Mondays aren’t nearly as bad when the weather is like this and the weekend was as awesome as mine was.  I realize that it’s sort of oxymoronic to think Monday isn’t so bad after a good weekend, after all, wouldn’t I like the weekend to continue?

Of course I would.  But I’d also like to have a 65’ Nordhaven and the money to operate it.  There are certain things that are beyond our control and we make the pie we have fruit for, not the one we’d like to have fruit for.

And I really like the boat I have now.  It suits my lifestyle and Friday (the Fourth) when the fam and I snuck down to the river for a few hours between birthday parties (one for #3’s friend, the other for America) someone riding in a dingy that had been launched from a 2 or 3 year old Cruisers 455 expressed a bit of envy for my Sunesta.  Forget that the river was so choppy that my children screamed in terror the moment we pulled out of the creek forcing an immediate return to calmer waters.  Or that the calmer waters were still so choppy and windblown that we dragged our anchor at 1.6 miles per hour.  I was very happy to be where I was.

The party for the 4^th was also a blast.  The community put on a very good fireworks show and being able to walk home from our neighbor’s house instead of fighting traffic was a huge bonus.  The traffic situation was not quite as good on Saturday when we went to the National’s game but it was mostly foot traffic so we got by.  38,463 people paid to get into the stadium.  It wasn’t full.  That’s more people than lived in my county while I was growing up.  It was a very good game (I’m not a Chicago fan) and my family loved it.  We were in the top deck, back row so the breeze kept us cool and we could see absolutely everything.

On the trip home there was some excitement on the metro.  Apparently someone failed to hold on to the hand of the young child that she was responsible for and during one of the stops he ended up on the platform while she stayed in the train.  Fortunately it was one of the shortest legs and since there was nothing in the news, the story must have had a happy ending.  I have been wondering which sort of reunion it was.  I’ve seen both the “hugs and joy” kind and the “angry with punishment” kind.  I’ve been hoping for hugs but the cynical Jon says that someone who would hug also would not have let go in the first place.

Then there was yesterday.  Also wonderful.  A much less choppy trip to the river.  With the dog that tried to drown me last summer.  He did much better this time.  And he didn’t pee in my boat.

We’re given a good life.  Don’t forget that.  Bad things happen but your experience doesn’t have to be defined or polluted by them.

Were you scared?

“Were you scared?”

“Not the first time.”

How’s that for a conversation?  It’s funny, but then you get a little worried about it.  Then you start to wonder what it’s about.  After all, we could be discussing anything from ear piercing to child birth.

Or jumping off the flybridge of a Carver 350.  Gosh, Jon, that seems sort of specific and out of left field.  Well, yes.  But there’s a story that goes with it.

We were planning to take our boat out yesterday – perfect boating day – but the trim control for my outdrive froze and after several fruitless hours of tinkering I towed it to the shop.  We went to Lowe’s and bought mulch instead.  Except for #4 who stayed at the marina with his friend and went down the river with them on their… Carver 350.

He got back with all sorts of stories and one of them involved diving off the top of it.  Jumping, actually.  His mother was a little concerned – it is about 15 feet to the waterline – but he wasn’t.  “It was that feeling you get in a rollercoaster.  When your stomach moves around.  Know what I mean?”

Oh yes.  It’s the same feeling I get when people talk about dental work or clean a fish on the railing of the boardwalk.  But what a great story and the line.  Gold.

There are stories that are fun to relate but aren’t fiction material – like this one, it’s seasoning, not the basis of the tale.  Then there are stories which are the real deal.  The anchors for a great work.  Like the headline on CNN.COM last night before I went to bed.  Between the computer and the toothpaste I saw the whole thing.  I gave the 30 second pitch to my wife.  She got it.  “That’s really good.” she said.

It sounds arrogant to say it, but I knew it was really good when I started the pitch.  Sometimes you know things.  It’s simple and compelling, the very definition of high concept.  You may even recognize some of the lines.

"What's your dirt doin' in his ditch?"

Today is the day that I give up completely on an endless summer for 2013.  The temperature this morning was below freezing when I got up and so I must, with heavy heart and wet feet, take the boat out of the water.  But what to do with it this year?  I mean, it isn't exactly some squirrels stash of acorns.  Hmm.  Imagine a three ton stash of acorns.  And the squirrel that made it.

There's a clear space in the yard next to the garage and I expect to keep it there this year, under two layers of covers, sheltered from the snow by the big trees that, when it does snow, I fear will fall onto the boat.

When we first moved in you couldn't drive to this parking space.  There was a two foot retaining wall.  We had big old Bounder J back then (a 34 foot class A RV) and needed a place to park it so I got out the spade, the mattocks, and the wheelbarrow.  I moved that retaining wall with my bare hands - okay, they were gloved hands.

The Bounder sat there for a couple of years and then we sold it.  When it rained, mud would wash onto the driveway in deep gully began to form in the yard.  I had an idea - Hows about I put the wall back?  So I got the spade, the mattocks, and the wheelbarrow.  I moved that retaining wall back.  But the dirt had washed away and needed some more bricks for some reason.  Off to Lowe's I went.  Got what I needed in just a few more trips that it should have taken, and presto-change-O, new wall, better than the old wall.

Then my campaign to get a new boat met with success (just keep putting on the grocery list, eventually you'll get whatever you want).  Only one problem.  Where to park it?  I found the perfect place for it but first there was a retaining wall that I had to move...

"I Wanna Soak Up the Sun."

I'm a little late with the post today.  We've been busy.  Instead of kettle bell class today we went out into the country and picked up a side of beef.  I'm not sure which side, and it's actually only half of a side since we split the beast 4 ways.  In between our house and horse country is cow country.  It's also in full fall swing and we passed a couple of pumpkin patches and a farmer's market.

The forecast this afternoon was for sunny skies and a general warming.  Could be the last of the boating weekends so we rushed along to make the window of good weather - thoughts of last year's near fiasco running through my head.  I checked the weather about 6... billion times and it was consistent.  Partly cloudy giving way to sunshine, no rain, light wind.

We've putted down the river, out into the big river, and frozen the whole way under not 1 layer of clouds, not 2 layers of clouds, but under a canopy of gray with 2 sublayers.  But we pressed on.  There was hope.

It was worth it.  I'm anchored now, just off our favorite rocky beach, watching the children splash the shore searching for shells and teeth.    The sun came out while I was writing.  The waves are rocking the boat just enough to remind me why I love the water.

Life is good.  I'm very lucky to be where I want to be, doing what I want to do, with the people I want to be with.  Do I have everything I want?  What a silly question, but as Sheryl Crow said, "It's not about getting what you want, it's about wanting what you've got."

"If you keep looking at me, you'll see me kill you."

My family loves beach combing.  Searching for rocks, shells, and bits of flotsam entertain them for hours.  There is a beach we go to on our boat that at first we didn't really care for - it was so rocky, not something you land a fiberglass boat on - so we have to anchor and wade in.  But it's an inspiring beach we have grown very fond of.

The river is very wide there, well over a mile, and waves pound in endless, merciless succession.  The shore is covered with beach glass, driftwood, bits of dock, concrete, tar, and pebbles.  Amazing pebbles.  The kind you spend a fortune for in gift shops.  The kind you hunt for at the seashore and are happy to find a dozen.  It's incredible.



Based on the novel, "Immortality, Inc."



We brought our friends with us this weekend.  They live in Sicily now - the Mediterranean Island - and yet this beach captivated them too.  I feel like Bill Gates when I walk along the shore.  I skip rocks out into the water that I wouldn't dare dream of using somewhere else because of their rarity.  When an especially interesting piece of driftwood floats by I grab a handful of these beautiful missiles and launch them at it - and watch the puddles encircle it as the scatter shot lands.  It is a remarkable feeling, squandering the wealth, knowing there is an unlimited resupply at my feet.

We find bones too.  Usually fish but sometimes birds.  This isn't a tale about finding a human skeleton, don't worry.

This weekend we saw an eagle take off as we approached.  There were no other boats.  No other people.  You can't actually even see any houses unless you are very farsighted.

I'm stuck on a train right now.  I'm heading into another day at the start of another week of doing something other than beach combing.  It's okay though, If I close my eyes, the wheezing of the man behind me sounds a little like the water lapping against the hull of my boat and… I saw an eagle in flight from one hundred feet away.

An exceprt from "Freejack".

Alex Furlong: Man, if it's come down to this. What's the point?
Eagle Man: He Riddles me. The ancient riddle: "What's the point?" Have you ever seen an eagle flying back to his home with dinner for the Mrs. and all the little eagle babies. And he's flying against the wind and he's flying in the rain and he's flying through bullets and all kinds of hell, and then right at that moment when he's about to get back to his nest, he says, "[Forget it], it's a drag being an eagle" and right then two little x'es comes across his eyes just like in the old fashion cartoons. And he goes plunging down, and down and down and BAM. He's just a splatter of feathers and then we don't have the national bird of America no more. Did you ever see that?
Alex Furlong: No.
Eagle Man: Me Neither. Eagle's got too much self-respect. How's yours?

"We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast."

Everyone needs a little extra inspiration on Monday.

Nothing inspires you to live life more fully than nearly dying.  That's what they say anyway.  I have, allegedly, had numerous near death experiences, but since they've all been tied to the axiom "If you aren't living on the edge you're taking up too much space" I didn't really get anything out of them - except a bit of thrill maybe.  I mean, as my Dad said, "WHO RIDES A BICYCLE 53 MILES PER HOUR?"

Dude, chill.  And rest easy - I don't live near hills that let me get higher than 40 anymore.

My point is, unless you don't feel the illusion of control, the closeness of death is lost and there is no inspiration - life may be more exciting, but you are left looking for more, not suddenly realizing how much is actually right there.  I know what I'm talking about.  Saturday I was nearly killed.

It started off as a nice enough day.  We piled into the boat with Pizza Pizza for lunch and coolers full of drinks to stave off dehydration.  The sun was brilliant, the air and water warm.  It was such a nice

day we even brought the dog.  Not the brown one that brought us bad luck last year or the black one that would have spent the entire trip terrified.  Nope, we brought the border collie.  WIth a cute life jacket.

This was the stereo-typical perfect boat ride.  We stopped and drifted in the big river, swam off the back, and laughed as the cute little dog jumped off to swim in a big herding circle around the kids.  I even helped him scramble back onto the swim platform.  Ditto the second time.  It was precious.  My wife wanted to take a picture.  We spent five minutes (we being the entire family) trying to coax the little dog back into the water.  He was having nothing of it - not being able to touch was, apparently, a little freak-eh.

"Why don't you get in, Dear."  My wife.  Brilliant.  I hate swimming.  It isn't my bag.  "Okay," said I.  It was about 14 feet where we were so it was warm enough.  I suited up with extra buoyancy and jumped in.  Swam around a bit.  Added my voice to the cries of, "Come on, boy."  He was having nothing of it.  She tossed him in.  Sink or swim baby, yeah.

The dog immediately came to me so I could save him.  Thing is, he didn't stop and sit so I could pet him.  Something about having to keep swimming or he'd drown.  In terror, he climbed onto my head, the only dry land in sight.  The vest I was wearing couldn't handle the extra 40 pounds and under I went.  See, thing is, I don't do drowning.  "GET HIM [gurgle, splutter] OFF ME."  The problem was that nobody could.  Now, if they had tried it would have been easy, but apparently this was high comedy and there was little to no incentive to end it.

Little dog, rumored to be man's best friend no less, drowns man while trying not to drown as family looks on, having aneurisms because they are laughing so hard.  Ha ha ha.  Great logline.  Finally #2 pulled him off at which point he tried to drown her.  I was able to, at that point, get behind him and then guide him to the boat where he was hauled aboard and whined for the next several minutes until everyone else was out of the water.

Later we anchored at the beach and he was nervous about heading to shore but once he understood about swimming out and back, and found where he could touch, he became a water dog.  The next forty minutes had him running up and down the length of the beach, at the waterline, tongue hanging out, alive and inspired.  There was no stopping him.

As for me, I'm still here.  Last week was one of the most intense I can recall at work, but it doesn't really matter.  This is a different week and my life is going on - with or without me.  In the middle of that professional maelstrom, there were some amazing things going on.  Beaten down is no way to live.  Pressing on is the only way to the mark.