Accomplished!

No, I did not paint my house... but I did manage to do a 7 mile run.

I'm training for my third marathon (26.2 miles) and Sunday is my long run day. I run 4 days per week doing shorter runs on all other days. The long runs are called LSD's "Long Slow Distance" in which you should run a little slower than your goal marathon pace. I don't really get that, but it's not a big deal because my legs don't know any more than one pace anyway...which reminds me, I need to start doing some sprints and interval training on my short days.

I had a lot of demons to contend with for my run today. I ran a 10 miler last Sunday, so I figured it should be no big deal to run 7, but it was the motivation part that nearly did me in.

This morning the weather was so gloomy that all I wanted to do was crawl back in bed. I decided if I wasn't going to run or accomplish anything around the house, I could at least go grocery shopping. For some weird reason I was completely exhausted. Like exhausted to tears. I leaned against my cart as I roamed the aisles trying to get what I needed. I walked through the coffee aisle hoping to get energy by aroma alone. I paused at the coffee makers and then pushed on. As I headed for the lemon juice, the last item on my list I realized I was absolutely crashing. I headed back to the coffee aisle...which housed the lemon juice to my surprise, and got lemon juice, and espresso. $15/lb espresso so it better be good.

I was so incredibly exhausted that I went home and took a nap. I knew if I didn't do my run today, I could always do it tomorrow... but that would mean running hills. Home is flat, work is mountainous. I got back into my pj's, crawled under the covers and fell asleep. It was close to 1pm.

I dreamed something about needing to run but it was Thanksgiving and people kept sending me on errands. I made it to the campsite/ fire ring and the turkey wasn't there (?) so I figured I might as well get my run in now. I only had one hair tie and my hair wasn't in a braid. I can't run without my hair being in a braided pony tail. This was not going to work. Then there was something about a Spanish language monopoly gameshow... and I still needed to get my run in.

I woke up and was way too hot. I kicked off the covers and pulled my pant legs up. I tried to peek out the window to see if the sun had come out yet. I couldn't tell. I buried my face back into my pillow. I thought again about my run, thought about having to run 7 miles up the side of the mountain tomorrow and decided I'd give today a try. Maybe I would have some of my new espresso? I would have to eat something before I ran. Then I would have to let it digest for awhile.

I got out of bed and mixed up an instant iced coffee and reheated a pork chop and sat down to check the weather. 58 degrees and sunny. Yes, I could see sun outside my window, but sun in the north can be deceiving. It can be sunny and 10 degrees. I downed the ice coffee and sat down to read my Muscle and Fitness Hers magazine while munching on the pork chop. I texted Debbie to make sure she had registered for the marathon yet. I studied maps of the marathon.

Around 4pm I took off for my run. I tried to keep my head quiet at first. No sense in getting all worked up at the beginning. It never fails to drift to calculating the distance left versus energy left. I couldn't find a 7 mile loop to run, so I just did an out-and-back. Out and backs are nice in that you get yourself out there and have no choice but to get back. So really all I had to do was run 3.5 miles. And then run home.

My long sleeve shirt might have been a bad choice.

I ran south towards Grenada (California, not Spain).

I crossed over the Little Shasta River, across the railroad tracks and curved around to head straight toward Mt. Shasta. The cows stopped what they were doing and stared warily. Sometimes one will get up and run and spook the whole herd. Today they mostly stared. One day while running at work, I was charged by two cows. The gate was open and they started charging after me. I heard you weren't supposed to run from animals, so I turned around and stopped and stood my ground, looking them in the eyes. It worked. They stopped and we had a stand off. I slowly backed away and they left me alone.

Around mile 3, a large bull (no horns?) stood behind a gate that looked smaller than him, looking pretty ready to jump the fence and come after me. My grandmother says cows can jump fences. Wild ones anyway. This one didn't look wild, but then again, what does a wild cow look like? In any case, he stood his ground and I made it off safely.

I passed a farmer that I waved to. He said "Nice day for a run, isn't it?" I replied "Oh yeah, beautiful!"

In December and January I will be doing long runs over 15 miles in snow storms. I try not to think about that. I mean, how does one run 20 miles over icy roads?

I turned around at Freeman St and headed home. Only 3.5 miles to go.

The sage brush has a pungent smell like urine.

The farmer's house smelled like a wood stove.

At one point I smelled a very dead animal....and passed by many more.

I crossed back over the railroad tracks and Little Shasta River. I ate a GU. Caffeine free Lime Sublime. I chugged some water and let the sugar gel kick in. The road sign said "Montague, 1 mile" but I had a little over a mile to go. I still had to run down main street and another block to the east.

I passed the taxidermist and storage facility and Shasta Valley Tires.

I passed the man on a horse across the street from the post office and turned right.

Passed the Montague Volunteer Fire Department with their engine bay doors open and shiny red trucks inside.

Passsed Martin's burned down feed and tack shop.

My watch beeped half a block from home. Done. Time to walk.

I walked in the house, downed more water and stretched. I rolled out my IT band (the side of my leg) on a hard foam roller and stretched some more.

Now I've got ice on the side of my leg (maintanence only) and sitting in my reading chair. It's starting to get dark. Runs are always better after they're done.

For crying out loud.

The weatherman around here is lousy. We were supposed to have great weather this weekend, but instead it's...well, lousy. I had big plans...now I might just go back to bed.

This weekend was supposed to be another big push at painting the exterior of the house. We're in the season where days for that will be few and far between, but the weather this weekend called for mostly cloudy or mostly sunny (it varied depending on the website) with a 10% chance of rain. It's been cold and rainy for most of the week so everyone has been really excited about a nice weekend.

Yesterday I woke up to some threatening looking clouds, but the weatherman promised me some sun with only a 10% chance of rain (I check it around 6am). I had breakfast, watched some tv and kept watch on the weather outside. It was getting worse. I checked the weather online again. Suddenly it became a 40% chance of rain! What?! You don't just get to change your weather forecast by the minute just because you looked outside! I, myself, could do that. Doesn't take a special degree to look out your window and say, hmmm, looks like rain. I gave up hopes of painting the exterior and went to work on repainting my bedroom.

It took all day, but I managed to paint the ceiling "Off White" and paint the walls two coats of "Old Basque Brown". I cleaned everything up and went to work cleaning the house. I finished that, had two glasses of wine and a pork chop and called it a day.

Today would be an all-out exterior paint fest. I checked the weather first thing: currently fog, warming to 71 degrees today, partly sunny, 10% chance of rain. No big deal. That fog will lift and I'll do my 7 mile run and paint the house.

While waiting for it to clear up, I decided to clean out my workshop that is an absolute disaster. I started clearing it out and putting everything outside, but the fog was so thick it was getting everything wet. So I put everything back and came back inside and finished off my Ghirardelli chocolate squares.

I should probably just shower since I'm not entirely sure when the last time that happened was. This weather makes me not even want to do that.

The master bedroom when I moved in:

It's first paint job:

Now:

New Coffee Supplier

I recently read this really great book about coffee: Coffee Basics: A Quick and Easy Guide, and learned a heck of a lot about coffee. I realized I didn't know much about it. For example, French roast does not come from France, and Italian roast does not come from Italy. It actually describes how long the coffee beans are roasted. Who knew? Ok, maybe you guys did. I guess I never thought about it because when it says "French Roast" it usually also says "Dark" so I suspected that they had to do with two different things. Not so.

Anyway, I also learned that coffee beans come from several different regions of the world, are shipped here green, go to the roasters and then to the stores or people. Different green beans from different climates and elevations have different characteristics. A lot of the mass market coffee we find in the store is "Robusta" from the lower elevations, "Arabica" is grown in higher elevations. There are "specialty coffees" pulled from single origin plantations and roasted to their perfect level (each has a different ideal level) or to the level you desire, if you go through a roaster. I was intrigued to hear that coffees from different regions taste very different from each other, and I was excited to start trying them all.

I looked online at all the different roasters out there and picked a few that carried the coffee I first wanted to try, which is Yemen Mocha Matari. I ordered from a place in Atlanta: Martinez Fine Coffees- a Yemen Matari and a Puerto Rican something or other. The Yemen Matari was very good, the Puerto Rican was ok.

Next I was looking for a place that sold the Sulawesi (from Indonesia) at a decent price, and Martinez didn't have it, so I went with Storehouse Coffee Company out of Hendersonville, NC which is a 20 minute drive  from where I was stationed this winter. Who knew? I ordered a Sulawesi and one from the Congo. With my receipt in the package was a hand written note thanking me for my order. This is a nice touch hat I've seen some companies do (I order a lot through the mail since I live in the middle of nowhere). The thing I dig the most about this place is that they roast it to order (you choose the level of roast for each coffee that you buy) and they write the date it was roasted on the bag. I just got 3 more pounds and they were roasted on 10/22. Today is 10/25. I like this place. On the receipt was another note:
Hi Ms. Bowers, Thank you for the follow-up order! Another great selection, and I hope you enjoy them. All the best, and some signature I can't read.

Ok, I'm sold. There's something to be said about the little things you do for your customers. I know, it only took a second to write that, but they took the time. Selling ploy? Maybe, who cares? I dig it. So here's what I got (since I obviously have fabulous taste in coffee).

Mocha Java, which is a blend. The mocha is probably misleading. No, it is not chocolate and Java is not just coffee. Mocha is the area in Yemen that the coffee comes from and has somewhat of a chocolate taste to it, but does not actually have chocolate in it like a Mocha you would order at Starbucks. Java is a coffee from Indonesia. The Mocha Java is supposed to be a pretty awesome blend (not single origin) so I wanted to try that.

Kenya French Mission AA- a very highly rated coffee and supposedly very flavorful. Single origin from a single estate in Kenya.

Papua New Guinea- This is an interesting coffee. Years ago, the most prestigious coffee you could by was Jamaican Blue. Apparently due to short cuts in growing and processing, it's no longer worth the $25-$50 per pound that it sells for, but people are buying th reputation, so it continues to work. The coffee in Papua New Guinea started from seeds from Jamaica... and continued. So coffee from Papua New Guinea is the same coffee as the prestigious Jamiacan from years ago...except grown in a different place. So this coffee is supposed to give me a taste of what the Jamaican Blue used to be all about.

They're all very exciting and I can't wait to taste them. There is a such thing as coffee tastings but I don't think there's any around here.

The book is fascinating and I use it for reference all the time. It was a truly enjoyable read, and it wasn't too long either. It goes through the history of coffee, regional flavors, how it's grown, how it's processed, the really cool roasting process and how to choose a supplier. Again the book is  Coffee Basics: A Quick and Easy Guide by Kevin Knox and Julie Sheldon Huffaker.

Click HERE to visit my new found coffee roaster!

Finally!

Fire season is finally over and I've accrued over 1300 hrs of overtime. Overtime alone. We basically work 80hr weeks for months on end, so you can probably guess why I'm so excited that it's over. We had our crew party the night before last night and then the temps and apprentices on the crew packed up and left yesterday.

I'm still here. Along with a few others. Since we're starting a different work schedule I've only got one day off this week, which would be today. (Right now our air raid siren just started going off... not really, it's our volunteer fire department call that alerts the entire town that there's a call....why don't they just switch to pagers and cell phones? It's 5:30am. Anyway...) We got off early yesterday so I hit the river again. Not only did I not catch anything, but I lost 3 rigs in the rocks. And to top it all off, several boaters drifted by and it turns out, everyone (but me) is basically catching their limit. After shouting back and forth at one boat, one of the guys said "Don't give up!" and then almost as an afterthought "They're everywhere!" and I wonder if it was in response to his buddy saying something like "How can you not be catching something today?"

So today is a new day and I've decided to write off salmon for today. I'm heading to the Iron Gate Reservoir that feeds into the Klamath River. I apparently do much better at still water than swift moving water. We've got a cold front moving in which usually sends fish on a feeding frenzy (apparently). It's currently 34 degrees which is a little less than exciting. I checked out the weather report and clicked on the hourly weather. I forgot that it's coldest just as the sun comes up. So 34 degrees is warm. Ugh! It's supposed to get to 27 before 8am. I'm dressing warm for sure. Tonight it's supposed to start a long week of rain and snow. Summer is gone.

Salmon are obnoxious

I set off early this morning for the river to catch me some salmon (or bass, trout, catfish....anything really). I pulled into a turnout on the side of the road and scouted around for a path through the thick vegetation to the river. I found a decent one with a little casting room and set my stuff down. There was a loud splash that scared the hell out of me. I turned and looked at the river in time to see a salmon leap out of the water, shake about and smack down into the water.

I set about hooking up my tackle but was so excited and nervous that everytime a fish jumped I messed up my knot. They were everywhere! Huge salmon jumping about and rolling up by the surface, flashing their fins like sharks in a feeding frenzy.

Let's just get one thing clear. These guys weren't eating. At this stage in their life, they are not hungry. They swim way up river from the ocean to spawn and to die. They do not want what's on the end of your line. They snap at it because they're irritated and want the thing out of their face. Like you swatting at a fly, except salmon don't have hands. So if something is whizzing around by their head, they eat it in hopes of making it stop.

Or they just have an instinctive reaction to whatever you're putting in front of them. Either way, no matter what I tried, no one wanted a piece of it. I tried jigs, lures, spoons, spinners, and every configuration I could think of (that was currently in my tackle box). These fish were jumping around right next to my line. Surely they could just take a second to look over and nip at my tackle. One guy surfaced a mere 4 inches from my line! The bastards! It was like they were laughing at me. Displaying how close they could get to me without me being able to do anything about it.

I changed locations along the river a few times. Salmon were everywhere. I tumbled down the bank into a new spot, looked around and saw something coming towards me in the river and thought "surely that is not a salmon sticking it's head out and watching me". No, it wasn't. It was a river otter! He gave me a nonchalant glance and slinked back in to the water....where he probably ate the fish that mocked my line. Good for him.

I had to pick up my meat from the ranch at 10am, so I gave up for the morning, vowing to be back later in the afternoon with a vengeance. As I was leaving, I took note of all the cars parked by the boat ramp. I wasn't sure if they were from boaters or not (who were launching their boats up river and drifting down...no power boats allowed). I walked down under the bridge where I met up with a fisherman who showed me his setup. He wasn't catching anything today, but a week ago he caught two on his two current set-ups. He was using roe and a three way swivel attached to a weight that allows the roe to go with the current but not go down river. I don't know why a salmon would want to eat salmon eggs, but whatever, I'll give it a try.

I drove home....took some amazing photos of Mt. Shasta along the way....picked up the meat, went into town to drop off my keys at the mechanic (clutch issues), went grocery shopping, ran 9 miles (that's right) showered, and went back to the river with my new tackle and roe.

The fish were still jumping and swimming about but not with the same frequency. Later, as it started to get dark, they got more active again.... but not a single one took my line. I was exhausted, so I headed home about an hour before sunset. Next weekend if they're still running, I'll head further up river toward the hatchery. If not, I'll head to Iron Gate Reservoir. I think I tend to do a little better with a hook on a worm. We'll seee.

So during my run, around mile 2, it occured to me that a 9 mile run was just over 1/3 of a marathon. That didn't seem that bad at all. All I had to do was run this route 3 times. My mind started to drift back to my last marathon and the training leading up to it. Oh man, what have I agreed to?

At about mile 3, I realized that 9 miles was a long way to go.

When I turned around at 4.5 miles, I squeezed my Lime Sublime GU in my mouth and chased it with some water. It was a long way home.

At mile 5, 4 miles didn't seem like such a bad deal.

At mile 6, 3 miles seemed like a piece of cake.

At mile 7, 2 miles felt like forever and I would've walked except that it would just take me longer to get home.

After I finished, I ate a pop-tart while sitting in a cold bath tub (to fight inflammation)...and of course 9 miles didn't seem that bad.

Ugh.

Going after the big guys!

I went and bought a heavier rod/reel combo and some 20lb test line. I'm ready for the big guys!

I also just found an article explaining the new wording for the regulations on salmon fishing this year. If you've ever read a book on regulations for anything, you know they can be confusing. The California Department of Fish and Game states in the regulations: "4 Chinook Salmon- up to 4 fish over 22 inches in total length until sub quota is met, then 0 fish over 22 inches total length."

Ok, so I can keep 4 fish over 22 inches. What if they aren't 22 inches? It appears in my salmon report card that I can keep the smaller ones (jacks), but it doesn't exactly say. I finally found an article where our local paper interviewed someone from the DFG who said that you can have 4 per day (8 total) where they can be a mix of adults and jacks, but once the fall quota is met, you can only take jacks, not adults, and you still have to stick with the bag limit.

So I don't have to reel in a 50lb monster in order to keep it. Which is good because that was going to be a tough one.

I got some barbless hooks as well, a Northern California River guide, some larger lures and jigs and a small club. The small club is for killing large fish once I get them to shore. Let me tell you about my first fish killing experience (not all my pet fish I killed accidently). Up until this incident, I was never the one to kill the fish I caught. Someone always did that for me. No, you don't just let them suffocate. It's cruel and it spoils the meat.

So we were spear fishing while on a fire in New Mexico. We tied small pocket knives to stick and were spearing fish. I finally got one after spearing him 6 times. One of the guys told me I had to kill it. I asked him how.

"Just hold him in your hands and smack his head on a rock".

I held the fish upside down and smack his head against a rock. It made a strange popping noise. "Like that? Is he dead?"

"No, he's just got a bad headache. Hit him again."

I hit him again. The guys all laughed. We ate him and a couple others with out MRE's that night.

I don't think I'm going to gracefully pick up a 40lb salmon and smack his head against a rock... without losing him into the river.

So I got a club. I'm a little nervous. I can't believe I'm about to possibly hook something large enough that when I bring it ashore I will have to club it. With a bright orange club called "Wally Wacker".

I'll let you know how it goes.

Fishing: The First Trip

Before heading out on my first fishing trip of the new me, I decided to check out what salmon anglers use to catch salmon. I googled it on the internet and sent a text to my Uncle Bill who is an avid salmon fisherman (fly fishing). Most of the websites suggested a 20-25lb test line. Hmmm. My 8lb suddenly seemed quite inadequate. I contiunued discussing this with Corey over text messages. I told her it only had to be 22 inches to be a keeper.

"Only?! That's like 2 feet!"

I could see her point. I thought about it, googled some pictures and saw some crazy monsters that would probably drag me up river if I caught them. Most likely they would just take off with my rod and reel. Or snap it in two like a tiny twig.

Then I found a website that stated the author had seen people land 30lb+ fish with an 8lb line. I felt hope once again. Until my uncle texted me back saying he'd use a 20-25lb line. Of course. The sporting goods store is an hour away, so I decided I would head to our small local reservoir "Greenhorn" and see if I could catch some bass or catfish.

I could hardly sleep because I was so excited. For some reason it's a lot easier for me to wake up at 5am on weekends than week days. Probably because I have a weekend to look forward to, as opposed to work.


Thankfully I wasn't completely on my game because as it turns out, Greenhorn doesn't open until 7:30am. After all the big fish go back to bed of course.

  Greenhor Reservoir at sunrise

 The only one fishing.

 



 



I started out with some lures, since it was too cold to sit still with a bobber and hook. I had brought along my own worms from my composting bin. They were little but very lively. It wasn't too long before I was getting some bites on a minnow lure. I thought I felt a little action on the end of my line, so I reeled it in a little, and then a little more until I could just barely make out my lure in the water. Hmm. Weird. Then my lure turned around and swam away! I had a fish! I reeled it in, and this is the monster I found on the end of my line:







 

He wasn't much bigger than my lure, brave little guy. I placed him back in the water and he swam away. I fished there a little longer before moving around to another part of the lake. This time I decided to go with the basic worm on a hook with a few sinkers and a bobber.

 

Something kept stealing my worms but not taking the hook. I was patient and persistant. I watched my bobber go under a couple times, gave the rod a jerk and then saw a little duck come towards my line at a good clip.

 

He showed great interest in what was going on under my bobber and I had a fear that he would grab the fish...and the hook. That was going to be interesting. I started reeling in my line and the duck followed full speed. Finally when he got too close to me, he peeled off and went the other direction. Here's what was on my line the second time:

I swear it's the same fish. I caught him again at that spot, and then again across the lake in another area. They were all the same size and they were all devouring my worms. I changed location a couple more times and changed tackle about 100 times today. I'm getting good at the knots, and slightly better at casting. Now I've got to go up to Medford to get me a heavy action rod and reel with heavy test line to catch some big guys in the river!

 

Fishing: Ammended

Work yesterday was slow, so I printed out the 2012-2013 Department of Fish and Game Freshwater Fishing Regulations to study before heading out anywhere to fish. I'm glad I did. You wouldn't think freshwater fishing was incredibly different than saltwater fishing, but they've got some strict rules.

Barbed hooks: most hooks are barbed unless you buy them special. Turns out in a lot of places in California (especially the Klamath River) barbed hooks are illegal. Do fish stay on non-barbed hooks? I guess I'm about to find out. Turns out Oregon does not have these same rules. In the regulations, it lists specifically which areas are restricted to non-barbed hooks only, so whenever you set out to fish, you have to look up the limitations of each area.

Species limitations: there's a whole grip of them. Salmon get complicated. And as it turns out, steelhead is a completely different fish than salmon. Who knew? With my salmon report card, I've got to write down every salmon I land, write down if it had an adipose fin (if it does it's wild and I have to release and record it, if it doesn't and it's over 22 inches I can keep it but the DFG can request the head in order to collect some sort of tag). If I catch a Coho salmon, I have to check and record whether or not it had a maxillary, which to me looks like a frowny lip. If he's pouting, I have to record it. And you can't keep Coho's here. Or wild salmon. Thankfully someone thought up the clever idea of cutting off the adipose fin from hatchery salmon. I also have to record whether the fish was an adult or "jack". I apparently do not need to know whether the fish is male or female, but I do have to be able to differentiate between a steelhead and a chinook salmon....because I don't have a steelhead card, and even if I did, I'd have to put the record on the correct card.

Different species have different required size and quantity limitations, which I was aware of. But there's also a season for different species, except when specified in this book. There are a few species that are year round "open season". So I ordered a book on fish identification. Until then I have to rely on internet pictures.

So last night I went to Walmart to see if they had non-barbed hooks. I figured shopping in California as opposed to the more lax Oregon I'd be able to buy non-barbed hooks. Nope. So I bought a few more lures and jigs and went home to bend the barbs down. Some of them were easy, the others were not. I'm going to need to pick up some files. I hear some of the DFG are pretty anal about the barb. Sometimes they run a cotton ball along the hook and if it snags, you get fined $350. A guy on my crew did. Even after he bent the barb back. I'm also going to look online for non-barbed hooks and lures.

And turns out one of my fishing spots I've been eyeing on my way to work is a catch and release only. Argh. But I've found some other places to fish, so I'm pretty excited.

I put line on my reel last night as well, so I'm all set to go. I might start out at the local resevoir, which to my knowledge does not require barb-less hooks.

I also managed a short run yesterday.

Fishing: The Beginning

I've been thinking a lot about fishing lately. Mostly because the guys at work do it and then come talk about their catches or the ones that got away. I used to fish a lot with my dad, mostly ocean fishing. He'd take us out on his little motor boat that had a few holes in it. About every hour or so, we'd be out on the middle of the ocean with water above our ankles so he'd pull up the anchor, get the boat going real fast so that it tilted the nose (stern? bow?) up, pull out the stopper plug in the back and drive around until the boat drained. It didn't seem to worry him at all that the boat had holes in it. I was a little suspicious. It was a long way to shore.

In any case, we'd fish out on the ocean in San Diego and often head down to Baja California to fish in the Sea of Cortez. It was always a lot of fun, we ate the fish if they were big enough and toss back the little guys. I don't know a whole lot about fishing, my dad always set up the line for me with whatever he thought would work well. Since he died I haven't done a whole lot of fishing, just the occasional fishing with my uncle in Arizona.

So I've fished enough that you would not expect me to be a beginner, but then, I've also had the location, the tackle and the bait all set up for me by a fisherman much wiser than myself. Although I don't recall catching a whole lot of fish with my Uncle Buddy....hehehe. Sorry Uncle Buddy. There are many avid fishermen on my crew, but one of the things I've learned about myself lately is that I don't like help. With anything really. I'm not sure why that is, but I like to find my own path through whatever new thing I'm trying.

I bought a couple of books on my kindle during this last assignment in Idaho. While reading them, I took a couple notes on what I'd like to buy for my BASIC beginner set-up. They included a 6.5'- 7' medium action rod, with a medium action spinner reel, with 8-10lb test line (one that breaks down for easy travel), a couple hooks, sinkers, swivels, bobbers, a few artificial worms, a couple jigs and a minnow lure. And a fillet knife. And mutli-tool.

We got home from our assignment yesterday and I had a ton of things to do upon getting home: wash and repack my war bags, buy food, sleep, and get up early enough to get back into my marathon training.

I shirked all of that to go shopping for fishing gear.

Let me remind you, I live in the middle of nowhere, and to go to a real sporting goods store, I have to drive an hour. I got off work at 5pm, went directly to Medford (hello Sportsmans Warehouse!) dropped $200 on fishing gear and a couple essentials for work, drove home, washed laundry, setup my tackle box and was in bed 3 hours later than I should've been. The wise words of the author of the first book rang in my head while shopping for gear...I just didn't listen. I wanted to keep it very basic, I didn't need a whole lot of stuff.

After getting the stuff I needed for work, I headed over to the fishing department. Whoa. There was a selection of several hundred rods in front of me. I had to narrow it down. I walked past the spin-casters (or whatever those things are called) and found the spinning rods. Great, now we got it down to 100 choices. Some were made for kids, and others were almost $100 each. Down to around 40 choices. I paced back and forth in the rod aisle while the salesman eyed me warily. I'm sure he's seen my kind before. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. When I hefted a rod into my hand and reeled it around a bit, he'd walk away, satisfied that I didn't need help. 20 minutes later I was still hefting two rods around. He asked if I needed any help. Nope, I'm good. I stood there another 5 or 10 minutes and decided on one.

I turned around to face the rest of the gear and was overwhelmed. Where the hell was the line? You'd think it would be right next to the rods and reels. I had to ask. He pointed me to the back wall of the fishing section. Got it. Don't got it. Holy cow, there's another 50 selections of line! Argh. I picked a mid-priced clear 10lb and 8lb test. No big deal. That selection only took me about 5 minutes.

Ok, hooks. Oh dear. There's literally thousands of types and sizes of hooks out there. I was faced with a hundred or so. I spent another 10 minutes on hooks while the salesman floated around nearby in case I needed help.

Oh look! Swivels. I need some of those. Ooh, a couple sizes and types of sinkers, don't mind if I do. Bobbers, yep, I'll take two shapes and sizes. On to tackle. Oh wait, are those tackle boxes? The salesman asked me how I was doing. Awesome. I spent another 5 minutes comparing tackle boxes, put one in my cart. Back to tackle. Oh boy. I was standing there staring at a wall full of artificial worms that were all too big for my tackle choices and all promised a steady release of salt. What? Hmm. I moved on. Jigs! Yep, I need a couple of these. I tried to think like a fish, if I were swimming around in a river or lake, what would I want to eat? I'll take a couple of these...and that too...ooh, look at that!

In one of the books I read, there was a saying. "There's two types of tackle. One that's meant to catch fish, and the other that's meant to catch fisherman". As I perused the endless aisles of jigs, spinners and lures, I realized I was probably looking at the latter. But they looked so real! All these things look like they'll catch fish!

And what if my fish don't like the one minnow lure I just chose? Ok, I'll get another. No, put it back, you only get one. You cannot have two nearly identical lures. Ok, this one is a little different, I'll take that. The salesman pretended to be organizing a rack behind me. Maybe it was because I had been in that section for an hour and a half. Maybe it was the completely random way I walked about the aisles. Myabe it was the lost look in my eyes. I don't know. Either way, I didn't want his advice, even if he knew more than I did. I don't know what's wrong with me.

I found a couple of fillet knives, and somehow walked away with a folding, 7" Buck knife that cost $30. And a small multi-tool for $17. Then I came home and organized my tackle box while the laundry was washing.

I have to leave for work in an hour and I have yet to eat breakfast, pack my lunch and pack my war bags (fire bags). And I don't think I'm getting my run in this morning. But my tackle box looks great!

The salmon are running here for maybe only another week (yeah, aren't you guys jealous? The salmon bascially run in my back yard.). I just got my fishing license with a salmon card added. Corey asked me last night if I thought my rod could handle a salmon on the other end of it. I told her if it came to it, I hoped my line would break before my rod did. I wasn't going to intentionally slay a 60 lb salmon. Maybe only the 20 pounders. I looked around at my lures and jigs and realized that even very large fish might find interest in a small lure. Hmmm. Well, if I hook a 60 pounder I might have time to cut my line before the monster runs 200 yards down river with my lure.

The Dilemma

I'm taking a break from painting the house and eating an entire jar of bleu cheese stuffed olives. The paint can says not to paint in temps above 90 degrees and it's already 87. That along with the dilemma I've got has caused me to take an extended lunch.

So I've got this 16ft extension ladder that, throughout the day, I've gotten a little more comfortable with. I had to have it at it's max extension in order to paint the apex of this wall here. Now I have an issue. So I'm eating olives and ice cream and drinking wine.

If you look at the two pictures above, you will see that my first coat of primer has stopped directly above the kerosene tank. That's because it's almost right up against the house. So my ladder will just barely reach the top there, but near the top I will be leaning off the ladder several feet to get to where I need to reach.

I had a couple of ideas, none that I really felt like attempting. Maybe after another glass of wine....

Number one, I thought I could wedge the ladder between the tank and the house. Obviously the base wouldn't budge if it was held in place by a tank with a couple hundred gallons of kerosene in it. But the problem is how high I need the ladder to reach, which will create an awfully steep angle to the ground, making me likely to topple over. Not a good place to bite the dust.

My only other plan is to wait for the roof to cool off, climb up there and then hang over the edge on my belly to paint the top section. That may be my best plan. Thankfully I'm off the hook for a couple hours while it cools down.

I also have a couple walls on the south side of the house that I've primed. One needs a second coat of primer and then a few more walls can start getting the yellow paint. Here's what I've got painted so far, not counting the primer which would not be interesting to look at.

 

That small piece along the top of the wall is waiting for the roof to cool down as well so I can climb up there and paint it. Hmmm.... except that I just got my extension ladder out and might be able to use that instead. The wall on the right still needs one more coat of yellow, then it's done. I'm not even starting the trim and shutters yet. This is a really big job.