Fast Break Time...
As of tomorrow 3/39 yours truly, the hop docker, will be on the road till April something or other. I would continue my daily posts but ther are two things I lack. First is a lap top the second is a lap. As Willie Nelson sang, 'On the road Aagain'.

The trip is a blog research one with many a high adventure planned. I'll take notes and let you all in about my very small tour, very small. We'll see you Monday, ta,ta 4 now

What’s up Doc?

I just open our local weekly and read another article about what the state or I should say the Department of Natural Resources is about to jamb down the pants of home owners. If it’s not one thing with them it’s another. Not only do they have an army of paper pushers in Madison but also in regional offices around the state thinking of ways in which their department can be a pain in the rear where everyone’s wallet is located.

Back in the 50’s the legislature got tried of thinking for themselves and give the late Conservation Department the right to regulated themselves and the "laws" that the regulate all life forms in Wisconsin.

The lawmakers bowed out of the thinking process stating that they didn’t have the time to think. Now on the table is a lengthy regulation concerning residents who own docks as to size, color, shape, height, width and you name it. Once again their edicts are going to give them control it no matter the cost to them or the rights of property owners. Plus, there is nothing grandfathered in!
It’s going to cost every dock owner. First you need a state permit to have a lake or riverside dock. It will not cost very much at first, they’ll jack up the price after they have everyone hooked. And then your dock must conform to their own specifications.

You say your dock doesn’t conform? Too bad! Then you can’t have one and you must haul yours to a state approved county landfilling paying them for disposal or buy a new for $120,000 that’s state approved in which they get a manufactureer's cut. Next year's thinking is that the DNR is coming out with an annual breathing permit per resident. That’s another $120,000 per person per year. Out of staters of course will be a bit higher! 10% of these new revenues will go into a fish stocking program that hasn’t ever worked in the past. The balance goes into the department executive retirement program.

F - something….

Is it me or the places I frequent? I just can’t believe what I am hearing out there! The trash talk is unbelievable or is it that I am a little old fashioned and behind the times? I was up at the "Dog" a friendly old log cabin that’s a bar. I’ve told you about the place once before. It was mid afternoon and we’d been on a car outing to check on the snow depth 20 miles north. Why? That is a very good question… what else is there to do in late March?

As I was saying, sitting at the bar we were planning our next stop and in walks a group of young folks maybe ten to twelve of them. This is mid afternoon mind you and most of them were half smoked already and all I was overhearing was the "f" adjective.

I am not an old prune for I’ve used I the word once or twice myself but every third word was F-ing this and F-ing that. After 15 minutes I had my fill of them using the word just to hear themselves using the word. Many people of different ages think using the word makes them cool but the only thing cool about this group was their new crew cab Ford F-150 pickup truck.

So we blew the place and headed down the road. Turning on my new Sirius radio in the car I switch stations. On came Howard Stern who was F-ing this and that… trying to get away from more trash talk I switched stations agian. It was hip- hop. I will not go into what was being said for I was only catching every third word….. it was F-ing this and f-ing that…
I guess I am an old prune for I hit the off button and hit the S-button, S was for smile safely.

A Moving Van..
I keep tripping over stuff. For 35 plus years I kept every thing. This habit started when I was twenty something and I became a collector. Today our place looks like Fred Sanford’s place on TV and it’s all my fault.
I’ve practiced what my grandfather did. I straightened every bend nail I came across. I wore my underwear down to the bare thread. I ran my cars until the wheels fell off. I ‘d run around the yard collecting twigs for the fireplace.

Then there was the ultimate, I started keeping garbage trying to build a compost pile. Waste not, want not, a penny a day keeps the apple away. The act of throwing something away would surely cause lightening to strike me. Actually I’m not the only one in our household that’s a pack rat.

In our ultra small home every inch of the place is packed with "stuff". I even built a large closet in my little office room to salt stuff away. Add this to the fact that we volunteer in our community resale store and come home with additional "stuff" and the floors in our home are sagging and the walls bulging.
We even have a large storage shed that’s so pack you can’t even open the door.
A year ago our daughter was home and asked for something that was "put away". It took hours of searching to uncover it. Before her departure she impart upon us that if we hadn’t used or worn something within a year that item should be given away or donated. It was time for us to turn a new leaf and get organized.

It’s hard braking any habit for in the back of your mind there’s that thought. "Oh, geee, I could used that to…what?" I guess the only way to brake the Stuff Bonds anchoring us to a spot is to move to some unknown location traveling only with a tooth brush in hand or like a friend of mine move every three years. Call a moving company… we need a semi van.

Relationships..

I am not talking about that shirt tail cousin who ran off with the family inheritance. Today we are talking about cause and affects, the Ying and the Yang. It’s what Newton stated "that for every action there is an equal opposite reaction." Isaac Newton not Fig….

Have you ever noticed that when something happens, something else happens? I mean that there isn’t a constant, even a glass of water can be unhealthy. Follow me on this, I am going to throw out to you some words and I want you to picture in your mind an after effect -
A News Years Eve Party…..
Working out…..
A surprise birthday Party…
The discovery of life on Mars….
An uncle leaves you his estate…

All of the above you would think would have a POSITIVE effect, but let’s look at it the other another possibility ….

A News Years Party always means you’ve had one to many and you’ve broken your resolution right out of the box.

Your daily workouts are fine, your doctor would be proud, but if followed by hunger attacks solved only by Big Mac’s and a banana split, what’s the use?

Then there is the shock of a "Surprise" stopping your heart and you lap into eternity all due to your family’s kindly surprise party.

And what if we were to find life on Mars? and they turned out to be identical us? I couldn’t handle another Me nor my wife. It’d be good material for Arthur Clark's Sci-Fi but…

Then your wealthy uncle dies and leaves his estate. Good news to you but it happens to included a massive snake and reptile collection (the bad news).
This would give me the shakes.

And so what is so innocent about a glass of water?
Just spill it on a frozen sidewalk forgetting that it’s there then walking over it later on and landing on your fanny. There is a simple moral here…
"be content with an upright water glass and a fig newton."

So they lost... big deal
There were 48 other teams that lost before Bradley and another 100 which fell off a very flat world never to be seen again. Cry? Not me! I have gotten use to this numb feeling for the past 40 years. I did smiles a few times last week and that's what counts. At least I got to see a Sox World Series Ring, that's those great White Sox

Another stick of wood….

Two summers ago my boy was home from flying over Iraq sand dunes and I roped him into splitting a monster pile of firewood. Not simple stuff like pine or poplar, but red oak, the hard stuff. I had a tree removal firm come and take down four huge oaks.

I’d spent the week before his return cutting the trees into manageable lengths, 2-man butt busters. I run to town renting a hydric log splitter the evening before my son came for a relaxing weekend.

After he unpacked that night I mentioned I had a small task for us to do in the morning and would he help? "Sure Pop" he said and bright and early the next morning I showed him the huge log pile and give him some gloves. Ten hours later he asked if we could take a break, he had wanted to go water skiing and cool off in the water. He was hardly able to hang onto the ski rope.

The following day we finished splitting and piling the wood. It was another ten hours of sweat.It was amazing the amount of firewood we’d made. The huge pile was a good 5 years worth! 6 full cords.

I am now looking out the window at our woodpile that has almost disappeared after 2 burning seasons. I am also wondering what incentive I can offer him into roping him into helping me this year.

Lollypops just don’t do the trick anymore.

This is a test. This is only a test.

Five pounds of plastic
It’s amazing what can be done with reconstructive surgery... (i.e.) the fellow above was recently found frozen in a Greenland glacier. He is thought to have lived in the early Bronze Age and somehow had gotten lost on his way to discover the state of Wisconsin.
A local medical staff has spent the last two years trying to reconstruct a body that they found in a "terrible state". The staff used plastic surgery, staples and 2 pounds of nails to reassemble his bronze age carcass.

When their task is finished Bronze Age man will be on dispaly at the Whitman Museum of Culture in downtown Hazelhurst, WI.

I am Thinking about One Word….
The word is why?
Man has used the word why to try and figure out what the brain can not comprehend (like this blog site). In the days of yore the great thinkers of the day always started with the simple question of why. Then they spent their lives trying to answer why.

Three simple letters and volumes later the great thinkers have left us with thoughts that could be written in stone, cast in bronze or set ablaze on public buildings.

In 1952 the University of Chicago along with the Encyclopedia Britannia collaborated in producing the Great Books series. These are 54 volumes of hard bound thoughts of the great thinkers covering a time span from Homer (no not Simpson) who asked WHY to Freud who asked how come?

In 1970 there was a knock at our door. I answered and it was a book salesman. He asked , "WHY go around the rest of your life asking WHY? .. you can have the answer to WHY in this here handy set of 54 books." For 10 easy payments of $100 plus shipping I could find every answer to the question of WHY. So I bit. Now 36 years later I ask the question, " WHY haven’t I ever used \the books in answering ta very simple question….
Why are we here in the universe?" …Heavy hey?

I leave you with one more Why…. Why are you reading this, wasting time when outside there is a great day going on? Get with it! Then later tonight you can tune in and watch Bradley U. upset another school, this time it’s Memphis University Why? Because it’s nice to see little guys kick butt.

I’ve got another problem….

Sunday newspapers…. They are not what they use to be. Once upon a time they carried what the name implied… news. You buy one now and there are 12 pounds of preprint inserts from every chain and discount store form here to Hong Kong where most of the stuff they are selling comes from. It takes an hour to separate the gain from the sheaf. And what’s left? You have one section of old leftist columns telling us why the US should support the Soviet Union our friend.

There is a simple way around these inserts, or so called newspapers, and that’s going online. Today every major and minor newspapers have web sites that bring you news almost as it happens and not just on Sundays. Even the TV network news has web sites. However, this rapid on demand news has a few draw backs. First is to sit down in the morning with a hot cup of coffee and reading what? A computer or TV screen? The morning news shows for me is like a trip to the dentist. So it's the newspaper.... and our local one does an OK job raking the fire smoking up the place.

Sad to say there are two thing I’d miss if the newspaper weren’t on the door step, actually in a the mail box ¼ mile down the road. First I would not have anything to start our evening fire with and second we’d have nothing to wrap our garbage and fish guts in that is if I had any fish to clean. That this point in my life I am not much for standing on a frozen lake freezing my toes off waiting for a fish to nimble my line. As for fish there is always our famious Wisconsin Friday night fish fries which are a lot less messy.

Charge on, charge on Bradley…. (my school’s song)

No my wife’s name isn’t Bradley and we have only one charge card and it’s under lock and key from me.
There has to be a problem with a university that makes it into the sweet 16 (round ball) and also graduates a person that can’t put things down on paper in a proper manor, yours truly.
It’s been 45 years since the spring day that my father and I paid a visit to Bradley University’s vice president of student affairs.
His name was Frenchie Hassler one of dad’s old high school buddies. Prior to this through many years of schooling, one to many, all of my teachers liked the effort I put into class work. The only problem was the effort’s outcome. So here we were in Doctor Hassler’s office with humility in hand as my father almost begged his old pal to look the other way and let me in as a freshman. Pop assured Frenchie that I’d toe the mark. We had our fingers crossed.
We left that afternoon with an admissions statement and a green freshman beanie parked on my head…. After five years and many a varsity round ball game, I felt like Midshipman John McCain at his graduation, relieved. 1,800 student names were read before mine and only a few afterwards.
At the time there were many schools that didn’t look after there own ( Parsons?) But not Bradley University. Freshman guys had to live in dorms and had hours and there were study halls on Saturday mornings for those that needed an extra shove. The school’s staff felt that if they took you in, then there was a partnership in getting you graduated and not flunked out too dig foxes in Vietnam. However, if was a betting man 45 years ago I would have bet against myself but not our basketball team, they did that.

Charge on, charge on Bradley

Buttons, but which ones?
After getting my leg out of a foot cast after kicking to many tires I started reading our new cars owners manual. I know I‘ve mentioned owner’s manuals once or twice before; that they are a little confusing for a confused mind, another words a plain in the rear.
I thumbed through it for 2 minutes and had it cold. I had tried to listen to the salesman as he whipped through a laundry list of thing I needed to know if and when our car sailed of a 500" high bridge into 100" of water. "Ya. Ya" I said as he asked if I understood all the controls, bells and whistles.
Fast forward a few days … I am in town coming out of the market with two full bags and our new car was somewhere out in the packed parking lot. I had somehow forgotten the car’s make, style and color, nothing new for me. In my head I was still looking for our rust bucket.
Slowly it came to me that I was looking for a new car and I approached the car, hit the button on the key and bingo, the car starts making this huge, ugly sound as if the Japanese are attacking Pearl Harbor once again. The horn was sounding and even the lights were flashing. People were looking around to see which lady can’t figure how to open her car. Looks of annoyance came flying my way
After 5 minutes of disturbing half the town a young gal comes up and asks for my car key…. Two seconds later all was quite accept my heart, which was racing. A bit red faced, I thanked the girl and headed home to reread the owner’s manual this time a bit more carefully.

Good Night and Good Luck…
Where have I heard that before? Back in the day I remember watching our beloved Wisconsin senator getting fried on TV but that’s not where that parting ‘ good night and good luck’ greeting came into play.
Back before the advent of the "Night Club" our fair state had a thing called a beer bar. After the 19th amendment or was it the 16th? was repealed the beer lobby in Milwaukee put it’s foot on the state assembly to open things up a bit. Thus the Beer Bar was born. It allowed 18 year olds to drink beer publicly in bars that served beer only.
Parents were happy about this as their kids had there own place to go and weren’t under foot at there own saloons. Nothing like walking into a saloon and seeing your folks half gassed.
It was embarrassing to both parties.
Our little watering hole was in a basement and it was called some like a basement. It was owned and operated by an older couple who had worked in Milwaukee and had retired to the north for the quite life. Lacking for the something to do, they opened a beer bar in their cellar hoping to draw a few customers off the highway that ran in front of their retirement home.
Correct, the place went boonkers!
It became the hunting grounds for opposite gender. After a few dozen shortie beers, named after one of the bar tenders, the owner would play a slow dance on the jute box and rush everyone out of the place at closing time… rushing them upstairs he’d tell everyone
" good night and good luck…"

What 's with this picture?
Answer: mostly nothing it's a test of the emergency broadcast system. Should we have been in an all out war or these two ladies been standing on a fault line and the big one would have hit this blog site as well as the Golden Gate Bridge would have been history. Fortune smiles as they are too; stay turned to further update of this system, testing, testing!
Actually these two ladies are the social directors of the west coast. Should any of you need a tour director or party planner contact " Off the Wall Inc".

I’ve got a problem….

with people in front of you in the checking out lane at the market,
then they excuse themselves and go back for one last thing they forgot. They then come back 20 minutes later leaving you dangling without a word of regret.

I’ve got another problem. Its with aspirin bottles that are quote, “easy” opening and once you have the top off are permanently sealed with another easy opening tab.

I’ve got a problem with fine print. The small print found on instructions or on legal documents, especially went it reads, “caution this product is hazardous to your health and can cause death within 2 minutes.” Or “this product is guaranteed fresh until October 5th, 1995.” Or, “ This Company is not legally responsible for any damage incurred in the use of this product.”

I’ve got a problem with our state’s Department of Natural Resources. Each year when you purchase a fishing license the sport shop hands you a multi page fishing regulations booklet written by the staff attorneys in Madison. By the time you have finished with the booklet you could either pass the Wisconsin Bar or it’s a year later and the license you purchased just expired.

I’ve got a problem with my dog, sometimes she just doesn’t listen, sit Booo Booo!

The TEE is now open….

That’s the call I want to hear. In front of our cabin there is a narrowing of the lake. A few years back I dug out a flat spot in the slope to the lake. It makes for a great place to tee up an 8 iron and let it rip. No one lives across the narrows so if you hit it correctly it will land in the brush right on opposite shore without killing anyone. The lake in the narrows is only 6 to 8 feet deep with a sand bottom.

It’s the perfect practice range. During the summer it’s easy to dive down in the lake and retrieve several dozen balls that my younger brother couldn’t get across the narrows. Yesterday, we had a warm spell and most of the snow on the lake melted, the same for my little practice area. Into the garage I headed getting out a few practice balls.

Down to the tee I went, teed one up, took a few practice swings while my reteiver dog barked her approval, she chases my miffs. I was ready for the first hit of the year. The results are always a good or bad omen for the golfing year to follow.

Easy…. Slow, very slow on the back sing and don’t kill it, I told myself. Then I pulled the trigger. Looking up slowly I tried it follow it bouncing out on the ice or parts of it were. My hands were still vibrating from a major miss hit…
Yap! I told myself “ You haven’t lost your touch!”

FREEZER BURN…

Two years ago was the last time I walked the fields of the heartland with shotgun in hand. It was October and the cornfields were nearly picked clean. We were just out side a little town called Tama, Iowa. It’s claim to fame is that it’s a stone throw from the big bright lights of the new Native American Gaming Casino. A group of us would drive down from Wisconsin and spend four or five days looking for Iowa’s game bird, the ring-neck Pheasant and then tried the other gaming.

As a lad my Pop would take me out in the late fall around Davenport Iowa. The object was to teach his young son a respect for nature. And he introduced me to bird hunting with a field dog, our dog was a Scotty, go figure.

At this point in his life Dad was a wee bit out of shape but it was a true memory that I care with me and tried to pass along to my son. The only problem is that time alters things. This is true not only of number of things past but of one of his physical abilities. Now a days I too am out of shape, half a day in the field and my buns are dragging just as did my fathers.

So I was with friends paying $80 for an Iowa hunting License then another $400 for motel, food, Captain Morgan and God knows in the casino all for the right to blow holes in the Iowa air. After ½ a box of shells I had one bird in the bag, not much to put on the table for our annual dinner party with friends. Fortunately, several of my friends had better “luck” nailing a few more birds. SO into the freeze they went added to a few birds from the prior year we had enough for a dinner party.

Three new birds and three old birds. How old were they? I had forgotten, anyway out came a special receipt and the birds were cooked and our guests were served. We also served a lot of wine especially to the guest that got the OLD birds. I got an old bird myself and had to open another wine bottle. My bird had been in the freezer for too two many years… and putting it ‘under glass’ didn’t help a bit.

Happy Holiday……

March has two wonderful days. The first is green beer day., St Pattie’s Day. I just can’t figure why people ruin a good beer by dumping food coloring into it. Maybe green is the only color that would not completely turn off customers.

The color of red beer would make people fell like a vampire, Brown beer is already out there. Purple beer would discolor your tongue for months and your dentist would faint on the sight of your tongue when you opened wide.

Then there is yellow beer! Gad, let’s not go there…

In yesterday’s blog I asked you for the name of a great man that had done a few different things and in return comments no one came close to guessing it right, so the answer…

Hail Julius Caesar, the great Roman that built one of the first casinos on the strip, developed a great tasting salad and invented a type of college party where everyone wares a yard of clothe is the guy.

Then to top it off, this great man was so liked by three friends they slapped him on his back with foot long knifes. With friends like his who need golfing buddies? So much for being a nice guy, I think I’ll stick to green beer or an Orange Julius.

Why are we here, did you get a wrong blog site?

AT IT AGAIN....

There it is again., climbing the bird feeder post headed for another fine breakfast on the house. The nerve of the little fur ball. He is emptying half the feeder onto the ground and a companion below is stuffing his face. Some people are just unwanted guests and have no manors. I've complained about this once before and it’s gotten nowhere.

When in doubt or P.O.ed about something, i.e. an over abundance of squirrels, write a letter to the newspaper editor as all our locals do.

Due to the lack of any news worthwhile here this time of year, the paper will run anything and the more off the wall the better. So, I am going to send in a letter to the editor with the jist of the thing being… “ There’s an infestation of northwoods fur balls” and that a Pied Piper is required on the DNR staff for say around $100,000 a year plus benefits. We must rid the north of these furry creatures.

This idea should be cut to shreds by the paper’s readers but be taken seriously by the DNR management. Of course I’ll have already submitted my resume to the DNR well in advance and be first in line for an interview.

Tomorrow we are going to discuse a great man; he crossed a river, invented a salad dressing, had a gaming hall named after him and was so admired that his friends who slaped him on his back... any ideas who this outstanding fellow is?

Travel Log # 6

Our southern trip is now headed north. I can’t believe it. Having weathered the worst old man winter can throw at us, we are headed up to Duluth for a long weekend. We might even stay awhile in the Twin Cities…Hurley, WI and Ironwood, MI.

You ask are they out of their minds? This thought has occurred to me as well. And the answer is obvious yes!

Some people look at the destination as the goal of a trip. Not I, oh no, it’s just getting rolling in some direction that counts. Getting off the sofa is a major accomplishment. Just gettin your horse headed in any direction and you can’t lose. North, south, east or west, it doesn’t matter for there is always the next turn in the road, something quite unexcepted like a cop behind a bill board.

Simple Product Directions…

Manufacturers spend millions printing easy to use instructions. Most are written for the age level of a six-year-old. They come with everything we buy. Even cereal boxes have instructions on how to open. They are written in various languages not as an aid to the international market to save the manufacturer costs. I don’t know about you but my Slavic is not up to speed. (Nor is my English)

As we all know there are not 30 or 31 days in February. There is something like 28 days or is it 29 every other year due to fact that we all must take a flying leap. I firmly do not believe in this February thing and feel each month should have 30 and ½ days each.

As for other bits’ of time…I have this great new watch which a friend gave me (bless his heart) and it’s got a little window which tells you the day of the month. Naturally you have to reset the thing at the end of the month by taking out the instructions which are misplaced.

Now then, if I should be a day early or late with a Blog posting please do not blame me, it’s the damn watch that I can’t reset. I just can't count on anything except my dog who knows it's dinner time or time for a walk.

Writer’s Cramp….

I’m spending the rest of the winter up in the woods, not really doing anything. I could take walk but the snow is now above knee deep headed for an enlarged waist line. Most of our mornings you can cut your breath with a knife and it tickles down deep. Then there is reading to pass the time of day but I’ve read most of my books on the shelf twice. The only one I tried and didn’t get anywhere with was Doctor Atkin’s Diet Book that was a bomb anyway.

I tried pen and ink drawings but it’s going to take sometime getting my eye for things back and I’ve noticed my hand is a bit shakier. So what’s left for those with a little time and a pinch of imagination? Answer… rewriting the great American novel. Several months ago I started on this path. It was a lofty goal and a pretty tough one for someone who took college composition three time before passing with a D+ and I was thankful for that. The only way I passed was getting outside help from Ames, Iowa.

What’s the subject of my novel? Why, growing up in the heartland in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. And if that’s not enough to put one to sleep some of the characters will. It will be quite some time before it’s available at Barnes and Noble for I am having writer’s cramp at the present time, or maybe was it’s last night’s chili?

Question:Would you rather…
A.) Rake the yard?
B.) Mow the grass?
C.) Paint the house?
D.) Shovel the roof? ... or do your federal taxes?
Me too, non-of the above. Yet there comes a time when each task must be met head on with a smile. Let’s look at each task in the proper light.

Last fall I dropped my car keys out in the drive. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I would have raked the drive and the yard. But no, I’d put it off and there I was in the dark groping for the keys so that I couldn't go to town and say hello to the boys, so much for A.)

As for B.) There is no problem here, meaning we don’t mow our yard. We don’t have a blade of grass not that we haven’t tried. You see our yard is a natural daily pathway for a heard of deer that picks the place clean. As for our guard dog Katie, she could care less about the deer and squirrels as well. It’s the FedEx man she drives nuts.

Now about C.) Our little place is very much in need a coat of paint. The last one I put on ten years ago was a cheap brand. It was on clearance at Menard’s, an exterior Purple paint. The color would look good in Fairfield Iowa but no place else. However, this task may require out sourcing as the last time up on my inherited two-story ladder it gave way and I did a triple with a half twist before landing on my head, no damage done, almost.

D.) The roof is another matter; there is at least two feet of white stuff, snow and below it a mess of ice. Most southern boys have no idea what it means to shovel snow off your roof. But there comes a time when Mother Nature tells you it’s past time to start clearing it off. That's the time is when it starts raining into the house and its 10 degrees outside.

As I said my ladder is busted… do any of you happen to have a phone number in India for out source-labor? Better yet I could sell the place and buy a condo on Lake Minocqua and as far as doing taxes, I’ve got to go to the dentist.

TIRE KICKING 102… GRADE F+
Continued from yesterday’s blog….
Yesterday we went for a test drive. Our old heap is 14 years old and well into 6 digits on the odometer. Every time we hit a bump the car gets better gas mileage for it gets lighter as 4 pounds of rust falls off. Come summer we’ll be driving around with just a steering wheel in hand.

We drove to where the cars are, Rhinelander, WI. Walking into the first dealer and we were pounced on by four salesman all licking the chops. It was like a t-bone steak thrown to the lions.
“Back off boys!” was our first demand, the second was “How about a little breathing room?”

We test drove the first car making a long loop around Rhinelander. The salesman sat in the back seat and kept his verbal pitch going full speed. I couldn’t in get a question. And when I did he had it answered before I finished the question. Actually the car was well designed. It was Honda and I was impressed but the overdone sale pitch turned me cold as did the price tag.

Down the road we went to the next dealership in line… now here was the car I wanted the wife to inspect for it felt right for our needs, a Chrysler Pacifica, a road car with style, something different for us for a change.

I knew the salesman for I had rented him office space when he was pushing insurance. I thought he would cut to the quick… “Let’s make a deal, Monty.” But no…I got better numbers from our local shark... The remainder of the afternoon was spent having the wax blasted from my ears at several other dealers. I thought I was listening to my brother(s). I was very much in need of a bottle of aspirin! Car shopping is a pain.

Talking with my wife on the way home, the cars that we thought would make us less looking like old goats were off our list. Our kids wanted us in a more upbeat vehicle… a sports coup with mag wheels they suggested.

Then I started questioning myself…. Whose car is it going to be anyway?
That’s right… two old goats , here comes a mini van, look out world here come the Jed Klampets

TIRE KICKING 101… GRADE D-
The old buggy is staring to show the rust. Or I should say there is nothing left but rust. When we purchase a car it’s almost for life. I have a good friend that’s the same way. He drives a car not only till the wheels fall off but the doors as well.

On one of his cars I had to help him out in repairing the front bench seat. The whole front floorboard had rusted through and the seat fell onto the pavement, fortunately no one was hurt. I went out and patch up his car with wood flooring. However, the seat was still a bit loose especially when the brakes were applied.

So off to the dealers with check book in hand we headed….
“ Oh , love that car, does it come in a lime green? Do you happen to have a convertible mini van with turbo charger? Please give me your rock bottom price….How much? You gotta kidding?”

Tire kicking was a day of getting several salesmen jacked up knowing they (the sharks) had one on the line. Yes, they had me. Several of them actually got my phone number and have been calling me back for weeks….. Yes weeks, I just can’t make my mind up on which car nor now I am going to pay for the thing. Maybe I’ll just trade my rust bucket for my friend’s rust bucket that I had sold to him 5 years ago for two Captains & Cokes, tax and title included.

BEAUTIFUL FREE ORANGE STICKERS…..

I just returned from town after talking with one of the feature writers at our local paper. It seems that fifteen years ago she did a feature on our little family with the emphasis on our youngest daughter. It was at a time when we didn’t know any better. We were thinking it would help in a cause we have. Anyway that was fifteen years ago going on twenty.


Much water has flowed over the dam and thankfully we, my family, are still all together due to a Minnesota’s family gift of donor lungs. Anyway, the newspaper’s story will be updating readers and the community about the advances made in CF research and care and the importance of organ donation. Their writer is going to take parts of a story that I have written and get people thinking about organ donation.
(one week later)
Just saw the article on our family and the importance of organ donation, nice job and only one error, my wife said it had to do with the kids ages. This in a major feat that I can come away with only one glish.

Now then, I told you I would get too you again…. Please stop at you DMV office and get a donor sticker for your driver’s license, they are free of charge, then tell your family your wishes, it will make your day as well as ours.

Dumped ON….

Another 6 inches fell last night, snow that is…. Sure the first three months of the stuff have been a wonder. This new white stuff is coating and hanging on the trees making the woods a true marvel. It keeps coming until quite a few older tree snap taking down our electric power lines.

Of course without power several things don’t work; like lights, the computer for Blogging, and more important the furnace which keeps the home fires burning. Out come the long johns, wool socks, oil lamps heavy coats, and then it’s time to stoke up the fireplace. Also, when there is a power outage our water pump dosen't as well, meaning I can’t do the dishes ( which I sledom do ) nor can we use the bathroom and flushes are out of question.

We are praying that it will let’s up and the power comes back on. Yet, there are some saving graces. First, we save on LP gas use and electric power use plus we don’t have to worry anything food in or freezer soiling. Our house is colder the insiders of the freezer.
Much later......
The power is back on, now I can transfer this blog into the computer, it was hand written, can't you tell, then go plow the driveway, see ya.

You Must Have a Sport….
So there’s this friend who moved to Latin American several months ago. No big deal, however while he was among us we tried in vain to get him interested in the game of golf. This was to no avail.

The two times that we got him to play were nearly his last for every time (twice) I teed off and he would walk right in front (make that to the side) while my golf ball was traveling at 100mph for a mark right between his eyes. “Duck!” we all screamed. The ball just missed it’s mark. And our friend we thought may have lost his taste for the sport. But no.

Now that he is away from us he has taken up the sport in earnest. What would have been more logical would have been him starting a South American Curling team…. Make that a Hurling team

X-Tro_vert….

Yesterday I actual walked up to an unknown person and started a conversation. The guy was a semi driver, we have something in common. Simple you say? Not for me and billions of others that is walking to some one and telling your life story. The semi driving is a slice of cake but chatting with a stranger, not!

There is a thing called a ‘people person’ which I am not. They are the type that would walk an extra mile just for a chat. Rain, sheet or snow nothing stops them for wanting to start up a chat.

We went on vacation with friends and one of them is a true X-tro _vert. No one I’ve ever met can come close to Jim. He has a God given gift to walk up to a stranger and in minutes have that person telling him their life story. It’s truly amazing.

A group of us were on vacation walking in an older part of town, the market section of Honolulu. I had been taking mental notes of how Jim went up to merchants, customers and perfect strangers and started talking about this and that. Well, I thought this is duck soup. I can do what Jim is doing I thought and I went out to find a person to try out his “making new friends” method.

Spotting a person across a narrow street, I told everyone I was with I’d be back in a minute. I crossed the street and approached a lady and started to say hello… Approaching her she blares out… “ I ain’t no hooker!” thinking that I was looking for a little little.
Did my face turn bright red?

You bet.
So much for trying to be something I’m not,
a used car salesman.