A world of mundane events…


Not much earthshaking – hardly a tremor – in last week’s letter. All it shows to Ellen and Reid is that their dad lives a world of mundane events.

——————–

April 21, 2014

Ellen/Reid: My afternoon walks have become a little gummier these past couple of weeks. Whenever I stroll beneath the oaks down here, I step through a gauntlet of thin strands of sticky fiber produced by canker worms (aka inch worms) that work their way to the top of the trees to munch on the new growth, then rappel their way down. All it is is a nuisance, if you like to brush little wormie things off your shirt. People defend the trees by wrapping the trunks with a sticky band of goo that snares the little critters.

We had a rainy Saturday and a nice Sunday. Spring seems to be catching hold but I wish it would go one way or the other. There will be no mention of golf today, other than to say ‘Good riddance.’

My new Osprey pack is here. What an apparent upgrade from the old Gregory Palisade in terms of weight and technology. Holy smokes. It’s about 3,100 cubic inches vs. the 5,000 for the Gregory. It seems a fair deal smaller and I hope everything fits into it. I’m marginally leery that it will so I’ll head to REI sometime this week to look at another pack that’s about 3,500 cubic inches. But then again, you’re only tempted to fill available space. Like my friend Tom, I’ll start to lay out gear on the beds in the spare bedroom. He thumps me on weight; i.e. don’t carry more than you need, and when you carry something make sure it is the lightest something available. We did lose one of our hikers. Katie, whom you met, Ellen, had to bail since her daughter is getting married in San Francisco and it’s just a prohibitively expensive endeavor to do both. I told there there’s always 2015 (Reid, you ought to join us then) and we will do this all over again.

Also in is the new four piece Scott A4 fly rod. It’s a beauty. It’s a 3 wt. and 8 gorgeous feet of fishing technology. Ellen, tell Tim thanks for his advice. I matched it with the Orvis Battenkill fly reel. My buddy Ted and I will head up toward Virginia way this coming Sunday to try things out on a stream he’s familiar with. That’s exciting. It’s about time I stepped out of the incessant golf box and did something new. Here’s hoping we catch something (and release it. Bad karma to keep fish, as Tim keeps telling me).

The new fly rod and reel are here. They didn't work so well this past weekend in the North Carolina mountains. It could be 'operator error.' But more on that next week.

The new fly rod and reel are here. They didn’t work so well this past weekend in the North Carolina mountains. It could be attributed to ‘operator error.’ But more on that next week.

Ted and I have also reached the conclusion that we will buy matching Ocean-brand fishing kayaks. that’s also what I’m really excited about. These would be 13 feet long, and are termed as ‘sit on top’ kayaks. I was originally thinking about a stand up kayak, but they are clunky and the more I researched it (actually, Ted did most of the research) they seemed rather clunky and these will do double duty on lakes and rivers with a fair amount more manuverability. Of course, no purchase is ever as cheap as you think it would be. I suppose once you get a life vest and all the other bells and whistles, you’re looking at a cool $2 grand. What the hell.

No other action on the house. The couple tried to low-low ball me and I would end up taking a sizable loss, which I’m not in the mood for at this time. What this brief process has done is solidify for me that 1,753 sq. ft. is too much space for me. That, and three flights of stairs that eventually will be too much for me to handle. I was down golfing yesterday at a Del Webb community in South Carolina and noticed some smaller single floor units. I’ve been dead set against living amid other really old people (that doesn’t apply to me, however) and I’ll admit there is some allure to a smaller space. I seem to be waffling on housing but I guess that’s just part of the where-will-I-live game.

Love, Dad

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