Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Back to Work

I’ve just returned to Vernal, I’ve been in Salt Lake on vacation from my vacation. But alas, the life of leisure ends this week. I just received my first assignments from the Vernal Express, and am planning to turn three stories before next tuesday. Kevin Ashby is my new editor, and we seem to agree on the important concepts of writing news. I’m covering education, and realized, after a thought-provoking and inspiring trip to Salt Lake,  that that’s the best way for me to utilize my gift of the written word. I hope to help the parents here to fullly understand the value of education for their children.

I’m happy to report that Dan and Missy’s lawn is rallying! It looks much better than when I left, and Dan said it’s because it needed water. Not much to argue with there. I was reminded of the futility of arguing, during a recent trip to the D.I. in Sandy. Dan had a small box of items to donate, and after much debate with wife 1 and wife 2, decided to take them to the D.I. to drop them off, even though it was Sunday. Not believing that hired guards were posted at the donation sites, he put the box in the jeep and off we went.

We were met in the parking lot by an older gentleman sitting in his truck in the donation parking lot.

“Sorry, no donations on Sundays,” he said nicely, but unenthusiastically. Dan looked at him in disbelief and shook his head and said, “You can’t be serious. It’s just a small box of stuff, can’t I just set it on the carts over there?”

The old man looked at him and his demeanor and facial expression let just know that he knew how ridiculous the concept of paying a guard to make sure nobody dropped of free donations on Sunday, or ripped off any free donations that may be there. “No donations on Sunday,” and he shrugged. “I just get paid to tell you no donations on sunday.” He made it clear arguing with him would be preaching to the choir, and I’m pretty sure as we drove away shaking our heads at the stupidity of it, he was doing the same in his truck.

I start my new job as a Dam tour guide at Flaming Gorge on Friday. I’ll be working three 10-hour shifts, and camping up there for the two nights. I’m a little nervous of course about bears ripping my head off through the tent, or an escaped convict getting loose in the campground and going on a rampage, but I’ve pretty much talked myself out of those bad thoughts. I’m looking forward to sitting on my picnic table or in my tent and writing in the solitude of the great outdoors. I hope to polish up the first half of a fiction book I’m working on, to submit to a new literary agency I’ve found.

So, although the life of leisure is coming to an end, writing for the Express and being a Dam tour guide hardly seem like real jobs. I’m going to meet all kinds of new people, learn new things and enjoy new experiences. On average, 200 people a day take the dam tour, and I’m already being talked about in town by people I”ve contacted for story ideas. So basically I’ll spend three days a week at beautiful flaming Gorge, talking with tourists and being part of thousands of peoples’ vacations, I’ll be gathering all the scoops in town, getting to know about everyone and the goings on, and I’m not one to gossip, but, you know. And I’m getting paid to do it. And pretty good money too, perhaps more than I’ve made thus far in my career.

I love it when a plan comes together.

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August 6, 2008 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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