Bigger Fish, Better Fishing

Blog 3080, 31 August 2023, Thursday                                  

Dear friend,

Yesterday I was a little late getting out on the lake, but there was no one else there. I went out to the fifty-foot-deep pool in front of the cabin, guessing the fish might be in the area not far from the deepest place in the lake. I got nothing. I checked the depths, looking for a level where the fish were, and at twenty-five feet I hit them. It took me an hour to land my first fish, I’d had one light bite earlier and then I caught a 16-inch brown trout. That’s a nice fish; I decided not to move the canoe yet. It took 40 minutes to get my second, a 13-inch rainbow that looked about half the size of the brown trout. And then, nothing. Only two of my limit of five, I paddled in, through three different wind patterns on the lake, and had breakfast.

The temperature was in the mid-70s, a light and refreshing breeze, no sun, no one else fishing. I took my cup of coffee to the end of the dock, cast out and got nothing. I have a two-rod limit, both lines were cast out. I was on my third sudoku of the day when my left line went straight out. I landed a smallish (13-inch) rainbow. Within the half-hour, another fish took my line and raced twice around my other line before I knew it was there. The way you handle that situation is to reel both lines in, but half of me (that being Jean) was out walking the trail and I had both hands full with the first line. I tried to bring it in, towing the other line in, but somehow in the tangle I pulled the hook free and my fish dropped the hook and sped away. Fishless, I unwound my line from the second line, but that second line was behaving strangely and as soon as I removed the encumbering line, my second line sped away. I remember thinking, “It couldn’t be …” with the implication that I couldn’t be that dumb, could I? I was. On the other line, and I never knew I’d even had a bite, was a beautiful 16-inch rainbow! I’d caught two “catch-of-the-day” fish.

I love whoever it was who designed fish. All their bones fit together sleekly, a racing design, descending toward the smaller as you go back and suddenly the spine spins 90 degrees. The many-ribbed design continues until you hit the structure of the tail. All the innards come out together, the very practical fins are for propulsion and steering.

I ended the day content, one fish short of the limit and about three worms short. I spent all day on the dock, the cloud cover protecting me from the sun, a soft breeze with a sense of isolation even though I was surrounded by various sized castles. I’ll be out there again in just over an hour. Every day fishing is different, always the peace is found there. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 4:30 a.m., Thursday

Fishing the Lake

Blog 3079, 30 August 2023, Wednesday                              

Dear friend,

Someone said, “Getting there is half the fun.” Whoever said that probably didn’t know me. My half the fun is half of the adventure; there is a difference. Today it was a brief incident. On our way in, we stopped by the local gas station to buy my worms. They sell worms to everyone in the Seven Lakes area, their worms are always fresh and, according to the fish, very tasty. I walked back to the car, opened the door to get in, and saw Jean had grown a beard since I left. She said “Hey” to me in a voice I’d never heard her use before. I looked up and saw Jean, one car over. I started to laugh as I stopped getting into his car. I looked over his car and saw Jean on her phone in the next car. I told the man, “You’ve got a silver car too.” I said that in case he didn’t know. I politely closed the door and slunk around the front of his car as slinkily as I could. I opened my door on my car, and said, “See, a silver car.” He hadn’t been parked there when I got out. By now he was laughing, too. I told Jean what I’d done; she laughed. As we drove away I was sure he was glad I wasn’t carjacking him, I was glad he wasn’t armed when I opened his door, and Jean rejoiced for marrying such an interestingly dashing and daring fellow.

Despite my antics, we arrived with time to unload the car before fishing. I picked up my worms and tacklebox and a chair to sit on, figuring I would fish as I dragged the canoe down to the dock, readied it, and went to fish through the evening. That’s when the rain started, I never got to the dock. Four hours later with darkness approaching, the rain was still falling despite the weather forecast that said we had a zero chance of afternoon rains. The forecast didn’t mention the thunder or lightning we were hearing and seeing. In a late twilight as the rains ceased, I dragged my canoe to the dock and turned it over to keep any additional rain out. I will soon be out in the early twilight loading the canoe with the life jackets, rods, worms, cushions, and other paraphernalia to make the fisherman happy. It’s been 6½ weeks since I’ve been in the canoe, any dexterity for getting in and out has stiffened. The fish are in a different groove now, their depth has changed, they aren’t swimming as deep and the coming of the shorter days inspire them to bite quicker, to store up for winter. They are also larger and wiser, not because they have learned as much as the dumber ones fulfilled their destiny. Last year I faithfully followed their patterns, this year I’m guessing. Sometimes they aren’t as easy to find as they are when you spend more time with them. I have suffered through a fishing drought. I’ll catch four if I can and fish off the dock with Jean, seeking my fifth fish. It’s the season of the full moon, tucked behind heavy and threatening clouds. Fisherman’s luck is, truly, the need to be lucky. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 5:30 a.m., Wednesday

Something I Never Can’t Do

Blog 3078, 29 August 2023, Tuesday            

Dear friend,

There are some things I don’t do well and a few that I do well. I do fall asleep well, but not last night which has now become this morning. I did not nap. I awoke at 3 a.m. Sunday morning, I’d slept for five and a quarter hours, I blogged, went to church, watched some interesting baseball, witnessed the double “Celebration of Life” on our church’s YouTube, did a few little projects, watched a good movie and a silly one, at ten I went to bed, at 10:20 I got up, worked on a jigsaw puzzle until midnight, went to bed, got up twenty-five minutes later and still haven’t slept. Usually I fall asleep almost instantly, not this night. According to my CPAP machine, I’ve worn the mask for 42 minutes, none of it sleeping. I’m still awake. I think I’m feeling a little tired but I’d rather be here typing than there thinking about typing. But I thought I could never not sleep.

That first paragraph was written early Monday, I finally went to sleep at 3 and was up by 6:30. Realizing how tired I was, I laid back down and woke up after 9 a.m. I have no idea how long I slept, most of it was on the couch far from my CPAP machine. I don’t think I was sick, just weary enough to need more sleep. That’s one of the joys of retirement, time to nap.

But it’s now Tuesday. How did that happen?

Today we’e off to Lake Ki for most of the week, finally! It’s only my second time fishing, I don’t remember how many fish I caught on my last visit, all I remember is the peace of sitting in the canoe in the early morning light, alone except for birds and the fish below me. It’s a time of peace. And then I fell in.

Wait! As I write this, I hear rain. No-no-no! No. After three months of near drought, it would dare to rain today. All that really means is I’ll bring some raingear with me, and I’ll fish alone. We’ll be biking too. I’ll bring projects to ignore and just absorb the quiet of the lake. It’s a blessing to be there. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and finally Posted: 5:30 a.m., Tuesday

Long Pants and a Button Shirt

Blog 3077, 27 August 2023                            

Dear friend,

We drove an hour for a brunch yesterday, all the way to Gig Harbor. Our friend Ann hosts these occasional feasts and when we are invited, we go. We had no idea who we were eating with, the pattern is that she invites two couples who often don’t know each other, invites them to talk, and then lets the talkers talk while she is absorbing as much of the dynamic conversation as is possible. She loves the energy of conversations; she sets her couples up and lets them talk. She holds her own in any conversation, but I think she loves the intensity of minds during the rare moments of opening ourselves up to others, of explaining who we think we are. We met with two college professors, she was from England, studied geology, worked in Kenya trying to estimate the amount of water and the numbers of lakes in Kenya during the last Glacial Age. I tried to ask her how the rising or settling of the land affected her ability to estimate the water levels but she took her answer along a different path, still interesting, and we never returned to my question. He, a Kenyan, worked for the UN for years, both settled in St. Lawrence University in New York, and on retirement moved to Gig Harbor. By coincidence, Jean and I are both former college professors and our lives in Tanzania and their lives in Kenya gave us an unlimited pool of items to discuss. It was wonderfully intense, exactly what Ann wanted to unfold at her brunch. I don’t know how often she does them, but we charge in whenever she invites us. The drive there is long, the drive home is always short. Good fellowship does that to a trip.

We didn’t return home, we picked up Jean’s brother and wife and brought them to a “Celebration of Life,” in this case it was the life of Verona Hoff, a centenarian (not centurion as I wrote in my first draft) from Glendale Lutheran, wife of Pastor Karl, mother of Pastor Nathan, and an example of a life well spent. She was a beloved saint.

I was sad to hear that Darrington’s most famous son, Bob Barker, host of The Price Is Right, died this week at 99. He didn’t figure in my decision to wear long pants and a button shirt yesterday, but everyone else mentioned did. For their sake, I donned long pants. Wow. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 5 a.m., Sunday

A Solemn Week

Blog 3076, 26 August 2023, Saturday                       

Dear friend,

I feel as if I staggered through this last week, accomplishing nothing. Perhaps my highlight was my eye doctor telling me we were done, the healing had happened, the long-term effects were nil, and I could go on with life. But last week I had no place to go. I accomplished little things, I got new batteries for our car keys (they’re not really keys) and I had two meals with friends, but I’d prefer days with wheelbarrows and impact drills. Maybe canoeing and fishing would have been good things to be involved with. It feels like I let a week of summer slip away, and that makes me sad, and sadder still will be that rainy, chilly, snowy, icy February week when I’d give anything to walk in the sun.

This weekend will be far more social, maybe a little too social, with a brunch in Gig Harbor, picking up Jean’s brother to attend a memorial service for a longtime friend at the old Glendale Lutheran Church, and tomorrow go to another memorial service at our church for two who died far too young in a car collision (two moving vehicles). Next week has some time up at Lake Ki, which is a time for fishing. I want that.

Such is life on this warm, cloudy day in August. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 7 a.m., Saturday

A Losing Sort of Day

Blog 3075, 24 August 2023, Thursday                       

Dear friend,

As Queen once sang, “Nothing really matters.” However, some of those nothings hurt. The Mariners lost twice, first in the ninth inning giving up the tying run and in the tenth on a throwing error. The Seattle Little League team lost in nine innings, after three extra innings, 0-1. And I listened to some (but not all) of the Republican first debate. That’s called a zero-for-three day. The Mariners had a lead and a 90% chance of victory going into the bottom of the ninth and lost. The Northeast Little League team played extra innings with a zero-to-zero game, a great but heartbreaking game. And the Republican Party with nine candidates, one not being there, self-destructed with pettiness and lack of content, self-praise and shallow accusations. I was left feeling sad, sadder, and saddest in a single day.

Good news also abounded. The eye doctor said that no one without a magnifying view of my eye will ever see that ulcer scar on my cornea and its location would not affect my vision. I’m back to normal, as normal is for me. But she also gave me a new prescription for glasses so I’m getting a new pair of bifocals and a pair of sunglasses to replace mine which are still sitting someplace on the bottom of Lake Ki. (See July 29, 2023 blog; or better, don’t.) I’ve been using my Africa sunglasses for the last month.

It rained yesterday, in the early morning hours, not nearly enough but it rained, foretelling what is coming and giving hope to those who love mowing green lawns. I wish that Hurricane Hilary’s rains could have reached the BC fires, I wonder if four inches of rain could have doused them. It’s OK for us not to have that much rain, but I’d have taken a few more showers than what we received.

It wasn’t a bad day, it wasn’t a great day, but it was still a good day. That’s usually true. May I remember that always. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 7:30 a.m., Thursday

Numbing through the Day

Blog 3074, 23 August 2023, Wednesday                               

Dear friend,

Saying I felt fine yesterday is like asking someone who’s mouth is thoroughly numbed by Novocain if the new filling hurts. “I ‘on’t know, canned feewo noten.” Ah, there’s a sentence that sums up the previous 24 hours of my life, maybe 36. “I don’t know, I can’t feel nothing.” How was I feeling? I don’t know.

Tuesday morning, after three and a half hours of sleep, I awoke at 1:30 a.m. and my brain was active, thinking, playing vocabulary games, ready to write a blog. I got up, turned on the computer, wrote as far as the “Dear friend” salutation line. That’s where the words ended, the thoughts failed to appear, and I just sat there. That is not my usual morning pattern. Instead of writing, I read through the BBC news and the previous day’s CNN news, I did a sudoku, and after three hours went back to bed, laid there for a half hour, got up and did another sudoku, and went back to bed about 5:30. No sleep came. I got up, turned on the TV to catch the news, finally fell asleep. I woke up at almost 9, I’d missed my Men’s Group Zoom, and felt that I was hung-over. I was hung-over like someone who’d just eaten three pizzas. I was bloated mentally and physically. Nothing hurt, I was simply trying to sprint in a waist-deep bowl of Jell-O. That’s why there was no blog yesterday. It was a numb day.

In the afternoon I laid down to take a ten-minute power nap; it lasted an hour and a half. By the time our dinner (pizza) guests arrived, I was charming, witty, and gentle, proof I still wasn’t feeling well. However, in absolute truth, I enjoyed their company. Later we were out at the pool (a body of water I’ve never been in) where their kids swam. We came back in for ice cream, a dessert to complement the healthy dinner. When we were at their place, they feasted us with a safari quality dinner, we returned the compliment with a drive-through American dinner for which we slaved fifteen-minutes at 425˚.

Today I blog about the blog I didn’t write yesterday. Later today I see my eye doctor for the last time, and it’s because I can see now that I can see her. I’ll try to get some information about what she sees regarding the future of my eyesight. I’m not going blind, I just want my eyes to focus together, looking at the same written line together and not skipping around. I want to read without giving myself a headache in ten minutes. Many have much worse problems than I have. I know that. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 5 a.m. Wednesday

Eleven Finns

Blog 3073, 21 August 2023, Monday                        

Dear friend,

It’s a well-known fact I like church. Our church has services from 10 to 11 on Sunday mornings. Yesterday I arrived just after 9 a.m. and stayed until 3 in the afternoon. Here’s why.

As Jean and I, after pre-service coffee with the early arrivers and a post-service coffee with the late to go home members, at about noon, started our walk home. We are the only members who arrive at church by stepping out of the woods that border the property, we also leave by entering the woods, sort of the image that forest people might have. I like the image, everyone else drives away in their cars and Jean and I enter that surrounding treed pathway. But as we were leaving the church, we saw a man standing in the columbarium, that set of marbled boxes where the cremated remains of beloved people are placed, no longer buried in cemeteries. The image he cast was of a bereaved widower. We stopped by to see if he was OK. He certainly was. He was a Finn. Like me. He was waiting for church.

It turns out, and I’d heard about them meeting at our church, that the Seattle Finnish Lutheran Church met in our church monthly. I always thought I should attend someday but I was never sure of the day or time and always racing home to eat some protein to counter the doughnuts that I’d eaten at church, but today the man I met was setting up the Finnish program. In a two-minute dialogue, I learned that his mother had recently died (he was grieving; she’d have been 100 on Christmas Day this year) and he’d love to have me attend. Despite the Mariner’s ballgame, I raced home, saw we’d almost blown a seven-run lead, grabbed a sandwich and walked the mile back to church. I arrived one minute late, two minutes before Pastor Nina Tetri-Mustonen opened the service. For the next forty-five minutes we skated between two languages, Finnish and English. I do OK in English but perform less than 1% in Finnish. Their little program was dual-language. The crowd numbered eleven, six women, five men, and we all looked Finnish. Three of us were first-timers, a young couple had biked in from Kirkland, one drove down from Camino Island, four of us lived in the area, and the rest were from the Ballard area. After service, I went into the same room off the kitchen where I’d already consumed two rounds of coffee and cookies, both before and after the first service, and so for the third time that day I ate there. This time it was Finnish food: a cheese and cucumber open-faced sandwich with more coffee. I was reminded again why there are no Finnish restaurants. I told them I’ll be back, but next month I’ll be in Minnesota with Jean’s family. Family is an OK thing. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 5 a.m., Monday

P.S. I was pleased to read the Russian moon probe is now described as having “crashed on the moon” instead of “collided with the moon.” It “impacted” the moon, but “crashed” is OK.

Impacting the Day

Blog 3072, 20 August 2023, Sunday                         

Dear friend,

Two of our Seattle sports teams had good days yesterday, minor events in the scope of the things that matter like Hurricane Hilary being the first hurricane to hit California in 84 years, or the record forest fires in BC and the western states, or the butchering of civilians in the Darfur region of Sudan. But, for those petty-minded like myself, the Mariners win over the Houston Astros, 10-3, put them in the “not likely” wildcard position of being a half-game (meaning either one win or a loss) ahead in the race to be in the baseball playoffs. Also, the Seattle Seahawks beat the self-named “America’s Team” Dallas Cowboys 22-14. And a final sports note: the Mariner’s center fielder, Julio Rodriguez, has now had 17 hits in his last four games, setting an all-time Major League  baseball record. He had a streak of nine straight hits at one point, tying a Mariner’s record (but four hits short of setting an MLB record). Three of those six items make me sad, three leave me happy. Please forgive the insensitivity of my values when it comes to things that matter but I’m running with happiness today.

Continuing with my questionable values, I read this morning that the Russian moon-landing  failed due to a “collision” between their lunar vehicle and the surface of the moon. It’s a collision when both objects are moving, and an impact when only one is moving. Will someone please tell Mr. Putin that his payload “impacted” the moon as the moon was not moving in any unusual way. If you tell him that, please help him clarify what he means by offensive (to invade) and defensive (which is not stealing something from someone else and declaring you’re defending it as your own). He invaded the Ukraine and impacted the moon.

As you may have guessed, I spent yesterday in recovery at home. Both Jean and I napped uncharacteristically, she for napping at all and myself for napping two hours. That was simply weariness. I did walk our neighbor around the parking lot five times, keeping her company as she recovers from heart surgery (and she is recovering well), but no other walking. Jean went swimming but came home and slept. Then we watched baseball from 4 to 7 and football from 7 to 10 to take care of the rest of our day. It was a day without either impact or collision, and some days that is enough. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 4:30 a.m., Sunday

A Long, Frustrating, Wonderful Day

Blog 3071, 19 August 2023, Saturday                       

Dear friend,

This was a day we’d planned to do months ago. Yesterday was the day to do it.

They needed me to help move a 24 by 36 (all numbers approximate and probably exaggerated) slap of 3” thick concrete. That’s 2,592 cubic inches or 1.5 cubic feet of concrete, about 225 pounds. Yeah, if I was going to move something that heavy, I’d call Marvin too but I’d prefer a different Marvin than me. I didn’t carry it, I merely set it upright on the hand-truck and we rolled it into place. That was how the day started.

We then hung and rehung the awning we’d failed to set up last week, and the second time we rehung it, it worked perfectly. That’s a good step two. Next, we loaded a small van with 4 TVs, 5 computer monitors, printers, a scanner, and about twenty other items from the neighbors to take to a city “free day” of recycling and they took it all. I told them I thought it was a twenty-year collection, they nodded and said, “Probably.” We returned and refilled the van with used building material and unloaded it at the county’s transfer site. That was a great morning, the weather was only in the mid-70s, perfect for working. We continued.

We didn’t know it then, but that’s when we should have quit. Our final task for the day was to put a railing on a sixty-year-old porch. The older the concrete, the harder the concrete. The railing they ordered came with its own concrete drill bit, very nice. I tried it on the drill and after at least a minute of drilling I had a hole that was, maybe, one-eighth of an inch deep, and the bit was dulled. OK, some tasks are impossible, that was one. After a lengthy discussion, which we held around cookies and coffee, still a remanent of Camino walk, we decided to get a bigger hammer, in this case a forty-pound drill from a local lumber yard. I showed them the bit that didn’t work and the size of the bolt that came with the hand railing. He rented the drill for four hours, gave me what he said was the right-sized bit, and we came home. I drilled the eight holes for the two-step railing, but lunch called. With the power drill, it took about thirty-seconds to drill the 3¼” deep hole. Super! We ate slowly, on the verge of finishing a mighty day of toil, and came to install the railing. The hole was way too big! I’d believed the man at the counter. We fussed and fidgeted and tried to create a solution for an hour and came up with nothing. What we had to do was to exchange the big bit for a smaller bit, and I would buy eight larger bolts to fill in the larger holes that would still hold the railing securely. Back to the store I went. The first counter-jockey was gone, in his place was a man I first thought of as a mute. He wordlessly took the large bit and the size of the bolt we were using, and after five minutes he came back and handed me a much smaller bit. “This will work?” I asked him. He nodded. He looked like the kind of guy who just had a cheese and marijuana sandwich for lunch. They didn’t have any of the bolt sizes I needed. I returned to the job site, intent on mounting the other half of the rails. The new bit worked fine, I drilled my four holes, we set the piece in place, and the holes were still too big! If they’d let me pick out my own bit, I’d have been better, but they didn’t let customers into their locked cages of stuff. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” With a dozen wrong sized holes on the porch, with our four-hour limit being almost over, we quit to resume the task on another day. I packed up the drill, took the second bit back, and told the man my porch now had a dozen wrong-sized hole. He took the drill and bit back, did some paperwork on our receipt, and said his first words, “Well, I guess I shouldn’t charge you for that,” and he gave us a bill for zero dollars. He spoke! I think he thought that if he didn’t charge me, I wouldn’t verbally abuse him. I didn’t. I said thank you and returned to the job site, to the ruins of the day.

It was an eleven-hour day by the time we staggered up our 15 steps to home. We’d done well and knew we had more to do, but it was a highly productive day for the homeowner. Despite a dozen holes in their porch, it was a good day. May yours be even better that ours was. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 5 a.m., Saturday