There are few things in life nicer than watching a Disney movie and cuddling with your youngest child.

Just saw that a member of the production crew for Deadliest Catch has been arrested on suspicion of dealing cocaine in Alaska.  No comment on that.  There’s an idiot in any given population sample, and apparently this company is no exception.

Irish Woman is fascinated by the show, and watches pretty much every week when new episodes air.  But I grew up watching Norwegians fish.  Why would I spend an hour of my adult life doing it some more?  My grandfather left a life as a fisherman in Norway to shovel horse manure and never looked back. That’s how hard a life being a deep sea fisherman is.  It’s better to clean out horse stalls for a living than to go out on a little boat in a big ocean and try to find fish.

Don’t get me wrong.  Those fishermen risk their life to make a living doing dangerous and dirty work in horrific conditions.  Looking at what these guys go through for crab makes me appreciate my seafood dinner more.  They are some of the last true hunters left in our food chain.  All of the other meat that we eat is raised specifically for meat production.  These guys have to find, fix, and fetch just like our ancestors used to, with no guarantee of success.

When I was not much older than BooBoo is now, my father put a pole in my hand, put a worm on a hook, and threw my red and white bobber out into Lake Darling.  I would catch perch, and he would sit on the bank, drink PBR, and smoke Camels while pulling northern and walleye pike out of the lake. 

As I got older, the trips became less and less frequent, mostly due to his never being home due to work on the railroad and a hobby that included women that weren’t genetically related to me.  My uncles and older cousins took up a lot of the slack and took me and my brothers fishing quite regularly.  I eventually graduated from bobber to a Red-Devil spoon for northern, which meant I was growing up. 

Catching a pike is kinda like catching a log.  They don’t fight and thrash like a bass or crappie.  They just basically pull back with their head and refuse to cooperate.  The line has to be ended with a steel leader so the fish doesn’t bite through it.  No mono filament or nylon braid is proof against a pike’s teeth.  No finger is for that matter.  If I didn’t have a net to pull them up to the bank, I usually just walked backwards the last few feet to pull them up to land and then put them on my stringer.

Once my mom and dad split up I started taking myself down to the river to fish with my friends.  I was old enough, and mom was off doing other things and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me.

My step-dad fancied himself a sportsman.  He had lots and lots of fishing gear, and lots and lots of rifles and pistols.  Mom followed him to Utah, and I tried to learn how to catch trout.  I never tried fly fishing, but learned to float a salmon egg on a small hook down a stream.  Never did catch a trout, but walking a mile up or down stream from the family campout was a rare moment of peace.

When I grew up, I stopped fishing for the most part.  I had no time early in my career, and fishing in Germany was hard to do and expensive.  As much game as there was in Arizona, fishing in the desert is kinda the definition of insanity.

Once I moved back east, I started fishing again.  It was mostly to have something inexpensive to do since money was tight, and to have some quiet.   The kids started coming along pretty soon.  I learned quickly that if I took the kids, there was no use in taking my own pole.  I spend most of my time baiting and setting their lines, then getting them unsnagged, and then putting their lines back out when they bring them back in for no discernible reason.  I’m not complaining.  I always have a ball when we go, and everyone seems to enjoy themselves, even if it’s because of the picnic of sandwiches, junk food, and soda that we bring.

The incident that convinced me to stop worrying about getting my pole in the water happened the first summer I was here in Kentucky.  I picked Girlie Bear and Little Bear up from their mom, and headed to the local flood control lake to try to catch some bluegill.  They had recently gotten their Tasmanian Devil and Tweety Bird fishing poles, and thought it was the best thing since sliced bread to see me put a worm on a hook. Girlie Bear was about 2, and Little Bear was almost 4.    We went to a place that looked promising, which was a rock outcropping that jutted out into deep water.  I put their lines in the water for them, then started setting up my pole to try to catch a bass.  After a few minutes, Girlie Bear lost interest in sitting still and started looking at the little minnows that were coming up to eat her cookie crumbs. 

All I heard was “fishie fishie” and splash.  My darling girl had leaned over the DEEP water and tried to catch a minnow by hand.  She then lost her toddler balance and plopped in head first.  She of course sunk like a rock.  I moved faster than the speed of fright and pulled her out by the only thing that was still in reach, her diapered back end.

She came up coughing, sputtering, and crying.  After making sure she was OK, I rocked her and myself back to coherency.  That was pretty much the end of our day fishing, and Little Bear was well and roundly pissed when I gathered up our stuff and we hiked back to the car.  I made up for it with ice cream, so it evened up for him.

So, since then, I never stop paying attention to the kids when we’re fishing.  I thought as Little Bear and Girlie Bear got older I’d get to do more fishing myself, but now that BooBoo is here the cycle is starting again.  No worries though.  I sneak away alone enough that I don’t miss fishing when I take the kids.  Either way, it’s my favorite way to spend a day during the summer.

Sorry about not posting for the past couple of days. Most of my free time has been spent taking care of a sick BooBoo, who is doing better now, or attending things for Mike’s funeral.

The visitation and funeral were very nice.  All of Mike’s family came in, and all of us ‘adopted’ kids were fully involved.  The ex brought Little Bear to the visitation, and I brought Girlie Bear to the visitation and funeral.  Girlie Bear was very tearful, but I’d rather she let it out than tried to be strong and didn’t deal with how she felt.

At the funeral, Girlie Bear was asked to sit with Mike’s wife and daughter.  She was given the place of granddaughter specifically.  She did her weeping, but was also there to give hugs to the family as they came by.  It really touched me how much Mamaw and Aunt Jenny loved and took care of her.

The service was given by a local preacher, who did an excellent job.  His choices of readings and what to say were spot on.  After he had spoken he opened the floor to anyone who had anything to say about Mike.  The time for the testimonials about what a great man Mike was took longer than the time the preacher spoke.  Everyone in the room had been touched by Mike, and it was evident that he left this world better than he found it.

Thanks to everyone who’s sent their good thoughts and prayers for our family, here and elsewhere.  It’s much appreciated and touching.

Like I said, BooBoo was ill with a stomach bug in the middle of the week, but he is feeling much better.  Fortunately, I didn’t catch it taking care of him at night, mostly due to obsessive hand washing and prophylactic use of Pepto-Bismol to kill anything in my gut that might go wonky.  Unfortunately, Irish Woman took care of BooBoo while I was at work, and now she’s down with it.  She should be better tomorrow as long as she drinks the Gatorade that I left with her this morning and doesn’t get dehydrated, but she’s pretty miserable at the moment.

Junior Bear is rapidly dwindling down his days in high school.  Senior slide has hit in a major way, but I’m pretty confident he’ll graduate with no problems.  He’s scheduled to move into the dorm immediately thereafter at his university so he can take summer classes.

Girlie Bear is doing very well in school, but now that standardized testing is over, so is most learning.  She has a couple of projects to do, but it’s mostly fun stuff and field trips for the rest of the year.

Little Bear is also doing very well in school.  I ran into his principal at Girlie Bear’s chorus recital the other night, and she had nothing but praise for him.  He’s turning into quite the little man, and I’m excited to see how he turns out in a few years.

The fence project has been on hold all week, but I expect to be about 80% done by the time this weekend is over.  Once it’s done, I’ll post pictures of before, during, and after.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Mike is the ‘adopted’ grandfather to my kids.  During a life of caring about everyone around him, he collected lots of kids beyond the two he brought into the world.  Luckily for us, Little Bear and Girlie Bear’s mom was one of them.  She grew up with his daughter, and Mike and his wife Barb took her under their wing.

After we divorced and she returned to Louisville, they were a godsend to her and the kids.  That’s when I met Mike.  Even though I was the ‘ex’, he and his family took me in too.  During family emergencies and day to day life, they helped out the kids’ mom and I.   I tried to reciprocate, but that was a debt that I never could repay, and repayment was never expected.

When Irish Woman and I got together, they took her into the family with no questions asked.  When BooBoo came along, their entire family was with me as I waited for Irish Woman and BooBoo to come up from recovery. 

Mike worked hard all his life.  He raised two wonderful kids, and added to the raising of Lord knows how many more.  30+ years ago, he got sick, and his kidneys died.  Luckily, a close family member donated one, and he got one of the earliest kidney transplants from a living donor.  I’ve been told he’s been a beacon of hope to other transplant patients because of his longevity. 

He returned to his job stringing phone lines.  The massive amounts of drugs necessary to prevent rejection of his new kidney drastically decreased his ability to fight the sun, and eventually he came down with very bad skin cancer.  His quality of life went down, but his attitude never did.  Mike never met a stranger, and his own problems never did anything to reduce his love of life or the smile on his face.

Over the past few years, his health has slowly drained him.  He has fought long and hard with the sickness so that he could be there for his wife, children, and extended family.   Even when you could tell that he felt really bad, he wanted to go out for a ride in the boat or play with the kids.  He was content to have a house full of people, or just a couple of friends over for a movie.  He never greeted anyone with less than a smile and a good handshake, and you never wanted to leave his house unless you absolutely had to.

This morning, my family lost a very important piece to our puzzle.  Mike has been in the hospital for several weeks, and he passed away today.  My family will be praying for him and Barb and Jenny and Jason.

Mike, Irish Woman and I will always be there for your wife and family.  Jenny will always be Aunt Jenny, and Barb will always be Mamaw to our kids.  When we talk about our family, you will always be Papaw.  You are our father not because we were born to you, but because your heart was too big to not reach out to pick up the strays and love them. 

We all love you, and we will miss you until we join you.  May the Lord bless you and Barb, and hold you in the palm of his hand.

http://c.brightcove.com/services/viewer/federated_f9/44550024001?isVid=1

No, not the celebrities, not the bad weather, not the great win by an accomplished jockey.  A drunk redneck running across the top of portapotties.  That’s what I will remember.

H/T to the Courier Journal

Just saw this at From My Position, On The Way.  Green Beans Coffee has opened a program to let those of us back here in the States to send a cup of coffee or three to a deployed soldier.

I remember the small, anonymous “Any Soldier” packages, cards, and letters I got in Bosnia, and they are a great attitude booster.  I was going through the first stages of a divorce at the time, so mail from home was pretty much non-existent.  Getting something small from someone who didn’t have to give it made a dark time in my life a lot better.  Heck, my platoon got ‘adopted’ by a church in Texas and we all got HUGE Easter baskets, which caused a lot of bad Beavis and Butthead impressions.  It also made about 60 men and women feel better for days.

Because of security concerns, Any Soldier packages and letters aren’t allowed anymore.  Organizations like the USO let you buy a CARE package as a substitute. 

If you’re so inclined, please wander over to Green Beans Send a Cup of Joe and send the gift of coffee and a message of encouragement to someone who needs it. 

H/T to Van Helsing at MoonBattery.

Anyway, I may have some gray at the temples, but I’m not all white, at least not yet.

Donald Sensing over at Sense of Events has posted some pictures of the flooding in the Nashville/Clarksville area in Tennessee.  We’ve gotten about 3 inches here in Louisville, which made for a very sloppy Kentucky Derby today.  But at least the interstate isn’t underwater.

Here’s hoping that no further casualties occur.

Continued to do as I have been when it comes to diet and exercise, and results continue to happen.

Today at the doctor’s office, I weighted in at 275, which is 30 pounds down from my peak weight of 305.

Hopefully I can keep this up.  I think I’ll set my goal as 250.

Now that summer is here, I should start getting more exercise, either through yard work or actually dedicating time to physical activity. 

By this time next year, I should be svelte and fast.  Or at least not round and slow.

Decided to take advantage of the first dry, sunny afternoon we’ve had this week to get some work done on the new fence.

Irish Woman had started a hole by hand before the rain on Saturday, so I finished it out and then used the auger my brother-in-law was gracious enough to loan me to do two more.  Having an auger sure beats doing it by hand.  Especially with all of the roots and such in our yard. Once you get below the grass, it’s touch going. 

The three first posts are set in concrete in their holes now. Next evening I have more time, I’ll use them to dig and set the other posts.  The hard part is mostly over now. 

Famous last words.