Monday, August 30, 2010
Campin' Up Tarryall Way, Dang Nabbit!
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San and I met Jessica and the kids up near Tarryall on Saturday afternoon for a night of camping.
We presented Max with his birthday gift - a worm farm.
We played frisbee for awhile. Max, although using an unconventional throw, was quite accurate with the thing. Sadie was starting to understand the dynamics of the frisbee, but still needs some work.
The night was pleasant. We saw a few shooting stars. I was finally able to use the iPhone app, Planets, to locate constellations in the southern sky.
San and I slept awful. So, we've determined that our next purchase, when we camp again, will definitely be an air mattress.
Sunday, we packed up and took County Road 211 to Goose Creek campground. The Hayman burn is still, well, a burn.
We got the fishing rods ready and hiked in about 1/2 mile and fished. I almost caught one out of a tiny hole. He was on the line, but quickly got off. Oh well...
167 mile roundtrip...
Here's a video of Saturday's activities ~
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
While We Were Away At A Cabin, Someone Stole Our Trash Can.....{Plus, A Quick Baby Update}
August 16th, 2010 ~
This afternoon, on my way to put a bag of trash in our bin in the alley, I found the bin gone. Stolen by (I can only guess) some waste of a human being. Uggh. I am truly thinking of stopping all mortgage payments on this property and getting the family the hell out of this white trash area I have come to call Englehood. But, as San said, "Probably someone who needed the trash can more than we did." Always the optimist. So, I called Waste Management and the customer service girl tells me, "Oh, we don't track the serial numbers on those." And, "You don't need to put your trash in a bin." Well, no wonder so much garbage ends up on our front yard! And the alley? Well, it looks like the images I've seen of Baghdad. So, who gives a shit? Right? I'm just going to put my garbage, in a cheap plastic bag, in the alley where all manner of city animals (humans included, here) are free to tear it open and strew the waste about. Apparently, no one else on our block has any issue with it...
All that crap after a wonderful weekend away from the Hood.
San & Ossi & I joined Mike D & Hanna up at the Dupre family cabin - which has now been aptly named Stone Creek. (Stoney Creek was a close second, I hear.) San & I both took a day off work to make a long weekend out of it. Unfortunately, Mike Sr. and Molly were out of town, in Boston, at a wedding; it's always a pleasure to see those two.
We arrived Friday afternoon. The cabin is having some renovations done - river stone from the surrounding land is being masoned around the foundation. It looks great. The stonemason, whose name I did not catch, mentioned to me that he grew up in the D.U. area and, up until eight years ago, lived in Littleton. "Lost about half my income moving up here to Buena Vista." I said, "But you've got all this," and motioned to the surrounding mountains. And he strongly agreed.
San and Hanna waited at the cabin for a chimney sweep to arrive. Mike and I drove into town to get groceries and for me to see about getting fixed a broken fly-rod I had purchased from Ark Angler's a few years ago. Now, the man who works at the Ark Angler's is one curmudgeony old bastard. At least, he comes off that way. Anyway, I walk in, go up to the counter, and I say, "I purchased this rod from here, from you in fact, and the male ferrule is broken." And this grumpy old fart just sat there glaring at me. So, I took the butt section out of the case and pointed it out to him.
"Well, how did that happen?" He inquired.
I said, "Well, I was fishing with it and it kept sliding off. I kept putting it back, but on one cast, it finally came off and snapped on a forward cast."
He eyed me suspiciously and said, "This can't be fixed."
"So what do I do? Throw it in your trash?"
He glared at me. "Go get the one of the others right there," he said and pointed across the shop.
I returned with it and asked, "Do I need to put some ferrule wax on this one, then?"
This really got his blood boiling. "No! Don't put wax on it! It's not designed that way."
At this point, Mike walked up to the counter and said "First fly-shop I been in that has lures under the counter." There was a deafening silence. We both thought that this man was going to reach across the glass showcase and punch Mike in the face. Mike laughed nervously, stating, "I'm sorry! Didn't mean to offend you, man!"
"Well, that's what the owner wanted! He also wanted that damn cooler full of water and soda! But who am I to question him? I'd be out on my ass if I did that!" At this point, you could tell that this man just wanted to smile. It was so close to breaking through; as close as BP capping a spewing oil-well on day 2. While Mike payed for his leader, I quickly grabbed some flies, payed up and we left.
San & Ossi & I left Sunday around 11am and returned to the city, to our home - that now had no trash bin...
Baby JJ Update - everything is going as planned. San is constantly feeling her moving around! And I say "her" because at our 18 week ultrasound, the doctor was 90% certain it was a girl. His resident felt 95% certain. I've felt her a couple times now. It's crazy! Crazy cool. Anyway, if you would like to suggest a baby name, please do so in the comments section. If we end up using your suggested name, you will win a weekend of babysitting! Offer not valid in Louisiana.
This afternoon, on my way to put a bag of trash in our bin in the alley, I found the bin gone. Stolen by (I can only guess) some waste of a human being. Uggh. I am truly thinking of stopping all mortgage payments on this property and getting the family the hell out of this white trash area I have come to call Englehood. But, as San said, "Probably someone who needed the trash can more than we did." Always the optimist. So, I called Waste Management and the customer service girl tells me, "Oh, we don't track the serial numbers on those." And, "You don't need to put your trash in a bin." Well, no wonder so much garbage ends up on our front yard! And the alley? Well, it looks like the images I've seen of Baghdad. So, who gives a shit? Right? I'm just going to put my garbage, in a cheap plastic bag, in the alley where all manner of city animals (humans included, here) are free to tear it open and strew the waste about. Apparently, no one else on our block has any issue with it...
**********************
All that crap after a wonderful weekend away from the Hood.
San & Ossi & I joined Mike D & Hanna up at the Dupre family cabin - which has now been aptly named Stone Creek. (Stoney Creek was a close second, I hear.) San & I both took a day off work to make a long weekend out of it. Unfortunately, Mike Sr. and Molly were out of town, in Boston, at a wedding; it's always a pleasure to see those two.
We arrived Friday afternoon. The cabin is having some renovations done - river stone from the surrounding land is being masoned around the foundation. It looks great. The stonemason, whose name I did not catch, mentioned to me that he grew up in the D.U. area and, up until eight years ago, lived in Littleton. "Lost about half my income moving up here to Buena Vista." I said, "But you've got all this," and motioned to the surrounding mountains. And he strongly agreed.
San and Hanna waited at the cabin for a chimney sweep to arrive. Mike and I drove into town to get groceries and for me to see about getting fixed a broken fly-rod I had purchased from Ark Angler's a few years ago. Now, the man who works at the Ark Angler's is one curmudgeony old bastard. At least, he comes off that way. Anyway, I walk in, go up to the counter, and I say, "I purchased this rod from here, from you in fact, and the male ferrule is broken." And this grumpy old fart just sat there glaring at me. So, I took the butt section out of the case and pointed it out to him.
"Well, how did that happen?" He inquired.
I said, "Well, I was fishing with it and it kept sliding off. I kept putting it back, but on one cast, it finally came off and snapped on a forward cast."
He eyed me suspiciously and said, "This can't be fixed."
"So what do I do? Throw it in your trash?"
He glared at me. "Go get the one of the others right there," he said and pointed across the shop.
I returned with it and asked, "Do I need to put some ferrule wax on this one, then?"
This really got his blood boiling. "No! Don't put wax on it! It's not designed that way."
At this point, Mike walked up to the counter and said "First fly-shop I been in that has lures under the counter." There was a deafening silence. We both thought that this man was going to reach across the glass showcase and punch Mike in the face. Mike laughed nervously, stating, "I'm sorry! Didn't mean to offend you, man!"
"Well, that's what the owner wanted! He also wanted that damn cooler full of water and soda! But who am I to question him? I'd be out on my ass if I did that!" At this point, you could tell that this man just wanted to smile. It was so close to breaking through; as close as BP capping a spewing oil-well on day 2. While Mike payed for his leader, I quickly grabbed some flies, payed up and we left.
Now, here's the truth behind that fishing rod. Two years ago, I was fishing with it for, maybe, the second time in its life. The ferrules were coming apart. To the point where I was getting pissed. On one stupid move to change the direction of my cast, my fly line got tangled in the sunglasses sitting on the brim of my hat. Well, I'd had enough of this. I spastically tried to untangle the line, first knocking my sunglasses into the water (and they floated away to freedom), and then cracking the ferrule to the point where it didn't even kind of stay together. So, going back to the return of the rod, the angry old man says, "What do you expect for seventy dollars?" And I retorted, "For it to last forever?" Anyway, I have a brand new fly rod (which I will use wax on).
When Mike & I returned, the chimney sweep was at the cabin. As we approached he kicked out his leg, bowed and said "Cherry-o! Have you seen Mary Poppins?!" Just kidding, but I was hoping he would.
Mike and I geared up and headed out to fish Chalk Creek. Now, I had purchased some new waders. I went with some rubber hip waders (see: me model them in the video) and I beamed with excitement to try them out. So, we get down to the creek and at the first good hole, I step into the water and I start slipping around like an ice-capades freak and fall into the current. The waders fill up with icy water and I nearly break my rod trying to catch myself. Mike chuckled on the bank. "What the hell was that all about?!" I wondered. Was it because there might be some factory oil on the rubber to protect it from drying out? Maybe?! Well, any and all theories were shot as the next day these waders continued to make me feel like I was walking on ice. I went back to the cabin, took them off, put on my running shoes, and never slipped again. In another matter of annoyance, they rubbed my shins raw.
Interesting side note here - there is a marijuana grow operation just downstream from the cabin. An open-air structure with glass or plastic windows on the roof. Apparently, there is a sign telling people they are being videotaped and that this is a legal operation.
Friday night, we all loaded in the car and headed up the hill and parked at this historic school to get a better view of the Perseid meteor shower. You could not have asked for a better night, the sky as clear as new glass. We probably saw about 25 meteors ending their life in the Earth's atmosphere. San, Mike and Hanna had never seen a shower before, so I was glad that they were able to experience this one.
Saturday, we fished again. San relaxed at the cabin. Hanna accompanied the men and was promoted to videographer for the day. We worked our way upstream from the cabin and found that this part of Chalk Creek is really only fishable for about a 1/2 mile. So, we hiked down again and, in true dry-fly fisherman protocol, fished upstream.
Saturday night, after a fantastic dinner of Mike D's famous ribs, he built a fire out in the fire pit. More meteors could be seen through the small space of sky allotted through the tops of the pines. Everything was wonderful. That is until Hanna mentioned Eminem. I hate that guy! - one of the true celebrity assholes. If he had a child with Lindsey Lohan, the devil would certainly be manifested. As the Bible says, "judgeth a man and thee usually be correcteth." Or something.
Interesting side note here - there is a marijuana grow operation just downstream from the cabin. An open-air structure with glass or plastic windows on the roof. Apparently, there is a sign telling people they are being videotaped and that this is a legal operation.
Friday night, we all loaded in the car and headed up the hill and parked at this historic school to get a better view of the Perseid meteor shower. You could not have asked for a better night, the sky as clear as new glass. We probably saw about 25 meteors ending their life in the Earth's atmosphere. San, Mike and Hanna had never seen a shower before, so I was glad that they were able to experience this one.
Saturday, we fished again. San relaxed at the cabin. Hanna accompanied the men and was promoted to videographer for the day. We worked our way upstream from the cabin and found that this part of Chalk Creek is really only fishable for about a 1/2 mile. So, we hiked down again and, in true dry-fly fisherman protocol, fished upstream.
Saturday night, after a fantastic dinner of Mike D's famous ribs, he built a fire out in the fire pit. More meteors could be seen through the small space of sky allotted through the tops of the pines. Everything was wonderful. That is until Hanna mentioned Eminem. I hate that guy! - one of the true celebrity assholes. If he had a child with Lindsey Lohan, the devil would certainly be manifested. As the Bible says, "judgeth a man and thee usually be correcteth." Or something.
San & Ossi & I left Sunday around 11am and returned to the city, to our home - that now had no trash bin...
********************
Baby JJ Update - everything is going as planned. San is constantly feeling her moving around! And I say "her" because at our 18 week ultrasound, the doctor was 90% certain it was a girl. His resident felt 95% certain. I've felt her a couple times now. It's crazy! Crazy cool. Anyway, if you would like to suggest a baby name, please do so in the comments section. If we end up using your suggested name, you will win a weekend of babysitting! Offer not valid in Louisiana.
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