Hereby named ‘Miss Emma’…

Well, it’s time to put up or shut up. The kayak is here. The ocean is there. The kids now know I’ve got to get off my duff to make this happen. There are a few loose ends to tie up – more on that next week – but a maiden voyage should be in the offing. Maybe the christening will include a bottle of Guinness broken – okay, make that a gentle, non-breakable tapping – over the bow.


May 27, 2014

Ellen/Reid: Whoa. The fishing kayak is already here, still encased in the bubble wrap. It’s exciting. I ordered a few bells and whistles with it – rod holders, paddle holder, etc. – but this will be pretty much a learn-as-you-go proposition. The roof rack installation process was a two beer affair – Ted thought it might be a three beer thing – but it’s amazing how smoothly it can go if you simply follow the directions and have the Boze system cranked up in the garage. John Mayer and Dave Matthews had a calming effect on the process. I know it’s kind of whack since I’ve never been in a kayak before but I’m anxious to get it on the salt water. Now it’s on to Bass Pro Shops (does this make me a ‘neck?) for the basic rod and reel and hooks and stuff. The paper this morning mentioned how the precious blue crab catch is way down in North Carolina largely due to the massive numbers of redfish. Music to my ears. I cannot wait to get the craft – hereby named the ‘Miss Emma’ – on the salt flats. Even if I don’t catch anything, other than a sunburn, it will still be a grand adventure.

Sitting on cardboard is not the same as sitting on salt water. It's time to make a maiden voyage.

Sitting on cardboard is not the same as sitting on salt water. It’s time to make a maiden voyage.

My flowers are finally in on the porch planters, along with a container tomato and some sweet basil. I can only hope the HOA garden Nazis leave me alone this year. For crying out loud it’s only a tomato plant and some herbs. Call of the dogs. Ellen, tell Tim thanks for the shot of the seedlings sprouting in your garden. That’s good to see.

Made risotto for the first time the other night with some sautéed shrimp. It was really good although it takes a while to make. Two cups of the grain needed 8 cups of chicken stock to make, with near-constant stirring for almost 40 minutes. The downside is it appears to pack the same dietary wallop as ice cream because it fills you up and out. The post-meal scale was not as nice to me as it might have been. It is good, though, to spread the culinary expertise to a new dish.

It was a wonderful three day weekend. Played golf two of the three days, rode the Harley two nights (just went over 50,000 miles on the way home from Macs) and of course the roof rack went on. This is what three day weekends were meant to be. The weather was almost perfect. John played with me on Saturday and it was great to see him relax on the course for a change. Walked the course yesterday and this morning my legs are just plain dead. Not sure why that is. Maybe it’s been all the intense work getting ready for Wyoming. I don’t know.

They continue to demolish the landscape next door in preparation for the construction of 50-some housing units. They’ve kept the tree canopy (knock on wood) so far toward the rear portion of the property and that shields the work from my view but not the noise. I need them to keep that greenery in place. It is hard to see them cut down very large oak trees that have been there for who knows how long. The guy next door who is marketing his condo for $379,000 has had some lookers but apparently nothing really serious. I took a break on the roof rack install to have a beer with neighbors who are also selling their unit for an aggressive price but they say their Realtor is very optimistic about their sale. A rising tide lifts all ships and perhaps that might make it easier for me to part ways with my unit, too.

Well, that’s about it from Papa central. You guys be good and keep me posted on your comings and goings. Reid, tell Liz I’m sorry about the Blackhawks. They seem to be going down, down, down.

Love, Dad

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Filed under Writing to adult children

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