I believe 2013 is the first year during which my boys have caught more than one white bass during the white bass run.  We heard they were running, so we made tracks to the old farm on the river.  G prophesied that we were not going to catch any fish because we had never caught any fish there before.  Sadly, he was right.  He did not catch any.  On the other hand, B and K made a haul, and N joined them along with several other friends.  We had a blast!

During the last few years I have been discovering how much fun being an uncle can be.  These girls are the best!

Question: When you are refilling your super-fizzy Lemon Coke Zero at the local Qdoba’s newfangled pop machine that can mix any one of 200 flavor combinations, what do you say to the two customers behind you?

Answer: “Well, I was waiting for the foam to subside and my flavor selection timed out.”

Recombobulation?  It is not in the dictionary.  The word, however, strategically used by somebody in the management of the Milwaukee General Mitchell International Airport, provided us with a chuckle last weekend.   As we completed the TSA security checks, we were comforted by the sign indicating that we were at the “Recombobulation Area” and would be able to sit down, gather our belongings, compose our thoughts, and then move on to our boarding gate.

B has been aching to hunt squirrels, so that is what we did last weekend.  It was his first hunt as a shooter.  Our strategy was  good, we got one squirrel quickly, and we saw three others that B did not get a shot at.  Later, as we were cleaning and cooking the animal, Dad related how he used to go shoot three or four squirrels and his family would eat them for dinner.  He added that Pa (B’s great-great grandfather) also liked to boil the heads.   Apparently, this is a common practice.  Interestingly, B shot this squirrel with Pa’s 20 gauge Ithaca Model 37.

 

The young P’s and I lately returned from Cincinnati.  We experienced a few challenges downtown, but the response we received was refreshing.  Three times we ran into issues with directions or parking, and each time, someone came along to help out.  In the first instance, it was a random lady walking down the sidewalk who gave us helpful information — unsolicited — and in the last two cases, two different garage employees helped us with difficulties at our parking garage.  We thank you Cincinnati.

C and I spent last weekend away and found out that our hotel was the site of the local atheists convention. We found ourselves wondering. Who are these atheists? What do they discuss at their conventions? What are their goals? These questions and more need answers, and there are answers.

C, possessing her father’s knack for this sort of thing, asked some of these questions directly of one of the attendees. He looked uncomfortable. She also struck up a conversation with the driver of the billboard. He was bemused by how hard these people were working at believing in nothing.

J says, “80% is mediocracy.”

Lately asked by an associate to justify my request, I responded, “of whom much is asked, much will be required.”