Pie

Seeing as how it is the heavyweight pie eating season, I would like to dedicate this to pie, the king of sweets, and to the infinite superiority of pie over cake.

Firstly I would like to list the reasons that pie is the duchess of deserts. Pie is the epitome of all deserts. Cake and cookies have a topping, doughnuts, Oreos, and Twinkies have filling. Brownies, and cheese cake (which is actually is another form of pie) have chocolate. Pie has all of these. Pie can be topped with every thing from a chocolate drizzle to whipped cream to ice cream. You can fill pie with everything from chocolate, to peanut butter, to fruit.

I have taken a lot heat because I love cheese cake. People will say stuff like “Well there goes your pie over cake theory.” and “You talk pie but you eat cake.” when in reality cheese cake is just another pie. It is true. Look at the facts.

Pie has a crust. Cheese cake has a crust.
Pie is served with whipped cream. Cheese cake is served with whipped cream
Pie is wonderful. Cheese cake is wonderful.

You see, cheese cake is just pie with another filling. Is not pie marvelous? To be able to change form so fluidly to (somewhere back in history) have one of its forms named for its own group.

Pie is also without season. Of you think about it the best time to eat cake, it is from May to October, with a little stint in January, while pie is eaten the year around. In the summer, everyone wants apple and berry pies, while in the winter pumpkin, cherry and chocolate have come into fashion, then in the New Year, cheese cake will come into its own, starting the cycle all over again.

Also, pie is more easily transported that cake. Think about it. If you are going to a party and you are bringing a cake, you have to either leave it in the cake pan and take along a serving platter, or you put it on the platter first and take the risk that the cake will spill on way to wherever you are going.
With pie on the other hand, all you have to do is bring the serving spatula.

Even though I feel strongly about this I fear all I have done is to maybe secure a few fence riders. For if you are a fan of pie already you have been reinforced in your beliefs, if you are a cake fan you are still a cake fan, and if you are on the fence you probably are still on the fence. Anyway thanks for reading.

Squirrel hunting

Last summer Sam M., my younger brother Daniel, my younger sister Christa, and myself went squirrel hunting. (Elisabeth says that though they begged her to go along, nothing would separate her from her indoor plumbing.) The place we went was nine hour drive away. The funny thing was that Sam M. decided that we would go two days before we left. To give you an idea of the suddenness with which the decision was made I will now let you in on our secret.

Once a year all of Sam M.’s family goes on vacation to a little town down the coast on a river. We live on a river, then we drive for three hours to spend a week on…………. A RIVER. If you figure that one out let me know. Anyway, the point is that we plan this whole trip all year for a five hour car ride, and we decide on the spur of the moment to travel nine hours to shoot squirrels. My life is so uncertain.

After I was informed of the plan Mom went to town and got us some .22 ammo to practice with. I had not shot my .22 in a few months and was a bad shot, as I was soon to find out, a very bad shot.

I have a Ruger 10/22 that I got at Wal-mart and it has not worked since the day I got it. It is a jam-every-other-round gun that I was not going to take with me on a bet. Luckily the guy that told us about the place we were going to had an old .22 that he was going to trade Sam M. for another gun.

When I say old I mean old. I can’t find were it says who made it. So, away, we went up to the rock pit, to sight in our rifles, and accurize ourselves. It only took a few rounds to establish that the “new” old gun was just as bad about jamming as my Ruger. In the end we called the folks (who were already in town) and they went and bought a Marlin model 60. It’s a tube fed semi-auto .22. When it came I had to slap my scope on it, run up to the back yard and sight it in, in the fading light, without a bench rest or anything. But in spite of all the obstacles I got it to shoot almost in the same hole at 20 yards (60 feet) from a sitting position.

The next day was spent packing and fighting mortal combat over the washing machine. Everyone wanted to wash there cammies (camouflage). In case you ask, no we can not all wash our cammies at the same time because we all have the same style of camo. In the end I would be wearing my shirt and my brother’s pants. That would not be so bad if my brother wore the same size as me. And if he every bathed. These two thing, and that we are controversial anyway, caused much blood shed and clever use of profanity.

After the clothes were washed we began to load the van. Yeah I said van. We were going to take ourV6 two wheel drive safari van on a hunting trip. I though it was a bad idea but no one listened to me. Anyway, we had to take the very back seat out to make room for all the camping gear. To do this we opened the back doors (It has double doors) and slid the seat out. We then proceeded to pile in the bags, food, and guns, until the rearview mirror was useless.

The next morning we got up dark and early (around 4am) and shoved in the last minute things like tooth brushes and pillows and set of on the long car ride to the other side of the state. The drive was far from uneventful (in fact I could probably write a whole other blog post about it) but I will only say that we stopped in The Dalles for lunch and gas then drove on until we needed more gas and stopped for that. It is amazing, the kind of time you can make when you do not have to stop very 20 miles for some one to go to the rest room. (Elisabeth, who is proof reading, interjects that this is a totally unfair assertion.)

We made it to Wallowa around 3 p.m. and thanks to Britney (that is what we named our GPS because of the female voice it has) we made our way through town and out the other side only to hear her say “make a legal U-turn”. That is not a good sign. Whenever she says that, it means that you are going the wrong way and had better do something or else she will never stop saying “make a legal u-turn” or “calculating route” as she tries to set us on the narrow way once more.

After we “made a legal u-turn” and were heading the “right” way, Britney spoke up again to inform us that we missed our turn. So we “made an illegal u-turn” and headed back more slowly hoping to see what we missed twice already. After we made two or three passes up and down the street, we finally saw where the street split. As it turned out that was where Britney was trying to tell us to go.

At about 3:30pm we made it to the ranch then past it to the forest service land where we were going to camp. Quickly, we set up the tents then scouted for the lavatories. After we had everything established we started searching for likely spots for the squirrels to be. Once we had marked a few spots on the map we had, we went back to camp and settled in for the night.

Allow me to educate the uneducated of you about the history of tents and water. Water as you may know is wet, very wet. And we humans do not like to be wet and cold at the same time. Therefore, man invented this thing called a tent. It kept the water out and the dry in. that’s the theory anyway. But someone more powerful decided that that was not fair for the wet, so he invented condensation. If you are in a tent that has any kind of a seal it keeps the warmer air inside and the cold air out. If there is any kind of humidity in the cold air outside the water that has evaporated condenses on the outside of the tent. That’s just where you want it, outside. But if you touch the inside of the tent the water magically comes though and is now on the inside.

Now I wrote that whole paragraph so you would understand what I am about to tell you. As you may know, I am not that tall. In fact, I am just a smidge over the average. That is the American average, not the Chinese. My head was touching one end and my feet the other. And as I explained in the above, the condensation came though and soaked my sleeping bag. Needless to say I did not sleep very well that night.

The next morning I was the first one up, and so it fell to me to discover where the breakfast food was packed. We had two rubbermade tubs that were jammed full of food and I had to go though them until I found a bowl, a spoon, and cereal. I did not have to look for the milk because it was in the cooler and was in the way from the start of the road trip.

It was not long before everyone else was up and fed, seeing as how I did all the work. So we loaded up the van with lunch, ammo, and guns and we took off. The first day was mostly driving around trying to find a good spot. We had never been here so we had only hints as to where the squirrels were.

After driving for about fifteen minuets or so we came upon a very large clearing. Along one side there was an old log about 125yrds away. Sam M. saw that and said “I’ll bet that’s where they are”. So we set up on the bank of an old un-drivable road and started looking. And sure enough there they were, about five or six of them running around the log. So we started shooting.

Daniel was shooting a Remington 597 with a straight 4x power scope. Sam M. and Christa where sharing a Ruger 10/22 that had been so modified that it was barely recognizable with a 4-16x power scope. Like I said before, I was shooting a marlin model 60 with a straight 4x power, a very deadly weapon to squirrels in the right hands. Mine where not those hands, I missed every shot that I took.

Now I did not feel too bad about missing at 125yds, especially since my gun was sighted in for 30-40yrds. But then we (Daniel and I) moved around to the right down the road that ran along just inside the tree line, we had not gone 30yds when I saw a red digger on a stump and promptly sat down in the middle of the road. Daniel who was off in his own little world did not see me sit down and kept walking. It took a couple pssts, and calling his name in a whisper to get him to stop.

After I had missed that shot I got up and walked over to Daniel and found out why he could not hear anything. He had his ear plugs in. We were shooting .22 rifle on a hunt and he had in ear plugs. So after having a silent fit, I told him to ether take them out or watch me and look for squirrels. He picked the latter and did away with watching me. After about an hour of missing we started to run out of the ammo that we were carrying and headed back to the van.

Once we got there we counted up the damages and it came to this. 150 round of ammo lost, 1 confirmed kill and one possible. Disgusted with myself I got in the rig and we drove away.

Up until this time we had been hunting on forest service land and there where more rules than on private land, so we headed over to the Wolf Ranch to see if we could do some damage over there. As we were driving over to the Wolf Ranch we met a state cop coming the other way. He flagged us down and we pulled over next to him.

“Howdy folks” said the cop “how’s it going?” which is slang for “Who are you and what are you doing?”. So Sam M., who spoke ‘cop’ said “Pretty good just doing a little squirrel hunting”. Now, the cop probably did not believe that because we were all camoed up and every thing but faces painted.

Cop: “Oh, well have you been shooting the chipmunks”?

Sam M: “Man we could not hit one of those if we tried.”

Cop: (fake laugh) “Well don’t try.”

Sam M: “Ok, by the way is it bear season or some thing? Because we have seen a lot of trucks, and we heard that there was nobody out here”?

Cop: “Yeah it’s spring bear. Do you guys have hunting licenses?

Only Sam M and I did so we showed him and he said “How’s the weather over there on the coast?” Sam told him it was wet, and we were on are way.

When we got to Wolf Ranch we walked to the top of a hill and made a plan. Wolf ranch is in the middle of other ranches that don’t like hunters so we could not leave the ranch. With this in mind Daniel and I were going to walk around the edge of the ranch while Sam and Christa were going to drive around the other way and then walk our way.

Daniel and I started walking and came upon a fence and a dilemma all at once. We did not have a map so I was running off memory and feelings. This could be the property line. If we crossed it we might be on someone else’s land. Well Daniel talked me into crossing the fence. I don’t know why I listened to Daniel, I mean I never did before, but I did this time for some unknown reason. We crossed the fence. I had never been completely ok with the choice and after a little bit decided to re-cross the fence to the side we would be on it we had not crossed. As we where doing this we saw a red digger not ten yards away I pull up my rifle and shot and missed but Daniel did not. It was his first kill. We walked the rest of the way and only saw four other diggers and three deer.

When we finely met Sam and Christa they were not were they were supposed to be. They were at the bottom of a hill and shooting 100+yds at some squirrels under a bush. After an hour of shooting and missing the diggers finally decided to go away. We walked up to se if we had hit any and saw some more live ones farther up the hill and walked the rest of he way to the top.

Once we got there we found a small field with diggers again 100+yds. This was not so bad for Christa because she had a 4-16 power scope. So when Daniel and I were having trouble seeing anything to shoot she just cranked up the scope to 13 power and blasted away.

Once the diggesr stopped coming out we walked back down the hill to the van and went back to camp. The score now stood at

Christa: 5

Sam M.: 3

Daniel: 2

Rainor: 0

I was disgusted with myself, and was convinced that my rifle was off. So after dinner (smoked hotdogs and chips) I hung an empty soda can at 40yds on a nail that had been put there for that reason by someone else. Then I lay down and set my rifle on my day pack to be sure that I was not just a bad shot. I got the crosshairs on the can then let out all my breath closed my eyes, and then opened them. My sights were still on so I know I had found natural point of aim. I squeezed the trigger and POP, the rifle went off. I could not see where I hit so I shot twice more and still could not see where my shots had landed. As I suspected the sights were off. But how far off? And where? So having no paper plates, I hung up a squire of toilet paper and shot at that. And that was not big enough, so Sam set up a small rock at twenty yards and I shot and hit that. So he moved it out to 30yds, I just barely hit it this time. We mad an adjustment and he moved the rock put to 40yds. I hit the rock again so we moved over to the paper. I aimed at the nail and hit about 8 in. down and 6 in. right. I shot again and made more adjustments until I hit the nail three times in a row.

The next day we went back to the rotten log and walked the road until we were forty yards away. The perfect range. At 8:00 exactly I shot my first red digger. It was sitting in the grass about thirty yards away. I saw it the same time as Christa as we later found out. I was prone with my rifle on a piece of wood. I could see it clearly in my scope and I waited for my breathing to set my crosshairs on the shoulder of the squirrel. Then I squeezed the trigger, I had all the time in the world and I was not going to miss. Then my gun went off. The squirrel disappeared from my view and I was not sure I hit it, then I heard Christa say “You stole my kill!” so I said “Did I hit him?” And she replied “Yeah, I saw you hit him. I had him in my sights and was about to shoot when you did.”

Ten minutes later I killed my second one. He was popping his head up and down. He was forty yards away and all that I could see was its head (about the size of a golf ball) so that’s what I shot. We were at this spot for an hour and I was the only one to kill anything.

Earlier in the trip Sam M. saw a draw that looked like it would be hard to get there, so the animals would not be so vigilant. It was on the other side of a field, so Daniel and I would walk around one way, and Sam M. and Christa would walk the other way. The reason that the draw was hard to get to was because you had to cross a creek and there were no bridges, so Daniel and I had to walk a long way before we found a slime covered rock right in the center of the creek. It was a five foot jump to the rock and the same to the other side from there. I made alright with both rifles (there was no way Daniel could make it without dropping his) thanks to my agility and unshakable sense of balance. Daniel made it to the rock then jumped right in the water. That did not surprise me at all; in fact I had already accepted it.

Finally we came to the draw and right off we saw three red diggers not thirty yards away. They were running for their holes and I knew I could not hit one. Daniel on the other hand thought that he was some sort of movie hero and opened up on them. He fired three shot at one before it made it to its hole. Knowing that if we stayed quiet long enough they would come back, I told Daniel to lay down behind the only concealment there was, a 2 ½ foot long piece of wood. Both of us were behind this log and watching the little bank for about 20 minutes and Daniel was getting restless, when I saw some thing that was not there a minute ago. So I took my rifle off the log I was using for a bench and looked through the scope and sure enough it was a squirrel. At this point I told Daniel that I could see something and he started asking where, but I was not going to tell him because he just sprays and prays so I let him ask. My barrel was right next to his ear when I shot and I don’t think I have ever seen his hand move so as when it came off his gun and to the side of his head. I felt bad about it but I got the squirrel and we went up to see. When we got there we found that I had shot it in the head. As we were walking back to the log Daniel saw another one and shot at it. He said he hit it but we never found it. Then I saw another one 20 yards a way and told Daniel right be for I shot that one. We found all the ones that I shot. This all happened within 30 minutes.

All this time Sam M. and Christa had not shown up so Daniel and I went to go find them and guide them to the draw. We found them not far away and they told us that Christa had shot a red digger before we got there. When we got back to the canyon/draw we did not go in the way Daniel and I came out. We went up the side of the hill and dropt into it from the side.

After walking along the side of the canyon for a little while we came upon a side canyon. We could see squirrels up it about 150 yds away. I did not want to shoot that far so I walked along the side of it until I came to a clump of big bushes/small trees and used them to steady my rifle, and started shooting. The closest was 40 yds out to 100. I shot until I ran dry, then I reloaded and emptied the gun again. I was the first one there but everyone came running once they heard me shooting.

When every one else got to were I was they asked me “Where are they?” I took a moment of precious shooting time to look up and say “Everywhere.” After I told them that there were still squirrels down range they too used the small clump of brush for a shooting rest and began to unload bullets really fast.

After about fifteen minutes I had shot all fifty rounds I kept in the front breast pocket of my jacket. This was a problem because there were still loads of squirrels running around. Luckily, Daniel had a lot of bullets and was gracious enough to let me have some.

(Elisabeth thinks this was terribly gentlemanly of him considering Rainor just busted his ear drum.)

Shortly after I refit we decided to move up the canyon because the squirrels started getting farther and farther away. Right before we moved I saw the first squirrel in several minutes, it was 120yds away. I was not sure how to elevate so I just held a little over its head and a little to the right for wind. Once I was ready I took up the slack in my trigger. I could feel the nasty; creep in the trigger as I pressed it to the rear of the trigger guard. I heard the POP of the round and saw the impact of the bullet in the head of the squirrel making for the longest kill so far.

Just after that we moved up what we thought was the rest of the canyon, but turned out to be the top of the mountain. It was wide open and we could se 400+yds. Not only was it a nice view it was a whole ground squirrel city! We set up on this old fence, setting our rifles on old fence posts. It was almost perfect except that the closes targets were 75yds away most of them farther than that. That did not bother me, who had just pulled off the longest shot yet, but Daniel and Christa were having trouble.

Since we had been in the middle of nowhere for two days we took this opportunity to use the only cell phone signal we had since we had been there. Sam M. called home while the rest of us kept shooting, waiting for our turn to talk. When it came my turn to talk Sam saw a squirrel a long, long way away. He took his rifle and cranked the bullet drop compensator all the way up then held five or six feet over the head of the squirrel. I did not think he could do it but I watched though my 8x power binoculars and by golly when he let fly that round he shot that squirrel, killed it dead, making the longest shot 275yds.

We had been on top of the of the this mountain all day and we could see storm clouds not to far away so we decided that we should get down before they arrived.

Because we were too tired/lazy to take the longer easier way down we just packed up and walked/slid strait down to the bottom, found the place where Sam and Christa easily crossed the creek, walked across a muddy field, jumped a fence and climbed into the van.

Seeing how everyone was plum tuckered out we drove into town, knifes, cammo, and all, and found a store that sold bear and hamburgers then went back to camp. I got a fire going in, spite of the rain, and cooked the burgers. That was the best night of all.

The next day we awoke to the sound of rain and decided that, since the red diggers we solar powered that they would not be out, and that we would have to leave the next day anyway, we would pack up and go home right after breakfast.

Breakfast consisted of rain soaked milk and cereal and yogurt. Needless to say I have had better.

The trip was just like the one out only in reverse, only forwards. We survived on now crushed checks mix, freezing Jones soda and lame county music. Let me tell you there have been worse road trips.

One evening, I was talking to Sam M when, from the other room, I heard the crash of glass breaking and my brother saying the words that are uttered when something is broken. Intrigued by the thought of my brother getting in trouble, I went into the room of the accident to find my brother standing under a book shelf looking at the ground with a look of horror on his face. The excitement of my brother getting a tongue lashing quickly faded to a sort of abraded/irritated disappointment (I am not quite sure what word to use so if you come up with a better one let me know). My brother, in an attempt to put a book back on the bookshelf in the girls room, knocked a fish bowl with a bunch of rocks in it (no water thankfully) off the shelf. In the resulting fall, the bowl broke on the floor releasing river rocks and shards of glass.

As we all know (and my brother found out), every action must have a reaction. The inevitable reaction to the one I have seen fit to regale you with would most certainly be my sister going into a fit and there being shouting and accusations and the like. Then, before my sister reacted, my mother came in and discovered that the fish bowl had been used as a bookend for the past several months.

Once this knowledge became evident to the rest of the family, my sister announced, “I am surprised that it broke. It has fallen down three or four times already and did not break”. I was so shocked that I blurted out, “You knew that it had already fallen and that it would probably fall again? You are a retard to the third degree!”

I have a Friend in the USMC and don’t get to talk to him very much. But he has a facebook account, so I thought I would get one so I could keep in contact with him. So I went over to facebook and signed up, got my account, uploaded the standard pictures, filled out the info, and checked it out every now and then.

After about three or four week I started to notice something very disturbing, and frankly disgusting. I have been on other sites like facebook where they have ads like “Win a free car!” or “You are the 999,999,999 visitor that makes you the winner!”. But on facebook it is totally different. At first I was getting ads like “Register to vote for Obama”. Then one day I got on prepared for the political ads and up popped this ad “Chat with local gays in your area”. I about fell out of my chair. I could not believe what I was reading. And I started wondering, did they just assume I was gay, did they know I live in a town with no gay people in it, was I the only straight guy on facebook?

After another couple weeks I was getting tired of seeing these gay ads and decided to find out why I was getting them. After look at my info page I saw the error in my ways. For those of you who do not know, when you are filling out the info stuff they ask your gender and the gender of those you are interested in. Well in my hase I said that I was a male interested in males. They did not assume that I was gay; I told them I was and they advertised to me as such.

Needless to say I wasted to time changing that little typo, so now I only get the “Chat with local single women” ads.

Dear reader.

I would like to apologize to you for not posting anything recently and would like to appease you by posting something right know. The only problem is that I can think of nothing to write. My life is so uneventful at the moment (ether that or I am too lazy) that I am at a loss as to what to say. So I will start with what I have been doing lately.

A couple of week ago my younger brother and I were out playing war out in the old land slide next to our house when all the sudden my brother yells “run for cover”, so I do. As I was on my way to a large rock I had to jump off an undercut bank down in to a dry really big puddle bed. As I came up to the bank and got ready to jump I fell through, caught my legs in some root, fell forward and hit my head on a really big rock.
In case you were wondering, my head did not win the encounter. I was knocked out and woke up on the rock ten seconds later with my brother standing next to my with his mouth hanging open. It only took my a couple of minutes to orient myself, remember what happened and decide that I had better get to the house. That turned out easier said that done. I was having trouble making my eyes focus where I wanted them to, and my equilibrium was all messed up because I could not walk in a straight line any where. Nevertheless I made it though a gate and up to the house all by my self, then into my room where they tell me I took off my kneepads and shoes, and then went into the living room where I was accosted by my sister and forced to sit down and put a ice pack on my head.
At this time I still had no idea that I was bleeding from a cut on my forehead above my left eye. Then my mother’s husband came in who had first responder training and he asked me a bunch of questions like what day it was, what did I do that day, and stuff like that. I guess I got most of them wrong and was diagnosed with a concussion. The next day I could remember most of the stuff that happened to me (there was on hour or so that is still a little fuzzy) and was able to continue my life with only a large head ache for a few days.

As most of you may know I work at an RV park in a little town near the coast. Well it appears that I have done such a good job working for them that they told all their friends about me. Now all these people that I don’t know are calling me asking if I could help them move, or lay some sod, or paint their deck. And being the soft hearted guy I am I cant say no.
Now I told you all that so you would understand why I am painting a guys enormous deck with lots of stairs and benches and things like that. Oh and by the way did I mention that I was doing it by myself? That’s right, I am the one man team of a do-anything-you-want-me-to business. Anyway I have to paint this deck (can you guess what color) red. Now around the edge of the deck is one long bench that is nailed to the deck so I can’t pick it up and turn it over to get at the bottom. So all day Saturday I was on my back under a bench that is 18in high painting with red paint. Needless to say, if you are painting up most of the paint will land on you. I just though I would tell you that as of this post gravity is still working.

We had our church pick nick on Sunday. This time we had it at a different park. This one had a volleyball net and we happened to have a volleyball. So I think we had a world record for number of people playing volleyball. After every one was volleyed out we played football. In the very first play I got hurt. Myself and another guy were running at each other and when two high speed objects meet, one of the is bound to suffer some damage, it just so happens that I was the one that suffered the damage. Right when we hit he was raising his leg for another stride and his knee collided with my thigh. I don’t think it broke anything but it bruised pretty badly. I won’t be able to walk with any speed until Tuesday.

And that brings you up to date with the thing that matter in my life. Aren’t you so glad that you can sleep in peace tonight knowing that you are informed. May you fair well and remember do not let your self be repressed by the sibling hierarchy. Don’t let yourself become a victim. And always De oppresso liber!

This year our family went to our pastor’s house for easter, along with other members of the congregation of the church we are going to at this time. We (the young men) were playing basketball, or street football, or something of the kind when we decided that it was high time for a water break.

We milled into the kitchen two or three at a time. When it came my turn to mosey into the kitchen I did so only to hear one of the young ladies talking about me. At first I was surprised to hear my name spoken in my presence, but then I heard what she said about me and my surprise turned to amusement.

The young lady was referring to the previous Sunday when my family had come to her house to sing hymns and generally fellowship. I have a base voice, but can’t read music very well. So when she and the other girls were giving the notes for the song on the piano I jokingly said “give me the bass note”. Apparently this young lady did not know that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket and even if I could it would do no good, gave me the bass note anyway and when I told her it was a joke she did not get it. (I can say the following because she can not see my blog) I think she has a blond streak in her.

Anyway that is what she was talking about when I happened to be standing right across the table from her. Although I was straight across from her she did not see me because she was so into the story of how rude it was of me to ask for something then not use it when I got it. At this time everybody at the table but the young lady knew I was standing there and had gotten very quiet and was looking at the story teller. After a bout 30 seconds one of the people at the table could not stand it any longer spoke up and said “He is standing right there”.

The young lady looked up to see me smiling and trying not to laugh. Once she saw me she turned bright red, got a look on her face that said “oh”. Me being the good sport that I am mercifully walked out of the room to prevent further embarrassment.

This morning I slept in a little bit. That would not have mattered at all if the trash man was not coming at an ungodly hour and I had done my chores and taken the recycle bin out the night before. But as it happens, I did not do my chores so my mother came in my sleeping chamber and asks if there was a good reason why the recycle bin was still in the kitchen. Of course I was not going to say that I forgot to take it out because I was playing video games because if I did I would not be writing this. So all I said was “I’m sorry.” sitting up in the tent over my bed (my brother and I share a room and are currently engaged in mortal dart combat).

After I got out of bed I slipped on my sneakers, grabbed the recycle bin and walked to the end of our 300ft drive way and just got there in time to hand it to the garbage man then I took up the recycle bin and the trash can and walked back and took a shower.

Shortly after I got out of the shower before I could get my cloths when my sister came in and said “Nana needs your help or a log or a dog is going to float away”. It took me a moment to understand what she had just told me. After a couple of seconds it hit me some thing was about to float away down the river and it was either a dog or a log.

Well if it was a dog it was not ours’ and Nana would not get so worked up over someone else’s dog, so it must be hers. Ff so, that was just fine with me. I don’t like her dogs and they don’t like me. But if it was a log, which is actually worth something, it might get away I would be blamed, and I would never hear the end of it.

After I got my chest waders on and grabbed a coat I started down to the river. On my way I met Sam M and he was in a hurry. That’s all well and good he liked Nanas dogs more than I did so that may be it. But when I got down to the river and saw what really happened I had to stop and re-think every thing I had been told about the situation. There was no dog floating in the swell, or log just stuck on the beach. What had happened was one of the cables on our dock had broken. Even though only one of the cables broke, from the folk’s house it looked as if both had broken which would have resulted in the dock being swept down the river, and so a state of emergency was declared.

Once we had gathered ourselves we made a plan. The plan was simple, a lot like my little brother, but unlike my little brother the plan just might work. Grandpa and I climbed out on the dock. Then with a big stick and did like those guys in Venice. Standing up in the back of their boats useing a pole to move the boat. In that manner we got the dock back to the shore and tied it to an anchor. The anchor was way too small and kept getting pulled over into the river.

This sort of thing had happened before so we know what to done. Plus we had a simple plan. Having some excess cable, we unwound the same amount lost so the dock would stay in the same place. The reason for this is that we had already found the best spot for the dock to be anchored so that it could move without running aground or getting hit by floating logs.

Now that we had gotten the right amount of cable, Nana and Grandpa and I held an election. They voted for the only person wearing chest waders to go reattach the cable to the dock. I say they because I was the only one wearing chest waders and did not want to get in that river that was mostly frigid mountain runoff.

Forced onto service under threat of no dinner I waded out to the dock and reattached the cable to the dock. I had long since left my jacket on a grader blade that was stuck in the ground and had rolled up my shirt sleeves. It did not surprise me that the grommet I had to thread the cable through was under water, so I had to plunge my hands up to my elbows in the icy cold water for twenty seconds at a time until I got it right. After a few minuets I was able to re-hook the cable. That’s when they said, “Ok boy, climb onto the dock and maneuver it out into position with this big stick.” Since I really wanted dinner, I did what I was told. As it turns out Grandpa had not thought of how I was to get back on dryer land once I had gotten the dock where it belongs. They did not tell me that until after had thrown back the big stick I had used to get out there.

Well, there I was. Standing on that dock my hands almost numb, but not quite, and all Grandpa had to say was, “You should not have thrown that stick back.” I did not say anything, but I thought “I should not have gotten on this dock.”

The only thing I could do without my waders filling up was wait for the dock to float back in. So that’s what I did for about five minutes. I sat on the dock and waited for the current to push it close enough to the shore that I could touch bottom.

After I got back on dryer land I just took the wrenches up to the garage and put them away. Then I went up to the house to warm up and see if my legs were really there.


I would like to dedicate this blog post to…………… me for Writing more than one page of blog posts so you can actually click on that button that says “view all entries”. Thank you my readers. Tear rolls down the writer’s cheek.