Treehouse

Not just any fish...

2011-09-07T10:43:00.000-07:00

Their bellies are soft and tender and the color of a cloud reflecting the last rays of the setting sun or, perhaps, the hottest embers of the camp fire. The flame orange merges into a shade of olive green that matches the moss which mats the floor of the stream.

At the side of the fish where the colors merge, the change is not abrupt but slow and steady like the coming of night as it is interrupted by a rainbow of light and shadow. Where this change takes place, your eyes are taunted by colors that tease your mind's eye. Such colors on something so beautiful, it is one of those rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.

As your eyes slowly move upward, the beauty is magnified by small halos that are the color of the bluest sky when you are high in the mountains. Some of these rings of blue house a dot that is the color of a cloud of pink portending rain at daybreak. Higher on the side of the fish, the blue rings house specks of blood red. Others house spots the color of a perfectly cut and set amethyst.

The gill and jaw lines were drawn in black by an artist with a steady hand and an eye for beauty - they are, after all, His creation. Finally, the halos of blue break free and the yellow, that had once been so sharp on the underside fades as it begins to mix with the drab olive that hides this thing of beauty so well.

To ensure its presence fades with its background, the olive skin and the drab yellow that mark the fish's back are set up in irregular patterns reminiscent of some other predator or prey. Dull yellow stripes, in irregular patterns, set upon an olive drab background camouflage this master of the stream. My greatest hope is to see another one rise to the occasion and dance yet again on the end of my line.

Finally, to those who have never had the occasion to hold such a thing of beauty in your hand, I say: never miss an opportunity to see something that is beautiful; beauty is God's handwriting.

dp

Colorado 2010

2010-11-19T13:14:00.001-08:00

This year's hunt was good in some respects.
The solo buck was taken Kirk Stiltz and the other photo is Punk Dog's first buck. One shot - One kill...

The Greatest

2009-04-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

What is it about sport that makes men and women cheer for the individual who stands in the arena that they have never met and never will meet. Do you think that they envision themselves in that position, dreaming of how they would have competed given the chance?

Or is the fleeting thought of comparison, i.e. in the past when faced with such a scenario this is what I did. A beer with the boys, and "remember when?..." Personally, I readily admit I still get tight in the chest watching particular events, mainly those sports in which I did compete in my youth. I find it funny that I see, with some clarity now, things which I would have done differently. But I do not believe it would be accurate to call such visions regrets. Suffice it to say, youth is wasted on the young.

If you were an athlete, do you remember when your and/or your teammates success rested solely on your shoulders? Team sports always beg the question, are all of these people giving their all? Are they leaving every ounce of energy they brought to the game on the field or court? Reliance on another, never set quite well with me because of such lingering doubts. You can merely hope that everyone will rise to the occasion and ... well you understand.

Such doubt is removed when you are the only participant. Dedication, self-respect, and self-reliance are themes you hear in many sporting venues; however, they become so much more prevalent when it is one man or one woman proving those characteristics about his or herself. These effects of these characteristics generate a reputation, and such traits become more pronounced when someone is out there - alone. When the blame can lay only at your feet, you step becomes a little more determined.

Theodore Roosevelt's speech, Citizen in a Republic, has provided generations with inspirational fodder. While this speech provides so much more than just the following quote, the quote is topical and I am not sure that anyone before or after has said it better. (I encourage everyone to read it and think about where you stand in our great Republic.) This excerpt has always left me awestruck and filled with admiration that someone so eloquently stated what I feel and have felt for the longest time:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

When you read that passage, what - or who - do you see?

To the Hunt! To the Hunt! To the Hunt!

2009-04-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

If you could meet any celebrity alive or dead from any part of the world, any walk of life, who would it be? I have thought long and hard about this one. There are several answers that I could give, and they seem to be based on their particular medium of celebrity. As far as the movies and/or television are concerned, I cannot seem to choose between Curly Howard:

and John Wayne:

Wayne has long been a favorite of mine. He may not have been the greatest actor, but he represented to me what an American was. He seemed to always be bathed in that light where freedom lived. He always seemed to breathe that air that breeds self-respect. To be sure he had his demons, but we all do. I for one will not cast a stone. There are no actors in this day and age that provoke these feelings in me. Perhaps he was meant to be the only one, which makes him all the more precious. If this is true, it would suit me right down to the ground.

As for Curly, he reminds me of a time when responsibility was only a word to me. At some point in time, the notion becomes more than just a word. For every person, that time is different. It has been said before that this time occurs when you stop saying, "it got lost" and start saying, "I lost it." The burden of responsibility weighs heavy, and in my humble opinion I think it pays to remember the times when you could still say it got lost without actually removing the yoke. Curly helps me think of such times.

I still think that "are you married or happy?" is one of the most classic lines ever spoken in film.

So, my fine feathered friends, what screen gem or gems shine the brightest in your eyes?

Next post, sports celebrities.

Ideas

2009-02-10T06:38:00.000-08:00

So, I am sitting here in the office, and it is 6:38 AM. Been here for an hour or so. Good times! I think I have become like my father in this respect.
Dear readers, I come to you today with a question. A very important question. One that will pique your interest and challenge your faculties. A question that provokes such deep consideration that some will not even bother to approach it as they have to go to work and cannot spend hours on unpaid matters such as these. This question, it is a good one, has been asked before by many others before me. By men and women whose lot in life is a good one. Wrapping your mind around this interrogatory may cause injury, thus I disclaim any and all injuries and/or disabilities arising from or occurring in the course of giving the matter its due consideration.
What is your favorite movie quote?

Solipsism

2009-01-07T18:15:00.000-08:00

I saw this word, solipsism, on a shirt the other day, and I did not have the foggiest idea what it meant. Now I do, and when you look it up you will to; alternatively, you may be able to derive its meaning from what will follow, but I won't hold my breath.
A passage from an ancient journal states, "...the thing is to find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I can live and die." I sit here thinking where does this writer want me to go. Is he urging me to seek a truth for me? Or, is he seeking the the answer to a truth about mankind? Is there anything, other than family and country, for which I would die? If I have within me that truth already, how do I know for sure it is that one truth that, above all others, encompasses who I really am? There are so many questions that lead up to finding the real answer, I don't know if a person can ever really find the solution. Each question leads to another answer, and, maybe, a brutal realization about yourself.
This quotation clearly is part of an existential philosophy put into part of a sentence. Or, is it the barest definition of existentialism, i.e. the essence of the question is asked by every man, woman, and child on this earth. Who am I? What am I here for? The search for this truth, whatever the truth may be, all has to start with the basics about our carbon-based lives. Is this search what being a man or woman on this earth is really all about? Living one' s life always looking, always searching for an answer that fits the question. I do not think that anyone ever really knows. We are all here for a reason, but in this context the question becomes is there a reason I am here.
I am not speaking of the biological reason, I am speaking of the basis for those decisions a person makes that leads to a certain role in society as we individually know it. On those grounds, to find the truth about myself is a much more difficult question.
Is there a truth you personally know that makes your throat tight and your heart pound in your chest? Loving your kids, parents, family or friends cannot be the truth that anyone is really seeking. Those things are part of the foundation or platform from which a person casts about for that element of truth that they would live or die for. Love of God and fellow man. Love of country. Or is the truth some ideal for which a person stands? As I said in another post, who we become is our gift to God. Maybe that is the truth of which Kierkegaard spoke: if you live your life to its fullest potential that truth will find you.
More troubling is another tangent: does this truth change with age and environment? Does the truth change with a man's nature? I have always thought that a man prays in an attempt to change his own nature, not to influence God. Through prayer, can you effect the change you need in order to bring about the influences you want to find? If you can, what on earth do you ask for? Wisdom to make the right decisions? Strength to bear the burdens with which you have been loaded? Courage to face that which you fear? I think that the search for truth may also be a combination of all those assets a man or woman wishes he or she had, should they be lacking. The attributions of the Lion, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow after they met the Great Oz wrapped up with a nice little bow.
Whatever the truth you are seeking turns out to be, I think that you will know when y0u find it. I don't know if bells will ring in your head, but you may feel truly happy with the trip to find that which you have been seeking. Some may never want to know what their truth is, content to stumble through life looking for the next resting area. This I know: for each person, it has to be different. Your children will have their own truth, and you may never know what it is not even in your dreams. You can lead, but will they follow? You can inspire a certain belief, but there is no way to force a child to hold something you believe to be true as his or her own. The truth, I am convinced, is different for all of us. Kierkegaard never says what his truth is, and maybe that is just it. He may be saying search out for yourself that which inspires you, that which leads you to live life to the fullest potential, that for which you would live and die.
Mine is out there somewhere. Waiting for me to throw a rope around its neck, drag it down, and tie it off so I can take my fill and be happy.
Though gem: definition of solipsism: My mind is the only thing that I know exists...

Miracles

2009-01-03T22:41:00.001-08:00

An old proverb says that the miracle is not to fly in the air, or to walk on the water, but to walk on the earth. Does it ring true? We were not given wings nor gills, we were given two legs to stand on and with which to walk this earth. Given my proclivities, it goes without saying that some of my fondest memories are the places where I have walked.
Not surprisingly, the places are not the big city, of which I have been to a few. Rather, it is those out-of-the-way places in the mountains that I can see perfectly in my mind's eye. The middle fork of the Kings River, south slope of the Lone Cone, the Little Fork of the Kern, Jenny Lakes Wilderness, Spanish Lakes and the Garlic Meadows, to name a few. Undoubtedly, a man could see so much more soaring on high, but that we would miss not using the legs God gave us has to greatly outweigh the view from above.
One resolution I have made this year is to get up to the High Lonesome more. To see, in some cases again, those places that very few in their lifetimes are fortunate enough to see. There is a place on the Kings River called Paradise Valley I walked through once and have wanted for years to return. (Check it out at: http://kevingong.com/Hiking/ParadiseValley.html) That is one goal I am setting for this summer.
I want those over whom I still have some influence to know the wild places, those places that man has not tried to "improve." I know that life does not go backward or tarry with yesterday, but in some way the lifestyle of yesterday is what is missing in life as we all know it. Perhaps the slow passage of time on the mount may show just what the good life is or is meant to be. But, this pursuit must be balanced with the knowledge that there is no distance on this earth as far away as yesterday.
Thought gem: angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.

Improving my Standing

2009-01-01T13:22:00.000-08:00

I am right at this moment sitting in the cabin in Arroyo Grande staring out at the ocean. The sun is out, and the weather is clear. The neighborhood is quiet. Through an open window a light breeze of warm ocean air rattles the window blinds every once in a while. With the exception of the wind chimes, there is no sound...
A holiday standing alone is not worth much. Short of the particular observation and/or the roots or reasons behind the day, it always feels at one time or other like just another day. For what are not so obvious reasons, the first day of the year has always been one that is spoken of with some reverence. I like to think that unlike Christmas or Easter, this holiday can be fashioned into whatever you want it to be celebration wise. Is it with foresight or hindsight that a person appreciates this day? Intransitively speaking, do you think about the shots you are going to make or the bullets you dodged on this holiday? I guess it would depend on what type of person you are, half-empty or half-full speaking.
Some of us draft resolutions intended to curb some conduct to come or improve their standing. Lose weight. Eat right. Go to church more. An optimist will choose resolution over reflection every day of the week and twice on Sunday. A pessimist, on the other hand, always seems to ponder those days that could not have possibly gone any more wrong. Do you, dear reader, find opportunity in every difficulty? Or are you cursed with never being disappointed.
My resolutions were drafted recently, but not put into play until today. Unfortunately, in my case, procrastination is the bane of optimism. Let us just say that I have grand designs. Furthermore, knowing that hypocrisy is the payment vice makes to virtue, I hope that everyone who reads this makes some change for the better in their life. I would love to see everyone improve their standing.
Thought gem: There is no such thing as bad publicity, except your own obituary. (Behan)

Integrity

2008-12-11T16:24:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I heard a reel-to-reel tape converted to mp3 of the night my grandfather was elected to a justice court judgeship. The recording is some 13 minutes long and starts off with some telephone calls from what I imagine were the local gentry.
Listening to him field those calls made my mind wander imagining what he must have gone through to put up such a campaign. Granted, it is a small community in which he lived, i.e. Dinuba, California, nevertheless, campaign he did. In one part of the recording he tells someone whom I believe to be his sister that he has campaign voice. That was the morning after the election and she was calling to congratulate him on his win. I believe that he presented himself to be a man of principle and that is what carried the day.
In his voice you can hear the tone of a steady man. Appreciative and gracious, but steady in his words and confident in his actions. That is saying a lot when you think that this attribution is based on 13 minutes of tape. Of course, it is based on so much more. 37 years of information to draw on.
Every person I have ever known held him in the highest regard, speaking fondly of his memory. There never seemed to be to much emphasis placed on any one characteristic, so I would say that a man of integrity was speaking that night. I do not think that anyone could deny that a person of principle was fielding calls, and when a person like that speaks you are drawn to what you hear.
Are people born with integrity? I don't think that it is an innate feature bred into us. It has to come from the environment. Can such a characteristic be distilled into our children? I hope so, but the question remains: is how I am raising my children instilling into them the desire to be a person of integrity? Only time will tell whether my making them stand up for themselves and each other and the principles they believe in will be enough. There is more to it than that, no doubt. But what is the core subject matter to which they must be exposed? This has to very from person to person and family to family. I do know one thing, however, it must be taught by immersion. There can never be another option: do what is right even when nobody is looking.
Integrity is something that will be or should be important to every man, woman, and child. Without it there cannot be trust to act as promised or expected after a time. I think that confidence in oneself and others is integral. Who is watching me should never be considered. When you meet people like this, people who display such a quality, hold on to them tight. They seem to be in rare supply these days.
Thought of the day is off topic: Have you ever seen a statue of a critic.
dp

Being an Artist

2008-12-10T16:47:00.000-08:00

My good friend, Forrest Earl Cooper III, says the word artist as if the word has two "ee" instead of an "i" in it, pronouncing it "arteest." I have always thought of that word when I see someone whose art, whatever the medium, that I find to be truly questionable value wise. Without a doubt, beauty is in the eye of the beholder: art can be found in whatever the artist or viewer decides. I have never understood how some things can be called art, i.e. a painting splattered with blood or a disemboweled animal in a large jar of formaldehyde which strikes a chord through shock or some similar response as opposed to appreciation and inspiration.
I have always appreciated paintings. I buy them regularly on ebay - just won one today matter of fact. It seems appropriate that term art should have some connotation attached to it that the viewer would want to emulate or be able to recreate that at which he or she is looking, feeling, or hearing. Such a producer is worthy of the term artist, without the country twist of adding the "ee" sound to the word.
I guess that there are all kinds out there who have similar desires and feelings, dark or light as they may be. There is a metal band whose lead singer is a pit bull, Caninus; to me a waste of time, to others music. I have absolutely no grasp of how this can be music to someone's ears. Perhaps it is the just the music, but the dog barking? I hear that every night coming from my neighbor's back yard. Funny, I don't seem to want to open the windows and/or back door to bang my head to the "music" coming from that barking beast. I have also heard that there is a band who uses a parrot as the lead singer. You'll have to search the internet for more information on that one.
I guess the long and the short of it would be to say that the artist should always be allowed to exercise that art that he knows best. Maybe the band with the dog as a lead singer grew up watching Eukenuba Dog Show and became fascinated with the animals. I simply pound my fist on the wall when my dog starts barking and his Pavlovian response is to see if that means food. It doesn't mean food, but it also serves to stop the barking.
I would encourage everyone to expand their mind and try to see the "art" from the "arteest's" point of view. What did this person experience that caused him/her to create such a writing, painting, drawing, or fashion such a piece? If you were to close your eyes right now and think about it, you could probably see yourself doing something artistic. Jotting a few lines of a poem, writing a verse of a song, drawing some crude pictures, cracking open an old paint kit and slapping down some colors. I have found that such endeavors move the mind to another place and time. If you can free yourself from the distractions of the present you can focus on the art that you are aiming to create.
I, for those of you who don't know me, am a notorious half-painter. I have at least five canvases covered about half way with paint. I interrupt myself with observations that there is probably something better that I should be doing with my time and I wash my brushes and put the damn thing away. But as I reflect on this aspect of my life, there probably isn't. Why can't I take a couple of hours and focus on something that brings me some modicum of happiness? I don't believe that the world will stop if I paint for a while. It is a sort of meditation for me as there are only the colors to mix, the trees and mountains to fill in (I only paint landscapes), and the textures to complete. Nothing more, nothing less. I should have to exercise both sides of my brain. At times, I think that the left side may be undergoing atrophy to some extent due to the lack of exercise in this respect.
I guess where I am going with this is that I want to paint more, perhaps that will allow me to become more creative in my job. Creative solutions can only help my clients. Being able to think outside the box is important. Seeing the different opportunities to fashion a remedy is a strong suit, and is one that I need to develop. To quote Michael Corleone, "we'll get there, Pop."
On somewhat of a side note, I read some of my old posts today with some reticence. I wanted to see whether they would still strike a chord in me. Does posting my thoughts on different subjects cause me to think more deeply about any particular subject matter. My thoughts are down on paper so to speak, but there is also a disconnect to a certain extent: I don't remember writing them. They still are my feelings on certain subjects, those that are subject oriented of course. The day-to-day mundane observations about what happened in the recent past are a trap as they were me talking about people. Immediately I perceive a problem: I read somewhere (and I remember exactly where) that small people talk about people, big people talk about ideas. It has always been a goal of mine to talk about ideas, as I want to be a bigger and better person. It is a saying like so many others; nevertheless, it happens to be a saying that I have always remembered an d held dear.
So, my promise, dear reader, is to focus more on ideas in general. I may include a smattering of what is going on in my family from time to time, as that will likely be the basis for the core ideal in a round-about way. But my thoughts, which are being laid out here for the sake of posterity, are for my own enhancement-nothing more, nothing less. Being able to focus, concentrate, and sort through a problem is a value that is should not be given short shrift. I am writing to see if it will help me in my struggles as a father, son, and lawyer.
I would bet that the average person cannot concentrate for more than 15 minutes on any given subject. Of course there are exceptions. But the average is of what I am speaking. That is what I am trying to improve for me, myself, and I. My ability to focus on an issue for an extended period of time, probing the possibilities and opportunities, and coming up with an acceptable outcome for those persons I am trying to help. Mayhap that writing will help me do that...
With that, I am done for today.
Ahhh, yes, my thought for the day: just because the monkey's off your back don't mean the circus has left town. Do think about it and its application to a person's life or family. What does it mean to you? Does it mean anything to you? I know what it means to me. Some people will immediately understand from experience. Others, the lucky, smart, or sheltered ones, will never know such pain. Think about it for yourself. To continue on with one of my themes for the day: concentrate on it, and see what you come up with...

dp

P.S. Your comments will be appreciated as intellectual and future fodder for this old bull.

Checks and Balances

2008-12-09T11:27:00.000-08:00

Hello, again, readers - however, many or few there are of you. By looking at the comments left on my blog, which is somewhat sporadic I admit, there are none of you. It matters not as these are really personal reflections not intended for the general public at large. I am sure, however, that if it does get out that yours truly wastes the time writing a blog there would be something said as to the lack of masculinity.
We have much going on right now. McK was back and then left again. I hope that some day she comes to understand how important she is to us. I am thoroughly convinced that her friend has poisoned her against us, and that the only way things will change is when she sees that first hand for what it is. I still see her for what she was lo those many moons ago - a happy child who loved to watch Barney and Friends.
TPHP and ALP are doing well. It continues to astonish me the things they say. ALP was stuck on not taking her for "granite." TPHP was awarded Student of the Month at school. Proud, I am.
Due to what I believe is an upswing in my biorhythm, I am once again interested in trying to make what may turn out to be a better me. I have always believed that what we are is God's gift to us, and what we can become is our gift to God. Lately, I have probably been a lump of coal in the gift category, committing some of the more innocent of capital vices - sloth, gluttony, and envy. Lest ye forget, hypocrisy is the payment vice makes to virtue.
Hopefully, things will change. Maybe setting specific goals will help. I don't want to fall into the trap of making a New Year's Resolution, as what I should do now is not best put off until later. I may keep you apprised - probably not - but maybe.
I invite all comments. Maybe if I throw out a thought the comments will come flowing like the salmon of San Juan Capistrano: you win some, you lose some, and some get rained out, but you got to get dressed for them all.
dp

Soundtracks to my Life

2007-05-30T17:50:00.000-07:00

Based on a Calvin and Hobbes strip, I have often wondered if I had to choose a soundtrack that would represent my life what would it be. Rock, country, classical, or ??? There is so much good music out there, but that is not the exercise. Finding one that would represent me as a person. Not different stages in my life, but rather the total sum of who I am. What would be yours, reader? What music, when boiled down, would be an accurate representation of who you are, who you were, and who you will be? Think about that and get back to me.
Camping was good this past weekend, except for Monday. Had a case of stomach flu that put me down for the count. I was in bed from 1:00 pm to 5:00 pm and then from 7:30 pm until 6:30 am. Not fun. But other than the mosquitoes, I had a great time. New trailer is rather spacious - it better be for 31 feet long. Something I said I would never do, we did - i.e. the trailer.
Abby and Tuck had a great time, I believe. They played well and love to sit around and dig in the dirt. Tuck found the biting ants and then freaked every time he saw another. He counseled me at each siting,"Dada, watch out for the biting ants." It will not surprise me if he becomes some sort of animal veterinarian; he loves bugs and animals. Abigail on the other hand screamed almost causing a wreck whilst I was driving a 4x4 road when a bumble bee landed on her. She does not like bugs.
Be back soon.

Trailer Woes and New Bows

2007-05-21T08:09:00.000-07:00

Got a trip planned this weekend - Memorial Day. I don't think that anyone else will be traveling. I am sure that most folks will avoid traveling on the holiday weekend, they'll travel the weekend after or something like that. I am quite sure it will be smooth sailing.
Plans are to meet at Big Meadows and camp up behind the Horse Corrals. I might find time to shoot my new bow. PSE X-Force. It is supposed to shoot 350 f.p.s. However, in reading some articles, it may not be the most forgiving bow. We shall see this weekend, when I put a couple of hundred arrows through it.

Things that Go Bump in the Night

2007-05-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

For a while now, I have not been sleeping all that well. Probably the stress of opening a new business. Payroll alone is giving me fits. As for things that go bump in the night, that was me last night at 12, 2, 4, and 6 AM. Always up and all ways hitting or stepping on something. I keep telling myself it will all work out, but this adventure is keeping me up at night.
Luckily for me, I have a very supportive woman that I love dearly. I can do no wrong in her eyes. Knowing that helps ease the strain somewhat, but it is always there - boiling right under the surface. I know it will pay off in the end; however, the beginning is what will drive a man to the watering hole.
In discussing this with some of my opposing counsel, they have all said to a man that I have done some good hiring. I think so too...now if we can generate enough cash to make this venture pay off. It is the overhead that makes me batty. How to cut it back is the key question. I know that there are certain ways we can reduce the overhead, but the backlash will be rather substantial. That is going to be a key factor in whether I am successful or not in this business. Much like Solomon, I pray for wisdom to make intelligent decisions.

Stress, Strain, and Single Malt Scotch

2007-05-08T17:43:00.000-07:00

Well readers, I am back. After a somewhat lengthy blog hiatus, I have returned with an absolute lack of interest in doing anything whatsoever. Right about now, communism sounds pretty damn good to me. The thought that I could live off the labor of others while working in the communal fields every once in a while does sound rather inviting. I would like to be the communal hunter, providing meat or fish for the bellies of my oppressed brethren. The likelihood of such an event is remote, but a man can dream can't he?...
I have opened a new office in Fresno. Hired a new attorney, a paralegal, and a secretary. If you want to lose weight rapidly, start a new business venture. Such things will drive a man to drink, and right now I am working on two fingers of 15 year old single malt, The Balvenie. Distilled in 1990 and bottled in 2005, it is a work of art. Slight hints of honey and vanilla, with an oak-like finish at the end. I do believe that this is one of my favorites.
I have several other types in my liquor globe. I have some Irish whiskies, and some American Bourbons. But the Scotch is my favorite. Sometimes I wonder if that makes me sound like a whisky snob. Then I think to myself, who cares. On hand at the moment, I have the following: Glenfiddich, The Glenlivit, Laphroaig, The Macallan, and Highland Park. I have some Bushmills and Crown Royal as well, but those don't hold sway over me like the others. Should anyone ever ask about what to start with, I would suggest to go with the oldest you are able to afford. Younger whiskys are cheaper for the obvious reasons, but if you are able try and get something 12 years or more old.
In my experience, blended whiskys and young single malts, i.e. less than 7 years old, burn the tip of the tongue. Middle age single malts, i.e. 8 - 12 years, burn the back of the tongue. Older single malts warm up the chest, and therein lies the draw. It is not a whisky I would buy to get drunk, although if you consume enough you can do it very easily. I would buy it for the experience.
On my fortieth birthday, I am hoping to find an old bottle of single malt, i.e. 25 - 30 years old, for the celebration. We shall see what dreams may come.
Time to roll on out of here....back sooner rather than later.

Time to Myself

2007-04-10T13:15:00.000-07:00

Just finished Team of Rivals, which was an historical account of Abraham Lincoln's presidential bid in 1860 and the highlights/lowlights of his terms of office thereafter. It was a great read, almost like a novel. It definitely put a face on the man that I had not understood before. I highly recommend this book.
Just getting ready for a mini vacation. J and I are taking off starting the end of next week, on the 20th. We have discussed where to go and are torn between going to the house on the coast or somewhere else. I honestly would like to go somewhere new, where neither of us have ever been. Northern California/Southern Oregon, Arizona/New Mexico, or ???
The problem is having to drive all that way. I would like to relax wherever we decide to go. I would love to show my wife the Lizard Head Wilderness, which is one of my favorite places on God's Green Earth. This place makes you believe that someone with an eye for beauty designed this world. Life seems to take on a different meaning when you are able to take the time and really "see" a landscape such as this.
I think that the north coast would be a great trip. Nice and cool. We shall see.
I am finishing up the story I promised and will post it here soon. Trying to paint a visual picture with words is the key. When I am happy with it, I will post it - not before then.
Back soon...

Box of Rain

2007-03-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

Another week from Hell down the drain. We had some rain this week, I think. This is not the rain that we had, but it is a picture of a rain storm that came up the canyon while I was at Mitchell's cabin. It was literally a box of rain that moved up the canyon and then receded several times.
Financially the week was good, psychiatrically it was bad. Taxing. Starting with a client who had nothing but bad to say about me and the system altogether. The system is bad, no doubt about it. No one can be made happy in this system. If you want to go broke/bankrupt and possibly get divorced. Employment divorce takes its toll on everyone involved.
At this point in time, I am just dropping in for a second to continue this blog-thing. No viewers that I can see so far, but really - who cares. Writing seems to give me some peace. In my world such things are invaluable.
Since I have no viewers, I wonder where I can take this. I suppose the sky and the rules as set down by Blogger.com for posting are the limit. I was thinking of recounting some of the people, places, and things that I have met, seen, and done in my short 38 years thus far.
The more I think about it, I think that is where I want to go with this. I am going to start tonight with some of the things that I have seen. Oddities and bone-chilling occurrences going back some time...
Soon, my friends. Soon. Take a deep breath
dp

March 22, 2007

2007-03-22T20:37:00.000-07:00

I finally figured out how to log on from the home box. Some technology is too technological.

J left for Solvang, in her new urban assault vehicle - Suburban. I am not positive, but I think that the official name brand of the color is Snow Blindness White. That was according to the sales manager. Although his veracity on other matters of the negotiations was questionable, my corneal burns settled any challenges from me on UV level reflection properties of the paint job. She is traveling with three others from the church, including her sister.

According to the salesman, there are 18 different computers on board. It has that active fuel management, i.e. at highway speeds drops from 8 cylinders to 4. It is also a flex-fuel vehicle, capable of burning ethanol. My fuel mileage is horrible - 12 to 14 mpg; nevertheless, I take heart in knowing that the truckers aren't missing me out there.

We splurged and got the super ultra first class top of the line Scotch Guarding - inside and out. I have hired two people to test it out over the next couple years. They have a total of eight years experience between them. Despite their presenting without any formal recommendations, we are going to take a chance and see what happens. I sure in the end, I will feel like I was robbed blind.

There was another Suburban same year but with every single upgrade available, except the in-seat DVD screen. It was a rental return with 16,000 miles. Approximately the same price. Every digital option, sun roof, heated seat...but the miles. On Star, XM, remote start...but the miles. Leather seats, running boards, tinted windows, polished wheels...but the miles. We opted for the one without the miles. We're gonna drive this one until the wheels come off...

Just checked the clock. Time for Eyelid Theater starring I.M.D. Sandman.

dp

March 20, 2007

2007-03-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

Rain. In March. In the central San Joaquin valley. Used to be that as an expression of disbelief for an uncommon occurrence we would say "it's going to rain." I am looking at it out my office window right now and it is coming down in buckets. Thunderstorms expected, but I will believe that when I see it.

Talked to CJ today, and he said that he had found the mythical road that goes all the way to the upper reaches of the north fork of the Kaweah River. We have searched for this road for years. I am not convinced, and will remain thus until it is driven to the end. I have spent many an hour on Google Earth searching the area east of Hartland trying to find a way. The closest I get is the Cherry Gap road, but that leaves about 3/4 of a mile from the river. That in and of itself isn't bad, however, it is 3/4 of a mile of steep mountain.

If you want to see what I am talking about, cut and paste the following on Google Earth in the Fly To window: 36 37' 42.65" N 118 53' 59.05" W

Back out a little and you can see what I am talking about. It is STEEP and choked with manzanita, buck brush, and poison oak. Rattlesnakes abound. All to catch some damn fish, you say? Not just any fish. Native brown trout in deep blue pools that never are bothered by fishermen. Makes me want to lace up right now and head that way. No planter trout here. Natives only.

There is a spot there that is without a doubt one of the most beautiful spots on earth. I don't know what it is exactly called, and I have only been there once. But it is a place I will never forget.... and it is a story that I will relate another day.

Going to go out and catch this storm for a little while.

dp

March 19, 2007

2007-03-19T09:04:00.000-07:00

Since my relatives in the great white north have seen fit to make their own blogs, I think that I shall do the same. Parity, you understand.

I must admit that in my favorites, I have a link to:
.... Flying Higher...: The wonder in play.
Which is Bruce and Becky's blog. From there I go from place to place, site to site, and blog to blog so that I can keep track of all of the other components of our very extended family.

It has been terribly hot here lately: high 70's and low 80's. The orchards are in full bloom and the Blossom Trail, I expect, must be quite a sight to see. I was out with the old man at the Sherwood Forrest G.C. Saturday, and could literally see the pollen hanging in the air. I paid for that trip later - so did JW with my snoring due to the allergies.

I'll check back in later. We shall see if this is something that I like to do, or if this winds up being my only post.