Day 235
I have been working on some things that are not ready for posting yet. This will be yet another entry to keep the 365 going. One hundred and thirty days left to go, just over four months.
Some of the stories I have posted will end up in book. It has been a journey of discipline. If I would just sit down and write I could have several books done already. At least this helps.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Just Another Day
Day 234
There's a new restaurant on M-18 north of M-55 next to County 100, Randy's Family Restaurant (formerly BR Guest) is open after some remodeling. I haven't been inside yet so I can't comment on the food or service. I am told it was taken over by the previous owner (Family Restaurant).
Another beautiful day here in Houghton Lake and I didn't make it out fishing. But I have heard the fishing is excellent right now and from the number of very large fish being caught this early, I would say the winter kill was mild. But that was to be expected after the short number of days we had ice on the lake.
There's still plenty of season left so I will get out there and I look forward to sharing some great pictures and stories with you.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
There's a new restaurant on M-18 north of M-55 next to County 100, Randy's Family Restaurant (formerly BR Guest) is open after some remodeling. I haven't been inside yet so I can't comment on the food or service. I am told it was taken over by the previous owner (Family Restaurant).
Another beautiful day here in Houghton Lake and I didn't make it out fishing. But I have heard the fishing is excellent right now and from the number of very large fish being caught this early, I would say the winter kill was mild. But that was to be expected after the short number of days we had ice on the lake.
There's still plenty of season left so I will get out there and I look forward to sharing some great pictures and stories with you.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Papa's Key of Life...Revisited
Day 233
Due to recent events in my life, I decided to post this story again.
Due to recent events in my life, I decided to post this story again.
Papa's
Key of Life
by
Kenneth
A. Stephenson
He
walked up the center aisle past the rows of gunmetal gray folding
chairs. His steps were slow and deliberate like the pendulum of a
clock. Eyes downcast, watching as first one shoe would appear then
the other. There was a small scuff mark on the left toe, it would
have to be buffed out. Looking up he saw the bronze metal casket with
golden handles. The right half was closed and draped in a blanket of
red roses. The left half was open showing the ruffled, lily white
satin liner. His mind drifted back to just a few weeks ago.
“Papa,
why do people die?”
The
old man hesitated a moment and then continued to shuffle forward down
the hall until he and the boy were standing in front of the dusty
grandfather clock. He opened the glass door on the front, reached
down and picked up the key. He reached up, opened the clock face and
inserted the key. The boy could here the sharp click, click, click as
Papa wound the clock spring. The key was placed back in the body of
the clock and with a gentle nudge the pendulum started to swing side
to side in a slow hypnotic rhythm. Papa turned to the boy with a
thoughtful expression.
“People
are very much like this old grandfather clock. When we are born an
angel comes down from heaven with a key. The key of life.”
They
walked back to the study and Papa sat down in his favorite chair next
to the fireplace. The boy climbed up into his lap and snuggled into
the crook of his arm.
“The
angel inserts the key right here”, he said pointing to the boys
belly button. “You see? Then the angel gives it a turn and winds up
the life spring inside us. When the spring of life winds down our
souls are set free, like a moth leaves it's cocoon and then flies
away. How long we live depends on how many turns of the key we
receive.”
The
boys mother took his hand in hers bringing back to the present. She
wiped away a tear. The boy peered over the side of the casket. It
looked wrong somehow. This was not his Papa. This looked more like a
department store mannequin, plastic and cold. He remembered what his
Papa had told him. This was just a cocoon, the soul had already
departed.
His
mother smiled and said, “Your Papa loved roses.”
The
boy watched the delicate wings flex next to a red petal.
“He
sure does.”
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, June 27, 2016
Why?...A Poem
Day 232
Why?
by
Kenneth A. Stephenson
Why?
Did you feel I didn't care?
Did you feel unloved?
Did you carry a secret, so hideous,
I wouldn't understand?
Could you truly have believed
You were completely alone?
You wouldn't trust me to understand.
What could I have done?
Should I have done
Something different?
Could I have done more?
I will try to make sense of this,
But I will never understand.
You are gone.
And I will never know why.
You are gone.
Why?
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Fishing With My Dad
Day 231
In his twenties, my father was an avid sportsman. He would hunt in Michigan's upper peninsula. Using an an old, rundown, travel trailer for base camp.
I never heard what had happened to the hunting camp or the trailer. I suspect it may have been left on
state owned land, or that it had deteriorated to the point it wasn't useful anymore. I believe someone either assumed control of the hunting spot, or stripped the trailer for the valuable metals.
My father also loved to go fishing. He would go fishing for anything; fishing for salmon with a hook to smelt dipping with a net. If we had lived in southern California, I'm sure, he would have walked the beaches at midnight when the grunion were running.
He had several tackle boxes filled with various sized lures, jigheads, hooks, sinkers, leaders. ect. A dozen fishing poles from a cane pole to a deep water rod and reel. He had a hand held ice fishing paddle, nothing more than twenty yards of fishing line wrapped around a rectangular piece of wood. Many far north tribes fish this way with very light (2 lb.) fishing line. Fish don't have much fight when they are cold. Just wrap the line once around your finger and wait for the tug. Then just pull the line up by hand wrapping it around the piece of wood as you go.
Like many sportsman, he tried get his wife (my mother) involved in the hopes she would love doing these things also. She didn't. Like many spouses at that time, she had no interest in the outdoor lifestyle. Then my brothers and I came along.
My oldest brother will talk about going fishing with my dad, for salmon and other large game fish. By the time I came along, ten years later, dad was in his thirties and slowing down. No more wading into a cold river for salmon or trolling for walleye (I never caught a walleye until I was fifty-three).We went after panfish, primarily perch. Although we did occasionally catch a rock bass or bluegill.
Dad would wake my middle brother and I at 4:30 am (by this time my oldest brother had flown the coop), so we could get to Anchor Bay before sunrise. Anchor Bay was the northeast section of Lake St Clair near Detroit. When we arrived at the bait shop/boat launch, dad would buy three dozen shiny minnows and two dozen fat nightcrawlers.
We usually went fishing in the late summer and early fall. The reason being that the boat launch was in a canal and lake access was under a small road overpass. We had gone fishing one time in the spring. We almost didn't make it out of the canal. A combination of winter runoff and morning high tide made it near impossible to get under the bridge and into the lake. We made it but just barely.
By the time I was old enough to be really interested in fishing, my dad was in his mid forties. We always followed the same routine. Drive the boat to a likely spot (one spot was the same as another), drop anchor and setup our two hook fishing rigs (one upper hook, one lower hook).
These rigs known as crappie, perch or panfish rigs, were made to be dropped to the bottom using a lead weight called a sinker. Then you would hold the line taught so you could feel a fish hit (bite) the bait. AA slight jerk and the fish would be on the hook ready to be reeled in.
Dad would hook his minnows through the back. I would cut off a two inch piece of worm and thread it onto my hooks with a small piece hanging off the end.
We would stay on the lake from 6 am to 4 pm. Mom made us sandwiches and dad would buy some pop and candy bars at the bait shop. If we were hungry we ate a sandwich or a candy bar.
On an average day I would catch a dozen fish. Several big enough to keep. If my dad caught half a dozen it was a great day. I'm not trying to say I was a better fisherman. We just had two different fishing styles. I would constantly bounce my sinker on the bottom causing my bait to move up and down (later I would find out this was called 'jigging').
My dad would bait his hooks, drop them down to the bottom, set his rod and reel down on the boat with the tip hanging over the side. Then, he would adjust the boat seat so he could lay back and pull his fishing cap down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He would claim he was watching the tip of the rod. When a fish bites, the tip twitches.
About thirty to forty minutes later, he would push back his cap, stretch and yawn. Suddenly he would lunge for his fishing pole. "Damn," he would exclaim. "It got away." Then he would reel up his rig and the hooks would be bare, both minnows gone. "Well, they got my bait."
Through suppressed laughter I would tell him, "Dad. The fish stole your bait, ten minutes after you fell asleep."
"I was not sleeping. Anyway you haven't caught any fish either."
"You were snoring so loud, you scared the fish away."
Today my oldest brother has a pontoon boat kept a marina on Houghton Lake. When the weather is right we head out on the lake. Many is the day we reminisce about fishing with our dad and how much he would have loved fishing from the pontoon boat. Especially with the fish finder.
He probably wouldn't have caught any more fish than he used to, but at least he would have been a lot more comfortable waiting for his fishing pole to twitch.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
In his twenties, my father was an avid sportsman. He would hunt in Michigan's upper peninsula. Using an an old, rundown, travel trailer for base camp.
I never heard what had happened to the hunting camp or the trailer. I suspect it may have been left on
My father also loved to go fishing. He would go fishing for anything; fishing for salmon with a hook to smelt dipping with a net. If we had lived in southern California, I'm sure, he would have walked the beaches at midnight when the grunion were running.
He had several tackle boxes filled with various sized lures, jigheads, hooks, sinkers, leaders. ect. A dozen fishing poles from a cane pole to a deep water rod and reel. He had a hand held ice fishing paddle, nothing more than twenty yards of fishing line wrapped around a rectangular piece of wood. Many far north tribes fish this way with very light (2 lb.) fishing line. Fish don't have much fight when they are cold. Just wrap the line once around your finger and wait for the tug. Then just pull the line up by hand wrapping it around the piece of wood as you go.
Like many sportsman, he tried get his wife (my mother) involved in the hopes she would love doing these things also. She didn't. Like many spouses at that time, she had no interest in the outdoor lifestyle. Then my brothers and I came along.
My oldest brother will talk about going fishing with my dad, for salmon and other large game fish. By the time I came along, ten years later, dad was in his thirties and slowing down. No more wading into a cold river for salmon or trolling for walleye (I never caught a walleye until I was fifty-three).We went after panfish, primarily perch. Although we did occasionally catch a rock bass or bluegill.
Dad would wake my middle brother and I at 4:30 am (by this time my oldest brother had flown the coop), so we could get to Anchor Bay before sunrise. Anchor Bay was the northeast section of Lake St Clair near Detroit. When we arrived at the bait shop/boat launch, dad would buy three dozen shiny minnows and two dozen fat nightcrawlers.
We usually went fishing in the late summer and early fall. The reason being that the boat launch was in a canal and lake access was under a small road overpass. We had gone fishing one time in the spring. We almost didn't make it out of the canal. A combination of winter runoff and morning high tide made it near impossible to get under the bridge and into the lake. We made it but just barely.
These rigs known as crappie, perch or panfish rigs, were made to be dropped to the bottom using a lead weight called a sinker. Then you would hold the line taught so you could feel a fish hit (bite) the bait. AA slight jerk and the fish would be on the hook ready to be reeled in.
Dad would hook his minnows through the back. I would cut off a two inch piece of worm and thread it onto my hooks with a small piece hanging off the end.
We would stay on the lake from 6 am to 4 pm. Mom made us sandwiches and dad would buy some pop and candy bars at the bait shop. If we were hungry we ate a sandwich or a candy bar.
On an average day I would catch a dozen fish. Several big enough to keep. If my dad caught half a dozen it was a great day. I'm not trying to say I was a better fisherman. We just had two different fishing styles. I would constantly bounce my sinker on the bottom causing my bait to move up and down (later I would find out this was called 'jigging').
My dad would bait his hooks, drop them down to the bottom, set his rod and reel down on the boat with the tip hanging over the side. Then, he would adjust the boat seat so he could lay back and pull his fishing cap down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He would claim he was watching the tip of the rod. When a fish bites, the tip twitches.
About thirty to forty minutes later, he would push back his cap, stretch and yawn. Suddenly he would lunge for his fishing pole. "Damn," he would exclaim. "It got away." Then he would reel up his rig and the hooks would be bare, both minnows gone. "Well, they got my bait."
Through suppressed laughter I would tell him, "Dad. The fish stole your bait, ten minutes after you fell asleep."
"I was not sleeping. Anyway you haven't caught any fish either."
"You were snoring so loud, you scared the fish away."
Today my oldest brother has a pontoon boat kept a marina on Houghton Lake. When the weather is right we head out on the lake. Many is the day we reminisce about fishing with our dad and how much he would have loved fishing from the pontoon boat. Especially with the fish finder.
He probably wouldn't have caught any more fish than he used to, but at least he would have been a lot more comfortable waiting for his fishing pole to twitch.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Houghton Lake Fourth of July
Day 230
The fourth of July is just over a week away. So I thought I would give you a heads up on what's happening around Houghton Lake and surrounding areas next weekend.
Fireworks displays:
The fourth of July is just over a week away. So I thought I would give you a heads up on what's happening around Houghton Lake and surrounding areas next weekend.
Fireworks displays:
- Houghton Lake...Sunday July 3, 2016 at Southwest corner of lake at the Houghton Lake Airport at dusk.
- Higgins Lake/Roscommon...Monday July 4, 2016 at the Fireman's Training Grounds at 10:15pm
- St Helen...Saturday July 2, 2016 at Airport off Airport Rd at dusk.
NCAC Craft Show July 1-3 in Houghton Lake.
EAA Fly-In at Houghton Lake State Airport on July 2
Pig Roast and Car Show at Jimmy's Collision July 3
Lake James boat parade July 3
I believe both St Helen and Roscommon have 4th of July parades but I can't find any info.
C'mon up and see us. Do some fishing and play some golf (traditional or disc). We'd love to see ya.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, June 24, 2016
Life is Like a Spinning Wheel
Day 229
I have so much that needs to be done. And I don't want to do any of it. I need to cut the grass, correction, I need to cut the weeds. The grass doesn't grow much.
I need to replace a window on the front of my mobile home. I've had a plywood sheet covering the opening all winter and my place is starting to look like a trailer park trailer.
The deck needs to be refinished but with the luck my brother has had with his, I'm afraid it would be a waste of time and money. First, he tried Thompsons, it contained wax that melted on hot summer days and lasted one year. Then he tried a highly touted, and expensive, solid stain that didn't last a year before it started to peel off.
I haven't put my two man boat in the water yet. With my breathing issues the past few months I fear I won't be able to load the boat back into my truck without gasping for breath. Some good Samaritan might think I'm having a heart attack and call 911.
I've been eating too much of the wrong foods and I have no energy.
I start each day with good intentions. I eat breakfast. I feel tired. I take a nap. I wake up feeling worse than when I went to sleep. I drink coffee trying to revive. I eat lunch and take another nap. I get up and drink more coffee. I'm getting jittery from the coffee.
Somehow find the energy to get to the mailbox and back. I need to rest in my recliner. I fall asleep. I wake up and have dinner. After dinner I want to sleep but if I do I won't be able to sleep tonight.
Around 8 pm I wake up. The day is over. Too late to do any work. I watch TV.
Eleven pm is bed time. I take some Nyquil to help me sleep. I read a book until I stay awake.
I get up in the morning with good intentions. My life is like a spinning wheel, spinning around and around but going nowhere.
OMG! I'm a reality TV show.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I have so much that needs to be done. And I don't want to do any of it. I need to cut the grass, correction, I need to cut the weeds. The grass doesn't grow much.
I need to replace a window on the front of my mobile home. I've had a plywood sheet covering the opening all winter and my place is starting to look like a trailer park trailer.
The deck needs to be refinished but with the luck my brother has had with his, I'm afraid it would be a waste of time and money. First, he tried Thompsons, it contained wax that melted on hot summer days and lasted one year. Then he tried a highly touted, and expensive, solid stain that didn't last a year before it started to peel off.
I haven't put my two man boat in the water yet. With my breathing issues the past few months I fear I won't be able to load the boat back into my truck without gasping for breath. Some good Samaritan might think I'm having a heart attack and call 911.
I've been eating too much of the wrong foods and I have no energy.
I start each day with good intentions. I eat breakfast. I feel tired. I take a nap. I wake up feeling worse than when I went to sleep. I drink coffee trying to revive. I eat lunch and take another nap. I get up and drink more coffee. I'm getting jittery from the coffee.
Somehow find the energy to get to the mailbox and back. I need to rest in my recliner. I fall asleep. I wake up and have dinner. After dinner I want to sleep but if I do I won't be able to sleep tonight.
Around 8 pm I wake up. The day is over. Too late to do any work. I watch TV.
Eleven pm is bed time. I take some Nyquil to help me sleep. I read a book until I stay awake.
I get up in the morning with good intentions. My life is like a spinning wheel, spinning around and around but going nowhere.
OMG! I'm a reality TV show.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Unrequited Love
Day 227
Have you ever been in a relationship that you knew was bad for you? A relationship with someone who didn't care for you no matter how much you loved that person? You knew you should just stay away and move on. But you just kept coming back.
I have that relationship with pizza.
I love pizza. When it's time to pick up pizza and bring it home, I can hardly wait. I know pizza is not good for me. Pizza doesn't make me stop eating it when I have had enough. It makes me gain weight. I can't motivate myself to exercise after eating pizza.
Pizza does not love me the way I love it. If I don't get to Little Caesars soon enough, pizza may go off with someone else.
Pizza never stays overnight, it is always gone by morning. Pizza never leaves a note.
Pizza never calls me. I have to call for pizza.
Every time pizza is gone I swear it will be the last time. But I find myself missing pizza and soon I just have to have pizza one more time.
My name is Ken. And I am a pizzaholic. It has been twenty minutes since the last time I had pizza and I am sooo full.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Have you ever been in a relationship that you knew was bad for you? A relationship with someone who didn't care for you no matter how much you loved that person? You knew you should just stay away and move on. But you just kept coming back.
I have that relationship with pizza.
I love pizza. When it's time to pick up pizza and bring it home, I can hardly wait. I know pizza is not good for me. Pizza doesn't make me stop eating it when I have had enough. It makes me gain weight. I can't motivate myself to exercise after eating pizza.
Pizza does not love me the way I love it. If I don't get to Little Caesars soon enough, pizza may go off with someone else.
Pizza never stays overnight, it is always gone by morning. Pizza never leaves a note.
Pizza never calls me. I have to call for pizza.
Every time pizza is gone I swear it will be the last time. But I find myself missing pizza and soon I just have to have pizza one more time.
My name is Ken. And I am a pizzaholic. It has been twenty minutes since the last time I had pizza and I am sooo full.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
World War Z is the Pitts
Day 226
Recently I read that actor Brad Pitts top grossing movie was World War Z, as in zombie. I can't understand what's with the zombie mania?
I guess when you think about what has happened to vampires and werewolves lately (they're just misunderstood). Seems these creatures of the night are now our best friends and protectors. Protection against what you ask? Other bad vampires and werewolves.
I guess we just need a monster that's still a monster. Like zombies.
But wait, there are now zombie movies in which the creature tries to recapture it's humanity. How you ask? By protecting normal humans from the other flesh eating zombies. WTF!
So back to Worlds War Z. It only takes 12 seconds, after you are bitten, to join the zombie ranks. And instead of mindlessly stumbling around, they are now world class sprinters. But the worst part of this movie is, they never explain where the virus came from. How did this all start?
I guess as long as the zombies are killing and infecting and destroying civilization, that's what matters most. Wow.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Recently I read that actor Brad Pitts top grossing movie was World War Z, as in zombie. I can't understand what's with the zombie mania?
I guess when you think about what has happened to vampires and werewolves lately (they're just misunderstood). Seems these creatures of the night are now our best friends and protectors. Protection against what you ask? Other bad vampires and werewolves.
I guess we just need a monster that's still a monster. Like zombies.
But wait, there are now zombie movies in which the creature tries to recapture it's humanity. How you ask? By protecting normal humans from the other flesh eating zombies. WTF!
So back to Worlds War Z. It only takes 12 seconds, after you are bitten, to join the zombie ranks. And instead of mindlessly stumbling around, they are now world class sprinters. But the worst part of this movie is, they never explain where the virus came from. How did this all start?
I guess as long as the zombies are killing and infecting and destroying civilization, that's what matters most. Wow.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, June 20, 2016
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Keep Your Shirt On
Day 224
I have a small female cat. She's so small that when I first met her I thought she was about 6 months old. So I called her Baby Cat. Turns out, she was full grown.
She just showed up one day as I was feeding my other cats. As you might guess she was plenty skinny. Every time I tried to get close to her she would run off a ways, turn to face me and sit down. So I left her some food and water outside, then watching from the kitchen window, I saw her eat every bit of the food and drink some water.
Some days later, my other cats were coming inside and she followed them into the house. For several years she wouldn't let me pet her. When I tried she would give me a warning bite and move off to hide under an end table or behind the couch by the wall.
That was ten years ago. She has gotten older, mellower and very affectionate. She get's in the way when I'm working at my computer because she wants to be petted and brushed. When I'm sitting back in my Lazy Boy she'll stretch up my side and rub her face on my cheek and lay there while I stroke her fur. I call this a "kitty hug". Quite a change from her younger days.
We have been having a heat wave here in Houghton Lake. Near ninety degrees the past few days. Of course, my air conditioner broke down last year at the end of summer so I let it go and didn't replace it. Now I'm roasting wearing nothing but my shorts.
Baby Cat came over to me today and started to crawl up on me. This was the first time she ever tried to hug me without my shirt on, with a shirt on the claws hurt less. She put one paw on me and pulled it back, then she tried the other and pulled that back. She jumped down and walked away.
Just another female telling me to keep my shirt on. How depressing.
I have a small female cat. She's so small that when I first met her I thought she was about 6 months old. So I called her Baby Cat. Turns out, she was full grown.
She just showed up one day as I was feeding my other cats. As you might guess she was plenty skinny. Every time I tried to get close to her she would run off a ways, turn to face me and sit down. So I left her some food and water outside, then watching from the kitchen window, I saw her eat every bit of the food and drink some water.
Some days later, my other cats were coming inside and she followed them into the house. For several years she wouldn't let me pet her. When I tried she would give me a warning bite and move off to hide under an end table or behind the couch by the wall.
That was ten years ago. She has gotten older, mellower and very affectionate. She get's in the way when I'm working at my computer because she wants to be petted and brushed. When I'm sitting back in my Lazy Boy she'll stretch up my side and rub her face on my cheek and lay there while I stroke her fur. I call this a "kitty hug". Quite a change from her younger days.
We have been having a heat wave here in Houghton Lake. Near ninety degrees the past few days. Of course, my air conditioner broke down last year at the end of summer so I let it go and didn't replace it. Now I'm roasting wearing nothing but my shorts.
Baby Cat came over to me today and started to crawl up on me. This was the first time she ever tried to hug me without my shirt on, with a shirt on the claws hurt less. She put one paw on me and pulled it back, then she tried the other and pulled that back. She jumped down and walked away.
Just another female telling me to keep my shirt on. How depressing.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
St Helen for Bluegill Fishing & Festival
Day 223
You know it's hot out when the Houghton Lake locals go to Walmart on Saturday because it's air conditioned. Not to buy air conditioners mind you, just to get cooled off before going back home.
It was a perfect weekend for BBQ's. Hot, dry and sunny with just a slight breeze.
Word is the fishing has improved over the past week. Bluegill have started to bite. If you've never caught a bluegill your really missing out. They great eating. Plus once per once they are the hardest fighters in the lakes. Many people like to fish for bass for the fight, bass grow to be several pounds.
If you can get your hook into a 10" bluegill, you'll believe you have a 15" bass on the line. And as I said the bluegill is great eating, not so the bass.
Lake St. Helen (just a short trip east of Houghton Lake) is known for some of the best bluegill fishing and even has a festival in honor of the feisty fish. This year the festival is July 14-17. For more info click here St Helen Bluegill Festival 2016.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
You know it's hot out when the Houghton Lake locals go to Walmart on Saturday because it's air conditioned. Not to buy air conditioners mind you, just to get cooled off before going back home.
It was a perfect weekend for BBQ's. Hot, dry and sunny with just a slight breeze.
Word is the fishing has improved over the past week. Bluegill have started to bite. If you've never caught a bluegill your really missing out. They great eating. Plus once per once they are the hardest fighters in the lakes. Many people like to fish for bass for the fight, bass grow to be several pounds.
If you can get your hook into a 10" bluegill, you'll believe you have a 15" bass on the line. And as I said the bluegill is great eating, not so the bass.
Lake St. Helen (just a short trip east of Houghton Lake) is known for some of the best bluegill fishing and even has a festival in honor of the feisty fish. This year the festival is July 14-17. For more info click here St Helen Bluegill Festival 2016.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, June 17, 2016
Failure to Launch
Day 222
The fear of using public restrooms.
It was a long weekend. Memorial day weekend if I remember correctly. I was stationed at the USN Sonar school in San Diego, California. We has a twenty day duty rotation (I only had to stay on base for guard duty once every 20 days). My friend Jimmy and I had Monday off from classes, so we decided to head down to Mexico.
Tijuana was old hat by this time and we were itching for something new. There was a popular beer in the area called Hussongs. The commercials spoke of a cantina by the same name in Ensenada, Mexico, with a crazy parrot that flew around buzzing the customers heads. Ensenada was only about a 45 minute ride south of Tijuana and we jumped at the chance to check it out.
At the time, I had a Dodge conversion van with a couch that folded down into a bed in the back and an ice box. We took a couple of bottles of water, a change of clothes and a toothbrush. We expected to get a room at the Holiday Inn when we got there. If not we could sleep in the van.
It was over two hours when we arrived in Ensenada. Due to the holiday weekend, there was heavy traffic at the border crossing. Also the road to Ensenada was a toll road and we had to stop every few miles to pay the toll.
When we arrived in Ensenada there was tons of traffic. Surprising since there was so little traffic on the toll road. Upon entering town I found out two unpleasant things. First, there was a cruise ship in town for a couple of days and all the motel rooms were booked. Second, Jimmy needed to take a crap and had been holding it for the past two hours, waiting to use the bathroom in our motel room.
Near the outskirts of town I found an open parking spot in front of a local bar. We went inside, ordered a beer and I went to the men's room. Jimmy was sitting at a table in the front looking uncomfortable. We were the only Americans in the place. After a couple of minutes the regulars went back to their drinks.
I asked my buddy about using the men's room and he told me he would wait. He said the men's was probably dirty and full of germs, refusing to use it even after I told him it was clean. He wouldn't budge. We drank up and resumed our search for a motel room.
Stuck in traffic again and about to give up on getting a room for the night, we started to think about going. I didn't want to since we had driven all the way down here. At least we could find Hussong's and have a drink and maybe Jimmy's need for relief, would overcome his public bathroom phobia.
When we found Hussong's Cantina, a kid on a bicycle stopped to ask if we needed a parking spot. I said, "What we really need is a motel room."
He told me to follow him and took off, fearlessly weaving through traffic. He stopped at the next intersection, waving me on. We turned left went a few streets over and turned right. He stopped and told me to wait there. He ran inside the building. When he came back out, he told me to pull through the arches on my right and park. It was a parking lot with about a slots slots.
We went inside and the boy explained that he had told the lady at the front desk we were OK to rent a room to. Seems we weren't the first american servicemen to stay here. Behind the reception desk was a round dark skinned woman with suspicious eyes. She told us that due to the holiday weekend the rooms were at a premium price.
I clutched my wallet trying to remember how much money I had and said, " One night."
Now I'll be honest. I was expecting her to say something north of one hundred for the night plus tax. She looked down at the counter top and said, "Twelve dollars american for the night."
I thought I had misunderstood as she gave me a stern look and said, "Twelve dollars american."
Now it was my turn to be suspicious. I asked if we could see the room first. For twelve dollars a night I thought the room would covered with water stains from the leaky roof and we would be sharing a bed with several other guests. Or worse rats and roaches.
We were very pleasantly surprised. There were two twin beds with different color bed spreads but they were clean and neatly made up. There was a carafe with two galasses in the room and a five gallon bottle water dispenser in the hall. The only thing wrong was the shower curtain was missing. No doubt stolen or torn down by a previous guest. Navy or Marine?
Jimmy asked for a different room, one with a shower curtain. We paid the woman and gave a two dollar tip to the street kid who had brought us here. He took off on his bike to tell his friends. We went up to the room.
I fumbled with the keys for a few minutes before finally unlocking and opening the door. Jimmy made a beeline for the bathroom, trying to hold his butt cheeks together. Relief was just moments away.
Of all the sounds I expected to hear coming from the bathroom, weeping was not one of them.
"This place is plenty clean? There's a nice clean shower curtain. So what's the problem?" I asked.
"The toilet seat."
"What's wrong with the toilet seat?"
"It's missing."
They could hear me laughing all the way back in San Diego.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
The fear of using public restrooms.
It was a long weekend. Memorial day weekend if I remember correctly. I was stationed at the USN Sonar school in San Diego, California. We has a twenty day duty rotation (I only had to stay on base for guard duty once every 20 days). My friend Jimmy and I had Monday off from classes, so we decided to head down to Mexico.
Tijuana was old hat by this time and we were itching for something new. There was a popular beer in the area called Hussongs. The commercials spoke of a cantina by the same name in Ensenada, Mexico, with a crazy parrot that flew around buzzing the customers heads. Ensenada was only about a 45 minute ride south of Tijuana and we jumped at the chance to check it out.
At the time, I had a Dodge conversion van with a couch that folded down into a bed in the back and an ice box. We took a couple of bottles of water, a change of clothes and a toothbrush. We expected to get a room at the Holiday Inn when we got there. If not we could sleep in the van.
It was over two hours when we arrived in Ensenada. Due to the holiday weekend, there was heavy traffic at the border crossing. Also the road to Ensenada was a toll road and we had to stop every few miles to pay the toll.
When we arrived in Ensenada there was tons of traffic. Surprising since there was so little traffic on the toll road. Upon entering town I found out two unpleasant things. First, there was a cruise ship in town for a couple of days and all the motel rooms were booked. Second, Jimmy needed to take a crap and had been holding it for the past two hours, waiting to use the bathroom in our motel room.
Near the outskirts of town I found an open parking spot in front of a local bar. We went inside, ordered a beer and I went to the men's room. Jimmy was sitting at a table in the front looking uncomfortable. We were the only Americans in the place. After a couple of minutes the regulars went back to their drinks.
I asked my buddy about using the men's room and he told me he would wait. He said the men's was probably dirty and full of germs, refusing to use it even after I told him it was clean. He wouldn't budge. We drank up and resumed our search for a motel room.
Stuck in traffic again and about to give up on getting a room for the night, we started to think about going. I didn't want to since we had driven all the way down here. At least we could find Hussong's and have a drink and maybe Jimmy's need for relief, would overcome his public bathroom phobia.
When we found Hussong's Cantina, a kid on a bicycle stopped to ask if we needed a parking spot. I said, "What we really need is a motel room."
He told me to follow him and took off, fearlessly weaving through traffic. He stopped at the next intersection, waving me on. We turned left went a few streets over and turned right. He stopped and told me to wait there. He ran inside the building. When he came back out, he told me to pull through the arches on my right and park. It was a parking lot with about a slots slots.
We went inside and the boy explained that he had told the lady at the front desk we were OK to rent a room to. Seems we weren't the first american servicemen to stay here. Behind the reception desk was a round dark skinned woman with suspicious eyes. She told us that due to the holiday weekend the rooms were at a premium price.
I clutched my wallet trying to remember how much money I had and said, " One night."
Now I'll be honest. I was expecting her to say something north of one hundred for the night plus tax. She looked down at the counter top and said, "Twelve dollars american for the night."
I thought I had misunderstood as she gave me a stern look and said, "Twelve dollars american."
Now it was my turn to be suspicious. I asked if we could see the room first. For twelve dollars a night I thought the room would covered with water stains from the leaky roof and we would be sharing a bed with several other guests. Or worse rats and roaches.
We were very pleasantly surprised. There were two twin beds with different color bed spreads but they were clean and neatly made up. There was a carafe with two galasses in the room and a five gallon bottle water dispenser in the hall. The only thing wrong was the shower curtain was missing. No doubt stolen or torn down by a previous guest. Navy or Marine?
Jimmy asked for a different room, one with a shower curtain. We paid the woman and gave a two dollar tip to the street kid who had brought us here. He took off on his bike to tell his friends. We went up to the room.
I fumbled with the keys for a few minutes before finally unlocking and opening the door. Jimmy made a beeline for the bathroom, trying to hold his butt cheeks together. Relief was just moments away.
Of all the sounds I expected to hear coming from the bathroom, weeping was not one of them.
"This place is plenty clean? There's a nice clean shower curtain. So what's the problem?" I asked.
"The toilet seat."
"What's wrong with the toilet seat?"
"It's missing."
They could hear me laughing all the way back in San Diego.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Legend of the Night Baker
Day 221
On Comsublant, Squadron 4, SSN fast attack submarines, Friday was also known as "slider" day. This was in reference to the small, round hockey puck lookin', pre-formed and frozen, hamburger patties the galley served for lunch. These browned discs also called gut bombs and bowel burglars, were suspected of being made from something other than beef. Possibly horse. but at least partially, if not mostly, soy filler.
There were approximately 90 enlisted on board the ship at any given time. I can tell you this now. All of the Sturgeon 637 class submarines have been decommissioned and the information is no longer classified.
All of my blood, sweat, shit, piss, and precious "time on board" is just a ghost of a memory. as the ships have been cut up for scrap. All of the gags I pulled, the orders I disobeyed, the humorous log entries I made, songs I sang, letters I wrote and friends I made, my brothers in arms, all just memories.
I didn't receive credit for some of the things I did (example: worked all weekend when I had liberty because the other 209 tech, left the ship early) and received the blame for things I hadn't done (example: panty raid, Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico. 1984, not mine).
What was I talking about? Oh yes, 90 men on board. Lunch was from 11 am to 12 pm. No earlier, no later. Ninety men had one hour to eat and the mess decks could only seat 18 men at a time. You would double down on sliders and fries and get out so the next guy could get in and eat.
If you liked your sliders with cheese, you would wait for a fresh platter full to come out of the galley. They stacked twelve burgers on a platter, one platter for each table. The top burgers would have double cheese, both on the top and on the bottom, as the cheese from the burger beneath it would always stick to the bottom of the one on top. If you missed out there was plenty of cheese stuck to the platter.
We had burgers every Friday, in port or at sea. In port we had perishable foods such as baked goods (breads, doughnuts, etc.) delivered daily. When we went to sea, fruits, vegetables and milk were consumed quickly, usually within ten days. We would get no more until we made port again. Baked goods would be made onboard.
At sea the 2 man mess crews worked in two twelve hour shifts. The night shift setup for the next days meals and did the baking. Baking on board was done from scratch and was mostly edible, sometimes just barely.
Before I go any further, let me say this, I had a lot of respect for the cooks. It was my privilege to work along side them for the first one hundred and ten days I was attached to my first ship. It was called "cranking". I was a dishwasher. I saw first hand the abuse and insults they would take from some of the grumpy Gus's on board, who wouldn't have been happy even if their own mothers had done the cooking.
Baking from scratch takes a special talent. Like playing sports or a musical instrument, not everyone can do it. In my six years in the navy I only met one exceptional baker.
He was a big, burly 1st class petty officer, who had avoided going to sea for the 12 years he had been enlisted. Unusual, but not impossible.
Let me tell you this guy could bake. His yeast dinner rolls were golden and flaky, his cakes moist and
his slider buns were absolute heaven. They reminded me of holidays when my grandmother would cook all day and make a dinner worth waiting for all year.
Sadly, he was only on board our ship for two months when an admiral came aboard ship for a sit down with the captain and stayed for dinner. You might guess who was cooking. Two days later he was promoted to chief petty officer.
As a general rule when someone is promoted to chief petty officer they are transferred to a new billet. Our baker was transferred to the admirals personal staff as his personal cook.
The whole crew was devastated by our loss. He was with us such a short time. But that is how legends are made.
For the two months before that, we were in bakers heaven.
Such was the way of things in the navy.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
There were approximately 90 enlisted on board the ship at any given time. I can tell you this now. All of the Sturgeon 637 class submarines have been decommissioned and the information is no longer classified.
All of my blood, sweat, shit, piss, and precious "time on board" is just a ghost of a memory. as the ships have been cut up for scrap. All of the gags I pulled, the orders I disobeyed, the humorous log entries I made, songs I sang, letters I wrote and friends I made, my brothers in arms, all just memories.
I didn't receive credit for some of the things I did (example: worked all weekend when I had liberty because the other 209 tech, left the ship early) and received the blame for things I hadn't done (example: panty raid, Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico. 1984, not mine).
What was I talking about? Oh yes, 90 men on board. Lunch was from 11 am to 12 pm. No earlier, no later. Ninety men had one hour to eat and the mess decks could only seat 18 men at a time. You would double down on sliders and fries and get out so the next guy could get in and eat.
If you liked your sliders with cheese, you would wait for a fresh platter full to come out of the galley. They stacked twelve burgers on a platter, one platter for each table. The top burgers would have double cheese, both on the top and on the bottom, as the cheese from the burger beneath it would always stick to the bottom of the one on top. If you missed out there was plenty of cheese stuck to the platter.
We had burgers every Friday, in port or at sea. In port we had perishable foods such as baked goods (breads, doughnuts, etc.) delivered daily. When we went to sea, fruits, vegetables and milk were consumed quickly, usually within ten days. We would get no more until we made port again. Baked goods would be made onboard.
At sea the 2 man mess crews worked in two twelve hour shifts. The night shift setup for the next days meals and did the baking. Baking on board was done from scratch and was mostly edible, sometimes just barely.
Before I go any further, let me say this, I had a lot of respect for the cooks. It was my privilege to work along side them for the first one hundred and ten days I was attached to my first ship. It was called "cranking". I was a dishwasher. I saw first hand the abuse and insults they would take from some of the grumpy Gus's on board, who wouldn't have been happy even if their own mothers had done the cooking.
Baking from scratch takes a special talent. Like playing sports or a musical instrument, not everyone can do it. In my six years in the navy I only met one exceptional baker.
He was a big, burly 1st class petty officer, who had avoided going to sea for the 12 years he had been enlisted. Unusual, but not impossible.
Let me tell you this guy could bake. His yeast dinner rolls were golden and flaky, his cakes moist and
Sadly, he was only on board our ship for two months when an admiral came aboard ship for a sit down with the captain and stayed for dinner. You might guess who was cooking. Two days later he was promoted to chief petty officer.
As a general rule when someone is promoted to chief petty officer they are transferred to a new billet. Our baker was transferred to the admirals personal staff as his personal cook.
The whole crew was devastated by our loss. He was with us such a short time. But that is how legends are made.
For the two months before that, we were in bakers heaven.
Such was the way of things in the navy.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
The Hole in the Wall
Day 220
I was commenting on my cousins Facebook post. He lives in Las Vegas and likes to drive his Jeep Wrangler around in the desert. I told him he needed a lake to go fishing and he responded, "No, I need to see what's over the next hill."
That got me thinking of a time when I was driving from Los Angeles, California to Salt Lake City, Utah.
I was hummin' along on a long, flat, ink black ribbon of highway in the middle of one of those deserts out west where most all you can see is sand and rocks. Some scrub brush and maybe a cactus dotting the landscape.
A place where the temperatures are so high, you hope your tires don't melt on the macadam. Where Satan himself can't wait to get back to hell, so he can cool off.
As I was driving along, with the air conditioning on full and barely staying ahead of the heat, out in the distance I saw a rock wall. A very high rock wall. Like the backside of a mountain rock wall. What they call "the face". Rising straight up so high the hawks went around it. And my little two lane was headed right at it.
Now, I know some engineer probably loved doing this. Freaking out people in the middle of a desert into thinking they were on a road to nowhere. As the miles clicked by, I had to wonder if some of the travelers had actually turned around and gone back, worried they couldn't get through.
There were cars, occasionally, coming from the other direction. They had to be coming from somewhere, right? Or were they just cars ahead of me who had to turn back when they reached the wall?
This highway had better go somewhere as I was scheduled to fill up my fuel tanks in Salt Lake City. I kept going. Soon the wall started to move.
Was I hallucinating? That chili dog I had eaten at the last stop did taste a little funky. Then it started working it's way back up. "Better up than down," I thought. There weren't any rest stops out there.
As I closed within a few miles of the rock wall I saw that it was actually two rock walls. The one to the right was nearer to me than the one on the left and the road was curving in between them.
Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and their hide out "the hole in the wall" it was impossible to see, unless you were close enough and knew where to look.
Some days that was as exciting as it got on the road. That was alright with me.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I was commenting on my cousins Facebook post. He lives in Las Vegas and likes to drive his Jeep Wrangler around in the desert. I told him he needed a lake to go fishing and he responded, "No, I need to see what's over the next hill."
That got me thinking of a time when I was driving from Los Angeles, California to Salt Lake City, Utah.
I was hummin' along on a long, flat, ink black ribbon of highway in the middle of one of those deserts out west where most all you can see is sand and rocks. Some scrub brush and maybe a cactus dotting the landscape.
A place where the temperatures are so high, you hope your tires don't melt on the macadam. Where Satan himself can't wait to get back to hell, so he can cool off.
As I was driving along, with the air conditioning on full and barely staying ahead of the heat, out in the distance I saw a rock wall. A very high rock wall. Like the backside of a mountain rock wall. What they call "the face". Rising straight up so high the hawks went around it. And my little two lane was headed right at it.
Now, I know some engineer probably loved doing this. Freaking out people in the middle of a desert into thinking they were on a road to nowhere. As the miles clicked by, I had to wonder if some of the travelers had actually turned around and gone back, worried they couldn't get through.
There were cars, occasionally, coming from the other direction. They had to be coming from somewhere, right? Or were they just cars ahead of me who had to turn back when they reached the wall?
This highway had better go somewhere as I was scheduled to fill up my fuel tanks in Salt Lake City. I kept going. Soon the wall started to move.
Was I hallucinating? That chili dog I had eaten at the last stop did taste a little funky. Then it started working it's way back up. "Better up than down," I thought. There weren't any rest stops out there.
As I closed within a few miles of the rock wall I saw that it was actually two rock walls. The one to the right was nearer to me than the one on the left and the road was curving in between them.
Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and their hide out "the hole in the wall" it was impossible to see, unless you were close enough and knew where to look.
Some days that was as exciting as it got on the road. That was alright with me.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Taking the Day Off
Day 219
I'm taking to day off. Three straight nights of at least 8 hours of sleep. Woo-hoo.
Lousy TV tonight. I've been watching old reruns of Criminal Minds all day. Time to read a book.
Picked up a new book at the library today, Beyond the Ice Limit by Lincoln & Child. It's the new Gideon Crew novel. This is a continuation of the novel The Ice Limit about a meteorite that is not what it seems.
The weather has been cool and the winds low. Perfect for fishing but I had other things to attend to yesterday and today.
That's all for now.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I'm taking to day off. Three straight nights of at least 8 hours of sleep. Woo-hoo.
Lousy TV tonight. I've been watching old reruns of Criminal Minds all day. Time to read a book.
Picked up a new book at the library today, Beyond the Ice Limit by Lincoln & Child. It's the new Gideon Crew novel. This is a continuation of the novel The Ice Limit about a meteorite that is not what it seems.
The weather has been cool and the winds low. Perfect for fishing but I had other things to attend to yesterday and today.
That's all for now.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, June 13, 2016
Foxy Baby...
Day 218
I like driving the two lane blacktop. Our main road through town is M-55 and once you get out of Houghton Lake it turns to two lanes heading east to I-75. If you turn off before then you'll be on old M-55 to West Branch.
As I was driving home from my group meeting in West Branch, I saw a small animal, about a hundred yards ahead of me, crossing the road. It was moving gracefully. That eliminated squirrels, rabbits and raccoons. There are no houses in that area but still it looked and acted like a house cat.
As I drove closer, I could just see it's back above the tall grasses.
When I was just about along side I could see not one but three fox pups. The bushy tails were a dead giveaway. They were playing just off the road shoulder.
It's the first time I have ever seen a fox pup in the wild. A reminder of why I moved to this area. Peace of mind, slower life style and wildlife. I love the outdoors.
I thought "if only I had my camera". Fortunately I did not. Unless the mother has been killed, she is always present and protective. Had I stepped out of my car to take pictures, I probably would have had a mother fox latched to my leg, before I could take a picture, or get back in my car.
Anyway, like all animal babies, their very cute and best left alone.
Hint: If you see a baby bison on the road, do not stop and give it a ride.
That's it for tonight.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I like driving the two lane blacktop. Our main road through town is M-55 and once you get out of Houghton Lake it turns to two lanes heading east to I-75. If you turn off before then you'll be on old M-55 to West Branch.
As I drove closer, I could just see it's back above the tall grasses.
When I was just about along side I could see not one but three fox pups. The bushy tails were a dead giveaway. They were playing just off the road shoulder.
It's the first time I have ever seen a fox pup in the wild. A reminder of why I moved to this area. Peace of mind, slower life style and wildlife. I love the outdoors.
I thought "if only I had my camera". Fortunately I did not. Unless the mother has been killed, she is always present and protective. Had I stepped out of my car to take pictures, I probably would have had a mother fox latched to my leg, before I could take a picture, or get back in my car.
Anyway, like all animal babies, their very cute and best left alone.
Hint: If you see a baby bison on the road, do not stop and give it a ride.
That's it for tonight.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Yacht Man...Smell like a...
Day 217
I made a few bucks on Ebay. And I do mean a few. So I used the windfall to purchase some $5.00 cologne.
Five dollars. I'm thinking this stuff must smell like a baboons ass. Spray some on and quickly inhale, that's as long as the scent lasts.
I'm talking $5 including the shipping!
It comes in a cool looking bottle. See left.
I can't wait to try this stuff. It's probably just water, but I guess that would be better than monkey butt.
You wanna know what really frosts my butt? I bought some Calvin Klein Eternity cologne off Ebay about two months ago for $26. Now it's being advertised for $16. I'm getting frost bite on my tushy just thinking about it.
There's a saying, "If you remember the 60's...you weren't there." That must be true of the seventies also. I played a game once about events that happened in different decades. I grew up in the 70's...and I got every question wrong. I just couldn't remember.
I had a great nights sleep last night...I hope I have a repeat tonight. Whoever said "sleep is over rated" must get plenty of it.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Five dollars. I'm thinking this stuff must smell like a baboons ass. Spray some on and quickly inhale, that's as long as the scent lasts.
I'm talking $5 including the shipping!
It comes in a cool looking bottle. See left.
I can't wait to try this stuff. It's probably just water, but I guess that would be better than monkey butt.
You wanna know what really frosts my butt? I bought some Calvin Klein Eternity cologne off Ebay about two months ago for $26. Now it's being advertised for $16. I'm getting frost bite on my tushy just thinking about it.
There's a saying, "If you remember the 60's...you weren't there." That must be true of the seventies also. I played a game once about events that happened in different decades. I grew up in the 70's...and I got every question wrong. I just couldn't remember.
I had a great nights sleep last night...I hope I have a repeat tonight. Whoever said "sleep is over rated" must get plenty of it.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Alternative Life Style...Not For Me
Day 216
Do you remember the alternative bands of the 80's? Bands like The Smiths, The Smithereens, Fine Young Cannibals?
I spent most of the 80's in the Navy. So I wasn't really exposed to much new music. Mostly it was Duran Duran, David Bowie and Hall & Oates. Very main stream (at least in Europe where I spent some time in 1983).
Two of my closest friends back home in Metro Detroit, were getting into the Alternative music scene pretty heavy. They went to clubs in Detroit that specialized in Alternative. So naturally when I came home on leave, they wanted to take me to one of these clubs.
I wasn't into the music they were playing for me on their cassette players, but I was extremely happy to be home for a couple of weeks, so I was up for trying anything they wanted. I would keep an open mind.
It was a Tuesday night and we drove downtown to an area I had never been before (I can honestly say I have never been there since, and you will soon understand why).
Since we were downtown we had to pay for parking in a shabby dirt parking lot stinking of urine. Yet, I was no stranger to the seedier side of night life (or day time life for that matter). The building looked to be an escapee from the cities condemned list. Possibly the landlord payed off the building inspector. It happens.
My bones were throbbing from the deep bass beat, as we paid our cover charge and went inside. The only illumination was from black lights. The walls were covered with smears of florescent paint, like someone dipped a brush and swiped here and there in the dark.
Suddenly multi colored spot lights came up as the music switched to blaring horns, the intro to the famous song YMCA by the Village People. It took but a second to realize the room was wall to wall people.
At first, I didn't see any women. I thought the women must be somewhere to the front, maybe nearer the tables or the bar. As I was looking around, I noticed a young guy sipping an umbrella drink. He looked me up and down and gave me a smile. Suddenly, I was on full alert and soon found out why.
I swung around looking for the exit when I saw a sign saying,"Tues. Gay Night". The umbrella drink guy winked at me. My backside puckered up. You couldn't pull a pin out of my ass with a John Deere tractor. I was rigged for silent running and get the hell out of there. I pointed out the sign to my friends as made a quick retreat.
After arguing unsuccessfully with guy at the door for a refund of our entry fee, we piled back into the car and left. The guys kept swearing to me they didn't know the club had a Gay Night. I reassured them it was OK, their secret was safe with me.
After much ribbing, we went to a nice Irish pub and drank Guinness. Nobody was dancing and there was just one guy playing guitar and singing Irish folk songs. This was more my speed. Slow and steady with a little bit of whimsy.
Today when my buddies start talking about alternative music, I remind them of that night and tell them,"That alternative music, is just not my style".
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Do you remember the alternative bands of the 80's? Bands like The Smiths, The Smithereens, Fine Young Cannibals?
I spent most of the 80's in the Navy. So I wasn't really exposed to much new music. Mostly it was Duran Duran, David Bowie and Hall & Oates. Very main stream (at least in Europe where I spent some time in 1983).
Two of my closest friends back home in Metro Detroit, were getting into the Alternative music scene pretty heavy. They went to clubs in Detroit that specialized in Alternative. So naturally when I came home on leave, they wanted to take me to one of these clubs.
I wasn't into the music they were playing for me on their cassette players, but I was extremely happy to be home for a couple of weeks, so I was up for trying anything they wanted. I would keep an open mind.
It was a Tuesday night and we drove downtown to an area I had never been before (I can honestly say I have never been there since, and you will soon understand why).
Since we were downtown we had to pay for parking in a shabby dirt parking lot stinking of urine. Yet, I was no stranger to the seedier side of night life (or day time life for that matter). The building looked to be an escapee from the cities condemned list. Possibly the landlord payed off the building inspector. It happens.
My bones were throbbing from the deep bass beat, as we paid our cover charge and went inside. The only illumination was from black lights. The walls were covered with smears of florescent paint, like someone dipped a brush and swiped here and there in the dark.
Suddenly multi colored spot lights came up as the music switched to blaring horns, the intro to the famous song YMCA by the Village People. It took but a second to realize the room was wall to wall people.
At first, I didn't see any women. I thought the women must be somewhere to the front, maybe nearer the tables or the bar. As I was looking around, I noticed a young guy sipping an umbrella drink. He looked me up and down and gave me a smile. Suddenly, I was on full alert and soon found out why.
I swung around looking for the exit when I saw a sign saying,"Tues. Gay Night". The umbrella drink guy winked at me. My backside puckered up. You couldn't pull a pin out of my ass with a John Deere tractor. I was rigged for silent running and get the hell out of there. I pointed out the sign to my friends as made a quick retreat.
After arguing unsuccessfully with guy at the door for a refund of our entry fee, we piled back into the car and left. The guys kept swearing to me they didn't know the club had a Gay Night. I reassured them it was OK, their secret was safe with me.
After much ribbing, we went to a nice Irish pub and drank Guinness. Nobody was dancing and there was just one guy playing guitar and singing Irish folk songs. This was more my speed. Slow and steady with a little bit of whimsy.
Today when my buddies start talking about alternative music, I remind them of that night and tell them,"That alternative music, is just not my style".
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, June 10, 2016
Musings From My Mind...New Stephen King Novel
Day 215
R.I.P. Gordy Howe. A true Detroit sports legend.
I finished the latest Stephen King novel titled End of Watch. It was the final novel in a trilogy that started with Mr Mercedes about a mass murderer who, on an early, foggy morning, runs a Mercedes sedan through a crowd of people, waiting for a job fair to open. He then plans to set off a bomb at a "boy band" concert for tweeners. Hoping to run his murder total into the thousands.
In the second book, our heroes from the first novel, don't even show up until halfway through. This time trying to stop a killer from slaughtering a family for some unpublished manuscripts worth a fortune. The father is one of the survivors from the original massacre. The only tie in to the first novel.
In the last of the three. The same retired detective and his partner try to thwart the original mass killer for a second time, as the killer attempts to finish what he started in the first novel.
Finally, made it out onto Houghton Lake today. I caught a few 3"-4" perch. I didn't bother to take any pictures as someone would accuse me of passing off bait as a catch. It was a nice day as always on the lake.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
R.I.P. Gordy Howe. A true Detroit sports legend.
I finished the latest Stephen King novel titled End of Watch. It was the final novel in a trilogy that started with Mr Mercedes about a mass murderer who, on an early, foggy morning, runs a Mercedes sedan through a crowd of people, waiting for a job fair to open. He then plans to set off a bomb at a "boy band" concert for tweeners. Hoping to run his murder total into the thousands.
In the second book, our heroes from the first novel, don't even show up until halfway through. This time trying to stop a killer from slaughtering a family for some unpublished manuscripts worth a fortune. The father is one of the survivors from the original massacre. The only tie in to the first novel.
In the last of the three. The same retired detective and his partner try to thwart the original mass killer for a second time, as the killer attempts to finish what he started in the first novel.
Finally, made it out onto Houghton Lake today. I caught a few 3"-4" perch. I didn't bother to take any pictures as someone would accuse me of passing off bait as a catch. It was a nice day as always on the lake.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 9, 2016
A Perfect Day For Fishing...
Day 214
Today was the first day in almost two weeks that the wind has slowed. Just 7 mph. Good to go fishing. When the wind is over 10 mph it can be hard to keep the boat anchored. The bottom of Houghton Lake is a soft, silty mush due to the amount of vegetation that grows and dies each summer and fall.
The areas where the vegetation grows is normally the best fishing. This is because the small fish feel safe in the weeds. This make the weed beds a prime feeding area, as the big fish know, the small fish are in the weeds.
Now, on any given day, at any given time, the fish can be anywhere in the lake. Many factors affect the movement of fish. Sun, moon and wind can affect where they will be. Also the time of year, the time of day, water temperature and areas where rivers, streams or creeks run into, or out of, the lake.
As for me being on a lake, on any given day, the wind affects me most. Not because of the fish but because of the boat.
My two man boat is powered by a 50 lb. thrust Minn Kota trolling motor, currently powered by a 10 year old deep cycle battery. The battery still holds a charge well, but I am looking to buy a new battery, just for peace of mind. I carry a paddle with me but my boat is not made for paddling.
I've been on Backus lake twice with propulsion problems. Once was the battery wasn't connected properly to the charger and I didn't check it for a full charge before I went out. I made it back to the boat launch under full throttle and barely moving.
The other time was a problem with the motor. I had to paddle a short distance and discovered how difficult it is to paddle that boat in a straight line.
As I was saying, it was a perfect day to go out fishing. I called my brother to go out on Houghton Lake on his pontoon, but he was out of town. No joy. I could have taken my two man out onto Backus Lake (a first for this year).
Instead, on this beautiful day, I stayed home and read the new Stephen King book that just came out yesterday. Probably not a great idea for someone having trouble sleeping at night. But neither's watching The Conjuring for the second time in two days (I hope the next movie is as scary as the first).
I'll turn that off soon and go back to reading the book. I want to finish it and return it to the library. There are three other people with holds on the first return.
The wind suppose to pick up again tomorrow according to weather.com. But I have found predicting the wind is day to day.
So...
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Today was the first day in almost two weeks that the wind has slowed. Just 7 mph. Good to go fishing. When the wind is over 10 mph it can be hard to keep the boat anchored. The bottom of Houghton Lake is a soft, silty mush due to the amount of vegetation that grows and dies each summer and fall.
The areas where the vegetation grows is normally the best fishing. This is because the small fish feel safe in the weeds. This make the weed beds a prime feeding area, as the big fish know, the small fish are in the weeds.
Now, on any given day, at any given time, the fish can be anywhere in the lake. Many factors affect the movement of fish. Sun, moon and wind can affect where they will be. Also the time of year, the time of day, water temperature and areas where rivers, streams or creeks run into, or out of, the lake.
As for me being on a lake, on any given day, the wind affects me most. Not because of the fish but because of the boat.
My two man boat is powered by a 50 lb. thrust Minn Kota trolling motor, currently powered by a 10 year old deep cycle battery. The battery still holds a charge well, but I am looking to buy a new battery, just for peace of mind. I carry a paddle with me but my boat is not made for paddling.
I've been on Backus lake twice with propulsion problems. Once was the battery wasn't connected properly to the charger and I didn't check it for a full charge before I went out. I made it back to the boat launch under full throttle and barely moving.
The other time was a problem with the motor. I had to paddle a short distance and discovered how difficult it is to paddle that boat in a straight line.
As I was saying, it was a perfect day to go out fishing. I called my brother to go out on Houghton Lake on his pontoon, but he was out of town. No joy. I could have taken my two man out onto Backus Lake (a first for this year).
Instead, on this beautiful day, I stayed home and read the new Stephen King book that just came out yesterday. Probably not a great idea for someone having trouble sleeping at night. But neither's watching The Conjuring for the second time in two days (I hope the next movie is as scary as the first).
I'll turn that off soon and go back to reading the book. I want to finish it and return it to the library. There are three other people with holds on the first return.
The wind suppose to pick up again tomorrow according to weather.com. But I have found predicting the wind is day to day.
So...
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Just Nothing
Day 213
I'm watching a movie called Road to Perdition with Tom Hanks, Paul Newman and Daniel Craig. A movie about gangster's in Chicago during the Depression.
As Tom Hanks is walking through a speakeasy bar, the fellow with him comments that "no one has any money, still they come here and spend it."
I plan to write a series of hard hitting novels from that time set in Detroit, when the city was the place to be. There was lots of money in Detroit at the turn of the last century. It should be a good setting for detective novels.
As I'm writing this my cat is trying to eat my PB & J. I think she's addicted.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I'm watching a movie called Road to Perdition with Tom Hanks, Paul Newman and Daniel Craig. A movie about gangster's in Chicago during the Depression.
As Tom Hanks is walking through a speakeasy bar, the fellow with him comments that "no one has any money, still they come here and spend it."
I plan to write a series of hard hitting novels from that time set in Detroit, when the city was the place to be. There was lots of money in Detroit at the turn of the last century. It should be a good setting for detective novels.
As I'm writing this my cat is trying to eat my PB & J. I think she's addicted.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Good Sandwich Hunting
Day 212
I remember when I was 4 years old my mom made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And I wouldn't touch it. I was aghast. How could my mother desecrate my jelly sandwich by adding that butter whatcha macallit?
The very thought of it made me cry. I crossed my arms and stuck out my lower lip in protest. I didn't care how hungry I was, I wasn't going to eat that desecration of my sweet Welch's grape jelly (no jam thank you very much).
I tried to fob the sandwich off on my brother. He ate anything. But mom used the "mother override" to prevent the transaction. I was stuck with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Eventually, hunger won out.
One bite and I was converted. I was in sandwich heaven. Who had kept this wonderful mixture of peanut and grape? Why hadn't my mother made this for me sooner?
As I am writing this I am enjoying my grape jelly with extra chunky peanut butter. So is my cat. She'll eat anything except cat food. I am tempted to put some cat food on bread and see if she'll eat it.
That is assuming I don't eat it first. By accident! I wouldn't intentionally eat a cat food sandwich. It's just that some times I forget what kind of sandwich I made. You know. You set it down to watch a cute cat video on YouTube and you forget what you put between the slices.
It happens all of the time.
Right?
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I remember when I was 4 years old my mom made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And I wouldn't touch it. I was aghast. How could my mother desecrate my jelly sandwich by adding that butter whatcha macallit?
The very thought of it made me cry. I crossed my arms and stuck out my lower lip in protest. I didn't care how hungry I was, I wasn't going to eat that desecration of my sweet Welch's grape jelly (no jam thank you very much).
I tried to fob the sandwich off on my brother. He ate anything. But mom used the "mother override" to prevent the transaction. I was stuck with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Eventually, hunger won out.
One bite and I was converted. I was in sandwich heaven. Who had kept this wonderful mixture of peanut and grape? Why hadn't my mother made this for me sooner?
As I am writing this I am enjoying my grape jelly with extra chunky peanut butter. So is my cat. She'll eat anything except cat food. I am tempted to put some cat food on bread and see if she'll eat it.
That is assuming I don't eat it first. By accident! I wouldn't intentionally eat a cat food sandwich. It's just that some times I forget what kind of sandwich I made. You know. You set it down to watch a cute cat video on YouTube and you forget what you put between the slices.
It happens all of the time.
Right?
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, June 6, 2016
Getting Some Sleep
Day 211
I have been tired today. Not the "dragging a heavy load around all day" kind of tired. The "I really need to go back to bed and sleep" kind of tired.
I haven't been sleeping well since I went to Bay City for a Sleep Study. The study threw my sleep habit out of whack. I've only been sleeping in short, two to three hour stretches.
The study revealed, I don't achieve deep sleep during that time. For now, I just want to go back to sleeping at night...all night.
When I was young, my problem was getting out of bed in the morning. Then I took a job washing dishes at an all night diner, the 11 pm to 7 am shift. I could hardly sleep during the day. I was so tired.
Now, I can sleep 3 or 4 hours during the day no problem. I even sleep better during the day than I do at night. That's how out of whack I am.
So what is it? Is it my age? I've read somewhere that the older we get the less sleep we need. But is it we NEED less or we just GET less? I vote for the latter.
Is it worrying about money? Even if we skimp and save for retirement, we worry about money when we get older. There's an inherent fear we won't have enough, and we will be unable to make more.
Maybe I need a woman. An intimate relationship could bring more stability to my day. Then again it could add a lot of stress. Besides, I have a heart condition; too much lovin' could be a fatal thing.
It's been very windy so far this summer and I haven't done much fishing. Maybe that's my problem. I'll have to give it a try. It may not help but at least I know it won't kill me. Assuming I don't doze off and fall into the lake and drown.
I guess that's a chance I will have to take.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I have been tired today. Not the "dragging a heavy load around all day" kind of tired. The "I really need to go back to bed and sleep" kind of tired.
The study revealed, I don't achieve deep sleep during that time. For now, I just want to go back to sleeping at night...all night.
When I was young, my problem was getting out of bed in the morning. Then I took a job washing dishes at an all night diner, the 11 pm to 7 am shift. I could hardly sleep during the day. I was so tired.
Now, I can sleep 3 or 4 hours during the day no problem. I even sleep better during the day than I do at night. That's how out of whack I am.
So what is it? Is it my age? I've read somewhere that the older we get the less sleep we need. But is it we NEED less or we just GET less? I vote for the latter.
Is it worrying about money? Even if we skimp and save for retirement, we worry about money when we get older. There's an inherent fear we won't have enough, and we will be unable to make more.
Maybe I need a woman. An intimate relationship could bring more stability to my day. Then again it could add a lot of stress. Besides, I have a heart condition; too much lovin' could be a fatal thing.
It's been very windy so far this summer and I haven't done much fishing. Maybe that's my problem. I'll have to give it a try. It may not help but at least I know it won't kill me. Assuming I don't doze off and fall into the lake and drown.
I guess that's a chance I will have to take.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Day 210
Spent my day working on another project which I hope will bear fruit. Money fruit. I'm not gonna say what it is. Seems whenever I talk about it, the fruit withers and dies on the vine. So. no talking about it this time.
Besides, if I don't talk about it and it doesn't workout, no one will know I failed again. No one but me. The funny thing is, I'm the only one who really matters. Whether I succeed or fail, it's completely on me.
I have failed so many times and succeeded so few. I guess that's true of most of us. We try and we try to make our lives a little better, a little more comfortable, a little more fun a little less debt. But it only takes one time, to make it all worth trying.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Spent my day working on another project which I hope will bear fruit. Money fruit. I'm not gonna say what it is. Seems whenever I talk about it, the fruit withers and dies on the vine. So. no talking about it this time.
Besides, if I don't talk about it and it doesn't workout, no one will know I failed again. No one but me. The funny thing is, I'm the only one who really matters. Whether I succeed or fail, it's completely on me.
I have failed so many times and succeeded so few. I guess that's true of most of us. We try and we try to make our lives a little better, a little more comfortable, a little more fun a little less debt. But it only takes one time, to make it all worth trying.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Musings From My Mind...Is He/She a Keeper?
Day 209
Most of you know, for the past eleven years, I have lived in a small town. At least, it's a lot smaller than the cities of Warren and Royal Oak, where I lived previously.
The charm of a small town is that living slows down considerably. Most people take the time to get to know there neighbors. We go fishing and hunting, canoeing and hiking. Golfing is also an option. There's almost always a festival here or in a town nearby. We have craft shows, airplane fly-ins and much more.
When my nephews and nieces from downstate want to relax and slow down for a spell, they pack up
the family and come here. Once they get here, they often go their separate ways depending on their interests. Some may go fishing, some may go to the craft show and some may go golfing. At the end of the day though, everyone gathers for dinner and conversation.
Dinners can be a large gathering, depending on how many family members and friends are visiting. Of course, I can always be counted on to show up for dinner.
Let me say here, I am an advocate of families sitting around the table for meals and discussing events of the day. But on these occasions this just isn't possible due to the sheer number of people. So the youngsters usually sit off in the living room while the older ones sit at the table.
In my brothers family there are currently two nurses with a third budding nurse currently in college. So when we're sitting at the table and these two ladies start talking and exchanging personal work experiences, things can get a little...uncomfortable. They believe deliberating on a patients abnormalities and bodily excretions is interesting to all, even during dinner. I must confess I have turned down a second helping after exposure to their confab.
When they get rolling about some of the more unpleasant things their patients have done, I like to talk about my hemorrhoids. Too intimate for casual discussion? Certainly. Improper for dinner conversation (which is immediately pointed out)? Yes, of course.
But it does tend to curtail the discussion of the medical vagaries of some patients. Bringing relief for those of us laymen who are squeamish about such mundane (or just plain gross) matters.
After dinner it has become our habit to go in for a card game. Normally we play a game called Five Crowns (if you have never played it is great fun). It's how we pass the time here in Smallville.
First rule: If you want to play, you have to put your smart phone away.
Now I enjoy many of the modern conveniences such as a laptop computer, the internet and a portable mp3 player. I also have a Kindle Fire tablet. I have a cell phone (not a smartphone). And I understand a new generation has it's own nuances. Though I will never understand texting. Why not just call someone if you wish to talk?
Along with these marvels we can now have face to face conversations over the internet using either a tablet or computer, with a camera and microphone. The future has arrived.
Back to the story. As we are playing cards and getting a bit rowdy, as we often do, my 16 year old niece is talking on an IPad (tablet) to her boyfriend. As per tradition, dating back to time immemorial, we had some fun at my nieces expense, when her cousin snatched the tablet from her and walked around introducing her new beau to the family.
It was too good to pass up this opportunity. So I loudly expressed that my hemorrhoids were flaring and would someone get my doughnut for me. Also, that it was too soft and needed to be blown up. Someone yelled that my niece was getting it and would be back to her boyfriend as soon as she had adjusted it for my comfort.
I also requested some baby wipes, as the gas I had just expelled felt a bit wet, and I might need to clean my sensitive area before continuing with the game.
We haven't had so much fun since my nephews brought their gal pals up for a weekend and I made baked beans for lunch. The boys each had double helpings as they're the best baked beans in the county.
As you might imagine, the card game was called after two hours because no one could read their cards on account of watery eyes. Also, all of the players kept leaving the game to step outside for some fresh air, when the ceiling fan kept circulating the same nasty air. I'm sure you'll understand, there was no hanky-panky under the moonlight that night.
The boys thought it was great fun but we never saw the girls again. A young love, so fickle.
About now your probably thinking me uncouth or heartless (unless your an uncle then your applauding my genius). But as I have previously remarked, it has been an uncles job, since before time, to embarrass his niece/nephew in front of her/his friends. Especially, a potential suitor.
In truth, it is simply my way to welcome a potential new member to the family, and to let him/her know, just what kind of family he/she is getting involved with. I'm only trying to break them in slowly. After all, if they think my hemorrhoids are disgusting, wait until the nurses get started.
Anyway, I figure if they stick around after all that, they might just be a keeper.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
The charm of a small town is that living slows down considerably. Most people take the time to get to know there neighbors. We go fishing and hunting, canoeing and hiking. Golfing is also an option. There's almost always a festival here or in a town nearby. We have craft shows, airplane fly-ins and much more.
When my nephews and nieces from downstate want to relax and slow down for a spell, they pack up
Dinners can be a large gathering, depending on how many family members and friends are visiting. Of course, I can always be counted on to show up for dinner.
Let me say here, I am an advocate of families sitting around the table for meals and discussing events of the day. But on these occasions this just isn't possible due to the sheer number of people. So the youngsters usually sit off in the living room while the older ones sit at the table.
In my brothers family there are currently two nurses with a third budding nurse currently in college. So when we're sitting at the table and these two ladies start talking and exchanging personal work experiences, things can get a little...uncomfortable. They believe deliberating on a patients abnormalities and bodily excretions is interesting to all, even during dinner. I must confess I have turned down a second helping after exposure to their confab.
When they get rolling about some of the more unpleasant things their patients have done, I like to talk about my hemorrhoids. Too intimate for casual discussion? Certainly. Improper for dinner conversation (which is immediately pointed out)? Yes, of course.
But it does tend to curtail the discussion of the medical vagaries of some patients. Bringing relief for those of us laymen who are squeamish about such mundane (or just plain gross) matters.
After dinner it has become our habit to go in for a card game. Normally we play a game called Five Crowns (if you have never played it is great fun). It's how we pass the time here in Smallville.
First rule: If you want to play, you have to put your smart phone away.
Now I enjoy many of the modern conveniences such as a laptop computer, the internet and a portable mp3 player. I also have a Kindle Fire tablet. I have a cell phone (not a smartphone). And I understand a new generation has it's own nuances. Though I will never understand texting. Why not just call someone if you wish to talk?
Along with these marvels we can now have face to face conversations over the internet using either a tablet or computer, with a camera and microphone. The future has arrived.
Back to the story. As we are playing cards and getting a bit rowdy, as we often do, my 16 year old niece is talking on an IPad (tablet) to her boyfriend. As per tradition, dating back to time immemorial, we had some fun at my nieces expense, when her cousin snatched the tablet from her and walked around introducing her new beau to the family.
It was too good to pass up this opportunity. So I loudly expressed that my hemorrhoids were flaring and would someone get my doughnut for me. Also, that it was too soft and needed to be blown up. Someone yelled that my niece was getting it and would be back to her boyfriend as soon as she had adjusted it for my comfort.
I also requested some baby wipes, as the gas I had just expelled felt a bit wet, and I might need to clean my sensitive area before continuing with the game.
We haven't had so much fun since my nephews brought their gal pals up for a weekend and I made baked beans for lunch. The boys each had double helpings as they're the best baked beans in the county.
As you might imagine, the card game was called after two hours because no one could read their cards on account of watery eyes. Also, all of the players kept leaving the game to step outside for some fresh air, when the ceiling fan kept circulating the same nasty air. I'm sure you'll understand, there was no hanky-panky under the moonlight that night.
The boys thought it was great fun but we never saw the girls again. A young love, so fickle.
About now your probably thinking me uncouth or heartless (unless your an uncle then your applauding my genius). But as I have previously remarked, it has been an uncles job, since before time, to embarrass his niece/nephew in front of her/his friends. Especially, a potential suitor.
In truth, it is simply my way to welcome a potential new member to the family, and to let him/her know, just what kind of family he/she is getting involved with. I'm only trying to break them in slowly. After all, if they think my hemorrhoids are disgusting, wait until the nurses get started.
Anyway, I figure if they stick around after all that, they might just be a keeper.
Ken
Friday, June 3, 2016
Under the Weather
Day 208
Feeling under the weather as they say. No stories tonight. Nursing a headache and now a queasy stomach. I may have waited too long to eat today.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Feeling under the weather as they say. No stories tonight. Nursing a headache and now a queasy stomach. I may have waited too long to eat today.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Mosquitoes...Can't Live With Them, Can't Get Rid of Them
Day 207
The weather here has been ideal over the past couple of weeks. A pleasant mix of warm temps and occasional rain (usually overnight) to help green things up. The wind has been too high for me to go out in my 2 man boat.
The only drawback to this current "utopia" is the mosquitoes. I'm sure they serve some purpose, although for the life of me I didn't know what that was, except to bite me and make me itch. If it was just a matter of donating to their blood drive I would be willing to give a drop or two. But in exchange for the gift of life giving red liquid, we get itching at best and diseases at the worst.
I went online and looked up mosquitoes and found out that they are food for other creatures and they breed in still, stagnant water. Armed with repellent, I went in search of the fertile mosquito farm.
At first, I was mystified. I traveled around my property. Then the neighbors property. I discovered that they too have noticed more than the usual numbers of the little darlings. I went to my pickup truck.
I keep my boat in the back of my truck all summer, ready to hit the lake at a moments notice.
Let me explain that I have a ten foot boat in a truck with an eight foot bed, so two feet are sticking out from under the cap, unprotected from sun and rain.
Anyway. As I was walking past my truck, I was suddenly swarmed by the tiny invaders. While waving my arms like a mad man, I noticed the several inches of rain that had collected in the boat. And the warm temperatures had caused the dead vegetation to infuse the water and stagnate.
I have seen the enemy and he is me. I was the unknowing breeder of the mosquito army.
I grabbed the Raid Backyard Fogger and gave the back of my truck a blast. Then I made a beeline for the woods and dumped the water from my boat. Miles away. I didn't want any survivors to follow me home.
I have learned my lesson and plan to periodically empty the boat during the summer after it rains. It was my good fortune to figure this out.
Thank God.
I was beginning to think the mosquitoes were coming from the protected marshlands at the back of my property.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
The weather here has been ideal over the past couple of weeks. A pleasant mix of warm temps and occasional rain (usually overnight) to help green things up. The wind has been too high for me to go out in my 2 man boat.
I went online and looked up mosquitoes and found out that they are food for other creatures and they breed in still, stagnant water. Armed with repellent, I went in search of the fertile mosquito farm.
At first, I was mystified. I traveled around my property. Then the neighbors property. I discovered that they too have noticed more than the usual numbers of the little darlings. I went to my pickup truck.
I keep my boat in the back of my truck all summer, ready to hit the lake at a moments notice.
Let me explain that I have a ten foot boat in a truck with an eight foot bed, so two feet are sticking out from under the cap, unprotected from sun and rain.
Anyway. As I was walking past my truck, I was suddenly swarmed by the tiny invaders. While waving my arms like a mad man, I noticed the several inches of rain that had collected in the boat. And the warm temperatures had caused the dead vegetation to infuse the water and stagnate.
I have seen the enemy and he is me. I was the unknowing breeder of the mosquito army.
I grabbed the Raid Backyard Fogger and gave the back of my truck a blast. Then I made a beeline for the woods and dumped the water from my boat. Miles away. I didn't want any survivors to follow me home.
I have learned my lesson and plan to periodically empty the boat during the summer after it rains. It was my good fortune to figure this out.
Thank God.
I was beginning to think the mosquitoes were coming from the protected marshlands at the back of my property.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Reading vs Writing
Day 206
"When I read...anything is possible. When I write...everything is possible."
Kenneth A. Stephenson
Until tomorrow,
Ken
"When I read...anything is possible. When I write...everything is possible."
Kenneth A. Stephenson
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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