Grandpa Bill's Elk

Well this Fall we had a wonderful opportunity again to get out into the wilds and again chase some of the most beautiful creatures God has put here on this Earth.  Dad drew out for the Wasatch Mature Bull Muzzleloader tag this year for the elk.  This is the same tag I picked up last year if you are playing along with the home game.  It was a September hunt, and now of course it's December 15th (in the year of Our Lord 2013) so if you want to sit back, kick your feet up and read a little drivel, I've got a yarn to tell for you.

Well of course this hunt starts out toward the end of September as I alluded to earlier.  I think nigh on about the 25th.  I really dont remember and I'm just too lazy to review the calendar on my Iphone because that would constitute effort, and since I'm writing this on Sunday, and we dont work on Sunday, I'll just have to tell you that it was a Wednesday opener near the end of September.    Well right now my phone is busy sending me about 20 photos of the even that are yet to fully download on the ol' Yahoo, so I'm going to try and reconstruct this event from memory now while we wait.

So, as I stated earlier Your Honor, we went up on a Tuesday evening and settled into the cabin there at Strawberry Reservoir just off the Highway 40 you heard so much about in the hit song, "Highway 40 Blues." Ricky Skaggs put that little ditty together back in March of 1980 and 3 and it's been a favorite every since.  Anyhow, so our cabin is just off the South side of said highway just about a hop, skip and half a jump from the Soldier Creek Marina.  That's not on the test or anything, I's just tellin' ya.  Anyhow, so we occupied the assembly area and set about pulling security and setting out the daily requirements for the following morning's events.  There was plenty to do of course, there was loading the refridgerator, there was watching a little of the Whisper Channel to get psyched-up, there was finding all of the accoutrement for his inline Knight .50 caliber rifle, and lining out the various and sundry clothing items for which many a heart has been set a flutter each time we visit the Fruitland Store, now, aptly named, "The Big G"...or, as some may have come to find it, "The G Spot."  It's not really a spot really, more of an area...you know what? Never mind, when you're a little older we'll go into that, suffice it to say, Google it, just discussing this with you is making me a little weirded out at the whole concept.

So where were we?  Oh yes, so we set all our toys out on the kitchen table for the next marnin'.  Well, as soon as we closed our eyes, we had to turn around and open them again, because it was around 4 am and there were eggs to be eht, and bacon for ta be fried, and a whole smathering of such and some to get done.  We elected to load up the Arctic Cat on the big blue, (now Black) double axle.  So we drove on over to the ....oooh, I almost told ya, now didnt I?  Anyhow, we weren't quite to the G Spot, and we were a ways off from the Highway 40 Blues.  Anyhow, we missed the dang turn again, and flipped a U-ey and then rolled up into the sportsmans' access area du jour.  Well, we had devised ourselves a little plan in which we were going to drop Papa Bear (that's Dad in this instance) off at the Highway, and I'd go on in to the parking area (aka "Beaver Pond") and park then head into the aspen and meet in the middle.  Hey, let's start a new paragraph shall we?

Ah, that's better.  Well, I got parked and climbed out and since I wasn't carrying any weaponry of any variety, just sort of, well, walked up into the trees.  Well I was having myself a nice old time just walking, and listening, and walking a spell, and doing some more listening.  Well, I got pretty close to the ridgeline and into that damnable buck brush.  Well it's not the oak brush, it's that black, willowy aspenesque crap that whips you in the face and you duck under one, climb over ta utherin' and well, by the time I got to the ridgeline I was pretty well covered in those little stickers that look like ticks and working up a real lather under my fourteen layers of clothing.  Which is a good departure for myAdult A.D.H.D. really: >>>>you ever (guys), realized on a really cold day, that you may have put just two too many layers of clothing on?  On this particular day, I was wearing underwear (Spiderman in this case), a layer of ninja jammies, a t shirt, a ninja jammie top, a pair of pants, a pair of quilted overalls, a camo sweater, and some gloves.  Well, let's just say, that if you elect to use the trap-door system on all of your men's wear, you've got quite a hump to get to Objective Kitty Litter.  By the time you swing wide and around Door Number One, under and over Door Number Two, Under the T-shirt, Over the Overalls, well, by the time your volunteer fire department gets to the scene, you may as well just call it a total loss and call the insurance agent for the damages.  Anyhow, this isn't normal mind you, I'm just sayin' it was cold outside.  You know, shrinkage.  You....KNOW about shrinkage...right???<<<

Anyhow, so I got up to the ridgeline and as I crested over I heard a thunderous applause for my efforts in the form of what sounded to be four or five quadrepedials departing with gusto.  So I got up and over and started up the ridgeline to Phase Line Blue, or "The Saddle" as we've come to term it.  Mostly because, well, it's a saddle.  Not a literal, a mountain, you know what, forget it.  Anyhow, I got up to the saddle, and started looking around for a 68 year old man in full-on camo, which, believe it or not, even when you're looking can be sorta tough to find.  So, I set on down snug-up again' this stand of oakbrush and commenced to looking out over the vast area which I had come to survey.  I watched as the first rays of light...well, second rays, I was running about 17 minutes late due to the buckbrush and urinary destractions we covered earlier, and I sat down with my thoughts and a pair of binoculars.

So I sat there a while and then as I looked over into the sage across the way, I spied this here old man. He was a lookin' at me, and I went to a lookin' at him.  Turns out it was my dad as there were only four of us bipeds anywhere on this mountain. So I trucked on over to sit with him and ask if he'd seen any.  So he told me this story about how he'd had a running shot at a big six point bull running through the trees playin' caboose with a couple of cows.  So we went on over to where he shot and tried to reconstruct an episode of Columbo, but to no avail.  We were plum out of Avails and the G Spot is fresh out of them too it seems.  I think there's on back-order.  Anyhow, so we walked just a smidge on over to the private side of the island to just get a little peak-a-loo of what we may have been missing.  Well lucky for them and luckier for us, we just chased three bulls and a harem of cows just outside of range for the better part of the morning.  Dad had one open shot and his gun failed to fire, because the Knight rifle which he owns has a function where the little doohickey (That's a firearms term you may not be familiar with), wasn't screwed all the way out and the cap failed to fire.

So, that constituted just about all the elk we saw for the next three days.  As I recall it started then to get progressively colder and a couple of days at just over 10K feet elevation, we just stopped hunting at midday and started a fire to thaw a little.  Which is a good placeholder for a little lesssons learned here.  If you're trying to start a fire, and you're critically low on toilet paper, and your kindling is mostly wet, DONT crush up a pyrodex (gunpowder) pellet, and put it into a little flashpan of t.p. and try to ignite it like Rambo might in an abandon mine.  All it does is flash and blow out your fire, and your wet sticks, and most of your eyebrows really.

So, we hunted the side canyon over the next day or so, and then the girls and mom and Josh came up.  Wait, back up, I went home Friday night and watched Josh's football game and then brought him up after it on Friday.  I'm pretty sure they lost, but they were all winners for trying.  Which is why the U.S. is so enamored with soccer, competive cup stacking, and other non-sport sports.  So, about that time, Isabelle and Lexi showed up on scene with my mom.  Josh went out with dad that Sunday, and I took mom and the girls to the Fruitland LDS branch and just had a lovely time.  I repented of the vast majority of my sinnin' and then headed out Sunday afternoon to try and rack up my score again.

So, Josh had school Monday, but the girls were off the next week due to the commemoration of the wedding of the second son of Fatimah's martyring or whatever the hell Utah Education Association (UEA) thing they have going every Fall in Vegas.  Well, let me back up, I think Josh AND Lexi went home with Grandma on Sunday.  So Isabelle stayed. 

Well that leads up to our nearly-exciting conclusion.  Let me just say I am THOROUGHLY impressed with Isabelle this year.  The girl was sick, coughing and weezing, and she accompanied us the entire rest of the time.  We bird dogged the next three days and she didnt complain ONCE.  Poor kid.  Well, it's about time to wrap this up, so here goes.

Just about Wednesday or Thursday, about two days from end of the hunt, we finally got into them again.  There was all kinds of bugling going on in this little tiny draw.  So we sat down in this stand of aspens and started cow-calling to two near bulls and two distant bulls.  We could hear them fighting just across the little draw from us, but couldnt get them to come in.  Up the draw we could hear one moving away from us, but continuing to bugle.  Finally, it sounded like they all began to move away from us, so we closed the gap a little as quickly as we could.

Well as we walked up out of the draw, there was a long flat area with downed aspen.  Just above us, right at the tree line, we could hear an elk bugling.  So we quietly moved up toward the treeline quite out in the open and hanging in the breeze as it were.  Well right as we hit the tree line, off to our right an animal jumped. We immediately went to a knee and looked.  About seventy yards out, there were two doe deer.  Behind them, and I wouldnt have believed it if I hadnt seen it, was a bull elk feeding.  He was under heavy canopy in the aspens and it was really difficult to see his rack, but we could tell it was a larger bull.  Well, the does got a little nervous, and started to cut across the side face right above us.  Well, I could see the bull was following them.  We let Isabelle know to be quiet, that the bull was going to follow right behind them, as he was using them as look-outs.  So, as they cut across the sideface, they got nervous, and started to head back up the hill.  Just as we'd predicted, the bull came right out into the same small opening they had.  There wasn't much time to aim and less time to judge, and the hammer fell.  A big cloud of white smoke filled the air and the bull stood there.  What seemed like an eternity he stood there and finally decided to walk again while we endeavored to charge the musket for a second go-round.  Well, just about then, his rear end gave way and he fell down and crashed to the ground.  We headed over, prepared to shoot him again, but he was done for.  The .50 caliber slug had entered low on the left side, and exited high on the right, making short work of the lung.  He expired right there before us and Isabelle went quiet for the next two or three hours while we went about the ugly work of quartering him out to pack him to the trail.

 

So, a few short hours later, we had the cape and head, the quarters and loins and we were back at camp making lunch and fleshing out the hide.  Dad has since had the little four point mounted in a European mount, that is to say, "just the horns" on a wood base.  It's now displayed prominently in the cabin adjacent to both Brandon's and my bull in the great room.  We had a great time.  We really enjoyed the trip.  Perhaps the best part about it, was the fact that Isabelle has since come to understand that the grocery store doesnt manufacture burger.  That it comes from somewhere.  More importantly, some animal gave everything for us, and a failure to appreciate that is of great disservice to both us, and the animal.  Her eyes were opened that day to what we should all remember, that animals are to be respected and appreciated, never wasted.  That what we are given and the bounty that our Heavenly Father gives us should not be taken lightly.  We had a wonderful time together.  Memories that will be ours to cherish forever.  I hope you enjoyed the story, and if I've left anyone, or anything out, I'm sorry.  It's a simple oversight.

Talk to you again soon,

J

Sometimes a Melody, Sounds like a Memory... (UNCLASSIFIED)

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: FOUO

Well good morning. Hey, how've you been of late? Wow, been a while huh? So today I'm at work, AGAIN. It's a Sunday. Yesterday was "Governor's Day." That's where we invite all the Soldiers and Airmen in the State and their families to come and stand in the hot sun at attention and listen to the Governor and The Adjutant General (TAG) wax eloquent. It was a good one. There were probably five thousand Soldiers and Airmen out on the field at West Lake High School in Lehi, Utah. We normally do it at Camp Williams, but we have all sorts of construction going on throughout post and it just wasn't a tenable solution to our yearly requirement to bring kids and cotton candy and burgers together in celebration.


So, I just told you a little about what we've been focused on hot and heavy the past little while. I've personally got a few irons in the fire. Here at Camp I'm working to get our Morale Welfare and Recreation organization a café up and running so we can capitalize on the 600 Soldiers and Civilians and now the 300 some-odd construction workers that want coffee and donuts in the morning. See, our PX (little store that never has the uniform items you need) doesn't open until 11:00 hours (That's 11 am to you civilian types). So, nobody can get the requisite temperature of starter fluid in the morning to kickstart their days. So, the post Executive Officer and I were rapping, you know, keepin' it real, one day, and we synergistically stumbled upon this idea(r). So, originally we were talking about buying a double-axle gut-wagon type trailer like you'd see at the Fair. Then I reminded him we have about 30 metal shipping containers scattered from Hell to Breakfast across camp and we could use one of them. Then we took a field trip up to the Big City one afternoon and visited a Starbucks made from shipping containers ("connexes," in Militarese). He was smitten at first whiff. So, I've got my guys designing and scoping out old junk stuff to make this thing get up and fly. So far we've located some potential connexes for repurposing and some stainless steel tables and what-not for-to-which to outfit her. So, the idea is we'll have a drive up window for the laziest and latest of us, and a walk-up window for the talkative minority. Anyhow, now we're talking about using some firing platforms we used to use to fire the .50 cal machine guns from back in the day and making a 6' high deck to sit on. Anyhow, so picture this, you go to the, "Connex Café" then you go over from there and sit in the filtered sun beneath the 80 year old English Elms and sip your Folger's Crystals and eat your day old donut in the crisp Fall air. It's totally gonna rock. We're going to shorten it to the, "C2" which is Militarese Acronym for, "Command and Control." Not to bore you much further, but if you talk there, it becomes the, "C3-I". The, "Command Control and Communication and Information Center." Ok, it's a warrior thing, you don't get it. Whatever, point is, I'm going to ensure they have Diet Coke on tap for those of us forced to enjoy our caffeine cold.


So, I brought you up to speed on the bunk house stuff, so I won't bore you with that. Point is here, in the spirit of brevity, that I'm hoping that dad dumps his muzzleloader elk within the first three days of his ten day hunt. Then I'll hijack his time and we'll work on cutting more logs and milling them before Winter hits. The family says all I talk about are logs. They even joke I talk in my sleep, "20 foot logs.blubherb bhhallah." OK, it' s true, I've been a bit obsessed.


So that's a nice segue as any I suppose. Dad and I are going to head up to the cabin on or about the 24th and begin his hunt the next morning. He's been exercising his elk bugle and cow mew diaphragms at Josh's games whenever there's a touchdown. What can I say? He's his own man, you can't change the guy. He loves his grandkids and he loves being unique and chances are I'm going to turn into him so I might as well smile and enjoy it. The other day he was forced by my mom to attend church at our ward and he was noisily voicing his opposition sitting there in the pew. Because of his hearing, he doesn't know exactly how loud he's speaking and so people around us get a little stiff at his remarks. Which, turns out are spot-on, but really shouldn't be voiced to the people sitting in front of you, whom happen to be the parents of the return missionary speaker who's now 15 minute over time.


So, here I am at drill. I've already found a bunch of Pinteresting things including the songs I'm listening to on my I Heart Radio, currently set to, "Miranda" (meow meow kitty meow). I've powered down a 32 oz Diet Luv, eaten two breakfast Mcburritos and now I'm totally unmotivated to do just about anything else. Don't get me wrong, I have ALL kinds of things to do. But I'm just a little burnt out.


You know, I had a lot to talk about, but it turns out it's all internal. I'd rather be in Huntsville, Alabama today having a Sunday afternoon burger watching a game at a little local bar. Some place with tin roof panels on the wall and a waitress missing a tooth and a juke box in the corner, an old coke machine, some red bar stools and a fifties setup. I know of just such a place. Sometime I may take you if things work out in our favor. Then we'll head over to the NASA Air and Space Museum and later hit this other place that has local bands play in a courtyard behind the bar that you can watch tipsy blondes dance inappropriately. Nothing like a southern belle slurring her words trying to talk you into reconsidering to really make you realize it's time to get back to post. Sorry, I was projecting a little. Anyhow, I could use a trip someplace where people are real and you can enjoy a Sunday afternoon the way the rest of the world does instead of packing it full of meetings and places you HAVE to be.
I guess, after reading through all this, what I'm yearning for right now, is something that reminds us that sometimes a melody, sounds like a memory, of a soundtrack to a July Saturday night. Maybe I should play some Springsteen now?

.Springsteen.


You take care, I'm going to fake it a few more hours, have lunch, and fake it again till end of exercise.
All the best Kids,


J


P.S. the photos have very little to do with anything, just stuff we've done over the Summer. It's just eye-candy. You're welcome by the way.



Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: FOUO

Summer 2013 Update...

Summer Update

    OK, let's see now…where…did we leave off?  Ah yes.  So let me just do a little outline here to ensure that we cover most everything I planned on boring you to death with:

1)  Cattle on Camp Williams

3)  Log cutting for the Pergola, and Bunkhouse projects

2) Septic System at the lot…no wait, switch the order of 2 and 3 there. The chicken came first, not the egg.  The egg is STILL a little miffed the chicken rolled over and went to sleep…where were we?

4) Boat and ATV rides this Summer

5) Santa Fe, NM

6)  Random Thoughts…

    OK, so here's the deal.  We brought some cattle on Camp Williams this year.  'Bout five hundred tuther 'em.  Well, why am I writing about this??? Well, mostly because, "THEY" said it couldn't be done.  See, cattle on Camp is no new thing.  The last time we had them out was over a decade ago though.  It has something to do with the riparian streams and how cattles mush up the edges of the stream and then poop in it and what-not.  Anyhow, you may recall we had a fire a few years ago, and sorta…well, burned four houses down in the community directly to our North.  Well, anyhow, the Lehi Cattleman's Assoc. (A loosely compiled group of about 11 families in the Lehi, Utah area) approached me about brining cattles onto our here Camp see?

    So, anyhow, they were selling how great it would be that our cows (their cows that is, I'm jumping ahead) would eat down the fine fuels on Camp to include the highly flammable, and dern-near explosive cheat grass that invades everything about us.  Well, after some discussions with our Environmental folks, they just plum said that not only, 'No' but, "HELL NO." Which rightly didn't sit right with me.  So, anyhow, we've been having a pissin' match with them over the past year about another issue entirely, so I figured this was a good a time as any to go to blows. 

    So, anyhow, they give me every reason under the sun as to why we couldn't do it. But, see, we pay over $200K per YEAR to have goats and sheep on Camp to selectively graze along our firebreaks all throughout Camp. The idea is (and they're quite good at it) that they strip down literally EVERY green thing there is in their path.  So, I'm no environmentalist, but cattle that eat JUST grass, and leave the sacred deer-habitat Utah Sagebrush, cant be much worse right?  Anyhow, so I opened some dialogue along with my superb Non-Commissioned Officers and an as-yet unsung hero we'll call…. "Sean." (Cause his name's Sean) and we set about to scientifically remove the mental obstacles keeping us from our steak….er…cows. 

    So, in a stroke of genius…(mine, I claim it, SHAMELESSLY I might add) I axed the Environmental weenies for a copy of their goat/sheep contract.  Then I axed them what would keep us from re-bidding a similar contract along our Southern boundary and adding two words, "…OR  Cattle." Well, they really couldn't argue with me, mostly because I'm so damn convincing when the Chief of Staff and the General want us to NOT burn down houses…so we let the contract bid.  Well I'll be gat-damned if they didn't come in the lowest bidder, and we run these here cattle all across our border with Eagle Mountain and Saratoga Springs and plum stripped out ALL the June grass and fine-fuels betwixt our Southern road (Watt's Road) and our Southern boundary.  And oh uh, it looks GOOOOD.  There's a complete void of fine fuels where once there was cows, and where there a wasn't –en.

    Well, I was kinda pissed about it at this point that they made me jump through so many hoops to do the right thing, so after discussions with Stacey (who's purdy smart it turns out) she gave me the idea(r) to have a dutch oven breakfast for the Generals and the Chief of Staff and all key leaders that needed to see this here success story.  Oh and uh, we put them on horseback to ride for an hour through the recently chewed down wasteland of fuels and on into a nice sit-down complete with pancakes and Daileys Bacon (my favorite) and some home-made jam and eggs and syrups and stuff.  Oh, RESOUNDING coup! I was extactic.  By the way, we invited the Unified Fire Wildland Firefighters we just hired to come out and have breakfast with the Generals and hob-nob.  Turns out, it was just plain a kick-ass success.  I've got more planned for folks that are dumb enough to stand in the way of progress, but since I'm not building a railroad to the Pacific, I'll just have to focus on kickin' ass and takin' names on my 26,000 acres here for now.  Oh, you'll see some pics of a couple of the cattle drives we did. In particular, my favorite, is a day I brought Lexi out as we drove the cattle off Camp and into West Canyon. 

 

    OK, next you'll see some pictures of a couple of log projects I started this Summer.  One is a log Pergola.  It's about 14 feet x 28 feet and will ultimately have an outdoor kitchen and wetbar when things all fall into place over the next couple of years.  For now, I'm just going to pour some footings and concrete and erect the structure, then maybe next year I can start the outdoor kitchen (a la HGTV) and then a step-down into a fire pit area complete with block walls and retainers and one of those giant block pizza ovens you saw at the Home Show this Spring.  Anyhow, over the last few weeks I've made a couple of trips with Craig and then again with my dad and Wayne and cut some sizeable specimins for-to-which to work into a picture that I blatantly stole from Houzz.com.  Anyhow, with a little bit of imagination you can see what we plan on doing.  The pictures are taken both on our lot in Fruitland, and up the aptly named, "Timber Canyon" where we harvested these logs after pulling a 35.00 permit for four cords of wood.

    It should be noted that some of these are in excess of 12" in diameter and the bigger ones are about 10 feet long and represent the corner posts, where some others are 8" in diameter and about 14' long and are the horizontals.  Also of note, you'll see plans I've started draw(r)ing up for a small bunk house, which will be 16x24 with a half-loft.  There wont be water or electrical (for now) because I don't want it classified as a cabin quite yet, but I'll slap on a nice sitting porch, and it will serve as over-flow seating/sleeping for visitors and kids as we are quickly reaching capacity in our $6K trailer we purchased in '10. 

 

    Let's see, what else??? Oh yeah the septic system is in, and I need to run another lateral for two more hookups for visiting trailer trash, and I figure about 500 in parts and a little tractor work and that'll be in.  I'm thinking about a log covering for the trailer complete with rock fascia uprights that needs to be about 20' x 35' and 15' high at the center to accommodate the trailer, but that's after I'm successful with the pergola and are started on our bunkhouse.  All in all, for the cost of some concrete and forms, as well as miniscule amounts for cutting permits, and with the help of friends like Craig and my dad's help, we're gettin' her done.  I'm going to need a few truckloads of gravel at about 150 bucks per load, and the concrete at a five-yard minimum at about 180.00 a yard, so it's pay as you go, but the biggest portion of the effort of getting the logs, cutting them to length and notching them is well under way. 

    Meanwhile, you'll see some pictures of our latest trip in the boat with dad and the two oldest girls. That was taken over the weekend of the 24^th this year.  Additionally, about two months ago, Dad, Josh and I rode up and scouted logs and looked over Strawberry, then we did it again a couple weeks later over the 4^th with Stacey's mom and pop (not pictured here).  They are good people and loaned us a couple of ATV's to go with them which was really nice to say the least.

 

    I'll be honest, I can't believe you're still reading, but earlier this year I took a trip to Santa Fe, NM for a week of training, and then again in June I went to my CGSOC (Command and General Staff College) Phase I in Wisconsin, where I met up with my Uncle John (my dad's old Navy Buddy) and his wife Londa and stayed overnight on their farm.  I've included a picture of their cabin which is 20x30 that they built by hand (well their logs were purchased and milled, but still) that sits about 300 yards from their house on their 200 acres.  Pretty cool, but they're going to sell it, and I'm about $2 million shy of being able to purchase it.  Bummer. Well hey, listen, I gotta run, but it was great talking to you and sometime you should maybe try and get a word in edge-wise.  I know I love listening to myself, but perhaps you don't, so if you bothered to read this, thanks, if you didn't, well…it just plain sucks to be you I guess. OK, I'm closing now, you be sure to remember who ya are and where you come from. I'll put pen to paper this Fall after dad and I kill his big elk on the Muzzleloader (same tag as mine from last year) and I'll have more pictures of us doing lumberjack/Mountain Man stuff just like Jeremiah Johnson.  All the best to you and your's.

 

J

Love's Gonna Live Here Again...

Good morning.  Well,  as you can probably tell, I didn't run off during the night and here I am again layin' on your porch waiting for a ham bone or breakfast leftovers of some kind to drop out of your hand.  I just got kicked out from in front of the mirror after polishing the pearly-whites and raking out my hair and I figured since everyone was abnormally quiet today (on a Sunday no less) I'd put fingers to keyboard and let you in on the goings-on.

Well, this morning while warshing my 2000 Parts I was listening to the I Heart on the ol' Victrola Ipod.  Sometimes I listen to the various "stations", in particular the Alan Jackson or George Jones channels.  Alan tells it like it is and George tells everyone to go to H.E. Double Hockey Sticks in an old-man who's still got it in him to scrap sorta way. Anyhow this morning they allowed someone to sing about Luckenbach, Texas and sellin' diamond rings and boots and jeans and I just realized I haven't fulfilled my fiduciary duties to you, the fans, for some time now.  So, if you'll both just sit back, relax, and crack open a bran muffin and turn off Little House we'll begin.

Where were we?  Oh, so let me give you a run-down.  The contractor finished the septic tank last week and I got a line on a 300 gallon propane tank for about a buck a gallon.  It's a sweet little unit that looks a little like R2D2 if he was an albino droid.  Minus the leg-scooter-thingies of course.  Any how I was helping dad move Lacy from her apartment into a house here in old Riverton and asked her dad to sell it to me.  It's a windfall, because then I don't have to transport the smaller tanks back and forth from Fruitland to Salt Lake.  So, at last count, we now have water to shower, propane to heat, and the proverbial pot (for to which to whizz in).

So from there, I cleaned up the back patio from all the sand the kids kicked out of the area I'd pulled the patio stones out of.  Chopped both the lawns, culled out the flower beds, trimmed the trees, cleaned the garage, started a fight with Stacey, pulled the ramp off the stairs I'd made, helped Stacey take the salt downstairs, grilled some dead cow, and…uh…that's about it.  Well, unless you count the ENDLESS whining and gnashing of teeth.  That's just me I'm talking about.  Our kids have been sick since…oh….2010ish.  Yeah, not even hyperbole really paints the picture I'm trying to convey.  Hold on, I'm gonna start a new paragraph, buckle up.

OK, so, yeah, snotty noses, coughing, wheezing, antibiotics, chest colds, whining, more whining.  I just flipped out yesterday.  It was bad too.  One of those patented, world renouned..renounned…ren…anhow it was one of those,  Jon Kenworthy, powder keg meltdowns you may have heard six streets over.  I'm convinced, and NOONE will ever talk me out of believing, that SOMEONE will expire…just…flat out…stop breathing…if I sit down and enjoy myself for longer than say…oh…four minutes.  It's a friggin' mad house I tell you.  It's so bad, that I literally loathe the idea of trying to enjoy myself at home anymore.  The kids have been sick so long, and it takes so much of our combined efforts to just tread water, that I'm sick of it.  I've literally reached the end of my patience level and one more dance competition, or double-header soccer game is going to drive me to drink.  And I don't even LIKE the taste of beer.  Let alone pissing every fourteen minutes.  Plus I imagine drinking alone and in secret it going to prove difficult since everywhere you look there's a pair of prying eyes and clawing hands demanding sippy cups, new underwear, declaring unfinished homework 12 minutes prior to school starting….it's endless.  What's worse? Yeah, I signed UP for this.  This is a world of my own making.  I tell you what. This weren't in the brochure, that's for damn sure.

Where were we? Okay, well that's the end of my little rant.  I'm coming up on the 9 minute mark where I've been alone and I'm certain there is a sink full of dishes asexually doubling and redoubling while I'm not watching somewhere.  But, listen, let me outline some good things before I go.

So, Lexi is out of the chair now and hopping around on crutches.  Oh, you thought I just pulled out the ramp to add an additional fire-danger? Nah, she's doing awesome. She's really an example to me of effort and attitude.  Thank goodness for Lexi, beca….wait, I spoke too soon, she's arguing with Isabelle about occupancy of one of the THREE bathrooms we have in this house.  So, lucky for me, Stacey's upstairs listening to the Mormon Channel and the Tabernacle Choir is drifting over the banister and down into the bowels of the first level of Dante's Inferno.  But here's the deal, I'm looking out the front window, and though all the colors in the tulips have now blended together into a simple pink and white flower set, the grass looks cool, and the world is full of promise.  The tree looks a little happier, and the now flower-less daffodils are breathing a collective sigh of relief from lack of grass choking them.  I've only got two or three sprinkler heads that are acting up this year, and I think I may just be able to get to them sometimes shy of next Fall to fix them.

Oh, and before we part, don't expect to hear too much for a while, I've got a week of school here mid-month in May, Quatro de Mayo to celebrate in the circle, and the last two weeks of June in school.  Throw in a couple of drill weekends spread throughout and I'll see you in July sometime up at the lot I guess. 

Before I forget, Stacey let me sleep in today and had three rolled up breakfast burritos for me that she brought upstairs.  I don't deserve this gal I tell ya. Anyhow, I gotta split, the three year old needs the light on. I promise to be more positive next time. They can't all be gems.  Anyhow you take care.

 

All the best.

 

J

Mr. Mom, the Cadbury Bunny, and Other Stories of War...

Okay so, let's see, um…to bring you all up to speed…uh…well, where to start? So, about a month ago I drafted up a little yellow press article about how great we're doing as a family and how I just love Draw Something and a slug of other boring stuff about life and luxury at the ol' Homestead.  Well, so since last we spoke, here's a little snapshot of what went down:  1) Lexi had her surgery; B) Easter; 4) Life went on.

So, in that order let me bring you up on our goings on.  So, Lexi went in for that surgery I alluded to earlier.  She went in on a Tuesday and had a couple of screws put into each knee at the growth plate on the interior sides.  Then they removed one of the bolts from her right foot which was set in there to allow that ligament to tighten up so her arches wouldn't flatten out and continue to cause pain.  Then, the coups de gracias, she had her right femur broken with a "bone chisel", and the doctors placed a metal rod inside the bone cavity and rotating it 22 degrees outward then zipped it down with the ol' Dewalt screw gun.  She was in quite a bit of pain that first day, as it was about a three hour surgery to accomplish all that.  Poor kid couldn't eat beginning at midnight the night before, and we'd been at the hospital (Primary Children's), since 11 am.  Little segue here, but Primary Children's' is a class act hospital.  It's not on par with Shriner's as far as catering to children, but the staff was amazing.  They had a little play area where we played a little foosball and Disney Monopoly while we waited for her surgery to begin two hours behind schedule.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, this is an organization that caters to children and strives to make their lives better.

So while we were there, we played as I said some games, and Lexi made a pink cape for her little sister Olivia with colored glue and stripper glitter and buttons and stuff.  She's really quite crafty that kid I tell ya.

Anyhow, they finally called her back and Stacey and I were left in the waiting room with our individual and collective fears while they wheeled our little girl back into the sedation area and on into the surgical center.  When they finally called Stacey back (only one could go back at a time) Lexi had a little trouble and I wasn't able to see her for a couple hours after that.  I finally got to see her in her room at just shy of ten pm.  She opened her eyes, asked for me, fluttered them back shut and she slept through the next thirty minutes of my being there.

Well, from there I left the hospital after sampling with Stacey some of their delectable cuisine down in the hospital cafeteria. By the way, the old lady making change had a good sense of humor, but the lady that replaced her the next day had about as much personality as a Portobello mushroom.  That's WITHOUT the cheese and fixin's mind you.

Anyhow, that night I courageously assumed the role of Mr. Mom and set about a new standard of expectation for the remaining personnel at Fort McKenworthy.  So that night I think I got up with Sam only twice, thrust a bottle his direction, and talked Olivia down off the snuffy-nose ledge twice through the aid and comfort of a sippy cup.  We were quite out of Pink Milk (aka Nestle Strawberry Quick) and so we went to war with the milk we had, not the milk we wanted.  Well, the next morning was Friday and I can't remember how, but I got Josh to school for type lab at 0700 and then commenced to righting all the wrongs in the household.  I started by tearing out the patio bricks in the back and exposing about 150 square feet of sand beneath them.  At that point, Sam and Olivia discovered that through the miracle of hydration, they could, through the simple act of adding water, create a wet, soupy sand bog that resembled the Fire Swamps in the Princess Bride (Rodents of unusual size??? I don't think they exist).  Anyhow, so from there, I recall piling all the laundry from four large and separate piles, into one predominate and quite tidy single pile in the corner of our bedroom.  I had, at that point, every intention of returning to fold, at the very least, the towels, and, time permitting, me own undies should I get the hankerin'.

Well, at that point, I saw somethin' shiny, and realizing that my daughter would have no means for which to enter the abode in a wheel chair, commenced to fabricating, with the help of my father, an eight-foot long ramp, complete with side rails and safety precautions which would last well into the next month of projected wheel chair use.  Well, it's a lot more difficult to build a ramp using skill saws and power tools while fending off 1.5 year old sons, and 3.8 year old daughters whom aren't in the very least interested in reruns of Diego, Bo on the Go, or any other beta wave producing drivel.  NOPE, these kids wanna help.  Even better I say, they're learning a trade at a young age.  Well, nigh on a couple hours later, with ramp complete, Dad got smart and left and I was again left to my own devices.

Eyeing that nefarious pile of laundry again, I resolved to return later and approach it from the flank, and instead focus our cumulative efforts towards straightening the kitchen, family room, front room, stairs, and other areas of visibility in preparation for the impending mercy and fellowship of the neighborhood ladies whom were about to descend (much like angels of mercy) and alight on our home with baked beans, egg salad, some rolls, bbq pulled pork, chicken salad and other tender delights and treasures which Pinterest had inspired and proven worthy of their efforts.  So, the grub arrived, and I downed at least my apportioned poundage of culinary delights and then, quite by force, encouraged everyone over the age of eight to THANKFULLY partake so as to not offend the Sisters of Hope and Mercy whom might even have stopped by with no-bake cookies had I left a bit larger hint at their original departing. Oh, some time that day I planted some flowers and some bulbs.  I have no idea what the bulbs were, only that the pictures were purdy and I was willing to do whatever it takes to stay out of the house as long as possible.

Anyhow, so that evening we went about our duties of combing our faces and washing our hair and got everyone into their Underoos and ready for bed, just shy of the midwatch.  So, the next morning Stacey and Alexia were slated to return, and my Mother in Law (Shane) arrived at the appointed time and took the reins while I went to fetch a peck of pickled peppers up to the hospital.

So I skipped on up there and parked and signed all the forms and releases and…well, mostly carried the four large (and quite heavy) bags which had asexually reproduced, doubling each night they were away.  Well, we got everyone into the car and with the arrangement of two car seats and a little shuffling we were able to shoe-horn most everyone back into the Pilot and get for gettin'.

Well, that evening we figured out some design flaws in the current ramp structure, as well as some of the inherent challenges as to keeping four of your OTHER children off of the crutches, and out of the wheel chair which you'd rented.  Oh, actually, truth be told, the wheel chair didn't arrive till Saturday.  I was alone (again, quite unafraid) and the door bell rang while I was upstairs showering the two littlest makers of sandy mud products.  So, I run down stairs, and allow, "Trent" our friendly neighborhood wheelchair rental guy, access to Ft McKenworthy.  So I apologize that I have two kids up in the shower, one wife AWOL at the grocery, one son whom (thankfully) disappeared to a friend's, and another bedridden little lass on the couch watching King of Kings of Kings of Dumb Dumbs or whatever the hell that show is.  Anyhow, pre-teen comedy is MIND numbing stuff I tell you.

Anyhow, so Trent comes in and starts giving me the entire schpeel on the ins and various outs of your finer rental wheelchairs.  I excuse myself while he's adjusting the legs and go retrieve the devil spawn up in the shower.  I'm getting them dressed as quickly as possible, and succeeded only in a diaper for Hammy and the, "wrong" pajama bottoms for O-Liv-i-A.  Anyhow so I go down stairs, apologize to Trent for him being late by two hours and my two littlest kids commence to running literally circles around us as we talk.  By now my blood pressure is quite elevated, and all my attempts to speed ol', One Speed Trenton along prove completely fruitless.  Well about this time Isabelle shows up (with her new glasses by the way) (VERY studious looking if I do say so ma-self), well Isabelle is now messing with the crutches, Hamsome and Olivia are running circles around us, Trenton is looking me in the eye expecting complete and udder focus, Josh is texting me about a lay-over in Dallas, or with Dallas, or Oliver or whatever…the crutches take flight with Isabelle and WHERE in THE HELLLLLLLLLLL is STACEY?!?!?!

Well I sorta blacked out at that point and I remember thanking Trent for the hour-long class on Wheels on the Bus and the various and sundry complexities of the Round and Round.  So, at that point, Josh arrives, and the continually unheeded recommendations to, "Stay away from her crutches, and get OFF the wheelchair" starts.

Well I gotta be honest with you, somewhere in all the middle of that we had three Easters. Yeah, one at her mom's at 11 am, one at my mom's at 3 pm, one Sunday morning before three laborious hours of spiritual uplift in complete contrast with the two-day sugar rush our five nearly mobile children were enjoying.

*sigh* *slow exhale* I love work.  No seriously, I LOVE being at work.  It's so….relaxing.

Well hey, speaking of work, I gotta get to it.  You have yourself a completely awesome day/week/whatever until we have time to reason together again.

 All the Best-Meow,

 

J

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stuff n' Other Things

So here we are, at the very cusp of Spring.  Not a moment too soon either if you ask me.  Not that you did of course.  I'm ready I tell ya.  I'm so sick of being locked up in the house.  I'm ready to get out. Heck, I'd even work on the flower beds, or better, pull down the Christmas lights before April if possible.  I'm ready to clean the garage out too.  I pulled down a couple of my boxes to get sleeping bags out for Josh and another scout. Son of a gun too, because I dropped by giant black job box on the garage floor off the upper shelf and broke it because it was so cold.  Fatal flaw in the design it seems.  With this weather, I still haven't had an opportunity to wash the little car either.  I've simply not had a day off, or a moment to drive it through a wash cycle that I didn't know there were three days of forecasted inclement to dampen my resolve.

I miss the truck too.  I guess that's a good segue as any.  Josh has said as much.  We put in for points only this year for my hunts and in questioning Josh about his hunting desires he point-blank asked me how we were even going to go hunting without a truck.  I've told myself we're going to pay a couple things off first then we'll delve into the mystical world of Crew Cabs and Extra Duties (he said, "duty") and see what we come up with.  Stacey's lease is up at that point so we either go Suburban Soccer Mom, or we swap out her car with another Honda product and get a truck.  1^st World problems right???  Yeah, well anyhow, you probably know I met with the septic tank contractor a couple weeks ago.  He's supposed to dig a couple of test holes this week and let me in on the total cost of placing it.  I told him to throw a tank in there that was rated for a 3 bedroom, two bath house/cabin, in the event we ever get there.  Anyhow, we met up there the other day (me driving my Pansy Mobile of course) and I showed him where I'd planned a cabin some day, and where I needed a cleanout or two for trailers in the interim.  He knows where the water line is, because he put it there, so I think we're good to go.  I'm going to call him today or tomorrow and see if we're any closer.

Anyhow, so there's that outlay of cash, and then we're paying off our waterline from last year and that brings our discretionary funds back to zero again.  We're cash people as I may have said before, and anytime we ever finance anything we just do one thing at a time.  That's where the truck vice suburban discussion has to take place. We'll war-game that a little until we come to a decision.  My plan is to just do some small capital improvements around the lot this year.  Next year's discretionary has already been earmarked for new carpet and furniture/paint, so we'll have to remain status-quo for the remainder of 2013. 

Wow, 2013 huh? How time flies.  I've got so much travel stacked up this year that I've just accepted we're on cruise-control until December again.  Lexi goes in for her surgery in a couple weeks.  In fact, the week after I get back from Fort Sill, OK she'll be in a wheel chair.  Yeah, they're breaking her femur and twisting it 22 degrees and putting a giant rod and pin set in.  Then when it's healed, they'll pull the rod back out a few months later.  In the interim, they'll leave a little metal set on the inside of her grown-plates at the knees to help her natural growth straighten everything back out.  She's getting a little nervous I think, but she's putting on a brave face. So, she'll be in a wheel chair for a week or so, then crutches for a few weeks, then a brace and so on.  Meanwhile, as I said, I'm headed off to Fort Sill, Onate Training Center New Mexico, and possibly to D.C. if everything goes well.  About a week at a time, with the exception of D.C., which I'm hoping will be two or three days.  Anyhow, that gets us into the heart of Summer, with means football, which means…play it on a loop.  Stick a fork in it, yer dun.

 

Oh, Isabelle and Olivia are doing soccer this year, in addition to dance and all the other stuff girls do.  I haven't put in for any hunts, but I'm thinking I might as well just buy an elk muzzle loader tag and go in November after things slow down.  Work is crazy busy preparing for major mitigations for the fire season.

Oh yeah, we're being courted by Unified Fire Authority, looking at contracting with a cattle association for our Cheat grass issue, we're spraying weeds (contrary to the Environmental Blockade's desires)….we're making progress on all fronts.  The only thing we have to fear…well…is fear itself.

So, I've been interrupted about nineteen times now, so I'll just frigging close this little rant for a while.  Wish me luck, perhaps Stacey and I (kids???) can go up either for the day, or for an over-night tomorrow to the lot and sit in the trailer and freeze a little.  I'm watching the forecast and I'm just not sure it's going to allow for the planting of my two hundred (ish) walnuts.  But, we'll give'r the ol' college try anyhow.  Oh, last thing…I've been really enamored with this, "Draw Something" ap lately. I'll include a couple of my recent works a little later this weekend for shiz and giggles.

 

Anyhow, I gotta go.

Ya'll come back now ya heah?

 

J

The Wonder Years

So, lately I've been working hard at the office.  We have a ton of stuff going on.  Most of it is involving internal issues involving the planning and funding of future ranges and facilities.  Additionally we've enjoyed quite a shake-up in our full-time personnel.  I'm trying to replace (this week anyhow) a Range Safety Officer, as well as shift personnel to cover the loss of a senior NCO authorization.  That's Army talk for, "we're experiencing cutbacks in personnel."  Anyhow, I've been sort of at a loss as to what to write about of late.  Not really feeling the inspirational charge to victory that occasionally washes over me.  To be honest I've been sort of mellow, despite all the big-boy challenges that come along with being a husband, father, Soldier and friend.  Luckily, I've really cut back on my friends, so I don't have THEM continually slowing me down with all their offers to go to dinner and play Yahtzee, or Pictionary, or whatever couples of couples do these days.  Pretty much I wake up, workout, go to work, come home, do a sink of dishes, sweep the kitchen, empty the garbage's, pick up the front room, nag my son, administer food to them, clean up again, sweep up again, pack my gym bag, and repeat the process.  Don't get me wrong, I've had days where I've been totally upset about the whole treadmill going nowhere process, but in a way, I've found a little peace in it.  It's just the way it is.  I've also been extremely frustrated by finances, co-workers, and fellow commuters alike.  I guess what I mean to say is, I'm pretty selfish.  But I'm ok with that.  Well, not really.  I'm really trying to work on my attitude.

Man its cold in my office.   I have this little ceramic heater blowing right on me and still my fingers are numb.  I don't like to be cold.  I seriously hate cold.   I'm not a giant fan of Iraqi Summer heat either, but cold sucks.  Which reminds me, you can quit nagging now, I replaced the sheer pin on the snow blower, so it's ready to go if any of these next three major snow events come to bear.  Anyhow, so I was saying…wait, I also want you to know, just 'cause, I'm down to drinking only one (ONE) 12 oz Diet Coke each day.  I've really made a concerted effort to wean myself off of it.  Believe it or not, I've been packing around one of those Maverik (yes, that's how they spell it) punch cards where the tenth one is free for over two months now.  Used to be, that every two weeks or less, I'd have myself a "freeeeeee"52 oz Diet Luv, courtesy of the House.  Anyhow, I've been religiously attending the yim, and I've even dabbled into a couple of new exercise regimens.  (You've gotta "shock" the glutes).   Anyhow there's this, "Ap" called, "Men's Health Workouts Lite" I've tried once a week.  It's free and I highly recommend it.  I've been doing the, "Spartacus" once a week in addition to the other stuff I got going.  I'll be honest with you, my arse hurts for two days after from the squats and lunges and other stuff involved in the highly intense sadism involved in their little workout.  I still hit the heavy bag on Tuesdays to fight off the demons, I still hit the weights, and am back to throwing in the cardio on Fridays.  OK, all very boring stuff.  Point is, across the spectrum I'm seriously trying to improve my station in life.  I've even started reading my scriptures (while in dispose) at 04:20 in the morning mind you. 

Yeah, you heard me right.  I've even been reading my scriptures.  I won't go into it here, but suffice it to say, it's really made a difference in my level of patience with the kids.  Instead of flipping out on them the moment I walk in the door, I often can last upwards of five, sometimes seven minutes.  I know, by volume not a lot, but by percentage? Yeah, I'm making THAT kind of progress.  *sniff*

 

So what else?  Oh yeah, filed the taxes and true to form, we're going to break even this year again.  Well, not exactly, we're going to pay off our little loan we had last year for the water at the lot, then we're going to pay off a credit card, and pretty much….start right back at zero again.  It's frustrating I tell you.  I just can't make sense of the math.  No matter how you slice it, I ALWAYS break even.  I guess I should say, "We". Stacey and I that is.  Stuff just comes up you know.  I have all these selfish designs on a shed for the lot, or a new generator, or a 600 watt solar array kit (eBay $1275.00 no shipping!).  Every day I trip over the carpet that's separating from the linoleum (yeah, that's how we roll) (insert, "I wanna be a Rock Star"-Nickleback).  I already told you about the freezer incident last quarter.   So I sold Big Green and went to a little economical rice burner Honda product as you know.  I figured just in gas I am $300 bucks ahead each month.  We're using the, "Cash for Lunch" program and I only eat out once (maybe twice) a week at ten bucks a pop.  We refinanced le casa and saved 197.00 a month.  All this and we're STILL breaking even.  It's incredible I tell you.  Like all couples should, we sit down and pour over the budget, and while we're not eating beans every meal, there's just not a lot left at the end of the pay period.  

I think my personal frustration is that I can't understand how having 500 bucks more each month doesn't naturally equate to available funding streams for stuff I wanna do. (Told you I was selfish).  But I look at our house, and I really want to get Stacey a new couch, new carpet, new chair in the front room, etc.  I really do.  I've even accepted that not all extra money can go to the lot in the form of facilities or maintenance. But if we budget for Christmas, Football, Dance, Soccer, Birthdays, Trips, (Clothing???)…well there's just nothing left over for upgrades.  It's supremely annoying, and I have to keep telling myself that we're doing the right thing using the pay-as-you-go method.  As I told you, I don't have a lot of patience, but more importantly, it makes me feel as though I'm doing something wrong as a husband or provider.  I know what I make, and to be honest, I wonder how all my neighbors are doing it.  I just keep telling myself that there's wisdom and peace in not being subject to debt.

Wow, that took a real turn for the negative.  Point is, I'm just starting to mature enough to accept that, "This is why we can't have nice things" applies to us.  I mean really, if I replaced a couch, and got new carpet, within six hours, there's be a puddle of chocolate milk, crushed up goldfish crackers, an assembly of Barbie clothing, and a whole slug of other undeterminable stuffed down between the cushions and ground into the carpet anyhow.  I keep telling myself that ten short years from now we can finally have nice things.  But I'm being serious; I really am ok with it.  Just in the past couple weeks I've really stopped fighting it.  Kids are kids. They cost money.  We have a TON of them.  Let's be honest, nothing of substance or value is really tied to anything tangible, it's really about their personal growth.

I think what helps me realize that, is trying to keep an Eternal perspective on things. Which, I'll tell you, I'm not good at.  It's tough for me. I don't naturally gravitate towards their eternal potential when I'm bearing down on a 12 year old boy who's moping around because he has a D in keyboarding and we took away his Xbox and his IPod.  I lecture the crap out of him, laying on that thick Catholic Guilt my mother taught me in my youth.  "Son", I say, "I'd REALLY love to replace that broken screen on your $200 IPod, but I just don't have time to take you because I'm following you around closing cupboards, turning off lights, fixing things, putting bikes away, and now, nagging you for the past two hours to finish a single page of math."  Pretty much I have that on a loop so I can play it back at will.

OK, finally the good news.  So, we watched, as a family (on The Netflix) last night a couple episodes of, "The Wonder Years."  You may not be old enough (or young enough) to remember it, but it's a series written from the perspective of a 13 year old boy, played by Fred Savage.  Anyhow, we all really laughed, and laughed a lot, at the commonalities displayed in the show.  I think it gave us all an opportunity to pause and realize…we're normal.  No, really, we're normal.  The dad was griping about the cost of an alternator for the family trickster, the mom was settling the kids down, the dad is grumpy, but loves his kids and just wants opportunity to teach them.  It's really a well done show, and now that it's 20 plus years old, and I'm looking at it from the parents' perspective, it's taken on a whole new meaning.  So, going further, last night, Kevin, the protagonist, was having difficulty with math.  He was afraid to ask for help, and was really laying it on thick.  Without recounting the whole story, suffice it to say, Josh and I quietly sat there and with knowing looks, when back in forth laughing at ourselves.  Me, laughing at the dad who flies off the handle about the older brother driving the car into the cornfield, and him, recognizing himself in a young boy faced with scholastic requirements that cause him to stretch further and further outside of his comfort zone.

Anyhow, I just want you to know that things aren't so bleak.  I guess we all learn something along the way.  We all have similar frustrations with kids, and relationships, money, work.  You're no different I guess, and neither am I.  Anyhow, I just wanted to share that with you and hopefully, here at the end, you can have yourself a wonderful day despite whatever family activity you haven't planned but are attending anyhow.  In parting, if I've offended you, or you me, there's no hard feelings.  We're all just trying to do the best we can.  Someday we'll look back at this, in the light of Super Eight film strip, and see that we're just repeating the cycle, learning what mom and dad already know, and what someday, we'll be able to sit quietly at our children's' dinner table, watching the malaise, and in our heart know they'll someday recognize as well. 

 

All the best meow,

 

J