This past Monday I had to drop something off at Pennock Hospital (no, not my dignity…that happens September 13th at 11:30 AM) and I found a parking place near the Health and Wellness Center across the parking lot from where I was going. The car next to me was an older Jeep Cherokee with the hood up. From the driver’s side of that car came a large woman carrying a baseball bat. I wondered what she had in mind. She stopped next to my car, turned to her Jeep and started whacking the exterior fender. That area was full of dents so it wasn’t the first time it had happened. She walked back around the car, hopped in (more like slid in),  turned the key and the car started. I looked under the hood as I got out and walked by and saw a couple of things cobbled together with duct tape (aka Georgia Chrome) and they were fastened to the inside of the fender that had just taken the beating. I used to know a lot about cars when I was young, but nowadays there is so much crap under the hood I don’t know what is what. So now I’m curious if you need a wooden bat like I saw the girl use or if an aluminum bat would be even better. The next time I take my car in for a tune up, I’ll ask.

On the way back to Hastings from the cottage the other day, I was behind a woman in a car with a handicapped license plate. She was driving slowly down the hills (around 40 m.p.h.) and would get back up to 55 m.p.h. on the uphills and on the only straight areas where I could have passed. I knew I was in for an interesting ride so I settled in and relaxed. It was then that I saw her cross the center line a couple of times and turn the turn signal on where there was no cross road. I looked closer and a small dog was hanging out the driver’s side window. I’m guessing the dog’s antics running back and forth across her lap was causing the car to swerve and the dog must have unintentionally turned on the turn signal. I like dogs, and I know they are smarter than many of the drivers I’ve seen in the past, but THEY DON’T HAVE HANDS…PEOPLE SHOULD NOT LET THEM DRIVE. And besides…this one was a small “toy” dog so I’m sure his feet could not reach the pedals.

I can visualize another problem. You’ve had a couple of drinks, so you let the dog drive while you ride in the passenger’s seat eating combos and drinking wine disguised as Gatorade in a sports bottle. All of a sudden you drop a combo on the floor of the car and, within a millisecond, the dog is down there eating it. WHO’S DRIVING THE CAR? Dogs just don’t have the necessary concentration skills and their driving should be against the law. Sorry Becky. Please don’t send the ASPCA to my house.

My Ironman race “weather pox” history has blended into the Sunday runs. The last time we ran from the lake it was really, really hot and really, really humid. We ran from the condo this morning and it was really, really humid and uncomfortably warm. I sent out an e-mail saying that the run was at our place but we would only have bread and water. People felt sorry for us and brought all kinds of good food. That was great and thanks to all who made the effort, but it set my “weight loss plan” back a few days.

Rocky, Jean’s youngest, and Sara, my middle child, are home for their 10th high school class reunion. Not counting the ride home from the airport, we’ve seen Rocky for about an hour and Sara for about the same amount. Actually, we’re happy that they’re out having fun with their friends and we haven’t gotten any calls from the police department, so they must be being good. But, wallflowers they ain’t! Of course, when Rocky got home, “Mom” thought he looked undernourished so she bought him a banana cream pie. He’s had one piece and I’ve had two. Another blow to the “Just Jack Patented Diet Plan”. Where’s Kirstie Allie when you need her.

I just got the ingredients to brew Fat Tire Amber Ale, a beer brewed by the New Belgium Brewing Company in Fort Collins, Colorado. Fat Tire is their flagship brew so I thought I would see how we like it. It may become the signature beer of the Trilanders.

Just (No Weight Loss Yet But No Gain Either) Jack

While we were at the Dimond cottage at Torch Lake last weekend for the Mini Tri Camp, I saw something attached to a tree just off the front deck and I didn’t know what it was. You know me well enough to know that I couldn’t just let it go, and I believe you can find anything on the internet. So I went to an “all experts” website, selected a category and a person who should know what it was and asked the question:

“I was at a friend’s cottage in the northern part of Michigan. Attached to a birch tree was a hand carved piece of wood in the shape of a “T”. The base was about two inches long and was about as big around as a pencil. It was flat on one side and was tacked to the tree with a wedge at the bottom to make it perfectly vertical. The “stem” of the T was round, started out about the diameter of a small nail and tapered to a point. This piece was about 15 inches long. It was quite supple and I noticed in the morning the tip end was about 3 inched below horizontal. In the afternoon it was about 1/2 inch above horizontal. What is it?”

The answer came back: “This is what’s known as a “weather stick”  popular in the new england region of the U.S.    simple to make, cheap to buy.  easily found if doing a search.  try this link for lots more info and the science of it.  thanks for the question.”
http://www.new-potato.com/wstick/Science/science.html . Now we can all sleep better tonight.

Thursday evening I was talking to some friends who were about to leave for a couple of months for their place in Montana. Since the cottage at Crooked Lake hasn’t sold, I’ve thought seriously about taking it off the market and renting it year round for a year or two until the housing climate gets better.  They have rented their place at Gull Lake for 17 years from September 1 to June 1 and have only had one bad experience. You know my luck in the past, so my one in 17 years bad experience would probably happen the first year. Anyway, they were telling me of all the ways they had offered it for rent and suggested I go to Craig’s List and look at the listings so I did.

I was looking through the listings of “wanted to rent” for Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids. I just happened on the following one in the Grand Rapids listings:   $100 Need One Bedroom For Me And My Mistress-Afternoons   My mistress and I would like to rent a bedroom of someone’s home for $100/month. We only need a place in the afternoons, and an occasional overnight. Would prefer a discreet, upscale house with a proximity to downtown GR and northwards.

I figured this must be a joke, but the more I thought about it, I’m thinking it may be real. Just when I thought no one would ever reply to this ad, we talked about it Friday night and Becky thought it would be a good way to make a few bucks. She seemed genuinely disappointed when I said the person wanted downtown Grand Rapids and north. I thought it would be a lot of work to wash the sheets every day and she said they could wash their own. Besides, she continued, they would probably only use it every couple of weeks. I answered that if they were only going to use it every couple of weeks, why would he want a mistress. We could see that the conversation was headed South so we dropped it at that.

Just (Learned A Bunch Of New Things This Week) Jack

It’s taken a couple of days to recover from the frenzied pace of the second annual “Mini Tri Camp” at Torch Lake. Again Diane and Mike were gracious enough to open up the “cottage” to several of us for triathlon training. Many of us came up separately so we had to stay up late and make sure everyone got in safely. I’d say we huddled around the campfire, but actually we sat in lounge chairs on the deck, drank some wine, and told lots of stories.

I expected everyone to get up bright and early and be in the water swimming by 7 AM. Not so! We didn’t get up until a quarter to eight and we sat around drinking coffee until someone finally suggested we may want to swim before the wind started. We straggled into the water at around nine and didn’t swim very hard nor very far. We straggled out of the water the same way we went in and it was on to “the bike”. Triathletes know that the transition from swim to bike is important and you do it as fast as you can…sort of like controlled chaos. I figured the rest of the group would practice the transition, which we all refer to as T-1, and I would watch since I’m still not biking. After a while I did point out to the group that “T-1” was approaching 45 minutes so, apparently, that part of training wasn’t in the camp plans.

I kind of expected everyone to ride the 45 miles around the lake and go for a 20 or 30 minute transition run afterwards. Again, not so. Three people rode around the lake. A few people rode down to Alden where they were celebrating Alden Days. They didn’t turn right around and come back, so I’m guessing they stopped and perused the vendor tents. Another group rode to Central Lake (around six miles away) and shopped until the credit card started to melt and rode back happy but poorer. I think only one or two people did the transition run. The rest filtered in, went back down to the lake, and rested in the sun. Transition from bike to run, also known as T-2, also failed to make the camp syllabus, so I guess T-2 practice is now going on 5 days.

We did get out and run on Sunday morning and followed it up with a cool off in the lake. A couple of people swam at least some distance while others, including me, washed off the sweat in the lake and rested from the long run in the easy chairs. Between the naps and laying in the sun, everyone made a full recovery and no one was injured.

On the way home, about a mile North of the first Cadillac exit, we saw a bear standing by a fence near the expressway. Yes, we actually did see a bear and alcohol was not involved in the sighting. I’ve driven Northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula for several years and I can count the wild bears I’ve seen from the car on one hand. Now I’ll have to grow a sixth finger if I ever want to say that again. So now when you ask someone a question with an obvious answer and they say “Is the Pope Catholic?” or “Does a bear @&$* in the woods?”, you can say “Not always!”. Well, I guess the Pope is always Catholic, but you know what I mean.

Just (Finally Rested Up From Tri Camp) Jack

You probably already know that I’ve been playing golf the past few weeks after three years of not playing at all and three or four years before that of playing two or three times on our Upper Peninsula trip. I played ten rounds through Tuesday although the Country Club computer only had me for nine scores. The member-guest tournament was this past weekend and I played 18 holes Friday, 27 holes on Saturday and 18 holes on Sunday so I’m all golfed out. I’ve gotten the bug to start playing again, so I’ll continue throughout the rest of this season and will decide whether or not to join the Country Club for next year this winter.

I played with Robert, my step-son, as my guest. He’s a -0- handicap and I’m a 22, so we played in a flight where most of the guys were around 10 handicappers. Most of them were good, steady golfers and then there was me. I had thought before the weekend started that I would be intimidated by better opponents, but I wasn’t. On Friday we played with a couple of Robert’s friends and they all played a game I haven’t seen before. When you watch golf on television and see professionals that hit the ball 300 yards or more, you think it must be an exaggeration, but these guys did the same thing. If I really got a hold of the ball, my drives would go slightly less than 200 yards, so I was always the first to hit my second shot. I’ll spare you the shot-by-shot description of all 63 holes but suffice it to say, I proved my 22 handicap was earned with some really bad shots. We had lots of fun and I saw people I hadn’t seen or talked to in years, so it was a success.

While I was gone from the lake for three days, a mole moved in and had a blast in the side yard. It’s been so dry out there I couldn’t imagine there were any worms or grubs near the surface but the tunnels were everywhere. I’d make my standard summer comment like “this means war”, but the moles keep winning the battles, so I give up. Well, not entirely. I’ll still set the traps and spray with all the “sure fired mole chasers” you can buy on the market that never work. Apparently my neighbors have the stuff that does work and you know they won’t tell me ‘cuz they don’t want me chasing the critters back into their yards. When it comes to moles, neighbors aren’t always neighborly.

I still haven’t trapped the woodchuck that has set up camp in our decorative rock garden. He has always been bold, but since I set the trap with apples, we haven’t seen him around. A part of me is hoping he got hit by a car and won’t be back, but the animal lover side of me hopes he just doesn’t like us as much as the neighbors and now I can be the one who isn’t neighborly. Maybe the reason he left so suddenly is that a raccoon died in the trap while I was in Florida two winters ago and was less than fresh by the time I got home. The smell of death can be a good deterrent. Hey! If I trap a mole and just leave it in the ground, maybe the others will move out. Wait a minute! That will make the yard stink and maybe that isn’t a good way to try and sell a house. Never mind!

Just (Not A Threat To Tiger Woods) Jack

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, watching other people do a race is hard work. Bill, Larry, Brenda and I went down to Muncie to watch Brian, Diane, Corrine and Tom do the Muncie Endurathon, a half-ironman triathlon. It’s a six hour race for me, or longer if I have trouble on the run, but, naturally, they all finished it in less than six. I’m amazed at how fit all of the athletes are and I’m still surprised to see people in their fifties, sixties and seventies still doing these races. We knew the capabilities of our buddies, so we were always in the right place at the right time when they came through transition or the finish line.

The tiring part about it is that you see someone and chit-chat for a while before the race, but once they have left on the swim, it’s 30 to 45 minutes before you see them again. Then it’s just for a few seconds and they are off on the bike for two to three hours. Again it’s just for a few seconds and they are off on the run for another hour and a half to two hours. We guessed their finish times within five minutes for each of them so it’s not like we had to hold a late night vigil, waiting for them to finish just before the truck that’s picking up the race cones like people have to do for my races. I was carrying Diane’s bicycle pump for quite some time and Bill and Larry wanted me to let them carry it or take it to the car, but I was trying to build up my arms so I refused.

As we watched the racers come out of the swim, it was interesting to watch the differences in style. Some would leave the water and be “trucking right along” headed for T1 (transition from swim to bike) and others would be walking. We saw many staggering just a bit, either from water in the ears affecting their balance, or the lack of oxygen in their legs since the body sends much of it to the arms that are doing all the work. We saw a lot of people in wetsuits, but quite a few without. Some of those people had just a swim suit on while others had their triathlon race suit on. A few people had “skin suits” which are tight fitting suits that let them glide through the water. One guy had a “skin suit” on that I still think was his real skin that had just been painted. To say that it was revealing was the understatement of the year. Brenda commented several times about what a good job the Mohel had done at the young man’s Bris (if you’re not Jewish, look it up).

Congratulations to the racers. Tom got a second in his age group, Brian got a second in his division, Corrine was fourth in her age group and Diane was fifth in her age group. My title as “King of The Mediocre Athletes” is safe for another year.

The Sunday run was at Judy’s yesterday and lots of people showed up. Judy pestered Kevin for so long that he gave in and came to walk with her. I did my usual six miler, but I misjudged the route and ended up in front of Judy’s at 5.36 miles. Of course I couldn’t stop there so I ran back and forth in the neighborhood until 6.00 registered on my Garmin. The neighbors must have thought I was nuts but, of course, if they knew me they would be sure I was nuts. The X-rays from a month ago showed a fair amount of thinning in the hip cartilage so I’m guessing my long run days are limited. I think it will be a good idea to lose some weight to take some of the pressure off, so I’m now on my 89th diet (lifetime, not this year). By tomorrow Bill and Larry will be selling chances to see who can predict how long this one will last. If you want to wager, you better sign up soon ‘cuz the early times go quickly.

The Green Street house and the cottage still haven’t sold. Every time I think it doesn’t matter whether they do or not, I get an insurance bill or a property tax notice and I change my mind. I was going to bring in the three bags of lake weeds to town yesterday, but when I tried to pick up two of the bags, I noticed that the bottom had rotted through, so I’m heading out to “rebag”. Anyone want to rent a nice house or a cottage for a year?

Just (Rested Up From The Hard Job Of Watching) Jack

At swimming this morning I caught a glimpse of how rumors get started. Luckily there was a male presence to nip the story in the bud. People think we go out to Diane’s Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings to swim for the healthy workout. Not so! We really go to sit around afterwards and chit-chat with a little swim thrown in so we have an excuse to be there. During that chit-chat session, I was getting my swim bag together when Jean, Judy and Kim got all excited because Diane had put a motor on her road bike. I know that Diane will be riding that bike this weekend at the Muncie Endurathon and, although I have a lot of respect for her as a doctor, a mechanic she ain’t. I went out and looked and, apparently, Mike was charging a boat battery that was sitting on the floor by the bike and the cord went into an electric receptacle behind the bike. The cord went right through the area where the bike’s crank is. I’m not sure how the girls’ logic made that leap, but it did. Rumor squashed!!! Diane will not be cheating at Muncie!

We missed Bill at the swim today. Nancy was having some pretty significant medical tests at 7 this morning (our thoughts and prayers are with you, Nancy and Bill) and as they left the cottage yesterday, Bill said he would either drop her off at Pennock at 5:30 or she could ride the transit bus ‘cuz he had to be at the lake at 6 to swim. I’m guessing they had a discussion about that when they got home and he decided, without any pressure, that he would much rather take her to the hospital and wait right there for the tests to be done.

Speaking of the cottage, we had the Sunday run out there yesterday. The temperature was 70 at 6:30 when I went out and dropped off the water and it must have been close to 80 by the time the run was in full swing. The humidity was high so it was a miserable day to run but we did it anyway. Most of the runners cut their run short, but a few die hards did the “hilly” 8.6 miles around the lake. Most of them wished they hadn’t, but not Pat. He had a ball out there stopping at the store in Prairieville for water, stopping at someone’s house for water, pouring water from the drinking jug over his head, and then missing the turn onto the South end of Sprague Road and adding .8 miles by turning back at the North end. While everyone else was whining about 8.6, he went 9.4. What a man!!!

I’ve gotten a few comments about some of my recent e-mails where I whined about my frustrations. If you wonder if I’m in some downhill slide, don’t worry. You all know by now that these e-mails are my therapy. You also probably know by now that I am a tad bit on the thrifty side (some people would say cheap) and it saves me the high cost of therapy sessions with a “shrink”. I’ll write an e-mail and send it out to all of you, but then on my copy, after each paragraph I’ll insert the standard comments like:

     How does that make you feel?

     You can’t be serious?

     How’s that working for you?

     Do you think that was the best choice?

     If you had it to do over again, would you do the same thing?

     What in the world were you thinking?

     What does your family think about that?

     What in blue-blazes is wrong with you?

I could have gotten the whole list from the psychology textbooks, but that would have cost money too, so I just watched Dr. Phil a few times and took notes. I’m much, much better now.

Just (Mentally Fit As A Fiddle But Physically Shot) Jack

I’m frustrated with lots of things so I’m in one of those funky moods.

I’m frustrated that one or both of these houses don’t sell. It’s not that we have to sell them or we’ll end up in the foreclosure mess that many others are, but it’s the cost of property taxes, insurance and utilities that are going to waste. If I thought that my property taxes were being used for the good of humanity, I’d feel a little better, but when I read the paper and see what our local officials are doing, I think my hard earned money is swirling down the toilet.

I don’t want to stop now and only offend local politicians. I think on a state and national level, things are much worse. It’s hard for me to believe that all Republicans feel that they have the only legitimate answer to what ails us and all Democrats think the Republicans are full of it and only they have the solution. No matter what you think about Iraq, immigration or the state budget, I don’t understand how the two sides can be so far apart that they can’t agree on anything and there is no chance for compromise. Well over 50% of Americans think that government is broken and there doesn’t seem to be any way to fix it. We can go back to the “throw the bums out” philosophy of many years ago, but when we vote in new people with great ideas, they somehow morph on their trip from Michigan to Washington and turn into clones of the people we just voted out of office.

Enough of politics. If I keep thinking about it I get angrier by the minute and it’s not good for my blood pressure. That brings me to another problem. I’m frustrated that my left hip is not better. Not any worse, but not any better either. My mid-week runs have been in the 3.6 mile range, so I’m not in any pain until the very end. On Sundays I’m trying to run around 6 miles and the discomfort usually starts around 4 miles. Today, being such a beautiful day to run, my hip mess decided it wanted to get out early so it appeared in the first mile. I toughed it out but it wasn’t pretty. To make it feel better, this afternoon I went out to the cottage and weeded the flowers. The bending over and stretching made the joints creak and both hips were begging for Aleve.

If that wasn’t enough, I’m frustrated that my latest health issue, prostatitis, is taking a long time to resolve. We know what the problem is, but my doctor says that it often takes weeks before things are back to normal. In the meantime, I’m sidelined off the bike. I feel left out when everyone else is able to go out for a nice bike ride during the week or on Saturday, so I try to keep myself busy by doing outside work around the cottage. Since I’m a man, and we can’t always help ourselves, I dive into jobs that always take a bit more strength or endurance than I have, so I overdo. Not a lot, but just enough to wake up muscles I didn’t know I had and to increase sales of Tylenol by 30%.

When I’m not swimming (I can do that without much problem, at least until we have to go back in the pool), or hobbling through a run, or beating myself up doing yard work and chores at the cottage, I relax by playing golf. That’s my next frustration and it’s a dandy. Parts of my game are getting better and I feel like I’m getting closer to where I left off a few years back, but then my lack of coordination rears its ugly head and I revert to a real hacker. This past Friday I played with “the guys” who meet at the first tee at noon. I had seven pars, so you would think I had a good score. Wrong!!! I had two bogeys and the rest were doubles or triples with a cool 10 thrown in for good measure, and I hit all ten shots…no penalties…no lost balls. What a mess, but I only lost $4 and I had a good time just being out there.

Just (Looking Up From A Deep Valley) Jack

I put off playing golf long enough, so Friday noon I met the “boys” at the first tee. One guy puts all the players’ balls in a hat, tosses them in the air, and the teams are decided based on where the balls end up. Five of the balls stayed near the center and five of the balls scattered out, so it was the insies versus the outsies. I was one of the insies, so I apologized to them before we started predicting I would be more of a hindrance than a help to my team, and I was right. Now I know why I quit playing golf for a few years.

We played a $2 Nassau, so the most our team could lose was $6 and we did. I would have a couple of decent shots followed by a really crappy one that would get me in trouble and cost me strokes. I did help the team from time to time, but not as much as I should have. My golf glove was several years old and a total rag, so the time we played 9 holes earlier this year, I threw it away thinking I would get another one before I played again. As we were ready to tee off, I realized I hadn’t bought a new one and, by then, it was too late. I played without a glove (I never do that) on a day that it got to around 90 degrees. On at least three shots, my hands were sweaty enough that the club slipped when I swung and I went from a nice tee shot in the center of the fairway to a second shot “shank” into the pucker brush. I decided to give the guys a break yesterday and today and not show up. I’ll play a couple of times by myself and practice my short game so I don’t embarrass myself as much before I subject them to being dragged down by me.

Of course I have a crappy golf day and get home just in time to watch Tiger Woods hit that ball 300 plus yards dead center in the fairway. In my prime, I used to be an average hitter. Not the longest drive but not the shortest either. Now if I really connect I can hit the ball 190 yards. I used to hit a 7 iron from 150 yards. Now I hit a 4 or 5 iron and I don’t always get there. Tiger hits his 7 iron 195 yards. It’s just not fair. I’ve always said I’m a mediocre everything. Mediocre swimmer; mediocre biker; mediocre runner; mediocre triathlete. Now I’m not even a mediocre golfer. I’m a true hacker. Maybe if I play more than once every three years I’ll get better??

I’m still off the bike for a while, so my training has gone into the pits. I signed up early for two Half Ironman races this season. On one, I can pay fifty dollars to roll it forward to next year. On the other one I can get a medical rollover to next year if my doctor signs a medical statement. I guess that’s my best bet and I don’t think I’ll sign up for Ironman Lake Placid. I’ll sit on the sidelines until I can get this hip problem cured.

Today is Father’s Day and Jean’s and my 18th Anniversary. We’ll celebrate both by going out to the cottage and pulling weeds out of the lake. Happy Father’s Day to you fathers out there. Some of our fathers are gone, but definitely not forgotten.

Just (Falling Apart And Still Happy To Be Alive) Jack

I’m starting to think that when I turned 60, my body decided I hadn’t been that good to it through the years so it would rebel. It’s not that I think I’m falling apart, and maybe I’m blaming normal aches and pains on a number, but things aren’t like they used to be. And I’m not even talking about what 90% of you think I’m talking about.   Power washing the deck last week was like opening a big can of worms. The deck was clean and ready to seal, but the old paint job on the railing has seen better days and, of course, the loose paint was smathered by the power-stream of water. So that means painting the railing and trim. I thought it might be a three hour job, but I spent two or three hours yesterday priming the bare spots. After running 6.63 miles this morning (hooray, I got past four miles after taking a couple of weeks off for an “illness” and my sore hip didn’t stop me) I went out to the cottage and painted from 11:30 until 4:15 and only got a third of it done. After all that, every muscle in my body aches. I wonder if I would feel the same if I were 45?

Friday night was entertaining as usual. Becky stopped by as she often does and Bill and Nancy came by for the free entertainment. When they came in, Becky was talking about how good an idea it would be to rent a husband for a while. She has no intention of getting married, and she wouldn’t want to take the guy away from his wife, but it might be nice to have someone every once in a while with no strings attached. We asked her what her requirements were and she said he needed to be young (apparently I don’t qualify), good looking (again I’m out of the running), a good listener (I pretend well but don’t always remember what Jean says), and had to smell good (no comment). We asked about any other attributes she was looking for but she declined to list them. It sounded to me like the “rental activities” that happen on Division Street in Grand Rapids but she insists it’s different.

I wasn’t the best host in the world, although I did mute the television so the noise wouldn’t drown out the girls’ conversation. When Bill and Nancy came in they brought a bottle of cherry wine from Traverse City. Nancy offered Bill a glass and he declined. I got myself a glass of wine a couple of hours later and Jean asked Bill if he wanted something. Apparently he did, but it wasn’t a glass of cherry wine. A bottle of Just Jack’s Kolsch hit the spot. I should have picked up on that, but didn’t. I guess I get mesmerized by the direction the conversation goes sometimes.

I need to get 10 rounds of golf in before the member-guest tournament so I’m looking for volunteers to be the official scorekeeper. Jean wanted me to play nine holes with her on Friday. She’s been working more hours and she penciled me in when the wind was blowing 30 m.p.h. and tree limbs were dropping like flies. I told her “heck no” so I’m sure my husband of the year scores have dropped farther into negative territory. I’m not worried. In 18 years I haven’t placed on the podium, so there’s nowhere to go but up.

Just (Sore And Can’t Afford a Massage ‘Til A House Sells) Jack

Mom and brother Bob (a.k.a. Bobbie Butane) were up this past weekend for brother Bill’s memorial service in Grand Rapids. We sat out on the deck at the cottage a good share of the time and watched the world go by. On the warm, sunny days, the bluegills were on their beds, getting ready to spawn. On each bed, and there were a jillion of them, there were the male and female that were about to culminate their dating experience. All around there were a hundred of the nerd bluegills that didn’t have the nerve to ask out one of the females and looked like the guys that stand around the room at the prom with no date.

Cruising in the wings were several bass, some large and some small, and about twenty five carp. The carp would cruise back and forth for hours until “that magic moment” happened, then rush in and eat all of the just spawned, fertilized eggs. The “would be” bluegill babies were gone before their lives even started. If you think about it, the life of a fish isn’t just wandering around the lake eating worms. It’s eat or be eaten and the danger never goes away. The bigger the fish are, the more they can act like bullies and decimate the smaller, weaker fish. It’s almost like what we are doing in Iraq these days but don’t get me started down that road.

Bob and I took turns running the power washer to clean the siding, sidewalks and the deck at the cottage. We worked on Saturday from about 10:30 until 4:30, nearly non-stop. I would keep going until I ran out of gas, then Bob would take over. When he ran out of gas, I would take over, and we did that all day long. I still think that Bob was adding gas while I was running the power washer with my head turned the other way, but Mom says he didn’t. When it was my turn it seemed like it would never end and when it was Bob’s turn, the time went really fast. Also on Saturday, I caught my first mole of the season, so the day started off well. One down and  ninety nine to go.

The website I wrote about a little while ago isn’t quite finished, but you are welcome to look if you want. It contains slightly edited copies of all the “e-mail to friends” I’ve sent through the years along with copies of eulogies I’ve written and a section I call “ramblings”. The ramblings section contains TriStory, the historical record of how the Trilanders got their name and the stories we read at the next couple of Trilander dinners. There is also a section of “reader favorites” that is really writer favorites. I repeat, the purpose isn’t to show off my writing skills or the lack thereof, but it gives some of the people who haven’t been on the list since the start a way to go back and read about things I refer to in current writings like “my buddy at the YMCA in Florida”.

Visit if you want and I won’t be offended if you don’t. The website is http://www.jackswriting.com/ . Not very original, is it? There are 166 separate posts and they are in date order with the latest post (this one) first. I’m still missing a couple of obits and I plan to add some pictures to them so people will know what they looked like.

Just (My Prostate Is On Prayer Lists Around The Country) Jack