I’m still recovering from the big trip the U.P., mostly licking wounds and bruises I acquired while wading rivers with slick rock bottoms. When an old fat guy like me goes down, it’s an incident. By my count I had 4 really good incidents in the rivers, like stepping on a tree root to get down a steep embankment having that root break under my largeness and proceeding to slide down a hill on my ass, all the time trying to keep my fly rod from breaking my fall. Needless to say the landing was less than graceful and if anyone is interested you can see the waterbottle sized purple spot on my behind that I’ve got as a souvenir of the event.
Did you barf a bit in your mouths thinking about my ass? I did J .
The other really nice one in on my knee which is about twice is usual size thank to my landing directly on the spine of a shale outcrop. That one probably smarts the most to be honest, and like the ass mark, is nicely colored up, purple in the middle, with a ring of green and some brown to accent the edges. It’s tender and lovely at the same time.
It was nice to pull into the house and see the rest of the family waiting for me when I pulled into the driveway. They looked like the staff in some Jane Austin scene, all lined up on the porch smiling and waiting for the guy with Direct Deposit to arrive home after three days in the woods. It just warmed my heart to see them to be honest. I got out of the car, held out my loving arms and gave a big huge hug to.. to the wind as they ran past me to embrace the college kid, the prodigal son home from school.
Except for his brother the middle kid of course, he was a bit more aloof about the homecoming and had little more than a knowing nod, the kind inmates give each other in prison. So I’m told.
I hated to break up the little homecoming over there but hey.. “Um, Dude didn’t walk home people , someone had to get him how about a little love for the alpha male?”
Alpha male? At that point a shooting sensation gripped me, emanating from the injured knee. I looked down the see my loyal pal, Gigg’s the mean little Corgi jumping on my injured leg in an attempt to remind me that uh.. alpha males have to earn that spot every day of their lives. I did get some love, Mrs S let me carry the kids crap into the house. Thinking about it I believe that she was just about to come over and express some joy at my safe return when the kid opened the back gate to the Durango and several flattened Pabst Blue Ribbon cans fell out. “I’m so disappointed” she said. I’ve been married long enough to know to hold off on the apology until you have a clear idea of what you’re apologizing for. “I thought you like Miller High Life?” Ah.. a switch in my preferred cheap beer.
“Pabst is the new brand love. Delish”.
So today I’m sitting in the office at Nameless Faceless Inc, looking out the window and thinking about the Presque Isle, the Big Iron and trying to reconstruct what it was that we did wrong up there. Sort of holding on for next time.. ‘cause next time.. I’m gonna nail ‘um.