Beyond Comfort Food

It's fall.  Yes, I know I've written that before, but it's FALL!  Uncle Mike and I headed for the hills to celebrate the annual opening of grouse season.  The weather was warmer than usual, but we did manage to find a few birds on our favorite ridge.  There's nothing like taking in the views of the Cascades, with a cooling breeze rustling through the trees while sharing a snack with someone who genuinely appreciates what it's like to be there this time of year.

Saturday night I went back and forth from the fire ring to the pickup cab to listen to the Husky football.  No, I didn't attend the University of Washington and had no desire to go to a school that big, but I have been watching and/or listening to their games since I was a little kid.  The Dawgs played their butts off, handing Boise State a 38 to 6 beating, revenge for last winter's bowl game loss.  I was ecstatic to hear that UW finally has a defense again.

Headed out after school to hike the Pine and Cedar Lakes Trail today.  Huffed and puffed my way up to the overlook ridge.  I didn't stay at the top long because there was a guy at the overlook who appeared like he needed solitude more than I needed to view the Islands.  On the way down, my mind drifted around to several topics, but seemed to land mostly on memories of when I coached football.  Coaching those boys years ago was an absolute joy, well, at least most of the time.  I often miss coaching the sport, but these fall afternoons out hiking or fishing have become too valuable.

I drank a bad-tasting protein shake when I arrived home to the kitchen.  It quelled the hunger long enough to make my favorite September meal, grouse pesto pasta with a fresh ear of corn and a fresh peach.  To me, that's about as good as it gets.  I missed not washing it down with an Alaskan Summer Ale, but the beer has to wait until the beer gut disappears.  About half way through the meal I seriously had this feeling of euphoria.  Maybe it had something to do with the taste, maybe the fond memories associated with the meal, or just because I was so damned hungry, but it felt awfully nice to be blissed out on a Wednesday evening.  Simple minds simple pleasures?

Thirsty Horses

Bare-boned tired.  Sleep has been coming in only five-hour bouts lately.  Too much worrying.  The cardiologist checked out Mom's heart today and found that two arteries leading to her heart were at least 90% clogged.  Close to a heart attack.  I love my mom dearly, but she has been overweight for a long time and has smoked her entire adult life, two biggies in shortening one's time on this planet.  Mom has not had a smoke since I brought her in six days ago.  She's doing O.K. without them.

About ten years ago, my youngest brother, Mike, contracted one of those antibiotic-resistant infections.  His idiot doctors in Auburn screwed up and allowed the infection to get so bad it was attacking his vital organs.  Luckily, we were able to get Mike away from the hacks in Auburn, and move him to the University of Washington Medical Center.  He had reached a point where the heart surgeon addressed our family, letting us know Mike might not make it through surgery.  His heart was in that bad of shape.  Well, Mike did miraculously make it through his ordeal with a new pig valve sewn into his heart.

My brother weighed over 400 pounds when he was admitted.  He lost about 80 pounds while in the hospital.  The doctor was very matter-of-fact, letting Mike know if he didn't lose more weight, his chances of living past his forties were slim.  My little brother was given a second chance.  He did not take advantage of his reprieve.  Five years later, Mike was again admitted to the hospital, weighing over 380 pounds.  He didn't make it the second time, that heart finally gave out on him at age thirty-four..

Tonight, when my brother Tom and I began talking to our mom about how she needed to give up smoking, and how she now had some momentum built up, she started in with the excuses.  Here she is, being given her second chance, and Mom is already laying the groundwork for failure.  It is beyond tough to see someone not take advantage of an opportunity that could help them live longer.  So how much time will we get with her?  What will her remaining years be like?  Who the hell knows.

Let Us Tell You what To Believe

I don't know about you, but I'm getting sick and tired of "authority figures" telling me what to think, what to believe, and what to do, out of fear.

 "God wants you to do as I tell you.  If you don't do as we say, you don't believe in God!"

 "Obama is out to get your guns, only we can save you!"

"The corporations are out to rule the world, the only way to stop them is to follow me!"


 What did F.D.R. say about fear?

Now it's easy to get into that "Back in the good ol' days" mentality.  Don't forget that after this speech our country rounded up the Japanese and threw them into concentration, er, internment camps.  Or that long before this speech our country waged a ruthless, unprovoked war on the original inhabitants of this continent.

What ever happened to thinking for yourself?  What happened to questioning authority?  Is the herd mentality that strong?

Think for yourself.  Do it in your own way.  And not because I told you to.

Precious Time

Pretty big scare today.  My mom called last night, worried that her leg was hurting, swollen, and getting worse.  Took her to the doctor, and when she came out of the exam room she was shaky.  Turns out the doctor wanted her to go straight to the Emergency Room.

So after a battery of tests, it was determined that she has a large blood clot in her leg and a small one in her lung.  The doctor and nurses all seemed optimistic about Mom's recovery with blood thinners.

Although this wasn't quite as scary as Dad's falling off the ladder problems of a few years ago, in the ER waiting room, I was definitely dwelling on just how much time I have left with my parents and how many more trips to the hospital we might be taking in the near future.  Not a pleasant topic for meditation.

My mom, dad, and uncle are all losing their hearing and visibly slowing down both physically and cognitively recently.  I always thought they would become this way in their sixties, but it wasn't until the very late sixties, and now early seventies, that they really are beginning to be like old folks.  So, looking at it from a selfish angle, that gives me only 20 more years, tops, before I'll be constantly saying, "What?!"

Makes me wonder how many more elk hunting trips, how many fishing trips, how many games of pinochle do I get with these folks I love dearly?  After Grandpa, Mike, and Steve, I put a great deal of mental physics into the topic of dying and living.  Hadn't thought about it much lately, but today there was the elephant in the Emergency Room, staring down his trunk at me.

Time.  Priorities.

Are You Our Guide?

The first couple of guiding trips I wasn't so sure this was going to be such a good idea.  The fishing wasn't spectacular, and I felt bad because these folks were paying serious coin.

The women were cool, happy to be out on the water and relaxing in a beautiful setting.  The guys were visibly disappointed in the fishing, and for good reason, fishing was slow.  I felt like I let them down.

 Ed, my friend and new boss did his best to cheer me up over the phone.  It was frustrating to let people down.  In the end, all you can do is your best.  Take the folks to beautiful places, teach them how to cast, and teach them how to catch the fish.  Much is still out of the guide's hands.

The last two trips have been an absolute joy.  Teaching folks how to fly fish, seeing their happy expressions when they catch fish, and their genuine appreciation of the gorgeous surroundings.

It has been a blast getting to meet people from around the country, and even the world.

I've been playing around with the digital camera and making movie/slide shows.  Here's an example of one of the latest attempt: