Hi!

Hi! A familiar voice, one immediately recognized as our son, Kev.  Here to help us bring our rascal computer back into control, a task he shared much of the last evening with his brother, an equally capable computer warrior.  Kev left shortly after engaging in his periodic battle with the electronic foe, when the phone rang, followed by a similar “Hi”, recognized immediately as our son, Mike, who had been engaged in the aforesaid battle of the chips with brother Kev.

Was it the battle of the rams and roms which most excited the emotions?  No, it was the assurances, conveyed  by the sound of the familiar voices, that your loved ones had once  again come to help surmount the obstacles and impediments encountered in our everyday life’s endeavors.

Yes, another  reminder that we of the “charcoal and back of the shovel” days, the ones unacquainted with the rams, roms, bytes and gigs, can be fortunate enough to prevail upon the love and favor of family and friends when the aforementioned “rascal (reluctantly not falling back upon much more appropriate adjectives) computer” casts its evermore frequent tantrums upon us.

The Cabin Commuter

Living the life of a Cabin Commuter is a very difficult chore.  As simple as it may sound, we cannot always choose to be “at the cabin” or “in the woods”.  Other evil forces may require one to remain captive in the “other” world.   The world of concrete, noise and other indicators of civilization.  Not that those things are evil, mind you, but they take a far second to the serenity of your woods.  So, whenever possible, civilization loses and the cabin wins.  But never as often as we wish.

There are forces pulling in both directions.  The family could be in the city.  Work could be in the city.  Many friends may be in the city.   But the woods are at the cabin, the lake is at the cabin, the potential woodpile is at the cabin.

Yes, the workshop is at the cabin, beckoning a single finger to press the start button or lift a tool in an attempt  to transform nature’s resource into another appreciated form.  The aroma of turning red cedar can be very motivating.

During more temperate seasons, nothing is more consoling than to sit on the deck and communicate with nature’s friends at the feeder or enjoy the family of bats who regularly take up residence at the bat house and skim through the evening summer’s stillness helping rid the deck of pesky mosquitoes.

So, like I say, it’s a difficult chore, but thank the Lord we have the opportunity to live it.

Sick Report

I have received several inquiries regarding the “sick leave” status of some of my hunting partners.  It had been rumored that certain people would do anything to escape the nutritional program centered around my Chili.  I herewith offer the following report in support of my staunch denial of my Chili’s responsibility for the aforementioned illnesses.

First, brother Warren did voluntarily show up for the second weekend of the hunt and did valiantly demolish a substantial portion of subject Chili, including  a bountiful breakfast of omelets and grits smothered in cheese and “the” Venison Chili.  Is it any wonder that he  recovered fully from whatever ailed him?

Stan, on the other hand, underwent some serious heart surgery, but –lo and behold-he is up, chipper, and looking great.  Obviously in anticipation of enjoying what is left of the Chili.

Since much of our time was spent in the woods, the poor woodpile is much depleted, so our next visit will require the utilization of a chain saw, lest we suffer frostbite within the abode.

The good news is that both ill buddies are doing well and we are looking to find some remedial solitude in the woods.

New Menu By Default

As the hunting party developed, I just knew how much they would enjoy a large “vat” of genuine Venison Chili.  I proceeded to engineer  three and a half pounds of venison, Mucho chili beans, kidney beans, sautéed onions and celery, and various and sundry secret spices into the chili vat.  And I was rightly proud of the completed product.

Then the “fit hit the shan”…..My brother, Warren, came down with the bug and chose to withdraw from the hunting endeavor.  Next, another of the party came down hurting and decided it would be impossible to join us.  Grandson Andrew “chose” to propose to Melissa and had to accompany her home to Waupaca for the weekend. 

By proclamation, therefore, the usual Menu:     

                        Breakfast at the Chatterbox                             

                        Lunch in the Woods     

                        Steak at a Local Gin Mill

Will be revised to:

                        Breakfast:     Chili        

                        Lunch:          Chili

                        Dinner:         Chili

That’s the way it goes boys.  Sorry, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but someone has to eat all this wonderful Chili. 

The Nutritional Deer Hunting Venture

The mental and physical stress of the genuine deer hunt is common knowledge.  Preparation, including necessary habitat research as well as the proper equipment acquisition and tuning, is very demanding and energy absorbing.  For this reason, most of the actual season is directed toward a feeding frenzy enabling the hunter to store up gobs of energy to be utilized in preparation for the following season. 

This can be accomplished only through the consumption of a very special selection of high energy, intellectually stimulating foods.  The primarily deer hunter diet consists of

none other than CHILI.  Obviously, it must be Venison Chili, or it will not provide the necessary energy level.

Following in importance, but not necessarily in the order in which they are consumed, are:

               Pickled Turkey Gizzards

               Pickled Pigs Feet

               Pickled Eggs

               Smelly Cheese (Over aged Brick or Limburger preferred)

               Any other foods that the little boys and girls in attendance desire

Although the CHILI can be consumed for all three meals-particularly with eggs in the morning- it is suggested that the other optional foods be consumed after 10:00AM.

We have found that following this diet closely will enable the Deer Hunter to prevail in his quest of the quarry and have energy left over to help in the preparation for next season’s hunt.

If you need further elaboration on acquisition, or preparation of this stimulating diet, don’t call.  Just ask any Deer hunter you know.  

Big Junk Boom

We are in the midst of a big junk boom

So much that I must look for room

Room for current accumulation

Of what I call possession inflation

As I look through the house to find storage space

I search endlessly for any such place

That would serve to help hide recent additions

And force those treasures into attrition

For we all know those treasures can soon overwhelm

If somebody doesn’t take over the helm

And help place our ship on a much straighter course

To nip in the bud the mysterious source

So look for the boxes with their mouths open wide

And fill them with items you can no longer hide

Those items whose usefulness can no longer be measured

Could very well end up as some other’s treasures.

We Must Get Taller As We Get Older

Remember mom standing you up against the kitchen door jam?  She would put a pencil mark at the top of your head and compare how much you grew since the last mark.  You wanted to grow taller than mom or any one else you could compare with.

Someone once said that after a while we start to shrink with age.  My brother, Warren, said even one leg could be shorter than the other, depending upon which hip you had replaced.  I suppose we could debate  that. 

Well, I have come to the conclusion that we really grow taller as we get older.  It may have something to do with the elasticity of the woods, or even the shriveling of the earth’s surface which caused the hills to grow. 

I have noticed that when bending over to put on my boots on an early hunting morning, my hands are farther away from my feet each year.  When I was sixteen, I had no problem reaching my feet to put on my boots, but recently my arms are either shorter or my legs are longer, so obviously I am growing taller from one end or the other.

Come to think of it, if this continues, I’ll have to bend over carefully to keep from bumping my forehead on the door to the Pearly Gates.  Naw, I’m sure he’ll have someone watching.