Good, Better, and the Best

"Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile, Me and Mary making our way into the night

You can hear the cries from the carnival rides The pin-ball bells and the ski-ball slides

Watching the summer sun fall out of sight

There's a warm wind coming in from off of the ocean Making its way past the hotel walls to fill the street Mary is holding both of her shoes in her hand

Said she likes to feel the sand beneath her feet"

Morning'.  How are you?  Me, as you probably guessed, well I'm doin' fine.  So this morning...wait, where are my manners? Please, have a seat.  Can I get you something?  I had some Chicken Tikki Tikki Tempo Marsala that Stacey made the other day, but I just downed the last of the naan.  It's freakin' delicious man.  Anyhow, I've got soda, I've got some hardboiled eggs, three I think, or I have a couple apples that Hammy left bite marks in the other day.  It's a Fuji.  Anyhow, just help yourself, right there in the mini fridge.

Well, you're probably wondering why I opened with the Kenny Chesney lyrics this morning.  It's Sunday of course, and here I am at Drill...just...drillin' stuff, oh and uh...*sniff* not in the GOOD way.  No this is Army drill stuff.  Basically it's a chance to do everything I do Monday through Thursday most weeks, but extend the work week by donating another three days to the cause.  Hey don't feel bad for me though, as I've already alluded to in previous literary works, the remunerations and bennies are nothing to sneeze at, so you won't hear ME gripe.  Lessin' of course I was back in a combat zone, then I just, "Embrace the Suck."  *sip...ahhhh*

Hey so there I was, cruising up (down if you consider South down and North up) Redwood Road this morning.  Hoping my I.D. card was still stuck into my computer....WHICH...it was.  So Laila was playin' this little ditty about someone's wife lovin' him like Jesus does..which sorta got me to thinking.  Then, as I pulled into the gate, the aforementioned Chesney came on about the time I was committing to turn left into, Camp W.G. Williams.  I gotta be honest with ya, I seriously contemplated just bypassing the turn and continuing on to see what came over the radio next.  It's one of those contemplative, Sunday mornings that ol' Johnny Cash warned you about.  Somehow I see myself watching a kid playin' with a can that he was kickin'.  Oh and if you get none of these references, you may as well just politely excuse yourself, I'm not sure I can communicate outside of song lyrics, movie quotes, and double entendre' (what's the plural of, "double entendre'"?  Double(s) entendre'? I wonder if it's like, "Sergeants Major", anyhow not important). 

So of course I turned left, because duty calls.  I listened to the lyrics of this little anthem to living in the moment, and it sorta got me to thinkin'...again.  You know, I've got a lot of faults.  No seriously, a LOT of faults.  Well, take for example when I got back from Asscrackistan and was introduced to my new Ward (church) family.  Nice lot of folks.  There were some computer dorks, some mortgage bubbas, and an arssssssse load of real estate mini-moguls.  Anyhow, here I was trying to fit back into polite society, and making what I thought was a fairly decent effort.  So, early on in my cul-de-sac career, someone invites me up to this here Father and Son's (sons'???/ Fathers and son/ Fathers' and.....whatever) anyhow, boys and their daddies in the woods.  So I get these here directions that say something to the effect of, "Take the Jeremy Ranch exit up Parley's canyon, hit your trip meter, go a spell, make a left, go a spell or a ¼ mile or three see's and then go three more see's and another swaggle and you're halfway there.  Veer to the left (don't hit the deer) and you've arrived at, "Beaver Ridge....(get this...) GIRL'S Camp." And as I'm reading through these directions, I'm thinking, 'You're joking right? BEAVER ridge?  Someone picked that name for a GIRL'S camp??? Man I sure hope some of them turn 18 this weekend.' But of course I kept that all in the lock-box up stairs and just smiled and said I'd be there.  Now that's just ONE example in a litany of naughtiness that I'm capable of.  I don't even MEAN to be naughty.  It's just automatically the first thing that comes to my mind.  What's worse is that it's SO obvious, that I'm literally in a state of disbelief that I'm the only one smirking. 

I gotta be honest with you, I got so involved in that little flash-back that I totally forgot what we were talking about, so I'll just start a new paragraph and we'll pretend it didn't happen ok?  So, ok, I remember where I was going with this now, so, as I was cruising up/down Redwood Road, I started thinking about the opportunities that life provides.  Someone, the neighbor across the street one time I think paraphrased someone smarter than the 'tither of us when he said, "Good, Better, and Best.  You would like to do the, 'Good', and sometimes life provides something, 'Better', but if you don't focus on the, 'Best' you'll lose your way and miss the greatest opportunities life has for you because you allowed yourself to be derailed by something that wasn't the best use of your time."  So, that's not a direct quote, but I put it into quotations anyhow, because I'm paraphrasing his paraphrasal of something a guy said once that may or may not have been a church leader type.  So, it's kind of like Japanese tourists.  When you develop the film, all you've got is a picture of a guy taking a picture, of a guy taking a picture of a guy taking a picture.  Now (to blow your mind) if THAT guy, takes a picture of the original picture guy...well it sorta completes the circuit.  It's a lot like the medicine cabinet in my mom's house.  You can fold up the left side, fold up the right side, and stick your head in it, and see yourself around every corner.  Man am I glad I don't do drugs.  THIS is the kind of shiz that goes on behind the curtain folks.  NEVERMIND the Man Behind the Curtain!

Where were we?  Yes, so I got thinking about life being like a bus, my bus of course is probably set in the 1960's where everyone on the bus was relatively clean and free of neck tattoo's and in sepia tone.  Most of my made up movie shorts are in sepia tone by the way.  Except maybe the one I dreamed up of being on a bullet bike doing 135 mph to Metallica's, Nothing Else Matters.  Anyhow, some people dream about flying, I dream about dreaming.  Whatever, dontchu judge me.  So, I imagine on this bus, or maybe a train. In fact, let's make this train in the 1950's and let's make it the same train that Lois Lane was on when Superman (aka Clark Kent) was showing off for Lana Lang and sped to the intersection after BRAD was such a douche to him on the football field.  So, Lois is cruising along and sees a vision (aka Super Clark) go past her window, and you see in the reflections simultaneously her then pre-teen face and him tearing' up the County Road and somehow not dusting up his white tenny-runners.  Well that's sometimes how I think I feel about life.  We're all traveling on this train, to a destination we have a loose idea about, watching out the window at opportunities flying by.  Occasionally we get spiteful, angry, hurt, or some other emotion at all the things we COULD be.  We say to ourselves, "I should be a doctor, I'm smart enough;" or "I should be an attorney, they make a lot of money"; or, "I wish I was a teacher, I wish I had influence and money wasn't that big of a deal to me."  Each one of these opportunities are advertised as fleeting and if we don't grab hold of them, we'll speed to the end of life and wish we had.  I've felt like this a lot to be honest with you.

Lucky for me though, periodically I think God gives takes  a little pity on me and when I'm going the right direction throws in a warm feeling and a literal vision of some future event and what that's going to feel like when I get there.  I think the last time it happened to me was in Fort Jackson, South Carolina a year or so ago.  I was driving to the PX (Shopping Center on Post) and there were all these little troopies.  BRAND new minted Soldiers, all in their Class A's with their parents.  So proud of their one Basic Training Ribbon.  All of them carrying a plastic shopping sack and sitting down to eat a slice of pizza with mom and dad whom came from Albany, or otherwise to see their little Johnny or Suzy graduate.  So as I pulled around to park, soaking in all this familial bliss, I had a vision.  It was Stacey and I right back here in six years.  Josh was graduating Basic Training and I was in my dress blues, as a Lieutenant Colonel.    It was so real, so vibrant a day dream that I knew it would come to fruition.  My point is, I think the Lord gives me these little snippets to keep me on track.  I'm a guy who needs to know where we're going before I set out.  At least one of the four cardinal directions would be of help.  But sometimes, I find myself on this train, looking out that sepia tone window, (all the women are wearing white gloves and red dresses with white polka dots too mind you.  Nothing like a gal that's every part the lady during the day, and every part the ...sorry, I got lost again....point is, if I focus too long on the opportunities speeding by, I get lost.

So, today I had the opportunity to turn around and head back home and call in sick.  Something I NEVER do unless I'm actually sick.  I had the opportunity to drive all the way to Arizona to some place warmer and turn my back on  all the responsibility, the heartache, the sleepless nights, and, unfortunately, all the happiness at the last ½ hour in our 24 hours of challenge day. But, like the song that started this whole line of thinking, "in the morning I'm leavin' making my way back to Cleveland".  Cleveland in this case is representative of our cumulative responsibilities.  It's indicative of who we have to be to accomplish the things that we need to.  Cleveland is that mystical land at the end of the tracks which is laid out for us.  Our job, is to watch some of the opportunities out the window and try not to lose focus.  Now, if you look at the implied meaning of, "Cleveland" well, how does that compare to walking on the sand barefoot, and listening to a band in someplace warmer?  Well, it doesn't.  And if you're REALLY paying attention, you realize that ol' Kenny is aware of that, but he's also aware, that this temporary segue goes nowhere.  That this ISNT his life. This ISNT his purpose.  He doesn't exactly know why Cleveland holds his life, but what he DOES know is that this fleeting moment, as impressive a detour as it is, really isn't what's BEST for him.  And that's the real challenge isn't it? Staying focused long enough to see our way through to our destination.  All along, as we drift off looking through that sepia haze, once in a while, we see ourselves.  We're sitting on a folding chair, a little older, a little wiser, watching the fruits of our labor marching on a parade field, standing straighter and taller than he ever has before.  Finally become the man that his mother and father hoped for.  I'm guessing that no matter how good it felt to walk along watching the summer sun fall out of site, it can't possibly hold a candle to watching a son embark on a life of goodness, potentially greatness.  It that temporary segue that derails us, it can't wash over us, become us, define us, with the, "Better" because life is so very tenuous and fleeting, we really truly only have time for the, "Best."

Hey listen, I gotta skedaddle. I've got stuff going on and now that the sun's up I may as well make a day of it. You have a wonderful day and I'll see you next time we get the chance.  Meanwhile, do Good things. Try and be a little, Better.  Before you know it, you'll be enjoying life's Best.

 

Have a great Army Day,

 

J

 

Happy New Year 2013

Hey guys. Yeah, it's me again Margaret.  What are you wearin'?  Seriously if you get that joke you're over forty, or boring, or both.  But you're in good company.  So how've you been?  It's been a while since I had a moment to sit down and sketch something out.  Busy busy right?  So, I just got back from le yim, wherein I did my very first workout of the New Year.  Which, since I was up so bright and early, and I figured in about a half hour the whole world would come unglued, I figured I'd better jot some things down before time got away from us again.

So here goes.  Well, first off, let me just put in a disclaimer.  About that workout I just alluded to.  I just want you to know this isnt another one of those flash-in-the-pan ideas of mine.  I've been working out pretty regularly for....well a while now.  But I've endeavored to be a little more responsible with my lunch money and goofing off throughout the week.  Which, sorta led to, how can we be more careful with our money, which led to some life decisions, which led to eating more healthy...really, it's a circle of sorts. I can sketch it out for you, but just take, The Circle of Life, and switch out, "Death" and, "Taxes" for, "Gas $", and "Dog Poop".

I should esplain.  So, you may have heard we found a new home for Maggie.  Broke my heart because I loved that dog, but every day I'd come home and she'd be out of water, the back yard would reek of dog-squeeze (huge piles of it too), the dog would come into the house to clean the floor after dinner, and go right back out again, then get relegated to the basement for the night.  Repeat this about 364 days a year for the past....well for a while now.  So, backing up even further (interesting choice of words), someone ran over the cat a couple months ago, and I had to put it down (with the .22 cal Euthenasia Kit).  This was of course AFTER the cat whizzed all over my ATV cover, the giant Love Sac bean bag, and I think on my stuff in the garage.  Anyhow, I wasnt all heart broken over that opportunity to be honest with ya.  So, then I sold the ATV (not because of the urine mind you) and garnered a whopping six hundred bones, which, a day later I had to hand back to Home Depot for an upright freezer after our chest freezer crapped out on us two days after loading it full of my elk, and half of Brandon's elk.  Wait, are we going forward or backward? I feel like Chevy Chase's character on Funny Farm writing about the perfect heist with poker buddies knocking over a casino....

Anyhow, so moving forward, with a new paragraph anyhow, I sold Big Green, and I landed myself a genuine Honda product for-to-which ta drive to work.  I've been very pleased with both Honda Pilots that Stacey's had, and so, foregoing all the bells and whistles (I'm cheap) I snagged myself a power-window, power lock, 40 mph Goober Mobile.  But the goodnews, is that at the end of the lease, should we decide to buy it outright, Josh will be driving, so I may as well let him and his siblings scratch the side of it up the next three years with their bikes.  Plus, looking at the thing, that back seat is awefully cramped, and barring him dating a Chinese Gymnast, it should be fairly ok to let him take on dates and what-not.  More of the, "not" and less of the, "What" mind you.  So, Big Green went the way of the buffalo, and along with it, any hope I ever had of retaining my masculinity I suppose.  Well until Spring.  I am still not sold on this Ford Excursion idea Stacey is cooking up, I think I'll finagle a way to replace the pickup with our taxes now that that whole pesky Fiscal Cliff thing has been put to bed.  Thank GOODNESS I'm not a top 2 percenter, THAT would suck!

Where were we?  Uh, anyhow, so, just plugging along.  Making plans, I'm going to call the septic tank guy here in a couple of weeks and get on the docket for putting that at the lot this Spring, then I'm going to try and bulldog the money I'm not spending on gas anymore away from Stacey and put a bunk house (aka "shed" if the County is askin') up there as well.  Maybe a nice concrete pad, bed bath and beyond...anyhow, we've carved ourselves out a pretty good couple of Saturdays.

So, meanwhile, we wait.  I've been reading my scriptures, I've been sayin' my prayers, doing my Home Teaching, paying tithing, all the stuff you read about in the manuals and life's still just as challenging as it ever was.  I think what I want to work on this year, (and this is NOT a resolution) is patience.   I just plain SUCK at patience.  Patience with my kids, patience with my spouse, patience at work...all of it.  I find sometimes I just plain go bonkers at home over things that are astounding that we're covering again for the 800th time again.  But I guess that's the Refiner's Fire I've heard so much about.  I'd like to be kind, like my Grandpa.  I'd like to feel like I have my good name again in the community.  I'd like to be someone people can rely on to do the right thing no matter what the personal cost, perceived or actual.  I'd like to have balance.  I'd like to learn to be thankful for what I have, and not upset that I don't have what I should have until I have it.  (read that two or three times to make sure it makes sense).  I'd like to be honest in all things. I've tried, and it plain sucks sometimes.  I'd like to not to judge people so harshly when the little B.S. Tachometer gets close to redlining.  I almost gave you an example which would, ironically, undo what I'm trying to do.  Anyhow, I'd like to be more thoughtful, more caring, more patient, more Christlike.  But believe me, I have a LONG way to go.  A LONG LONG way to go.

Anyhow kids, I better button this up and climb in the shower.  It's going to be one of those at-home family patience building Federal Holiday days again.  If I dont see you around, I'll see you, and if I do, I see you there too.

Anyhow, all the best to you and yours, warmest regards, and a pinch on the heiney 'cause I ain't fixed quite yet.

XxOo, xOOoXXO,


J

Crazy Nelli's Deli and Other Items of Import (UNCLASSIFIED)

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: FOUO

OK, where were we? Ah yes, you were there and I was here. Sit down will ya?
Let's see now, okay, so a few weeks ago my dad and I took Josh on his first
big game hunt as a bona fide carrier of a rifle for the elusive and ever
(less than) tasty Mule Deer. This particular hunt starts on or about the 3rd
weekend in October and has been a staple in our family for generations.
Throughout the years it's been pared down from a statewide holiday, to more
of an afterthought for your more flannel clad neighbors. See, the deer hunt
used to have an element of neighborhood pride. Now, with all the changes to
the hunting proclamation and the various and sundry intricacies involved in
applying for, and drawing the various tags, it's really become a giant pain
in the ass to be honest.
Hold on, let me explain. So, when I started hunting, you could buy a tag
over the counter, for the low-low cost of $15. It was known as a, "Big Game
License." So you had to buy your big game license, and then you could
potentially buy a bow permit, or a muzzle loader permit, or any number of
other add-ons to extend your hunt. So, from there, the State of Utah in
their finite wisdom, realized that they were harvesting too many deer. So
they stopped selling the tags over the counter, and went to a draw system.
Only, they didn't really limit the number of tags per se, and just kept on
rakin' in the revenue and then depositing it into the State General Fund for
later appropriations back to the Division of Wildlife Resources. So, the
State of Utah had a vested interest in selling more tags than we could
support and really had a limited view on what the long-term results of those
policies would be.
Well, from there, the Division decided they'd start selling me tags in about
seven different regions, and only a certain number of tags would be sold in a
given region. But, alas, they over-sold those family favorites again.
Somewhere along the way, they decided I couldn't hunt all three seasons
unless I became a, "Designated Hunter" and donated a certain number of
man-hours towards trail management and other worthwhile DWR goals. Anyhow,
about that time I started pumping out children and realized I'd just have to
choose which deer hunt I'd go on and then maybe hunt for elk for a second
outing.Well, over the course of the past 25 years since I began, we've
lowered the hunting age to 14, then to 12, and incorporated every scheme
including, "three point buck or better" as well as a slew of other programs
which somehow encourage the hunting legacy, but make it harder and harder to
actually see a buck to shoot at. So, I pretty much gave up deer hunting
about four years ago and just this year decided to put in for a tag to take
my son out and give 'er a whirl.

So, we put in for our favorite top three choices for hunting, one of which
was the "19C Tintic Range" hunting unit. It's basically a little north of
Eureka, Utah, down I-15 to Nephi, over to the Sand Dunes and back up to
nowhere. Anyhow, a few years back, (10 maybe?) we saw a deer out there, so
we figured we'd try her out. So I pretty much strong-armed Josh into missing
his football game in order to attend this most auspicious of occasions.
See, today he was about to become a man. So, I preemptively took Monday off
from work and reminded my retired dad that he should do the same. I even
offered Josh a chance to turn in his one Blue Chip for the year and miss a
day of school to shoot Bambi or maybe even Bambi's dad if time and
opportunity permitted.

So, we took off toward parts known on Friday afternoon after stacking
everything we possibly could into the back of my dad's shortbed truck.
Coolers, sleeping bags, bullets, guns...MAN did we have guns. I think we
brought three 30.06's, a 45-70, a 30-30, a .45LC, two pistols, one .44 Mag
and my .45LC and most assuredly my dad's .38 Special concealed carry wheel
gun. Just in case we had to get into it with some Mexican drug lords along
the way I guess.

So, we showed up at the first place out past mile marker OMG. "The Green
Gate" (See a trend here?) and we drove and drove and drove
and....drove...like Pioneer Children I guess. Heck, we even saw a flock of
Chukar Partridges (Bunch of little Chukars anyhow). So, we had about four
hours of daylight to do a little sight-seein' and we commenced to scoutin'
for deer(s).

Well, we went over hill, then over a dale, up a steep slope, and down a
nutherin'...and uh...well, we didn't see so much as a year old rabbit turd to
make us want to stay there for the morning hunt. So, we loaded up the truck
and moved back to Eureka. About the second time we went through town we
stopped and got some dinner. The first time we went through we scared the
bejeezus out of the local clerk at the gas station on the East side of town
when I walked in with my .45LC strapped on my side like Little Joe from
Bonanza. Anyhow, they have decent hotdogs there, but their fountain drinks
can't be carried from the top because they're in those sucky-azz Pepsi
cardboard cups that don't hold their shapes. Anyhow, so the second time we
rolled through from the other direction we left the guns in the truck and
stopped at the Sinclair to test their microwave and their prepackaged dinner
burritos. I think I had one of those Little Debbie fat pills. So, we
actually saw two or three deer under the lights in the church parking lot, so
we figured it was a good omen that we should hunt ½ mile from town the next
morning.

Listen, I gotta stop here because I gotta get home to Lexi for her birthday.
So I'll see you tomorrow k?
Hold that thought.

OK, where were we? *sip* ahhhhh yes. So, that eventide, we set up camp in a
burned-out area about .75 miles from town. I had eyes-on this giant canyon
up over the top on the North side of Eureka (pronounced, "ur-ik-a" by the
local populous). My idea, which just may have worked, was to walk up the
ridgeline, and sit our plump and round little arses up on the ridgeline near
daylight, and have someone else push the buckbrush for a change. Well, we
weren't near as fast of hikers as once we were, and we made it up onto the
ridge about 45 minutes after daybreak. Oh, it's important to note that the
only two shots we heard the entire outing were behind us, pertent near to the
area from whence we just come. Anyhow, so Josh and I start scouting for the
perfect log (don't ask) and I set him on a big rock to watch this draw.
Well, after adjusting my beltline a little tighter than five minutes prior, I
met back up with him and we watched this draw/canyon. So, after about what
seemed like an hour, dad came up over the top of the ridge and I had him and
Josh sit while I swapped dad guns and I commenced into the buckbrush with the
lever-gun. I'd pretty much decided a month earlier that with 2.3 elk in the
freezer, the idea of shooting a deer myself was fairly unpalatable, and
downright unsupportable considering our current deep-freeze storage options,
so an open sights weekend was just fine with me.
So, anyhow, Josh and dad saw a doe and a fawn, which basically constituted ¼
of the deer we would see all weekend. In fact, we didn't hear another shot
all weekend. Well, after hunting most the morning, we went back to see the
camp site and formulate an updated operations plan for to go a killin' that
afternoon.

Well, after cracking open a dozen or so eggs, and frying up some bacon, we
realized that we had neglected to bring anything but a few paper plates and a
couple of plastic forks. What we were missing was a spatula, a ladle,
um...butter...uh....bread...yeah...uh...tortillas...pretty much the makings
of a perfect camping guys' weekend-stravaganza.

So, that afternoon, we loaded up the Arctic Cat, and Suzi-Q and headed over
to a stock pond and set to hiking up this side canyon. Well, I recall my
ninja jammies, which are really nothing more than silky lingerie type thermal
underwear, were starting to sweat the nethers, and the region, and here I was
without the aide and comfort of Desitin for-to-which to alleviate my
symptoms. Well, we hiked and sweated and hunted and came up quite
empty-handed that evening.

That evening, we went into town (aint that kinda dumb after what happened
last time???) (Obscure quote from the Eastwood movie, "Pale Rider"). While
in town, all three hundred yards of it, we settled upon this little hacienda
known as, "Nell's Diner". Or something like that. Maybe it's, "Nell's Deli"
or "Deli Nelli" or whatever, it's not germane to the story. Point is, we
strolled on in the front door, and picked out a booth to sit and contemplate
our next uncalculated move. Well, while we were there, we picked some items
off the menu and were waited on what must have been a fourteen year old girl
who sold dad and I on some day-old chili (WITH cheese?) and I think I had the
breakfast dinner burrito. Dad had a cup o' Joe and I think Josh must have
eaten a sammich with the crusts cut off. No wait, Dad had a hot-ham-n-cheese
I remember, because he commented it was neither hot, nor advertised to have
included mayonnaise. Anyhow, the chili was cold in the middle, and the hot
ham wasn't made to spec., but we enjoyed not having to fire up the $19K
generator to make dinner while we weighed and measured our austere outlook
for Bambi slayin'.

Well, we all kind of started to make fun of our predicament, and somewhere
along the line we started quoting movie lines from, "The Survivors" with
Robyn Williams, as well as Pale Rider (as alluded to before) and then we just
got plum silly and started high pitched sales ideas for, "Crazy Nelli's
Deli". I'd say we had a good time to be honest. Not to mention we got to
wa(r)sh our hands before heading back into the deep recesses of Camp
Blackout, located a half mile from the last square of sidewalk.

So that night, lying there in the straw, with a good half a handful of that
self-same straw having wiggled somehow into my underoos, we slept through a
windstorm that began to lift the sides of the tent up and pretty much pull
out 1/5 of our guy ropes. I truly thought this tent would take flight. So I
ended up rolling over onto the West flap and laying on top of it, on the
wrong side for breathing, and lay there until I had to pee so bad I finally
let go the flap, and...you know what? Different audience, different time I'd
tell ya. Anyhow, once that transaction was completed, I walked over and
picked up the five gallon propane tank, which was affixed to the Big Gass
Grill, and lay it atop the flap so I could get a couple hours more rest. If
that's what ya call it.

Well the next morning, quite without a light (we had no mantles for the
lantern, and no batteries for the other, we made some breakfast concoction
under the direct light shining forth from the Arctic Cat ( aka the $19K
generator). That morning (Sunday) we took off to the furthest reaches of
civilization, and up on top of the entire range to see if we couldn't find
Josh some lousy old two-point to shoot at. Well we ended up on this trail
that was a little two narrow (narrah) for the Arctic Cat side-by-side, and we
all three ended up on Suzi-Q locked down in four low, differential lock
climbing up this trail. I was driving, dad behind me, Josh back to back with
dad, looking like quite the posse I imagine. Well I fought this thing up the
trail for what seemed like an hour and we topped out into the flats and
hunted.

About noon I decided I'd had a gut-full, and it was time to head back and see
momma and lick our wounds. We'd put in enough time, and it was threatening
to rain/sleet/hale/or snow, and I'm no postman, so I tried to talk Josh into
going home. Well, to be honest, the kid just couldn't hide his emotion and I
asked him if he thought we were giving up on him, and he nodded in the
affirmative, so we put another half a day in to hunt this austere canyon we'd
just climbed into. It's pretty much a wasteland as it was hit by a fire over
a dozen years back, and there wasn't a single tree down below, and only a
thick stand of heavy timber in the crotch of this canyon. Well, I went back
to bird-doggin' and figured as long as I was goin', I'd better git, so I got.
You know how Pioneer Children sang as they walked, and walked, and walked,
and wwwwwwwwwalked? Yeah, so did I. Otherwise I'd have froze to death when I
topped out on this windy ridge and just about blew ass over tea kettle back
with what must have been forty mile an hour wind and sixty mile an hour
gusts. But, determined not to give up on my son, I pressed on.

Well, now you've come to the end of our story and I have bad news for you.
All that foreshadowing I've been working in here, all that set-up, all that
anxiety we've built up here for the reader? Yeah, it's all for not. We
didn't see another damn deer the whole weekend. Well, not true, we saw one
saunter off when we first arrived that morning, but nothing with antlers or
any self respect.
So, we loaded up the truck and we moved back to Beverly I guess. A little
beaten, a little worse for the wear. But you know what? I had a great time.
I think Josh did too. That's a good kid that Josh. I didn't hear him gripe
not once. He's a beautiful boy and I'm so proud of him. I'm always on his
case at home I know. I hate that. But out in the sticks, bein' manly men, he
makes my chest swell with how he conducts himself. He never gives up, he
just keeps trying. He keeps the faith (wish Bon Jovi wasn't the first thing
that came to mind just now). He's an amazing son. The important thing to
me, is that we spent time with his grandpa Bill. I love that boy. I love
him with all my heart and everything I do to work towards time in the woods
is to teach him how to really be a man. When I say that, I'm not meaning
that killin' makes you a man, I mean that getting dirty a little, getting
outside your comfort zone, leaving the world behind, well, it recharges a
man's spirit. I want him to know that option exists.

Well hey listen, I've got very little to do from here, and only about an hour
to do it in. So I'll let you get back to it. If you made it this far into
the annals I'm quite proud of you, but more so, I'm worried you don't have
much to live for, because to be quite honest, this isn't my best work, and
it's anti-climatic at best...which, to be perfectly honest with you, has
never happened to me before. I must be tired. ;)

Hey seriously, have a great night/day/afternoon. Keep your head down and
your powder dry. It was great talking to you and have a lovely, if not
downright enjoyable rest of whatever.

All the best meow,

J



Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: FOUO