoy it? To that I must say nay! It is not NORMAL! (At his point I must state my disclaimer. Without her love for this favorite room of hers and passion for what she does within it, I would surely starve.) I have seen Sydney in a church kitchen with four other women and I must admit that in that moment I was the one who was probably not considered NORMAL with my dislike for the art of cooking. I have also seen the opposite when I am amongst many climbers in Rock Canyon all looking to scale the many walls within. It is in those moments that I, with all my adventure-driven hobbies, am NORMAL. My point being, NORMAL is relative.
Now last weekend was the man’s weekend. Hyrum and I headed out to conquer Deseret peak (1 hour west of Salt Lake). With our backpacks loaded, we reluctantly said goodbye to our wives (who seemed to practically be pushing us out the door) and drove to the beginning of our adventure. I will spare specific details, since everyone short of Brent, Shea and Darrell probably does not want to hear the long version. We endured through a washed out road that we had to hike around, Hyrum cutting himself with an axe and a thunderstorm, which ultimately led to us breaking down camp at around midnight and hiking back out. Back to the point at hand, this sort of thing, I am convinced, is what most would consider NORMAL.
Now please feel free to agree or disagree as to my state of NORMALNESS, but we must all agree that NORMAL truly is completely relative.