Someone once said that laughter is the best medicine. I've always thought that there was some truth to that statement, but I sometimes found it hard to practice. Lately, I have been putting it to the test and maybe if I try hard enough, it could become a good habit.
A couple of days ago I had a good chance to laugh about what was possibly a series of unhappy events. The story goes this way:
On Tuesday night, I got home after a pretty long day at work and I was so tired. When I came through the door, I saw Pam busily wrapping a present. It was a book that she had picked out for her friend Jan's birthday. I thought it was a little strange because she had spent the previous few days reading the book and now it was time to give it away. Anyway, she was surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons that she had taken from the bottom drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. I mustered all of my energy and changed my clothes into some sweats and sat down to watch some football while sipping some hot chocolate. I was just getting comfy and settled in when Pam asked me to drive her over to Jan's house to deliver the gift. She promised that she would simply run the used present up to the door and that was all. I really didn't want to go because in addition to my being exhausted, and being ready to enjoy my hot chocolate, I knew full well that my presence served no purpose except to provide chauffer service for my dear wife. Anyway, after deciding that refusing might hurt Pam's feelings, I agreed to go (Ward Cleaver complex) and within a few minutes we were on our way. As we pulled up to the house, Pam again assured me that the delivery would be brief and limited to the door and back. It just so happened that I parked in a spot that caused my view to be partially occluded due to some landscaping in front of the house. Pam quickly disappeared up the walk and through the bushes and I could see the top of her head as she approached the front door. After a few moments, I saw the door open and seconds later, I watched her head go through the door as it closed. At that moment, I knew I had been decieved. Twenty minutes later, Pam came back to the car apoligies already racing from her lips. Trying my best to keep things upbeat, I just laughed it off. "Pretty good, no anger", I thought to myself, as we arrived back to our house.
A couple of hours had passed and I became very drowsy. About 8:30 P.M. I couldn't stay awake any longer, so I started toward our bedroom. I got as far as the doorway and saw Pam laying on the bed reading another book (I wonder if it will be my Birthday present). Not wanting to disrupt her, I backed away and sought refuge on the bed in the guest room. I was so tired that I must have fallen asleep as my head touched the pillow. A couple of hours later, I was wakened by the sound of the television. Pam was watching something and had the volume turned up kind of loud. "Laughter is the best medicine" I kept telling myself as I trudged down the hall toward our bed.
It was obvious that Pam had finished her reading as the lights had been turned out and the bedroom was completely dark. "Good I can't wait to crawl into bed" I thought as I closed the door behind me and groggily shuffled toward my side of the bed, eyes barely open. Suddenly, I was awaken as I found myself falling through the air, arms flailing and letting out a groan as I hit the floor. I couldn't imagine what it was that made me take such a spectacular spill. Both of my shins ached and the palms of my hands were stinging from the harsh landing. Still in shock, I looked back and saw the cause of my misfortune. It was the bottom dresser drawer from which Pam had taken the wrapping paper. It was still open! There was no way that I could have seen it in the dark room and navigating my way in a half state of sleep walking. I called out to Pam, but she couldn't hear over the television or through the closed door. I don't know how, but I managed to close the drawer and get into bed. After rubbing my shins for a few minutes, I decided that sleep was more urgent than getting angry; besides that, I remembered the "Laughter/medicine" nonsense that I was trying to test.
The next morning I found out that laughter really is the best medicine after all, because when I told Pam about my tumble, her big smile and laugh seemed to melt any guilt that she might have otherwise felt. In all honesty, after thinking about it, I had to smile too.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, November 20, 2009
San Francisco
As you know from Megan's Blog, we went to San Francisco last week. It was a fun trip.
We went to see Wicked on Wednesday night. It was a pretty good play, but I had some difficulty keeping my thoughts on track. You see, being traumatized as a child from the initial viewing of the Wizard of Oz, I had some preconceptions when we arrived at the play. I had heard that the play was the story about some of the characters prior to the movie. I guess the first thing that distracted my thoughts was the part in the movie where it was revealed that the whole episode was a dream caused by a shutter hitting Dorothy in the head. I couldn't seem to rid my mind of that thought throughout the play. Anyway, the Wicked Witch of the West turned out to be very beautiful and instead of a cackley voice, she had a very good voice and could sing really well. Hmmm, not quite what I had remembered.
We also did some of the touristy stuff which was fun. We went to Half Moon Bay, did some shopping, went to see the beach and ate food at a little crab place.
On Friday after Megan left, Pam and I went back to Fisherman's Wharf and went on a little boat ride under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz. After that, we ate at a bread factory nearby.
On Saturday, we went to see the Redwood trees and then got to the airport just in time to board the plane.
All in all, it was a great little trip. I have been trying to find the song "I Left My Heart In San Francisco by Tony Bennett", but haven't had any luck.
We had no regrets, except one; instead of riding public transit, we should have rented a car from the start. Oh well, a lesson well learned.
We went to see Wicked on Wednesday night. It was a pretty good play, but I had some difficulty keeping my thoughts on track. You see, being traumatized as a child from the initial viewing of the Wizard of Oz, I had some preconceptions when we arrived at the play. I had heard that the play was the story about some of the characters prior to the movie. I guess the first thing that distracted my thoughts was the part in the movie where it was revealed that the whole episode was a dream caused by a shutter hitting Dorothy in the head. I couldn't seem to rid my mind of that thought throughout the play. Anyway, the Wicked Witch of the West turned out to be very beautiful and instead of a cackley voice, she had a very good voice and could sing really well. Hmmm, not quite what I had remembered.
We also did some of the touristy stuff which was fun. We went to Half Moon Bay, did some shopping, went to see the beach and ate food at a little crab place.
On Friday after Megan left, Pam and I went back to Fisherman's Wharf and went on a little boat ride under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz. After that, we ate at a bread factory nearby.
On Saturday, we went to see the Redwood trees and then got to the airport just in time to board the plane.
All in all, it was a great little trip. I have been trying to find the song "I Left My Heart In San Francisco by Tony Bennett", but haven't had any luck.
We had no regrets, except one; instead of riding public transit, we should have rented a car from the start. Oh well, a lesson well learned.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A new experience
During my 55 years on this earth, I have had a vast array of experiences. I have traveled to several different countries, participated in several sports, and thanks to Megan, I have even run a marathon and climbed Mt. Fuji; however, one of those enlightening adventures that has eluded me all of my life is the thrill of washing clothes at the Laundromat.
BACKGROUND:
Pam insists on doing the laundry because years ago in a moment of complete mental collapse, I decided to help wash the clothes and inadvertantly ended up fading a pair of Melanee's favorite black biker shorts. I think she was about six at the time. Since then, I have been told, under the threat of medieval torture, not to even think about washing/ruining the clothes again.
Since moving into this house, we have gone through, let's see... three washers and two dryers. This phenomenon did not happen by chance, it takes a substantial amount of bad judgement and trying to save money without adequate research to develop such an unbelievable record.
The first set was the one that came with the house. Washer #1 beat the clothes so badly, some of my beloved "free" T-shirts (old enough to be enshrined in a T-shirt museum) were reduced to nothing more than pitiful handfuls of thread. After a few months, Pam decided that she was not OK with me wearing pitiful handfuls of thread to the store and insisted that we get a new washer; so I took the "Clothes Eater" to D.I. and off to the RC Willey discount warehouse we went. Just to let you know, the philosophy of "cheap is good" has probably led to many a terrible experience. This, philosophy as we discovered, may be fine with utility bills or when filling up the car, but when it comes to washers, it is as flawed as Pres. Obama's idea of holding public meetings to explain health insurance reform. So, we ended up with washer #2 with guess what... same thread making result. Hmm... I was off again to D.I. dressed in my new handfuls of thread and "Son of Eater" in the back of the truck.
Knowing that we could not wait for long without washing our clothes, you know, the smell and all, Pam decided to reposess the old washer(#3) that she had given to Melanee and George. Melanee being her sweet little self was kind enough to tell me that we were a couple of ripoff artists (sorry Mel). Anyway, we snatched the washer and because of our dastardly deed, fate decided that it should poop out on us after a few months. I forget, but somewhere along the way, we gave dryer #1 away and bought dryer #2 which as it turned out, was worse than #1 (cheap is good theory).
After a long and protracted decision making process, we decided that buying a new washer was prefferable to beating our clothes on some rocks in the back yard. Having learned a lesson about the hazzards of shopping at the R.C. Willey discount warehouse, we drove to the R.C. Willey showroom instead. Great foresight and planning not being our strong suit, we got there about 40 minutes before closing. Snap decision time was at hand and after listening to Mr. Slick Salesman, we (meaning Pam) decided that we needed to buy right then. We ended up with a new Maytag washer and dryer (can't have a mismatched set you know) even though the drywer was still in good shape. The new set had the latest technology and the washer could spin dry the clothes with amazing efficiency. A couple of days later, the set arrived and the delivery man saved me another trip to D.I. by taking dryer #2 and washer #3 with him. The new technology was pretty good, but it seemed kind of loud, but what the hey, new technology and beside that, the clothes came out clean! Finally, a couple of weeks ago, we (Pam again) decided to call a repairman to check it out. The washer gods in need of some levity decided that we had purchased a washer with a broken part. The repair guy said that a new part had to be ordered and until we got the washer repaired, we shouldn't use it.
Back to the new experience:
Without a washer once again, we were faced with the decision between taking a bath in detergent fully clothed or finding another way to do the wash. Pam was brave enough to ask a friend if she could run a batch through her washer and she was kind enough to let Pam to use it. Pam just washed our unmentionables in order to minimize the inconvenience and intrusion to a person whose friendship she wishes to keep. Only one issue remained, how to wash the rest of the clothes. With the lag in timing since the prohibition from washer #4, I had already worn nearly every article of clothing that I owned and found myself studying the closet filled with the clothes left behind by Danny when he took off for his mission (baggy clothes are still in aren't they?).
The only reasonable alternative was the Laundromat. Having been the benefactor of the stay away policy has been pretty cool, but now I was being drawn into the twilight/laundry zone. Now, I have seen plenty of movies and TV shows with laundromats that protrayed dingy and creepy environments inhabitied with patrons looking like they came straight from a Boris Karloff movie, but I can say with certainty that this Laundromat was just like those in the movies. The saving grace, however, was that we must have hit a slow time and we had the use of three machines at the same time. It was a painful, yet quick experience and we made our escape with a couple of heavy baskets of wet clothing in no time. I am hoping that the new part for washer #4 will get here soon so that Pam can soon be laundering in the convenience of our own home.
By the way, does anyone know what to do with about $5 in quarters?
p.s. A week has come and gone and the time for fetching the new altered pants finally arrived. We went to pick up the pants and I sent Pam in to get the finished product. She came out and told me that the only person in the tailor store was a 70 year old man, no woman. I was relieved until we got home from doing the laundry, but it couldn't be so easy. The pants were still too long. I will have to go back again...
BACKGROUND:
Pam insists on doing the laundry because years ago in a moment of complete mental collapse, I decided to help wash the clothes and inadvertantly ended up fading a pair of Melanee's favorite black biker shorts. I think she was about six at the time. Since then, I have been told, under the threat of medieval torture, not to even think about washing/ruining the clothes again.
Since moving into this house, we have gone through, let's see... three washers and two dryers. This phenomenon did not happen by chance, it takes a substantial amount of bad judgement and trying to save money without adequate research to develop such an unbelievable record.
The first set was the one that came with the house. Washer #1 beat the clothes so badly, some of my beloved "free" T-shirts (old enough to be enshrined in a T-shirt museum) were reduced to nothing more than pitiful handfuls of thread. After a few months, Pam decided that she was not OK with me wearing pitiful handfuls of thread to the store and insisted that we get a new washer; so I took the "Clothes Eater" to D.I. and off to the RC Willey discount warehouse we went. Just to let you know, the philosophy of "cheap is good" has probably led to many a terrible experience. This, philosophy as we discovered, may be fine with utility bills or when filling up the car, but when it comes to washers, it is as flawed as Pres. Obama's idea of holding public meetings to explain health insurance reform. So, we ended up with washer #2 with guess what... same thread making result. Hmm... I was off again to D.I. dressed in my new handfuls of thread and "Son of Eater" in the back of the truck.
Knowing that we could not wait for long without washing our clothes, you know, the smell and all, Pam decided to reposess the old washer(#3) that she had given to Melanee and George. Melanee being her sweet little self was kind enough to tell me that we were a couple of ripoff artists (sorry Mel). Anyway, we snatched the washer and because of our dastardly deed, fate decided that it should poop out on us after a few months. I forget, but somewhere along the way, we gave dryer #1 away and bought dryer #2 which as it turned out, was worse than #1 (cheap is good theory).
After a long and protracted decision making process, we decided that buying a new washer was prefferable to beating our clothes on some rocks in the back yard. Having learned a lesson about the hazzards of shopping at the R.C. Willey discount warehouse, we drove to the R.C. Willey showroom instead. Great foresight and planning not being our strong suit, we got there about 40 minutes before closing. Snap decision time was at hand and after listening to Mr. Slick Salesman, we (meaning Pam) decided that we needed to buy right then. We ended up with a new Maytag washer and dryer (can't have a mismatched set you know) even though the drywer was still in good shape. The new set had the latest technology and the washer could spin dry the clothes with amazing efficiency. A couple of days later, the set arrived and the delivery man saved me another trip to D.I. by taking dryer #2 and washer #3 with him. The new technology was pretty good, but it seemed kind of loud, but what the hey, new technology and beside that, the clothes came out clean! Finally, a couple of weeks ago, we (Pam again) decided to call a repairman to check it out. The washer gods in need of some levity decided that we had purchased a washer with a broken part. The repair guy said that a new part had to be ordered and until we got the washer repaired, we shouldn't use it.
Back to the new experience:
Without a washer once again, we were faced with the decision between taking a bath in detergent fully clothed or finding another way to do the wash. Pam was brave enough to ask a friend if she could run a batch through her washer and she was kind enough to let Pam to use it. Pam just washed our unmentionables in order to minimize the inconvenience and intrusion to a person whose friendship she wishes to keep. Only one issue remained, how to wash the rest of the clothes. With the lag in timing since the prohibition from washer #4, I had already worn nearly every article of clothing that I owned and found myself studying the closet filled with the clothes left behind by Danny when he took off for his mission (baggy clothes are still in aren't they?).
The only reasonable alternative was the Laundromat. Having been the benefactor of the stay away policy has been pretty cool, but now I was being drawn into the twilight/laundry zone. Now, I have seen plenty of movies and TV shows with laundromats that protrayed dingy and creepy environments inhabitied with patrons looking like they came straight from a Boris Karloff movie, but I can say with certainty that this Laundromat was just like those in the movies. The saving grace, however, was that we must have hit a slow time and we had the use of three machines at the same time. It was a painful, yet quick experience and we made our escape with a couple of heavy baskets of wet clothing in no time. I am hoping that the new part for washer #4 will get here soon so that Pam can soon be laundering in the convenience of our own home.
By the way, does anyone know what to do with about $5 in quarters?
p.s. A week has come and gone and the time for fetching the new altered pants finally arrived. We went to pick up the pants and I sent Pam in to get the finished product. She came out and told me that the only person in the tailor store was a 70 year old man, no woman. I was relieved until we got home from doing the laundry, but it couldn't be so easy. The pants were still too long. I will have to go back again...
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The new pants
Over the past few years, I have been acutely aware of the bodily changes that so cruelly accompany my advancing age. My good wife of 30 years frequently reminds me of this phenomenon, and as a result, I find myself in fleeting moments of concern regarding my appearance.
Well, the other night, we went shopping for some clothes for Pam, but as it turned out, I, being in dire need of pants that don't look like clown cast offs (extra baggy) or bell bottoms, found myself looking at some new pants. Now being an aged man, I have become a fan of comfort over style, much to the shagrin of my entire family. Knowing that the family thinks that my wardrobe is stuck in a timewarp, I, with great determination in my heart and various pants draped over my arm, marched forth looking for the nearest fitting room. After trying on about 7 or 8 pairs of pants (some too long, some too tight, some too clowny, some with crotch to knees), I picked out a few that I felt would pass muster with Pam. She was quite pleased with my selection, but as one might guess, I was sent back for a few more before she was completely satisfied. There were three pairs that actually looked good! As a matter of fact, they made me look like I had a posterior the likes of which I haven't seen since my fading memory can recall. I know, I know... there was no real subtance, just cloth and some added air, but really, it looked kind of normal, except for the length of the legs, which is always the case for me.
Pam was very excited at the thought that I might look like a person from this century and took the initiative to arrange alterations for the new clothes. She called a tailor, made the arrangements and after several and increasingly intense promptings, gave me good directions on how get to the tailor shop; so I took a break from a little project I had started and off I went. As I entered the tailor shop, I saw a middle aged asian woman whom I suspected to be the tailor based on Pam's phone call and little clues like the measuring tape around her neck and the pincusion on her wrist. She kindly called me Honey and invited me to take a seat while she finished with her current patrons. Being familiar with asian women, I have also witnessed changes in their figures with age and couldn't help but notice that this lady defied the trends that I had heretofor witnessed. Most of us older asians, men and women alike, tend to lose our shape and start to look like frumpy sacks of flour with age, but this woman who was an obvious benefactor of surgical enhancement looked like a stick with large breasts.
Far be it from me to be judgemental, but if I was to venture a guess, this was a woman who was in her mid-forties, but was trying very hard to look like she was still in her twenties. She dressed young, her makeup and hairstyle etc. all looked a bit out of place, but as I said before, far be it from me to judge... Anyway, the other two ladies left and I went into the dressing room which was actually a closet with a curtain that only partially closed and proceeded to change into the new pants. I emerged with thoughts of just getting the fitting over as quickly as possible and returning to my unfinished project back at home.
The tailor started to measure the lengths of the pants while making small talk; you know, the usual banter:
tailor - "are you Chinese?"
me - "no, my grandparents all came from Japan, how about you?"
tailor - "I came from Korea. Where do you live?"
me - "um just up the street; pretty close."
tailor - "do you live alone?"
me - "uh no."
Do I live alone?... What kind of a question is that? Shrugging it off as just a dumb question, my attention was then turned to back to the lady when she told me that the seat of the pants needed to be taken in. Now, as I said before, I know comfort, nothing about how pants should fit, so OK, whatever... What happened next reminded me of an episode of "Friends" where Joey sends Chandler to his tailor. In that particular episode, the tailor took the opportunity to grope Chandler. Well, this woman proceeded to touch my backside in a way that was second only to the doctor at my last colonoscopy. She didn't simply adjust the back seam, she also smoothed the fabric and made sure that the crotch fit too. I couldn't imagine why in the world she couldn't just put a little chalk mark on the pants like the men tailors. That's not all, it was not just one pair of pants, but all three. I paid the charge for the alterations and left feeling violated and very cheap.
I told Pam about the incident and said that I wasn't sure whether or not this lady was trying something funny. After she got through laughing about my embellished story, she assured me that it was not all incidental. This morning she told me that she even had a dream about it last night (with grin on her face). The pants will be ready for pick-up next Saturday but I don't expect that it will be as eventful as yesterday's experience, especially when I take Pam with me.
By the way, does anyone know a good male tailor?
Well, the other night, we went shopping for some clothes for Pam, but as it turned out, I, being in dire need of pants that don't look like clown cast offs (extra baggy) or bell bottoms, found myself looking at some new pants. Now being an aged man, I have become a fan of comfort over style, much to the shagrin of my entire family. Knowing that the family thinks that my wardrobe is stuck in a timewarp, I, with great determination in my heart and various pants draped over my arm, marched forth looking for the nearest fitting room. After trying on about 7 or 8 pairs of pants (some too long, some too tight, some too clowny, some with crotch to knees), I picked out a few that I felt would pass muster with Pam. She was quite pleased with my selection, but as one might guess, I was sent back for a few more before she was completely satisfied. There were three pairs that actually looked good! As a matter of fact, they made me look like I had a posterior the likes of which I haven't seen since my fading memory can recall. I know, I know... there was no real subtance, just cloth and some added air, but really, it looked kind of normal, except for the length of the legs, which is always the case for me.
Pam was very excited at the thought that I might look like a person from this century and took the initiative to arrange alterations for the new clothes. She called a tailor, made the arrangements and after several and increasingly intense promptings, gave me good directions on how get to the tailor shop; so I took a break from a little project I had started and off I went. As I entered the tailor shop, I saw a middle aged asian woman whom I suspected to be the tailor based on Pam's phone call and little clues like the measuring tape around her neck and the pincusion on her wrist. She kindly called me Honey and invited me to take a seat while she finished with her current patrons. Being familiar with asian women, I have also witnessed changes in their figures with age and couldn't help but notice that this lady defied the trends that I had heretofor witnessed. Most of us older asians, men and women alike, tend to lose our shape and start to look like frumpy sacks of flour with age, but this woman who was an obvious benefactor of surgical enhancement looked like a stick with large breasts.
Far be it from me to be judgemental, but if I was to venture a guess, this was a woman who was in her mid-forties, but was trying very hard to look like she was still in her twenties. She dressed young, her makeup and hairstyle etc. all looked a bit out of place, but as I said before, far be it from me to judge... Anyway, the other two ladies left and I went into the dressing room which was actually a closet with a curtain that only partially closed and proceeded to change into the new pants. I emerged with thoughts of just getting the fitting over as quickly as possible and returning to my unfinished project back at home.
The tailor started to measure the lengths of the pants while making small talk; you know, the usual banter:
tailor - "are you Chinese?"
me - "no, my grandparents all came from Japan, how about you?"
tailor - "I came from Korea. Where do you live?"
me - "um just up the street; pretty close."
tailor - "do you live alone?"
me - "uh no."
Do I live alone?... What kind of a question is that? Shrugging it off as just a dumb question, my attention was then turned to back to the lady when she told me that the seat of the pants needed to be taken in. Now, as I said before, I know comfort, nothing about how pants should fit, so OK, whatever... What happened next reminded me of an episode of "Friends" where Joey sends Chandler to his tailor. In that particular episode, the tailor took the opportunity to grope Chandler. Well, this woman proceeded to touch my backside in a way that was second only to the doctor at my last colonoscopy. She didn't simply adjust the back seam, she also smoothed the fabric and made sure that the crotch fit too. I couldn't imagine why in the world she couldn't just put a little chalk mark on the pants like the men tailors. That's not all, it was not just one pair of pants, but all three. I paid the charge for the alterations and left feeling violated and very cheap.
I told Pam about the incident and said that I wasn't sure whether or not this lady was trying something funny. After she got through laughing about my embellished story, she assured me that it was not all incidental. This morning she told me that she even had a dream about it last night (with grin on her face). The pants will be ready for pick-up next Saturday but I don't expect that it will be as eventful as yesterday's experience, especially when I take Pam with me.
By the way, does anyone know a good male tailor?
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A new hobby
I haven't blogged but once, mainly because Megan helped me the first time. Since then, I have tried, but for lack of remembering my password and knowledge of how to navigate the site, this blog has been nonexistent. Luckily for me, I was talking to Megan on the phone and after taking a browbeating about my blogging negligence, she again helped me to get on track.
Just to bring you up to speed, I have been engaged in a new hobby. It is fly rod building. It came about kind of by accident. Last summer, we were in Utah visiting friends and family, and I decided to go browsing through Cabella's. I was in the fly fishing department and saw some fly rod kits. There was one for about sixty bucks and so I thought what the heck? Next thing I knew, I was doing a lot of research on line trying to learn the details. Now I have heard that making fly rods could get addicting, but after seeing that first one complete, I knew I was hooked (pun intended).
I was so excited about my new toy and wanted desparately to try it out. Knowing that there are no lakes or rivers handy in our neighborhood, I ended up sneaking out early one Friday morning and went to the church and tried casting on the lawn. It was a lot of fun, but I couldn't help but keep one eye looking around for someone to start laughing at the looney trying to catch fish on the grass.
Anyway, in all, I have made five rods now, three for myself and two for other people. I am through for a little while because even I can't justify any more fishing gear for myself when I only get out two or three times a year. If anyone out there needs a handmade fly rod, I know a great guy who will make you one for his cost...
Just to bring you up to speed, I have been engaged in a new hobby. It is fly rod building. It came about kind of by accident. Last summer, we were in Utah visiting friends and family, and I decided to go browsing through Cabella's. I was in the fly fishing department and saw some fly rod kits. There was one for about sixty bucks and so I thought what the heck? Next thing I knew, I was doing a lot of research on line trying to learn the details. Now I have heard that making fly rods could get addicting, but after seeing that first one complete, I knew I was hooked (pun intended).
I was so excited about my new toy and wanted desparately to try it out. Knowing that there are no lakes or rivers handy in our neighborhood, I ended up sneaking out early one Friday morning and went to the church and tried casting on the lawn. It was a lot of fun, but I couldn't help but keep one eye looking around for someone to start laughing at the looney trying to catch fish on the grass.
Anyway, in all, I have made five rods now, three for myself and two for other people. I am through for a little while because even I can't justify any more fishing gear for myself when I only get out two or three times a year. If anyone out there needs a handmade fly rod, I know a great guy who will make you one for his cost...
Monday, February 16, 2009
Maiden Voyage
Well, most of my kids have a blog, and I have wanted to reply to some, but found out that I need an account before I can post any caustic comments, so here it is. As some of you know, Danny is getting ready to ship out for his mission in Alaska (Spanish speaking). He seems to be pretty antsy waiting for the day that he will enter the MTC in Provo. Pam is starting to get a little sad, but she knows that it will be the best thing for him. I, on the other hand, am ready to see him off.
We just had the whole family staying with us in Las Vegas over the Presidents Day weekend and we had a great time. The grandkids were so much fun and I was sad to see the weekend come to an end. It seems like our world keeps getting much more dynamic all the time. Anyway, this one is short but sweet. More to follow later...
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