We've been doing these canoe (and occasionally kayak) excursions for about fifteen years. It all started out with the three of us hanging around in my living room (many years ago) lamenting how we miss the boating and camping that we used to do as boy scouts. One of us said "Hey, instead of whining about how much we miss it, why don't we just do it?" And we did... a three or four-day trip down the Upper Iowa River. From there it became an annual event.
Our trips initially took place on Labor Day weekend, but we frequently ran into problems with low water, so somewhere along the line we changed to Memorial Day weekend. The water is much better, but I tend to get a little cold at night and early in the morning... especially when we go north. Fortunately, we went south this year, and I loved the weather. Next year should be back to the same old stuff though... we're planning on going to the Boundary Waters in Northern Minnesota and Southern Canada. I think I'm going to have to start purchasing my warm gear now.
Over the years, we've done a lot of different rivers. We've repeated the Upper Iowa once or twice, and we made repeat trips to Northeastern Wisconsin during our whitewater days, but for the most part, we do a different river each trip. I think back to our early excursions and see how much we've grown and changed over the years... and how much we're the same. We used to intentionally try to sink each others' canoes and play pranks on each other. Those days are gone. Now we talk... or sit together in content silence. We reminisce. We used to carry a lot of stuff that we didn't need. Now we carry a lot of stuff that we do need.
I think that we all see our trips coming full circle. The tradition was started by remembering trips to the Boundary Waters, which is where we're going next year. Furthermore, during this trip, I asked the other guys if they'd consider doing something completely different... something like a motorcycle camp trip. They were both open to the idea. One guy even suggested a trip to Vegas, because he's "never been anywhere."
I took some video footage of the trip. I plan to edit the footage and turn it into a video, which I'll probably post on YouTube. I will also be talking about the trip itself over the next several posts.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Stand By Me
A couple of friends and I did our annual boys' trip last week. I'm working today, so I won't be expounding on the trip, but expect a few posts in the near future.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
An Early Memory
Last night, I caught a wild hair and started thinking about writing a book. I don't really know whether it would be semi-autobiographical, a series of essays, or what. But I had the title picked out... Sh!+ Town. It would be a book about where I grew up. I even had the cover designed. It would look like the proverbial flaming bag of poo on the neighbor's doorstep. The flames would partially envelop the bag, and in place of the first word of the title, there would be a hole burned in the bag, and you could "see" the word.
Next, I started rolling backward through time in my mind's eye. I zipped right past my adulthood and entered my teenage years, a couple of memories at a time. Suddenly I found myself in my early childhood... in a different city. Before reliving the memory, I briefly realized that I would have a difficult time writing Sh!+ Town because I wasn't born and raised there. In fact, I didn't move there until I was almost twelve.
That thought faded, and I was back in my early years. I must have been four or five. It was Christmas, and my younger brother and I had just received the coolest presents ever... one of those sit-in pedal-style cars. (They've now been replaced by the electrical version, which in all honesty I think is a little less cool than the cars we had to pedal.) One was a sports car... I think it was a Jaguar, but I can't remember for sure. The other was a firetruck, with a far sturdier build and removable ladders.
I sat in the sports car, thinking that it was the coolest thing ever. The doors even opened! I was just about to lay claim to the car, when I noticed that a door didn't work quite right. Enviously, I gazed at my brother in the still-perfect firetruck. I needed to convince him to trade with me. Though still brand new, and really cool, there was a flaw in the sports car, so I had to have that firetruck. I don't remember exactly how I managed to do it, but I convinced him to trade.
Fast-forward an undetermined period of time... I'm pedaling the firetruck around the neighborhood on the sidewalks. We lived in a trailer park, on a cul-de-sac road, not quite at the end. I remember a gentle incline on that road. The street was new black asphalt, and the sidewalks were perfect concrete. One of the ladders was missing from my firetruck, but I didn't really care. I only needed one ladder to rescue the ... well, who or whatever needed rescuing that day.
One of the interesting things is that I remember that Christmas in the first person. But when I see myself riding on the sidewalk, it's primarily in the third person. When I notice the ladder missing, I'm back in first person, looking over my right shoulder to where the ladder should be. But as I ride the firetruck, I see myself through today's eyes... the adult me is standing in the cul-de-sac, watching the younger me ride on the sidewalk without a care in the world... occasionally stopping, putting the ladder on something, climbing the three rungs and rescuing something.
Next, I started rolling backward through time in my mind's eye. I zipped right past my adulthood and entered my teenage years, a couple of memories at a time. Suddenly I found myself in my early childhood... in a different city. Before reliving the memory, I briefly realized that I would have a difficult time writing Sh!+ Town because I wasn't born and raised there. In fact, I didn't move there until I was almost twelve.
That thought faded, and I was back in my early years. I must have been four or five. It was Christmas, and my younger brother and I had just received the coolest presents ever... one of those sit-in pedal-style cars. (They've now been replaced by the electrical version, which in all honesty I think is a little less cool than the cars we had to pedal.) One was a sports car... I think it was a Jaguar, but I can't remember for sure. The other was a firetruck, with a far sturdier build and removable ladders.
I sat in the sports car, thinking that it was the coolest thing ever. The doors even opened! I was just about to lay claim to the car, when I noticed that a door didn't work quite right. Enviously, I gazed at my brother in the still-perfect firetruck. I needed to convince him to trade with me. Though still brand new, and really cool, there was a flaw in the sports car, so I had to have that firetruck. I don't remember exactly how I managed to do it, but I convinced him to trade.
Fast-forward an undetermined period of time... I'm pedaling the firetruck around the neighborhood on the sidewalks. We lived in a trailer park, on a cul-de-sac road, not quite at the end. I remember a gentle incline on that road. The street was new black asphalt, and the sidewalks were perfect concrete. One of the ladders was missing from my firetruck, but I didn't really care. I only needed one ladder to rescue the ... well, who or whatever needed rescuing that day.
One of the interesting things is that I remember that Christmas in the first person. But when I see myself riding on the sidewalk, it's primarily in the third person. When I notice the ladder missing, I'm back in first person, looking over my right shoulder to where the ladder should be. But as I ride the firetruck, I see myself through today's eyes... the adult me is standing in the cul-de-sac, watching the younger me ride on the sidewalk without a care in the world... occasionally stopping, putting the ladder on something, climbing the three rungs and rescuing something.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Let's Talk About my Stupid Dog
I've got two dogs, but I'm only going to talk about one today. She's a sweetheart. She's an escape artist. She invades your personal space. She's around eight years old and still thinks she's a puppy. She drinks out of the toilet and then tries to lick you. She loves laying at people's feet. She hates going outside in the rain. And she tore her left rear paw last week.
The cut went from just above the ankle down to the end of the paw, between the two outer toes. I took her to the hospital and it took about two hours to clean and stitch her up. I still don't know how she did it. I asked her what she did, but she wouldn't tell me.
The vet said to keep her paw bandaged for the day, and then remove the wrap and let things air out. She didn't understand how exuberant my dog is. Realizing pretty quickly there was no way to make her go easy on the paw, I chose instead to keep the paw wrapped for about five days, changing the bandage every so often. I figured it would keep the paw protected and prevent stitches from being ripped out, while still giving enough support to let her run and play in the back yard with her sister. I think I'll take out the stitches today.
The cut went from just above the ankle down to the end of the paw, between the two outer toes. I took her to the hospital and it took about two hours to clean and stitch her up. I still don't know how she did it. I asked her what she did, but she wouldn't tell me.
The vet said to keep her paw bandaged for the day, and then remove the wrap and let things air out. She didn't understand how exuberant my dog is. Realizing pretty quickly there was no way to make her go easy on the paw, I chose instead to keep the paw wrapped for about five days, changing the bandage every so often. I figured it would keep the paw protected and prevent stitches from being ripped out, while still giving enough support to let her run and play in the back yard with her sister. I think I'll take out the stitches today.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
The Grass is Greener...
Like Paulius, I recently purchased a new lawn mower from Lowe's. My experience, however, was the total opposite of his. Before I start that aspect of the story though, let me back up a bit...
When I first had to start mowing the lawn, I lived in a rental house with a lawn virtually small enough to mow with scissors. The house was directly adjacent to an alley... no lawn there. The "back yard" was a patio... no grass there. The only grass in the front yard was the area between the sidewalk and the street, and the side yard was no larger. I purchased a mower because I didn't know the neighbors well enough to feel comfortable asking them to borrow.
The mower I purchased was one that had been salvaged, scavenged and rebuilt. I paid about $40 for it. Since I had such a small yard and cheap mower, I never took care of it... never changed the oil, sharpened the blade or anything like that. Heck, my storage of the thing consisted of throwing a tarp over it during the winter.
When I moved into a place with a real yard, I didn't see a need to buy a new mower (the old one worked fine) but I did sharpen the blade occasionally. Last spring I finally changed the oil and spark plug... several years (I don't recall exactly how many) after originally buying it. A month or so before the first frost, the handle broke. I'm usually pretty good at figuring a workaround when stuff like this happens, but this time the handle snapped in such a way that the only viable option was replacing the handle. I was unable to find a suitable replacement in a brief period of time, so I bought a new mower. I felt bad about ditching the old mower simply because the handle had broken. It seemed really wasteful. But whatever.
The new mower was about the same price that Paul and Sunny paid for theirs. I don't know what brand they bought, but mine is a Bolens -- a brand I'd never heard of before I purchased the thing. I was a little disappointed that I went from a 22" radius to a 21" cut, but in exchange, I got a mower that will mulch or bag from behind. The old mower would only spit the grass out the left side, which was a little restrictive.
Here's the part that was unlike Paul's experience... my mower was pretty much assembled. I merely had to put the handle together and mount it to the base, and put the oil into the engine. I was up and running in about 15 minutes. (This includes the mandatory beer consumption that accompanies any manly project.) Since then, I've mowed the lawn ten or so times. The mower has performed as expected. (NOTE: The assembly time didn't include the time needed to put the grass catcher together. That alone took as long as the rest of the assembly.)
By the way, I did not purchase a self-propelled model. My yard is the typical suburban lawn... not big enough to truly need a self-propelled mower. Besides, actually pushing the mower is one of the ways that I get my exercise during the summer, and every bit of horsepower devoted to moving the mower is a little less cutting power.
It's a little ironic that Paulius posted about his mower today. My grass is really long.
When I first had to start mowing the lawn, I lived in a rental house with a lawn virtually small enough to mow with scissors. The house was directly adjacent to an alley... no lawn there. The "back yard" was a patio... no grass there. The only grass in the front yard was the area between the sidewalk and the street, and the side yard was no larger. I purchased a mower because I didn't know the neighbors well enough to feel comfortable asking them to borrow.
The mower I purchased was one that had been salvaged, scavenged and rebuilt. I paid about $40 for it. Since I had such a small yard and cheap mower, I never took care of it... never changed the oil, sharpened the blade or anything like that. Heck, my storage of the thing consisted of throwing a tarp over it during the winter.
When I moved into a place with a real yard, I didn't see a need to buy a new mower (the old one worked fine) but I did sharpen the blade occasionally. Last spring I finally changed the oil and spark plug... several years (I don't recall exactly how many) after originally buying it. A month or so before the first frost, the handle broke. I'm usually pretty good at figuring a workaround when stuff like this happens, but this time the handle snapped in such a way that the only viable option was replacing the handle. I was unable to find a suitable replacement in a brief period of time, so I bought a new mower. I felt bad about ditching the old mower simply because the handle had broken. It seemed really wasteful. But whatever.
The new mower was about the same price that Paul and Sunny paid for theirs. I don't know what brand they bought, but mine is a Bolens -- a brand I'd never heard of before I purchased the thing. I was a little disappointed that I went from a 22" radius to a 21" cut, but in exchange, I got a mower that will mulch or bag from behind. The old mower would only spit the grass out the left side, which was a little restrictive.
Here's the part that was unlike Paul's experience... my mower was pretty much assembled. I merely had to put the handle together and mount it to the base, and put the oil into the engine. I was up and running in about 15 minutes. (This includes the mandatory beer consumption that accompanies any manly project.) Since then, I've mowed the lawn ten or so times. The mower has performed as expected. (NOTE: The assembly time didn't include the time needed to put the grass catcher together. That alone took as long as the rest of the assembly.)
By the way, I did not purchase a self-propelled model. My yard is the typical suburban lawn... not big enough to truly need a self-propelled mower. Besides, actually pushing the mower is one of the ways that I get my exercise during the summer, and every bit of horsepower devoted to moving the mower is a little less cutting power.
It's a little ironic that Paulius posted about his mower today. My grass is really long.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Posting Just to Post
Man, it's crazy how worried people are about the swine flu. Yeah, it's a little scary how quickly it's spreading, but I think people are looking at this from the wrong angle. Let's say that this strain of flu really is widespread and fatal. Well, there will be an increased demand for doctors and gravediggers, and if there are fewer people, the unemployment rate will drop. In short, the swine flu is good for our economy.
Speaking of crazy, I love my mom, but she's fucking bonkers.
You may recall that I moved my blog from the old location to here because I was being stalked by a former co-worker. He's still going to my old location from time to time... maybe he's gay and has a secret crush on me.
It turns out that I'm pretty good at do-it-yourself home repairs. I had a copper plumbing pipe burst last week. It was the pipe that leads to the outside... the one that I would use to water the lawn, wash my car and so forth, so it was no big deal. I just shut off the water to that specific pipe and fixed the problem at my leisure. But I must admit that I'm kind of proud that I was able to unsolder the broken pipe, buy the replacement parts for less than $20, and solder the whole thing back together in less than an hour.
Speaking of crazy, I love my mom, but she's fucking bonkers.
You may recall that I moved my blog from the old location to here because I was being stalked by a former co-worker. He's still going to my old location from time to time... maybe he's gay and has a secret crush on me.
It turns out that I'm pretty good at do-it-yourself home repairs. I had a copper plumbing pipe burst last week. It was the pipe that leads to the outside... the one that I would use to water the lawn, wash my car and so forth, so it was no big deal. I just shut off the water to that specific pipe and fixed the problem at my leisure. But I must admit that I'm kind of proud that I was able to unsolder the broken pipe, buy the replacement parts for less than $20, and solder the whole thing back together in less than an hour.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
An Answer to Sunny...
My take on today's post by Sunny. (Thanks for the idea!) I'm not going to re-hash the original article, because most of my (three or four) regular readers also frequent Sunny's blog. (It's kind of nice having a small, tight-knit reading community.)
Her commentary got me thinking though... wow, I too have been blogging for a long time, (passing thought) and my writing path isn't horribly dissimilar from hers. It used to be simple to find a story on the internet, and then twist it into something worthy of Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert. At one time, it was child's play to construct a diatribe against my perceived grievances against society. Now, I'm lucky if I can post something weekly, and even that's usually about as interesting as "I went to the store and bought some milk today." The part of Sunny's post that I really want to address though is her perception that she's changed. I have a few thoughts about changing...
I believe that it's human nature to change. I'm not the same person I was five years ago, and I'm even more dissimilar to the person I was a decade ago. We are the summary of our experiences, so the only way we can cease changing is to stop having new experiences. In other words, if you're not evolving, you're stagnating. Change may be painful at times, but that pain can serve as a reminder that you're alive... that you're growing... that you're evolving.
I also think that our moods tend to flatten out over time. Think back to when you were ten... fifteen... twenty... (and if you can't remember back that far, think about when your kids were that age) didn't everything seem to be either wonderful or terrible? As we get older, things aren't always black and white, there are shades of gray... and as we get older yet, I suspect that we'll find that a continually growing "shades of gray" mentality forces the "black and white" frame of mind to diminish to virtually zero. As a result, you don't express jubilation every day, but you don't feel despair as frequently either.
And your baseline mood can change. Think of the mood range as a scale of -10 to +10. The low end is the depth of despair... you can't sleep... you forget to eat... you want to die... The only thing that exists is the pain. The high end is bliss... you don't want to sleep... you can't stop laughing... colors are brighter... you don't want the moment to end... and you want to share it with everyone. At zero, you're neither happy nor sad. We all have our own baseline. Some people are usually a little unhappy... their baseline is -1, for example. For the sake of my point, we all have a baseline from -1 to +1, with most falling around zero. As we age, our baseline can -- and probably does -- change. It can be a single life-altering event, or a series of small things. And going back to my previous school of thought, I think that our baseline crystallizes as we age.
Sometimes though, external forces change our mood on a massive level. Think back to 9/11. Aside from the terrorists, the global mood was somber. It may be hard to remember, but for a brief period, virtually the entire world grieved with us. Think of the jubilation that many of us experienced with Obama's election to the White House. Look at our global economy now.
Here's my point to Sunny: I'm going to take your perception at face value. I'm not going to analyze whether or not you were happier a few years ago. But you're older... you've had a seriously life-altering experience... and the external mood is somber. You're not alone if your baseline is a little below zero, and it's not stuck there.
Her commentary got me thinking though... wow, I too have been blogging for a long time, (passing thought) and my writing path isn't horribly dissimilar from hers. It used to be simple to find a story on the internet, and then twist it into something worthy of Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert. At one time, it was child's play to construct a diatribe against my perceived grievances against society. Now, I'm lucky if I can post something weekly, and even that's usually about as interesting as "I went to the store and bought some milk today." The part of Sunny's post that I really want to address though is her perception that she's changed. I have a few thoughts about changing...
I believe that it's human nature to change. I'm not the same person I was five years ago, and I'm even more dissimilar to the person I was a decade ago. We are the summary of our experiences, so the only way we can cease changing is to stop having new experiences. In other words, if you're not evolving, you're stagnating. Change may be painful at times, but that pain can serve as a reminder that you're alive... that you're growing... that you're evolving.
I also think that our moods tend to flatten out over time. Think back to when you were ten... fifteen... twenty... (and if you can't remember back that far, think about when your kids were that age) didn't everything seem to be either wonderful or terrible? As we get older, things aren't always black and white, there are shades of gray... and as we get older yet, I suspect that we'll find that a continually growing "shades of gray" mentality forces the "black and white" frame of mind to diminish to virtually zero. As a result, you don't express jubilation every day, but you don't feel despair as frequently either.
And your baseline mood can change. Think of the mood range as a scale of -10 to +10. The low end is the depth of despair... you can't sleep... you forget to eat... you want to die... The only thing that exists is the pain. The high end is bliss... you don't want to sleep... you can't stop laughing... colors are brighter... you don't want the moment to end... and you want to share it with everyone. At zero, you're neither happy nor sad. We all have our own baseline. Some people are usually a little unhappy... their baseline is -1, for example. For the sake of my point, we all have a baseline from -1 to +1, with most falling around zero. As we age, our baseline can -- and probably does -- change. It can be a single life-altering event, or a series of small things. And going back to my previous school of thought, I think that our baseline crystallizes as we age.
Sometimes though, external forces change our mood on a massive level. Think back to 9/11. Aside from the terrorists, the global mood was somber. It may be hard to remember, but for a brief period, virtually the entire world grieved with us. Think of the jubilation that many of us experienced with Obama's election to the White House. Look at our global economy now.
Here's my point to Sunny: I'm going to take your perception at face value. I'm not going to analyze whether or not you were happier a few years ago. But you're older... you've had a seriously life-altering experience... and the external mood is somber. You're not alone if your baseline is a little below zero, and it's not stuck there.
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