Be Calm and Catch Fish

Hey Kids,

It’s pretty late right now. Actually, it’s really early in the morning, but I’ll count this as last night anyway.

“On business” we are back down to Lake Powell for the weekend. A couple of possible share owners want to see the boat this weekend so we volunteered to be the hosts. It was really just an excuse to stay on the boat, but why not?

The high winds were against us again in traveling down here. The kayaks tied to the top of the car made us sway across the road like we were listening to song but dared not to dance. It was nerve racking and it tests me. I get tested a lot lately.

I make it no secret that I miss my kids. For those who have followed this blog for a while, you know that I write this blog primarily for them. One day I hope one or all of them find it, read it, and if nothing more, learn a little more of who I am and what makes or made me tick. It’s why I always start out with “Hey Kids”.

Over the past several weeks, my emotions have been stretched thin. Sadness and anger are always waiting just under the surface. Little things, like the wind, can trigger a response that isn’t always the most appropriate.

I am also very susceptible to kind gestures as well. The feels overwhelm me and I become a little, well, let’s just say emotional. It’s a terrible roller coaster. Sometimes I wish I could settle out, be more stable. But then again, these intense feelings are my way of knowing that when I say I miss my kids, I’m not BSing myself. It’s not just words.

But tonight I’m back to my lake. A few hours here and I can relax. Already at the dock I’ve watched the boys fishing catch some nice fish. The stripers are prowling the young shad. And if you know nothing more about me, know that I love catching striped bass.

The winds are calming and by morning it should be kayakable for a few hours.

Let the healing waters do their thing. I’m here to catch some fish and to be calm.

Hope the kids join me here someday.

 

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Filling it.

Hey Kids,

18 feet in 22 days. That’s all I need.

Nearly 10 inches per day from now until the end of the month. Mother nature do me proud.

I entered a contest and that was my prediction. I stated officially that Lake Powell would be 509 feet deep at the dam on July 1st.IMG_0103

I’ve been watching the water flow daily. I’ve watched, experienced, and can witness to the nearly 30 feet of rise so far this spring. But I may have outpaced the run off in my last and final prediction.

It’s currently filling at just over 7 ½”, as of yesterday, which would leave me shy but I’ll hold my ground. I’ll stick to my earlier math. And if my total is right and I am randomly selected against any that may have tied me, I’ll use the winnings of one day’s boat rental with pride.

Yes. I am that type of geek.

Sometimes.

 

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Diminished

Hey Kids,

A key staff member gave his notice today.

And by key I mean, master key. The operations of my staff have come to be independent on the talents he brings to the team. The loss is staggering.

He came as a custodian. Worked his way, through excellent ethics and willingnesss, to learn things outside his daily duties. He became the guy everyone wanted on their team. He learned fast, he worked hard, and he always made the job for those around him easier.

He rose to the undisputed leader of his new team. No one questioned his mastery of the process and program. If he said it was so, it was so. He pushed himself to know more than his team’s duties, but expanded to other groups and how their work connected back to his.

He was smart. A refugee from another part of the world. He studied, took the exam, and became a citizen of the United States- the first country that would ever call him its own.

And when I thought my opinion could be no higher, he abandons all that he has worked for, moves to another part of the country, and starts all over. Why? To care for an elderly in-law, a grand parent.

What some do with nothing to start with, embarrasses those who, like me, still worry about who travels in what lane, compares the size of pizza slices to fairness, and gripes about who left too many lights on at the house.

This staff member won’t just be missed, but the soul of the team has been wounded.

 

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Rules

Hey Kids,

Rules. I know we need them, well some of them.

Rules keep us all in line. They keep cars on the right side of the road, or the left for some of you.

They help keep us all in line in regards to each other.

They establish standards and expected conduct. They make us feel safe and secure.

A problem arises and a rule makes it better. More problems, more rules.

And then there comes the people who live by these rules, who live to obey these rules, who live to make sure others live by those rules.

I’m a guidelines kind of guy. There’s a time to walk in step and a time to walk outside the lines.

There’s a time to be obedient and a time to be inquisitive.48days-podcast-graphic-6-18-15-300x300

There’s a time to submissive and there’s a time to be rebellious.

When the rule outranks the person, it’s no longer a rule; it’s a stick.

When I was a child, I thought like a child. Now that I’m older, I;ll think for myself

It might be why I get a long with my motorcycles so well.

 

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1900>800, and Most Others.

Hey Kids,

I don’t mean to be crass or to put anyone off, but it needs to be shared.strat

After traveling around these past winter and spring months, living within the limits given, and enjoying the easy going ride of the 805cc Suzuki motor.

But there is nothing like straddling atop 1900cc, twisting the throttle, feeling the power, feeling the roar of the twin-V Yamaha engine; and knowing you’re the king of the commute.

 

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Four-ish Seasons

Hey Kids,

In the valley, it was somewhere around 90°- summertime temperatures. Everyone is already enjoying the heat and some even complaining how hot it is and how quickly summer rushed in upon us.IMG_20170604_145045-1

We visited the mountains this afternoon. At 9,000 ft. elevation, summer is still yet to hit its stride. The hilltops still cling to their collected snow, the leaves struggle to stretch from their buds, and the grasses are nothing but green hue on the ground.

A great advantage to living near a range of mountains as great as the Wasatch, if you miss the start or end of a season, just drive either up or down the steep canyons and relive it all over again.

 

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Fuel

Hey Kids,

3500 was the number I believe I heard. 3500 cyclists. That’s how many riders were to participate in today’s event.

Every year, riders chosen by qualification and lotto converge onto the small town of Lewiston, Utah. Each is there to ride their choice of multiple courses ranging from 27 miles to 100 miles.

There is no race, no trophy, or even a way to judge their performance against any other. They do it just for the fun of it. Some dress up in fun costumes, others are as professional as an Olympic athlete. Actually the only thing they share is that they are all women.PART_1496529003754

I also participated, but not as a rider. Obviously. But instead I volunteered as course marshal. I rode along with the many riders who chose to ride the 100 mile course. I followed along, I blocked traffic, checked on riders pulled off to the side, and played cheerleader- minus the pom-poms. There are worse things than spending all day on my motorcycle, being a watchdog over 3500 women, and enjoying the backroads of the Cache County farm country.

And although I volunteered for this duty to show support for my wife and daughter who were part of the 3500 riders and expected nothing in return- I accepted the $20 of gas money offered.

Gas money is gas money, you know.

 

Post 3-154

In the House of My Enemy

Hey Kids,

Back when I wore the colors of Bountiful High School, there was not a time, save an athletic contest, that I allowed myself to enter the wretched hive of Viewmont High School.

I did not consort with students of Viewmont High School. I did not believe anything good could come from Viewmont High School. And never did I believe I would ever have anything to do with Viewmont High School.VHS_LOGO_002

And now, over thirty years after the end of my high school career, I find myself attending my third and last graduating ceremony of Viewmont High school, surrounded by the Maroon and Gold, and inundated with repeated speakers praising the values and greatness of Viewmont High School.

I guess, in the light of the family that my wife has made me part of, maybe Viewmont High School isn’t as bad as I once thought.

 

Post 3-153

Positive Negative Cash Flow

Hey Kids,

Last weekend, at a thrift store, I found an item that was marked for $5. I was familiar with what the item was, and that it was worth well above the asking price. I bought it as a matter of investment.

A quick search showed this item selling for anywhere from $40 and more.

My plan was to list this item and make a small profit.

I realized that the young couple who live above us might have use of it,

I showed it and seeing their excitement in the possibility of it being theirs, I gave it to them.

It was some of the best negative profit I have earned in a long time.

 

Post 3-152

Dressed To Roll

Hey Kids,

The resurrection of the Yamaha has begun.

I removed the front wheel and took it, with the replacement tire, to the shop for pick-up tomorrow. I hate it when I wait until everybody else is also trying to get their bikes ready, I feel like such a fair-weather motorcyclist.

Hopefully I’ll get the new shoes, pass inspection, and be able to pay the registration fee so I can marshall the bicycle event this Saturday.

Most of the other marshals will be from the local BMW riding club. I think I saw a couple of Ducati’s last year, but the Japanese cruisers were sorely misrepresented. In fact only one bike out of the 20-30 marshals was a Harley Davidson. Not that I don’t appreciate it when they are under-represented.

I notice the BMW group dresses differently. They wear real motorcycle gear. It’s very Euro-style and it has become their thing.

The sport bikers wear their tight leather outfits, usually in some bright or highly contrasted color scheme.people-brando

But the cruiser group tends to dress trashy. The have their leathers, bandanas, leather, and then put the leather on top of that. It’s like they dress-up each weekend for the SOA convention. Although I’m not opposed to the thug look, I don’t participate very well. I have no chaps, no leaver jacket or vest, and no chains (attached to my wallet or otherwise). I just done my helmet, wear my work boots, and then whatever jacket the weather calls for. Fromm 100 to 10- it’s all the same but the number of layers I wear around my body.

I’m not a biker, per se. I don’t run guns or drugs. I don’t watch for rival colors. And I don’t swear no allegiance to a group, color, or patch. So I don’t try to dress up like I do. I just like to ride my motorcycle. That’s it.

But one of the things that I like about the motorcycling group, is the idea that you can just do your own thing. Dress how you like, ride what fits you, and don’t care at all about your fashion.

I ride a bike. And tomorrow I should be back on my big bike. 1900cc’s to push me down the road as fast and as far as I dare to go.

Want to join me, just pull up and let’s ride. Just don’t call me ahead of time and ask what I’m wearing.

 

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