Karen booked a wonderful trip to Zihuatanejo,the town we eloped in almost 23 years ago!

Our flight was uneventful and the swift trip thru customs had my spidey senses on high alert! No delayed flights!No hang ups at customs! Hotel check in seamless with an upgrade to a better room!! Just what in the god almighty hell was going on here?? Well, we did get hosed by the cab driver ,so maybe everything is gonna be alright.

After allowing Karen to snap some photos of the pristine room,

I proceeded to unpack .Loosely translated this means I transformed the room from a website worthy image of warm romance and comfort to

We scurried to the beach and its poolside bar,filled with anticipation of what awaits

Our burgers arrived with steaming fries and sweaty glasses of ice cold beer! We certainly were in paradise!!!

Unfortunately, it was Paradise Lost when Nancy Negativity showed up a few minutes later. We heard a commotion behind us near the reception desk and out strolled this woman in her seventies dressed like she was 31.I think most are familiar with those people who enter a room or area and you instantly think , I bet she’s a pain in the ass. She begins barking orders to staff “ Be so kind as to move this settee out of the sun” always with a false dose of politeness. “ oh be a dear and bring me a menu I am totally famished” “ Oh Nigel look, its bug!” “Oh waiter,Oh waiter,there’s a bug!!!” While a bit amused , we tried our best to ignore the woman and her crew . When all of a sudden she starts screaming and bitching about there being no Keto selections the menu!

This bitch was about as big a pain in the ass as a toilet seat that wont stay up, while a male, at birth, like me, tries to pee!

I decided to head to the ocean for a dip, away from the psycho and far from eyes I might blind when removing my shirt. The ocean was about 140 yards away and as I traversed the powdery white sand, I marveled at the beauty before me,what a wonderful sight to behold! Then I noticed,this sand is getting warm! I look back and concluding I’d already traveled 8 feet and only had 137+ yards to go,why go back for my shoes…right??? At 30 yards the sand was hot as shit and I started to try and hustle a bit, for old fat guys like me this can be rather amusing apparently for 20 something women sunbathers. I did my best to forge on with what little dignity remained as my brain started counting off 109 degrees, 117 degrees 123 degrees @#$%%%#%^unfu*king believably HOT!!!!!!!!!!! My feet felt like what Susan Dey looked like …..HOT!!!!!!!

I walked as fast as I could trying to muster a run

Just as I reached the water I considered converting to Hinduism

I swear there was steam coming out of the ocean

As I absorbed the snickering of the nearby 20 something’s, I thought about yelling to Karen to bring my shoes but that would have never succeeded over the roar of the crashing waves and the ensuing laughter that would follow.

A quick math calculation revealed that high tide was a mear 7 hours away….maybe Karen will notice I’m gone…

As we packed the next day, I knew Karen would miss the suped-up lemonade

And the pool

I was just gonna miss the staff they were fantastic!

We bid goodbye to Puerta Parisio and hoped the CC charge would clear as we sped away in our cab, a cab complete with some dude who spoke no English ,who knew we spoke no Spanish,yet he tried to yuck it up for 23 minutes as Karen and I took turns playing Hellen Keller .

We arrived at Villa El Morro and bid our cabby a good day

We were stunned by the bay view from the parking lot!

When we turned and faced our new digs I was struck with a foreboding a terror, of what lay ahead!

Fortunately we only had to drag the bags up 73 steps to reception ,but who’s counting?

As Karen tried to check in with the poor gal that spoke zero English, I gazed at the staircase that awaited and whispered an almost guttural “ah f*ck”

I normally will try and schlep my own bags …..but not this time, no way! Just then Karen let out a WHAT?, now after 23 years of marriage you get very good at recognizing different inflections of certain words. This particular WHAT? Was normally used after I announced that I would be golfing tomorrow for the 4th day in a row ! Even though the word WHAT? Had a ? After it, it’s not even close to a question, it’s more like YGBFKM! And I DONT THINK SO type utterance. After a moment Karen relayed that the Bellman didn’t come in till midnight! Im not sure why you’d have the Bellman start at midnight but I’d venture it was negotiated by his union in an attempt to avoid complete and total spinal failure from carrying overweight bags for old people like me! I looked back at 73 steps I had just come up

And back at what lay before me

Karen sensing me approaching the precipice of a mental meltdown hurriedly unloaded stuff from the steamer trunk like suit case! Thanks to Karens quick thinking and faking like she needed 43 rest stops on the way up,we made it.

After one walk into town and one night we decided we were not up to the vertical challenge

I was happy to forfeit a couple hundred $ to avoid all that walking, the place would have be fine if you were just hanging out. We tried hanging at the pool the first day but after I returned from the restroom to find this guy in my chair!

I tried to explain that he was in my chair but the language barrier of him being from east Texas or Louisiana proved difficult. I tried pointing at my iPad on the chair that screamed beneath the folds of his ample fat rolls, the iPad itself bulging from its case, perhaps its life flashing before it , as the energy, its lifeblood, faded to black. Finally his wife screamed “Broussard get your fat ass off that man’s IPAD!!!”

He handed over the permanently bowed cased & IPAD, dripping with Cajun sweat, I took it with thumb and index finger like the dirty diaper it was and retreated to the room.

After googling that bacteria dies at 165 degrees, I preheated the oven! Karen caught me before disaster struck and I headed to the beach and the Susan Dey like sand, now encased in a black Hefty bag and buried 3” deep, the iPad was good as new in less than an hour! The warped edge of the case may have been caused by the lithostatic pressure of the fat guy but I was pretty sure the melted number 9 key was a temperature thing. Anyway we now head to Villa Del La Roca where we got married 23 years ago!

We spent the spring/summer prepping the Casper house for sale. well Karen did most of it. I busied myself going thru boxes I’d been schlepping around since Ronald Regan was in office because that’s really all I can be trusted to do.

One very odd realization when preparing to sell/move…the banister you damaged on move in day 22 years ago,that you swore you’d repair next week….is STILL in need of repair. The Stones famously said “Time is on my side” well thats a bunch of crap!

It’s only on your side if you can hire someone!!! But we couldn’t afford that, so Karen busied me with painting the cupola and weather vane,the thought being it was high enough on the roof that any potential buyer wouldn’t notice what a shitty job I did.Karen said “just make sure you…

After cleaning the black paint that slopped all over the shingles as best I could,I proudly descended the ladder to the safety of terra firma. Given my new found propensity for injury, I was happy to be done with ladder work for the time being.

Karen listed the house after cleaning every square inch…..twice…..Karen is like that.

Thanks to Karens staging and marketing, the house sold faster than a fat truck driver hitting the Golden Corral buffet line for the 4th time.

Like all folks who sell rather quickly, the 14 seconds of euphoria was replaced with a heartfelt “ah fu*k” as we both did the mental calculation of the footprint of 22 years of stuff.

Most people sell and move into another place, we were not,we were consolidating as they say. I think consolidation was a new catch phrase coined by some washed up HGTV star

In an effort to launch a new show called Proprietas el crapo which loosely translated from Latin means” your stuff is crap”

We began consolidation with a good ole fashioned garage sale! This entails trying to sell an item that you paid $500 for, for $50 ,only to be scoffed at by some picker when you refused to accept $7. Some may romanticize the thought of a garage sale, sitting in a lawn chair (complete with price tag) sipping coffee in the warm sun,greeting your neighbors, exchanging pleasantries. Wrong, ya gotta follow people into the house so you can keep junior from playing bouncy house on you $3,000 couch that your trying to sell for $200. You bake in the sun,overcome by boredom and the thought of the $3,000 payday that awaits after 2 consecutive weekends of groveling with cheap ass morons so you can be rid of $25,000 worth of shyt that you got no room for.

I love going to garage sales, looking for that unknown treasure , but if you are thinking of putting one on yourself, I recommend a prostate biopsy without anesthesia.This will give you a proper comparison from a level of enjoyment perspective. I was, however, able to fetch top dollar for two records from the early 1960’s. I personally was not familiar with these particular recording artist that I got from my great friend Ralph, but apparently they are highly collectable recordings!

Garage sales are a bit of a cathartic experience as you part with items you’ve had for years, items that were gifts from long gone lovers, friends from decades ago that you lost touch with.Parting with, or more so, being forced to part with items like these causes one to face the reality of age, the passage of time. Our youth may be behind us now but what wonderful memories were made in that home, with mothers and fathers and brothers and sister and friends for life.

We will miss that house, a house filled with love, laughter, family, friends and dogs. Cussing at Steeler games on TV, People of Walmart parties, Halloween parties and the joy of everyday life!

Christmas

Dogs

What a glorious summer it was in the Big Horn mountains! The summer of 2023 almost wasn’t ! We burned the wood stove into July, happily I might add ,after feeling the scorching sun of Chandler Az that spring.

The wild flowers were magnificent after the snowy wet winter and spring

We embarked on a few projects to try and make the cabin more like a home in anticipation of perhaps selling our Casper place,including adding storage space.

We gutted the bathroom and added cabinets and a larger vanity, I was able to accomplish this while only sawing through the waterline once! After replacing my fried saw, for my next trick, I was able to nick the electrical wires ! The ensuing spark and puff of smoke caused momentary loss of control of my large intestine check valve. Being older now than I once was ,this came as no surprise to me or my seasoned whitey tighties. After a quick wardrobe change I was back at it ,this time shelving!

Unfortunately while taking a board down the back step and simultaneously talking to “my man”, Otis, who lounged in the green grass in the bright sunshine like the cool cat that he is …

I missed a step and fell………now when you are young, time goes in slow motion in these cases. When you are old and very near fossilization like myself, it happens in a millisecond, like going to bed Sunday night before a Monday morning meeting with the big dogs, your head hits the pillow and BAM! The alarm is blaring.

I literally had the time to get the a out of ah shit before my left eye was marveling at the pretty lichen on the rock , the blues and pinks just 5/8

of an inch from my face. My right shoulder impacted the other landscape boulder I’d placed there mere days before while my face broke my fall.

Karen heard my yelp from upstairs and perhaps the loud BONGGGG noise of the 3 1/2 thick slab of wood bouncing off my dome. Karen raced to my side like Ricky Schroder in the 1980 movie the champ

I moaned out DONT F***ING TOUCH ME!!!!!!! I couldn’t really move my right arm but slowly got to my knees. With pleading eyes I asked Karen “hows my face?”

“ Ahhh its not too bad”

After speaking with two different surgeons we ended up with this:

To go along with these from years ago

Poor Karen has been wonderful enough to nurse me back from all my maladies and physical imperfections.

Behold , what I call the $15,000 shelf!

Fast forward to Blanding Utah in November as we headed to AZ.

BANG!!!!!!

The leaf springs broke on the Mc5er!! CHA CHING! $987 down the tubes!!!

For our next trick a blow out on the Mc5er while driving to our great friends Bridget and Steve’s place in Spicwood Texas for the eclipse !

$950 later we had new tires all the way around the fifth wheel!!!

We worked our way forward because these are FIRST WORLD problems….before everyone starts piling on…..I know people struggle to eat and pay bills. Many also have enough body ink to buy a used Beamer, never thought of birth control and /or made stupid decisions that have reverberated thru the decades. Or perhaps, they have just not as lucky as I have been.

WHERE was I?

I’m old

Next week had the serpentine belt on the Ford f250 explode just out of Phoenix as we ascend a 47% grade!

We were lucky as “Look out Point” rest area was only 200 yards down the road. Now, when your recently replaced serpentine belt explodes, you loses power steering as well! This is especially problematic when dragging a 32’ fifth wheel AND you have a recently replaced shoulder and your name is not Steve Austin

But we managed to make it to the rest area where Etta and Otis could sniff and pee and …well be dogs. With our friend Robert’s help we located a mobile mechanic which in Latin translates into “boy is this gonna cost a lot”

$450 later we were on our way, which given windshield time and all wasn’t bad, I guess. My cheapskate mind was thinking “it took longer to refill the antifreeze than it did to install the belt, I think I got fuc*ed”

We happily meander back towards Casper with an overnight at Recapture reservoir in Utah? Colorado? Lots of swimming for Etta and plenty of sand for the Mc5er carpet!!!!

We pushed on toward our beloved Wyoming ,marveling at the ever changing landscape . We chatted happily about visiting Karen’s mom and opening the cabin when BAAAANG!!!!!!! You guessed it, serpentine belt blew AGAAAIIIIN!!!!! We were just outside of Baggs Wyoming,population 411,elevation 6,218 feet! Suffice to say there ain’t much outside nor inside Baggs Wyoming, Karen was on the phone looking for another “This is REALLLLLLY gonna cost a lot mobile mechanic” as I strong armed the Mc5er into the port of entry parking lot. We wordlessly arranged lawn chairs and set up the grill as we both did a mental calculation about the cost of the 77 mile trip from Rawlins to our “campsite” in Baggs. Surprisingly, we’ve both become somewhat numb to the occasional??????, &*(#%@% inconveniences while traveling. We pretended we were camped among tall pines and a babbling creek as the bratwurst sizzled on the grill and the ice swirled in our newly refreshed cocktails.

The new morning shown bright as the dogs did dog things while I sipped coffee and wondered aloud when Larry the mobile mechanic might arrive. I also busied myself with youtube videos of “How to change a serpentine belt”

I was startled as Larrys POS 1993 rusted out Ford F-250 rolled into the lot, backfire loudly and continued sputtering for a few seconds after he killed the ignition.What a piece of shit his truck was! I hoped he knew what he was doing as I shook his permanently grease stained hand, and quickly moved him toward the truck. The clock was ticking and time is money as they say.

I was enveloped in a cloud of utter terror as Larry turned the new belt end over end over end over end as what I could only perceive as his effort to find the top?

I grabbed the belt and took charge as it was quite clear that Larry never changed a serpentine belt, I could barely spell serrrpenteen belt but it was looking like I knew more than the guy that literally held our checkbook in his hands.

The warm asphalt felt good on my back as I tried to instruct Larry from under the truck. Larry paused occasionally to refer to the “map” I sketched showing how the serpentine belt “serpentined” around the various pulleys……….did you see what I did there?? Pretty cool huh….regular Arnie Hemingway I am.

After 20 minutes of grunting and groaning the belt was on and I held a grease stained invoice for $962!!!!!! I shudder to think what the cost would have been if not for YouTube and my labor. It struck me who Larry reminded me of as I waved him out of the lot.

We arrived back in Casper later that day without incident, already missing our Arizona pals

Karen and I stretched out on the couch with a great book and delicious home cooked dinner too!

Some Az friend’s photos were not included.

This is an effort to protect their identity,perhaps from Interpol and or the Witness Protection Program. As you might imagine many of our friends and neighbors in Moon Pond were quite active in the turbulent counter culture times of the 60’s and 70’s

I met my future father in-law Ralph at my future wife’s home in 1999 or so. His daughter, Karen, had a little party at her house and invited some of us from work. In an effort to avoid the crowd I tried hiding in the garage and, as luck would have it, the BEER was in the garage so Ralph and a few others were out there guarding said beer. Keeping my head down in an effort of human contact avoidance I shuffled toward the coolers, I saw the tops of Ralph’s shoes coming my way and knew I was going to have to “interact”. As I grabbed a beer, Ralph thrust out a large hand with a huge welcoming grin and said “Hi I’m Spaulding, you’ve played with my balls”

He roared a thunderous belly laugh and I knew right away this guy was alright. Just about then Karen materialized by his side, before I could warn her about this guy she said “this is my dad Ralph”. Seeing my quizzical look, Karen shot Ralph a look “you didn’t do the Spaulding thing did you?” “DAD”!

This was the beginning of a long and wonderful friendship. We had trips to Mexico with Ralph donning cowboy boots and swim trunks and a horrific faded green bucket hat. Ralph was a huge proponent of embarrassing his children and wife whenever possible and he made the most of every opportunity.

Ralph helped me build the backyard shed after Karen and I married, the family neglected to tell me that Ralph was about as mechanically inclined as a door stop. One day I admonished Ralph for his baggy pants and made a note to get him the suspenders that look like a tape measure seeing as he was now a assistant carpenter!

Moments later as we carried a truss from the curb to the backyard, I heard Ralph lament “Well, it finally happened” . Ralph had stopped abruptly and the truss conked me in the head, “shit Ralph what’s going on back there”? We dropped the truss and I turned to behold Ralph in all his glory

“RALPH PULL UP YOUR PANTS”!!!!!!!!!!

It didn’t seem to faze Ralph that his pants were resting comfortably around his ankles,but he methodically pulled them back up, thus sparing what remained of my optic nerve .

Now that he was back to a fully clothed status, Ralph and I struggled to get the first truss in place. With our backs to each other it was hard for me to figure out exactly what the problem was on Ralph’s end of the truss as we pulled and pushed furiously, getting nowhere fast.

I finally said “stop stop stop, just put your end down Ralph”. I balanced my end on the already completed wall where it would soon be nailed and climbed down the ladder. And what a sight to behold, Ralph clutching his jeans in one hand while holding his end of the truss all the while trapped on the ladder unable to go further up or retreat! I took Ralph’s end and told him to toenail the other end in place while I held this end in place. The truss was heavy enough and certainly awkward enough that I couldn’t do anything more than keep it from tumbling 9 feet to the ground, taking Ralph and I and the ladders with it. After what seemed like an eternity of banging and what my trained ear recognized as MANY “missed nail swings”. Ralph ! Ralph! What in the hell are you doing over there???” This thing is HEAVY!!!”

RALPH: I think there is something wrong with your nails!!, they don’t want go into the wood”

I quickly retrieved a hammer and nail praying the truss would stay and not kill my helper, I climbed up the ladder behind Ralph to find

I secured Ralph’s end and we retreated to the cool shade of the patio

With that task complete Ralph happily announced “well I guess we should have a beer don’t ya think?” Ralph would calmly defuse a variety of situations by this phase or “nice weather we’re havin” or “ it’s about happy hour,what ya drinking?”

After all his help with the shed I could only wonder at the hilarity that must have ensued during the Barton Family cabin build on Casper mountain in 1977 or so. I pumped Ralph’s great friends, Herman and Fred, at every get together to enchant me with stories of Ralph’s ineptitude with any hand tool and they happily provided. Each tale, perhaps further embellished from the last telling just mere months ago, began with a deep heartfelt belly laugh that started somewhere in the arches of Fred or Herman’s feet! I would spy Ralph hiding his eyes with a hand as he joined the laughter, knowing in his good natured way that he was about to be ridiculed once again. The crew of friends working on the cabin always tried to find something befitting to Ralph’s carpentry skills, like painting the tar sealant on the concrete that would be backfilled with dirt and never seen. Or invented “parts” runs down the mountain to Casper for double headed nails and ALWAYS more beer. Ralph took all the ribbing in stride and would just assume his patented “what are ya looking at me for “ pose. Ralph had a calm in most all things that came his way, he cared not that he couldn’t run a hammer, or any other tool for that matter, and he was fine with that. A trait many of us could aspire to, a calmness in your own skin.

Ralph was know for many endearing traits and habits, one was giving ya the finger! I learned right away that Ralph rarely gave the finger in anger, with Ralph it was his personalized form of salutation! The FINGER was reserved for people he liked and cared for! During his long career as a Ski Patrol member on Hodagon Mountain, Ralph drove the mountain road thousands of times. Ralph knew many of the mountain residence as neighbors if not personal friends and they would sometimes get the bird on the way up and the way down! If someone got a new car, they would ask Ralph’s son, Jim, “Is Ralph mad at me? He stopped giving me the bird!!” Jims reply of “Just start giving him the finger first till recognizes ya” was welcomed with a joyful grin, and an eagerness to try it.

One Christmas I gifted Ralph a lifelike remote control hand THAT FLIPPED THE BIRD. He laughed like a little kid!!

Being the little kid at heart that he was, Ralph also enjoyed a good fart, particularly his own. One Christmas, while seating at the dinner table, Ralph was insistent that I occupy a particular chair once dinner commenced. Beaming with pride that Ralph wanted me to occupy a place of honor at the other head of the table seat, I merrily added two more chairs and scooched my chair to make room. My foot kicked something under the table!!! On blended knee I found a plastic box under my chair encased in duct tape that appeared to have been attached to the bottom of my chair. Unable to see what I found in the dim of the formal dinning room I retreated to the bathroom in search of light. What I had was something similar to this!!!!!!

THAT EVIL BASTARD!!!!

Ralph had played my pride like a fiddle, ensuring I was seated at the head of the table with the flatulence machine of embarrassment not so expertly taped underneath . Discreetly fetching new duct tape, I affixed the cut the cheese machine to Ralph’s chair!!!!

During a lull in the feast I noticed Ralph fumbling below the tablecloth, no doubt in search of the right button, just then, a thunderous bellowing of a fart emitted from Ralph’s direction. The entire table turned in unison to stare at Ralph, many can imagine Ralph’s look of bewilderment as he furiously pressed the button hoping for a different outcome. The realization hit Ralph and he turned to me and silently mouthed “you son of a bitch you”. His bellowing laughter almost drowned out Lucille’s admonishment of “Ralph J. Barton”!!! As the table joined the joke.

I heard many stories that occurred years before I became part of the family, most were of world travels with friends and family, many of the misadventures were with Herm or Fred or some or all the rest of his gang, and many stories of Ralph’s humor and acts of kindness. I experienced this kindness many times, one example involved my dog Junior. Junior was at the end of his life’s journey when Ralph accompanied me to Fort Collins to try and buy Junior a few more months at the veterinary college. Previous trips by Karen and Junior yielded 2-3 months of relief, but on this trip, Ralph and I were told the well has run dry as we stood in the exam room watching Junior pace. Ralph loved Junior as much as I did and we both shed tears as we said our goodbyes. Ralph embraced me and comforted me as I sobbed like a child, this bear of a man, exposed his soft side to provide me comfort even amidst his own grief.

We drove in silence, except for the occasional sniffle, until the Wyoming line, when Ralph announced we should get a six pack and toast to Juniors life and adventures. The next 3 hours were as good as they could be, Ralph shared Junior memories and misbehaviors that I hadn’t been unaware of! In short Ralph extended a kindness to me that is rare, he gave freely of himself in an effort to ease my pain.

I learned early that dogs were unbelievably important to Ralph, the morning would start with a walk and yet another in early afternoon . Ralph’s lunch would be somewhere in between, complete with that fake Kraft cheese, doled out to each of the 4-5 dogs on hand on any given day. The crew was normally Ralph’s dog, Our dogs (2), his MIL’s dog, many times his sons dog, or a grandkids dogs, or YOUR dog. Ralph took to counting dogs as he loaded them into his slobber covered sedan in an effort to avoid bringing home an “extra”.I close my eyes and can see Ralph smiling broadly, an elbow on the door, the breeze in his face, one hand on the wheel at 12 o’clock, his canine laden car hurtling down college drive at 17 miles an hour with at least one dog out each window.

I have a hundred stories, but you get the idea of a fine man, a fine husband, and a loving father who past on his best traits to his three children, and for me, a Great Friend.

We said goodbye to Ralph November 1st 2023 at Central Wyoming Hospice in Casper Wyoming, but I still see his broad smile in every dog I meet.

I wont bore you with “you never know what tomorrow holds”

I’ll leave you with: enjoy the greatness of your great friends today and just as importantly aspire to be one as well.

Those of you who are old enough to have watched the moon landing on a 13 inch black and white TV, used a bong before it was legal and remember ashtrays on airplanes, let us marvel at the technology today! I’m sure its hard for the youngsters to conceive that we used to use paper maps and word of mouth for camping or fishing spots. Hard to imagine people would trade travel info in dark smokey bars back when I had hair

Yes people smoked in bars,just about everywhere,except church from what I was told. I recall sweeping the floor at the local drug store that I worked at back near Pittsburgh as a teen, chasing middle aged women as they chain smoked Virginia Slims,grinding them out on the floor with a high heal. Every isle from baby formula to tampons littered with butts,but I was making $1.60 an hour so smoke away BABY!

ANYWAY, google maps is a great invention and no smoking on airplanes is an even better idea. I think Ricky Nelson catching his plane on fire while freebasing cocaine *which led to his death may have even caused us, uhhhh,I mean people to rethink smoking weed in airplane lavatories too. Personal growth is a great thing, don’t you think?

Where was I? Besides confused?

Google maps,ahh yes

Some months ago we headed into the Arizona mountains for fifth wheel camping

My navigator Karen , said google maps says there’s some great spots down this road…..so off we go, just outside of Prescott Az, or somewhere, I’m not the damn navigator,what do I know.

As we happily and perhaps stupidly meandered down what looked to be a pretty good dirt/rocky road,I silently wondered about the hapless saps that spent their days and nights camping in “resort” type facilities with their pools

Pickle ball,shuffleboard,mini golf,driving range, skeet shooting,jacuzzi,tennis courts, dog park the size of Delaware ,strip joint…oh wait,they don’t usually have strip joints..humm?

Those bozos will never camp like Karen and I!!!

Just a 1/4 mile down the dirt road,we spied a open area to the left that had some RV’s parked there. We slowed to checked it out ! Someone had the grill going

As the smoke waffled our way I expected the sweet aroma of BBQ but instead we were greeted with a metallic chemical smell! Unsure of what exactly they were “cooking” but being a Breaking Bad aficionado I could guess.

I hit the gas and the Mc5er lurched forward past the tweekers and towards yet another dry creek bed, but adding distance between us and the the druggies was paramount!

Google maps, much to our dismay continually showed what appeared to be boondocking camp sites that turned out to be more dry washes,

We forged ahead as I cursed myself for not scouting ahead with just the pickup, I had driven us into a very bad situation as the road continued to narrow with no place to turn around . The road became almost nonexistent in some spots

And in the “good” spots ,it was scary as hell

I tried to keep my whimpering silent as I thought of our impending death by a 100’ tumble down the steep embankment, encased in our Ford F250 tomb!

Karen SNAPPED me out of it with a shout of

YOU P*SSY!!!!!

We got to a spot that did not appear wide enough for a pickup, rock wall on my right and a 120 foot drop on my left! I folded in the passenger mirror and got as close to the wall as I dare, fearful of scratching Karen’s baby! Karen said “ya got another 5/8 of an inch over here if ya need it”. As I crept along glancing in my mirror every 1.223 seconds, I saw an image that made my heart flutter and my skivies fill with dodo. THE ROAD WAS GIVING WAY UNDER THE Mc5er TIRES!!!!!!!!!

My minds eye saw this over and over

Somehow my sphincter trying to clench caused my right foot to spasm and mash down on the accelerator! My eyes locked on the mirror,willing the tires that floated in air to stay straight, but to my horror they every so slowly were starting to tilt toward the bottom of the rocky gorge. In a millisecond my foot mashed harder on the gas, although it was already floored,I swear I felt the floorboard compress further. Much to the chagrin of our heirs, the Ford reacted to my minds pleas of “HOLY SH*T GO!!!!!!” I breathed a sigh of relief as the tires found dirt, leaving the cave in behind us!I cleared the sweat that burned my eyes, grateful to be alive.

Just then Karen looked up from her book and asked,”did you fart”?

We drove for what seemed like miles and miles across the terrifying moonscape of death in search of a turn around to no avail. As I mentally calculated the cost of a cargo helicopter to extract the Mc5er and F250 from this highway to hell…….

What should appear? A wide spot in the road!!!!! Although it didn’t appear to be wide enough to turn around in,it was wide enough to drop the Mc5er and still allow a PU to pass, not that we had seen any other vehicles in what was feeling like a lifetime on this crap road

Karen and I expertly dropped the fifth wheel in record time,eager to forge ahead, hopeful for salvation from this parkway toward purgatory.

3 hairpin curves and 250 yards later our hearts sank as the road turned into a footpath as the road had completely given way

Let’s see…….can’t go forward ,Check

Can’t go backwards,Check

We’re fu*ked, Check

Karen cuffed me upside the head and firmly admonished me “snap out of it cowboy, we got one choice….well two choices ,one choice being DYING!!!!!! Which isn’t really a preferred choice OR go back the way we came”

I backed the pick up the 250 yards back to the Mc5er in just under 3 1/2 hours, and we were a bit disappointed that no one had stolen it. That would have certainly simplified things.

After hooking back up to Mc5er we milled about the “wide spot” trying to envision how this turn around job was gonna work.

As I tried to channel my internal “Will Hunting“ and apply it to the current algebraic skull cramp, I quickly decided that I didn’t posses the necessary level of quality grey matter. Unfortunately, the grey matter I’m blessed with is only good for its silly comedic ability and as a place to store a lifetime of concussions.

In an effort to keep with the mentality I was born with, I just said “fu*k it, it’ll work or it won’t but we won’t know till we start”

Karen bravely scampered back and forth behind the Mc5er trying to guide me. Karen knows that every inch matters….especially in this situation, we also have our own set of hand signals that Karen invented for backing up the trailer and I’m not really clear on the meaning on all of them but I know this one means STOP!!!!!!!

Our plan was to back the first set of trailer tires up to the edge until little baby avalanches of dirt started to cascade down the gorge then pull forwards 3 inches. Of course the challenge here was to not create adult avalanches that thunder down the ravine dragging me, the Mc5er, the truck and the yeti full of beer to our death.I pock marked the shear wall so many times with the front bumper that it resembled my teenage face, but it did appeared we were making some headway…Time drug on and it certainly felt like it took the same amount of time it took to talk Kelly Such out of her tube top in 9th grade*

But we were finally POINTING THE RIGHT WAY!!!

Our merriment was brief as the realization hit that the original cave in lay ahead like a meeting with the IRS , parent teacher night or your 6 year old great nephew’s Christmas pageant.All of the aforementioned examples ,though uncomfortable are not immediately life threatening like the Evil Knievl jump that lay ahead.

The drive back was made even more unnerving by the fact that I was on the rock wall side now and could only try and scrub the mirror on the wall in an attempt to put distance between the precipice and our tires. Karen’s occasional commentary of “holy sh*t holy sh*t” although understandable was not entirely helpful, but then Karen cried out “is that a truck”! Ahead several hairpin turns a dust cloud and perhaps a truck was coming our way!!!

Otis and Etta awoke from their nap and eyeballed the welcome apparition

At 75 yards out the driver found a spot to turn around and signaled me to follow him out! How cool is that? He easily made it across the cave in a few minutes later, and Karen and the twins walked across just in case.

My plan was to gun it, admittedly not much of a plan but given the circumstances perhaps the best. I stared down the gantlet

Like that 1970’s hero

I gunned the engine hoping to jump off the line

With the accelerator thru the firewall…..I lurched forward

At 7 mph hour my body wasn’t thrust back into my seat as I had hoped,so I rocked back and forth like a child trying to get a swing going. This seemed to have about as much of a positive effect as a speech from the Oval Office, but somehow at a max speed of 12 mph we drifted across the abyss to safety!

In a few miles our good Samaritan’s pulled off into the RV meth encampment we observed coming in a lifetime ago. A few more ratty RV’s had set up in our absence with children running about giving me the finger…how cute…..and a impromptu concert…….. what?

For safety sake I told Karen to stay in the truck and enjoy the music and dancing while I went and thanked the pick up truck driver

As I approached he smiled broadly

Being deaf as a post I have to stare at peoples mouths to try and lip read if you will…..this was not a pleasant experience

I thanked him with a $20 and wish him a great day, as I scurried my middle class ass back to the safety of Karen and the truck I heard him beckon “ come on Kenny lets go to Walmart and get some sterno”!

Once safely on the blacktop, where our only worry was a flat tire or maybe fatal crash, we still felt better about our chances than the area we just left.

As I quietly hummed that catchy banjo tune, Karen pecked away at Google in search of the nearest RV RESORT before I could even suggest it! As we drove I marveled aloud at how we managed to get turned around, Karen giggled slightly then admitted “ I backed you up until the first tire was airborne and the last tire made little avalanche’s , I didn’t tell you cause I knew you’d just snivel about the possibility of dying and all”

* further investigation of Ricky Nelsons plan crash refuted initial claims of a crack pipe induced fire

* I never got close to talking Kelly Such’s tube top off but like the Ricky Nelson thing it made for better prose

On a more serious note, those of you who RV or even truck camp, be careful of nature and your fellow man, it can be dangerous out there.

The twins

and I arrived in the desert for our camping trip near Florence Az pretty much unscathed after the minor incident with the construction zone and the Man-bun guy from American Horror Story

The “twins” Etta and Otis leapt from the pick up like we use to when we heard LAST CALL!!!!! I was sooo happy for them until I noticed they ran 100 mph right out of sight. Bastards……..I busied myself with the traditional Coors Light ….cracked as soon as we arrive at our spot…half way thru the third one I remembered that the beer comes AFTER the Mc5er is set up!!!!!! Being old I had to really focus on WHAT I needed to do….but being old , all I could think about was I really need to pee. For you younger readers who can drink a 12 pack without peeing and pee over a 5’ fence after your 12th beer……….just you wait!

My brain cleared faster than Uncle Joes fogs up when I realized this was going to be a real challenge without my lovely wife, camping partner and owner of 78% of our family’s grey matter. As I mentioned before , we each have separate duties when setting up the Mc5er,but I figured…hey I got this….I went to high school….graduated and everything.

I stared blankly at the control panel wishing I’d paid closer attention to what exactly Karen did ,as I usually busily myself in the bed of the Ford slowly trying to empty the beer cooler while Karen does all the work

I figured what the hell, took a swig of beer and started punching buttons , while screaming MAO like Christopher Walken’s captor in the movie The Deer Hunter

The camper convulsed and groaned like a old man trying to tie his shoes or the really old guy you hear in the club house using the next urinal over…….not pretty!!!!

After 15 or 20 minutes of trying to accomplish what Karen completes in 1-2 minutes, I figured “close enough “……a little cribbing under the wheels…..chock the tires……and we’ll be ready for a rum drink!

After assembling a RUM and coke,I went searching for the twins…….those two are what I imagine twin toddlers to be…….faster than the contents of an old time thermometer with a splash of Chucky

A few minutes later I found them pacing around a recently uprooted desert bush,the bush had be expertly trenched around its 360 degree drip line in an effort to capture and KILL whatever hapless rodent tried to live there

By promising a special treat and cool fresh water to wash down 5 pounds of recently ingested dirt I was able to entice the twins back towards the Mc5er….after watering and feeding the twins I splashed a new drink and relaxed in a lawn chair.

Beat down on me like

I drifted in and out ……napping until the unwanted occasional companion of all old men appeared intermittently to jostle me from slumber….the nose fart……….I told myself enjoy a nap! It’s not like I’m responsible for leading the Greatest Nation in the World!

After napping in the sun,walking with the dogs each day thus amassing a distance similar to Shermans March to the sea

I decided that camping without your lovely wife, best camping pal and life mate was BORING!!!, so after three days in the desert we headed back to Moon Pond.

Moon pond is a great community AND my great friend Scooter Rizzuto who I met in fourth grade was coming to visit!

Like most men……who have lifelong pals visit………..

drunkenness became the rule of the day. Our male pride shone brightly as we golfed each day and skidded into nightfall in a Bullet Bourbon fueled perception of euphoria unaware of our simpleminded sophomoric behavior. Without wives present to remind us that we were no longer skinny 20 something’s, that we are on downhill side of the lifespan equator and we should act….or at least try and act like adults….we behaved like each day was our last and we strangled each ounce of joy out of every second……..so basically we were shitfaced for 4 days.

I’m not sure if I was happier to see Scooter arrive or depart Moon Pond…..I know my liver breathed sigh of relief as he trodded down the walk into Sky harbor airport.

I’ve tried to wax eloquent in the past about lifelong friends with what I’d guess is limited success based on my remedial skills as a scribe , but Your friend (s) from 1969 are second only to your wonderful wife in their ability to finish sentences for you and make you feel comfortable and satisfied with life in each moment of each day. The only thing that grade school chums are better at than loving soulmates is their ability to not mention that your feet stink, that you might wanna wear a different shirt today, and they never say…….”you’re not having another beer are you”?

I counted the days for Karens return from snowy wyoming ,my lonely heart supplanted by the shear horror that I needed to clean the entire house and take a pickup load of liquor bottles to the landfill before her arrival and discovery of Scooter and my unabashed teenage behavior!!!!

Most men or perhaps just me…….don’t realize how much your mate/wife means to you until you are alone in an empty house……and you turn to comment on how utterly stupid “this Netflix move is” and there is no one there…..or you make her cup of coffee and set out her iPad and phone at her place at the table for her arrival from slumber…..only to realize……you are a moron…….she in not here….she is interfacing with adults who it just so happens , are not morons….many states away.

Buy your wife some flowers……do the wash…….run the vacuum……but above all let her know that she is everything……..because without her….you are not your best you and perhaps much less

God Only Knows”

I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I’ll make you so sure about it

God only knows what I’d be without you

If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me

God only knows what I’d be without you

God only knows what I’d be without you

If you should ever leave me
Well life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me

God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows what I’d be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I’d be without you

From The Beach Boys album Pet Sounds 1966

* Jeremy by Pearl Jam 1991 from the album Ten

As many of my……..well……both followers know, Karen and I AND the twins Etta and Otis escape our beloved Wyoming each fall in search of warmer weather and a virtually wind free environment . Warmer weather is achievable…..but short of outer space….wind free does not exist ….it blows everywhere

Our first week back was chalked full of engrossing tasks like scrubbing toilets and washing windows……….using a leaf blower to try and wrangle…….well….leaves. Apparently the whole leaf blower goal is to try and get them in the neighbors yard…..I’ve been an utter failure at this as being a Wyoming boy….we rely on the WIND!

I got nothing to complain about….we are very lucky that Karen worked hard enough to allow us to be in a snowbird situation……….as I’ve mentioned before I’d be living under a bridge if not for Karen…….I’m pretty sure it would be somewhere warm however.

I chomped at the bit to get back to the golf course with all the guys of the Dirty Dozen…..or the “Club” as some call it. But we had other pressing matters to attend to.

Like a hail damaged roof and damaged house paint

You can just image my glee when the adjuster told me “what hail damage”? “ I understand the roofer says your roof is totaled and your painters bids reflect a trashed paint job but piss off”!!

I understand that insurance companies are in business to make money BUT COME ON MAN!

We combated our frustration by going camping for a few days over by Florence Az. We love camping in the fifth wheel, it resembles camping about as much as my golf swing …resembles………well…….a golf swing.

Ya got hot water, shower, flush shitter, forced air heat, electric fireplace, big screen TV, stereo inside and out,electric mattress pad, microwave ,four burner stove and convention oven, heated massaging recliners AND two filthy dogs.

It’s a far cry from passing out on a blue tarp wearing every stitch of clothing you own and brushing your teeth with left over beer in the morning

It sure is great that we can camp during the week now that we are retired! After a few days of drinking in lawn chairs, eating grilled burger, steaks ETC……removing cactus from the dogs mouths,feet,tails, hind quarters and ears while drinking we headed back to Moon Pond

Moon Pond being a 55+ community is a cornucopia of humanity….a representation of the populous of our fine nation. For some unknown reason these types of community’s contain a much higher concentration of petty small minded busy bodies . Now dont get me wrong we have the most wonderful neighbors , golf buddies and friends. But the HOA is quite foreign to us being from Wyoming, where you can walk around with a gun on your hip and no one even notices and a Henry golden boy in your pick ups rear window.

Piss off the porch at midnight, drink beer in the driveway all afternoon……you get the idea…….we’re not use to all this structure and the people who deliver it!

Don’t get me wrong….I understand how quickly a place like Moon Pond could circle the shitter if not for the HOA….. but when we can hear the neighbor lady

on her porch ,cell in hand calling “The Patrol” to rat us off because our fifth wheel has been parked in front of the house for 17 seconds while unloading from the “camping “ trip……I get my skivvies in a knot

But it really is no big deal, the neighbor gets some entertainment is perhaps a lonely existence and we have 48 hours to move the RV when we never need more than 12.

After stowing the Mc 5er in the RV lot it was off to the golf course while Karen put away all our gear ,food,electronics,did laundry,vacuumed the house washed and brushed dogs,cleaned dog ear canals and perhaps got to read her book for 30 minutes.

I was excited to be paired with a fellow nicknamed “The strong silent type” I guess because he doesn’t have much to say most times. On the 3rd or 4th hole old Ricky shanked one golf shot 90 degrees off line and drilled me in the cranium! The ball came at me with the speed of a politician scrambling to a microphone to say something unintelligible.

It looked to be about the size of a large cantaloupe as it impacted my ample forehead!Fortunately I have very thick skull as proven buy my inability to understand even the simplest of commands……..Like Rickies shout of Look the fu*k out!!!!!!

I picked myself up off the fairway and we had shot of Fireball in celebration of avoiding a ER visit. You see these old guys dont mess around……..you get birdie…..its a shot……you get a par its a shot……you hit someone with a golfball …its a shot….the sun comes up…….shot.

We had a good laugh until a few holes later when I hit a shot so bad it looked like me trying to pass the SAT’s in the 70’s….It went dead right, right into the spine of Mike , one of the “Clubs”ringleaders. After expressing his wonderment at my horrific golf game…..Mike suggested a shot of his very own Fireball laced concoction, which near as I can ascertain contains Fireball, vodka, rum, Black Velvet , motor oil and Crown ,he calls it Paralysis Juice. I think I’m gonna take a little break from golf….

The days flew by as we basked in the sunshine of Moon Pond…happy for our good fortune to be here. We prepared for Karens departure to Casper for the holidays by Karen cooking nonstop to stockpile “bachelor food” for me …..while also compiling a checklist for me to assure my safety in her absence. I believe this was more for the safety of the dogs…as the long Santa like list headlined with FEED THE DOGS and don’t be a complete drunkard.

Once Karen was safely snuggled in the bosom of her family, in Caspers -40 degrees weather complete with frozen water pipes and car doors, the dogs and I stuck out on a camping trip back to the AZ desert.

The idiocy of this adventure is rivaled only by Nancy Pelosi explaining that we need more non fossil fuels like natural gas.

The dogs undeterred by the incompetence of their master patiently paced the house and garage as I loaded the Mc5er with supplies. Now normally Karen is in charge of supplies,as I’m incapable of remembering even the most basic necessities…like dog food…people food ETC.

After loading a case of rum and 30 pack of Coors Light we began our adventure. 10 miles out I remember the dog food …..sitting forlornly on the garage floor….circling back towards the house I got lost….imagine?

Much to my chagrin Nancy Neberton the nosy neighbor was glassing the house and Mc5er as we screeched to a halt atop the power box in the front yard.

I scampered into the house to retrieve the 17 items I’d forgotten in an effort to elude the patrols impending arrival.

Once safely back on the road we discovered that without Karen to guide me I drove right into the construction zone by the local Safeway!!!! The construction zone has been in a state of disarray since approximately the Jurassic period.

The RV is approximately 9 feet wide …the construction zone “horses” are 9 feet 1 inch apart creating a maze that Lewis and Clark couldn’t traverse.After the light turned green ,I was not surprised when I clipped the first saw horse on the right with the tail of the camper,as it tumbled harmlessly to the right I breathed a sigh of relief while overcorrecting to the left…….the camper fishtailed violently to the left as I again overcorrected. The black water valve impacted two “horses” and sucked them under the camper faster than pro golfer John Daily arriving at the 19th hole

The Mc 5er rocked like it ran over a VW bug and the “horse” shot out from under the axels like pellets from a rabbit who drank to much last night……….I watch as the “horses” cartwheeled through the air …….praying that it wouldn’t hit the 30 something dude with the beard and manbun texting while driving the leased Volvo behind me. As he daydreamed about his $300 sunglasses and $17.00 401K balance he was quite shocked when the “horse” took out his headlight and peeled the quarter panel open like a can of spam. In an effort to escape I inadvertently clipped one last “horse” as I careened thru the gauntlet. Manbun boy was outside his disabled Volvo by now , blocking traffic feverishly punching his cell , in what I’d suspect was an effort to reach his therapist to confirm nothing was his fault and he was special.

We traveled quickly toward the 202 as the faint whine of sirens tried to drown out the opening cords of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell playing on the radio………the dogs napped in the back ,dreaming of running wild and I of tonight’s dinner

No bearded man bun Dufus was injured in the writing of this BS

What a romantic and whimsical image a cabin in the mountains brings to mind!

Weeeeeelllllllll………it not all fairy dust and unicorn farts.

There always seems to be something that needs repaired OR REDONE because I had no idea what I was doing when I originally did the work. Let’s take the electrical wiring for example……..everyone knows including (both) my loyal followers……normal people write a check and hire a person who’s head will not spontaneously combust at the mere uttering of the phrase 3 way switch ! I ,being the frugal……….alright……cheap bastard that I am…did the wiring myself back in 2006. I think BIL Barton did some of the outlets for me…..these are easy to identify as they are the only functioning ones in the cabin. To be fair most of the ones I did, work ,its just they sometime spark or catch on fire when you plug in something or trip the GFI even though they are not on the same circuit as the GFI……not sure how that happens but my complete lack of knowledge regarding proper/safe wiring may be the answer to my confusion

I finally decided to try and REDO the wiring after the last of my outlets melted

As I’ve mentioned before my upbringing was of meager yet comfortable means……the influence of my mothers constant effort to stretch a dollar….helped form who I am today. This is not to say my mother is to blame for my frugality on steroids, her example was solid old school common sense………I probably took it to some extreme extent due to eating lead based paint off the window sills in my childhood home or drinking from a garden hose or drinking really really cheap beer in high school..………or maybe its YouTube’s fault…………cheap bastards like me gets a false sense of security after watching 50 or 60 videos …….yeah……I got this…….no….. no……ya…..don’t

We built the cabin with a knee wall foundation which creates the “crawl space”…….near as I can tell the phrase, crawl space is derived from the Latin …Mulgere hircum many believe this translates to “To milk a male goat” this is false….the translation is “ why in the fu*king sh*t did I cheap out and build a bull sh*t fu*king knee wall”

Crawl spaces/knee walls like the appendix, politicians and stupid people really don’t add much value….AND they are a pain in the ass.

Karen looked on with amusement as I suited up for my journey into the “UPSIDE DOWN”AKA the crawl space…….

safety glasses…check…hoodie cinched up so tight only one goggled eyeball is visible……check…..long pants tucked into work boots complete with gators….check…..2 pairs of work gloves that inhibited movement and manual dexterity to a point that your hands could not be more useless if you clutched a cue ball in each hand…..check………HEY!!! THERE Are SPIDERS AND SHIT DOWN THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND it didn’t help that our friend Rae mentioned that the rattle snakes like cool spaces like crawl spaces during the heat of the day

I approached the crawl space opening with a foreboding reminiscent of the walk I endured as a teen ,from the driveway to the house after pealing the fender off Dads 1965 mustang…….it was a piece of shit but he apparently was unaware of that fact

But I was determined to tidy up my original attempt at wiring

I struggled for days trying to salvage parts of my earlier work until surrendering and starting over.

Anyone who has worked around breaker boxes marvels at the lid that is engineered to hold itself open……at first glance this is a great idea

But after walking into this thing 6-8 time the first day….Karen is wondering what all the muffled cursing drifting up from the $%^**&#%#()_&^*)(_)( Crawl space is all about

By day three

The leftover staples attached to the floor joist snagged my hat at every turn and left painful ditches in my sparsely follicled dome .

Karen enjoyed the solitude as I trudged off to the crawl space each morning like a weary miner

Until the GRANDADDY of all collisions withe the breaker box door

After Karen patched me up and I apologized to the neighbors 1 1/2 miles away I decided it was time to involve a PRO!!! Our great friends next door,Rae and Larry recommended A fellow named

With Hauptmann Electrical!

Turned out that Bruno ,the owner was tied up with another matter and sent out a young apprentice……………..When I say young….I MEAN YOUNG!!!!….I explained to the youngster that Karen and I had travel extensively in Mexico and I was very familiar with wiring based on the knowledge I garnered there over a cerveza or 2……welll sometimes 12. He stared at the supply pole I hung

With a look of……..

I did my best to remain humble

With that problem solved,I can concentrate on tasks more in line with my skill level!!! Clearing some trees so the fence could be repaired!

After a quick tree felling lesson from our good friend Jeff …….I was confident I could drop these trees on a dime……….reflecting back on that moment of confidence……with the benefit of hindsight ………..I was overconfident………truth of the matter is…..I, not unlike the morons in DC had no CLUE what I was doing.

BIL Barton dropped a bunch of trees for us at the beginning of this fence repair project ,he’s kinda a cross between Jeremiah Johnson

McGyver

And the dude from Fresh Prince

Nah………he dont dance anywhere near that good.

Anyway, the fence repair was going good……..until

The neighbor showed up with beer!

After a few beers and these homemade cigars he brought we got back to the task at hand………chainsaw work!!! Manly man work!

Jeff and I consulted

Fortunately for us…..Karen was smart enough to to move herself and the dogs BEFORE Jeff and I fumbled our calculations on the felling of this aspen

Karen suggested I list all motorized tools and equipment I owned on OfferUp……..I suppose the hope is I’ll be a bit less destructive with handsaws.

Not owning a log splitter I borrowed the neighbors AND their splitter! Karen suggested that I be the stacker of the split wood as that appeared to be the safest job for someone of my limited grey matter development.

Having plenty of trees down and lots of help splitting and stacking made the job go quick

Unfortunately Etta and Otis,in pursuit of the ever elusive and EVIL chippys…….destroyed the wood stack almost as fast as the media can create discourse among the general populace with slanted ,one sided, fact devoid reporting.

But this is a part of the circle of life…..we stack it…….they destroy it….in a weird way I think I enjoy it almost as much as Etta and Otis….almost

A melancholy slowly takes a toe hold each fall as we complete the wood cutting or any number of the autumn tasks that signal the approach of winter and our migration south. We will miss all our dear friends and family, and also look forward to reuniting with our great friends at Moon Pond. There is comfort in knowing some friends and family may brave the stupidity know as air travel to even come visit us!

We wont miss

But we have many great memories to keep us warm on our journey

Pat and I awoke at 5 am……wellll…I awoke and showered,Pat slept and begged for 2 more minutes “just two more minutes”… like a teenager who can not fathom rising before brunch is served. This has been our M.O. for 40+ years on these annual fishing trips…I rise with the sun and can’t stay up past 9 pm and…..Pat is not a morning person EVER!

Pat eventually jumped…..crawled outta bed…..and we happily loaded gear bags in the car all the while clutching the room key in a vice like grip. We had a brighter attitude after 3 solid hours of sleep

and were ripe with anticipation for our floatplane ride into walleye and small mouth bass rapture!!

We were happily unaware of the low sky and persistent drizzle as we made our way to Tim Hortons , a wonderful coffee ,donut shop…loved by all Canadians and visitors as well!

The rain seemed to pick up?

“Those windshield wipers

slapping out a tempo

Keepin time with the song on the radio.”*

We rolled into the Tim Horton drive thru only to discover that the Delta customer service agent that Karen schooled way back at the beginning of this trip was working there as well!! The Charlie Brown like voice came from the tinny sounding speaker in an inaudible and unintelligible cascade of sounds with a cadence meant to imitate the kings English

Pat ordered some sort of latte jimmy-juinka- frap-a something or another with 1/3 half and half……..WTF! I thought we were ordering coffee?.?? I could tell by the accent and confusion by the drive up person that they were new and they were not native Canadian so in an effort to assure my order was correct,I ordered a small black coffee . After Pat repeated the order 3 times and the drive up person responded with some kinda Klingon dialect……Pat just responded yes at every pause. Being old and extremely deaf, I had no clue what the drive up gal was asking….but there was one thing I was certain of…….our order would be FUBAR.

As we watched, the car in front of us at the window was in some kinda heated exchange! Just then a large Tim Horton double double came flying out the drive up all over the driver and car!

And then!

These Canadians are serious about their Tim Horton double doubles!**

Pat and I were somewhat apprehensive about moving up to the window once the debate was completed, but we forged ahead!

As expected ,Pats order of a jimmy-juinka-frappa with 1/3 half and half arrived as a small black coffee 2/3’s full…….instead of 1/3 half and half, Pat got 1/3 oxygen ….the crown jewel of the experience was his toasted bagel and cream cheese……which appeared to be a stale untoasted bagel with unmelted Kraft cheese and some creamer drizzled on top…resulting in a bagel that resembled a wet dish rag. Pat politely mentioned that the order was a bit off…….and the drive – up gal responded:

Pat demanded to see her supervisor….and we got

I begged Pat to just go…just drive…..Pat is not a personality that surrenders easily…..but even Pat knew there was little sense in engaging with these clowns.

I added a little Saint Brendons Irish Cream from my flask into my black coffee as we pulled into traffic….. my coffee was perfect!!…it was at this moment that we both realized the weather may impact our departure time!

We headed to the dock trying to ignore the pelting rain and ferocious wind

The dock was almost unrecognizable………as it was underwater!!!

The owner of River Air proclaimed “ we might have to wait for a window before we can takeoff but let’s get your gear on the carts” the young deckhand materialized with a flat cart with big tires to keep our shit dry as he wheeled it thru the 8” of lake water on the dock. Docks are supposed to be ON TOP of the water…not riding below! Just as this revelation skidded in and out of my feeble brain…..Junior the deck hand runs the cart into the side of the ramp leading into the “hanger” and the waiting scale….several gear bags topple into the drink……I internally chuckle…..until I notice MY backpack SUBMERGED!! Juniors demeanor and associated level of urgency did not fit this particular situation!! I holler “my bag my bag!” He gives me the look given by youngsters since the dawn of mankind

He lazily sloshes his way across the dock toward me , the water pouring out of my bag!

He looks at his submerged boots and silently hands me the bag…no “sorry sir” not even a lame “my bad dude” . I could have strangled him if he wasn’t so young….and I so old…bastard.

Duncan’s shout snapped me out of my rage “your iPad and phone”!!!! I dumped the contents and a gallon of water on an empty cart inside the hanger as Pat scrambled for paper towels.I glared over at junior who pretended to busy himself with weighing the cart and our gear while avoiding eye contact….bastard! Pat feverishly dabbed at the electronics as I shook out my passport, COOTIE vaccination card and other sopping wet shit.

I had to laugh, what a trip this has been,not certain but I think it took me 3 days to get to Kenora Ontario, and I could have driven here in ~16 hours….and now junior put a cherry on top of the whole cluster f*ck by dropping all my electronics and other important shit in the lake! I told Pat “I need a drink” Pat : “it’s 8 am” Me : “oh, my bad dude”. We agreed on a cup of coffee at a NON Tim Hortons coffee shop across the street. After a nice hot cup of correctly prepared coffee we bummed a ride to Wal-mart with some fellow fishermen who were lawyer dudes and like us ,were in search of rubber boots and praying the rain would stop so we all could get on with catching fish, smokin cigars,farting and walking around in our skivvies .

The lawyer dudes had been going on an annual fishing trip for 40 years and were great friends…..this was apparent by the banter and interaction that transpired on the return trip from Walmart.

Bud: turn here turn here, Michael turn here!! Michael I know,I know Bud:well it sure as hell didn’t look like you knew what the f**kin sh*t you were doing ,you dipsh*t a** hole! Michael : how about I pull this van over and kick the fu*kin sh*t our of your worthless p*ssy a**? Bud: I swore I was done fishing with your dumb ass,you f*cker…………….you wanna beer? Michael: sure Bud,thanks Pat : ITS 9:45!! Everyone in the van : Shut-up Pat!!

Once back at the dock we waited around for what seemed like 7 hours and…..in fact, it was 7 hours… and the pilot finally “called it” no flights today! Lucky Us,ANOTHER CANCELLATION!!! By this time there were almost two dozen fisherman milling about the dock in various states of …….this sucks. Pat and I overheard the lawyers saying they were going to the BAR!! Pat reminded me that we needed to book a hotel before I could get knee deep in the Rum! Michael overhead our exchange and announced “I think we got the last room in Kenora”

HOLY SHIT!!!

* Drivin my life away by Eddie Rabbit, 1980

** a Tim Horton double double is two creams two sugars…I think

This blog is dedicated to my great friend Irina who’s capacity for patience is similar to mine