Memorial Day Trip to Adirondack Park

I took a day trip up into Adirondack Park this past Memorial Day. Left from Gilberstville, heading up Rt 51 to above Herkimer. Went up as far as Indian Lake, then back around through Old Forge. Round trip took about 6 hrs, including stops to enjoy a view or two and rest my butt.

Weather was overcast at first, but cleared up fine. As I got farther north, I could smell one of my favorite smells of all time, balsam fir. Reminds me of Acadia, Maine. Love that smell. Can’t explain why, just ’cause.

I’ll try to have links to the trip map soon.

 

 

 

 

Double Clef Piece

 My latest piece, as of May 2011.

I think, therefore…..

A few days ago, I made a profound statement. At least, I thought it was profound. And in reflecting on it, I realized how therapeutic it seemed, to be aware enough of my current mental state to make this self-diagnosis.

“I think I might be pissed.”

What was I possibly pissed about? I had a medical appointment, which I was anxious about, that was scheduled with the wrong department and therefore was a waste of three hours out of work, and a waste of worrying. (I get to worry again in a month from now). As I started to complain about how could things get so messed up, realized what I gave up to make the appointment and felt a rant coming on, I stopped and calmly made my self-diagnosis.

So isn’t this a sign of mental progression, to be able to stop in the midst of a rant or other significant emotional reaction and verbally make a self assesment? Especially when it makes you chuckle at your self. The rant that was brewing, immediately subsided. I shrugged my shoulders and went home. Now what if everyone could do this? And as often as some of us need to? What if some notorious figures in our world society’s history had similar mini-epiphanies?

Picture Charlie Manson in his helter skelter days, preaching to his girls and in the middle of one of his delusional sermons. He stops out of the blue to cock his head to a side and calmly say “I think I might be deranged, man.” Or Hitler, standing at his podium in front of hundreds of thousands of enamored countrymen, delivering one of his passionate, vociferous propoganda speeches about a new world order and superior race. In mid-shout, he suddenly stops, looks up at his right out-stretched arm and says to himself – “I think I might be a colossal shiza kampf!”

Just think if these two had done this, had a little laugh then switched mental gears. Charile might have told his girls to get those ridiculous swastikas off their foreheads. Adolph might have walked right off the podium and said “eh, nevermind”.

If half the middle-eastern terrorists out there had this capacity to just stop for a second and look within and go- “700 virgins?! Really? Seems a little crazy to me”, how much better would things be? I wish, I truly wish that half the people who complained to the FCC about the Super Bowl XXXVIII halftime nipplegate fiasco would’ve stopped for a second before picking up pen or phone and realized “eh, well at least it wasn’t senseless violence”. Maybe there wouldn’t be all those NCIS shows on named for every major city in the country. Nor might there be any of the countless, empty, narcissistic craving, crushing my faith in humanity, ‘reality’ shows that are crapped out as easily as dog s-…..

I think I might be getting pissed again….

It\’s a … boy, is that big!!

So \’they\’ say this should be my daily diary. Not a place where I try to be the next scathing satirist. The next witty wordsmith. Just write about what goes on in my life. If it\’s interesting enough, someone will read it. Otherwise, I\’m just getting stuff out of my head to make room for more stuff.

Okay, with that said, let\’s try this. You were warned.

Last night, we\’re eating dinner. Me, my wife and the middle one. And suddenly I catch a whiff of something foul. So I do that stupid sniffing thing some people do, thinking my nose hairs are better than those of a blood hound and can root out the source of the smell. Like this is one I just have to get more of. So I catch some more odor and it just gets worse.

Before I continue, let me fill in the background a little. My family has more pets than should be allowed per square footage. My rule would be 1 per 500 sqr feet. By that rule, we\’re over by 6 or so. This overage consists of two dogs, 6 cats, 4 birds, 2 fish, a turtle, a rabbit. To the best of my knowledge.

So back to this smell. At first I thought one of the dogs had farted. My newest puppy, now 90lbs before he\’s a year old, is notorious for reminding a room\’s occupants why gas masks should be standard household issue. But this smell exceeded that of the cute little/big puppy fart. My wife wondered what the hell was wrong with me after I looked at her about four times with such an attractive look on my face, like that of a grown man trying to scrunch all of his facial features into his left nostril. After paddeling the air with my hand in her direction, she too was trying the same feat. But with the right nostril.

She immediately got up to visually find the source of the smell. I guess the sniffing like a dog is a guy thing, and less direct. After two steps towards the living room, she let out a quick gasp, followed by a burst of laughter. Laughter I\’ve heard before. Laughter that made me grimace, because the last time I heard that laugh was way back when my first German Shepard Max decided he would let us know how ready he was to be left inside on his own for a little bit, by taking a massive shit it front of my favorite recliner. Correction; left a massive shit (sorry, George). Massive is no exaggeration. An elephant might as well have been left inside. My wife saw that and couldn\’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the size.

Reluctantly, I got up from the table to confirm that my wife\’s laughter was valid. To my complete and absolute amazement, not to mention disgust, my 90 lb puppy had trumped the late master. Without going into the juicy details, I half thought to go grab the camera and take a picture. I mean, he just got fixed a week ago, and he\’d never be able to produce puppies of his own to look at with pride and affection.  So I thought he should at least have some record of a life accomplishment that he could later look at it and go \”I did that!\”

The smell, that was proportionally as bad as the pile was big, brought me back to the reality of the mess and how the heck I was going to clean it up. A back hoe came to mind first. Swear to God. I started for the back door, thinking I would get the shovel, but got daring and opted for a few plastic shopping bags. All the while, my wife is still laughing along with the kids who eventually got wind of the situation. As I got to grips with the cleaning process, I had lost all sense of humor. All I could keep thinking was how does something that big come out of a 90lb puppy? And why didn\’t it thud when it dropped? I mean, the drink in my glass should\’ve done that Jurassic Park seismic wave vibration. The lights should\’ve flickered. A picture frame should\’ve fell off the wall.

Why did my 90lb puppy leave a massive dump in the middle of our living room? Not because he\’s not house broken. He\’s been very good for the past 8 months. Seems our other dog caught a case of diarrhea, which he then caught. And while we thought he was pacing in and out from under the dining table because he was being a big mooch, he was in fact doing his version of the \’gotta go, gotta go\’ dance. We misread it and misscolded him for begging. I now need to revisit the three bark rule he had established to let us know he really needs to go out. And since he accomplished this Herculean sized feat before reaching 1 year, I also need to invest in a haz-mat suit.