Angels We Have Heard On High

August was a month of birthdays for three of my friends (the Angels) and so we went out. We decided to go to 801 Chophouse in downtown Des Moines. Angel Two and I went to the bar first to wait for the others. It had the look of a library, complete with ladder to retrieve the bottles of the most expensive liquors from the upper shelves. After the other Angels arrived, we were seated in a booth that had birthday confetti strewn on the table top. Each of the Angels received a menu that had 'Happy Birthday' emblazoned on the opening page.

It is a classic, old style restaurant where the dining is as much an experience as a meal.  For the two hour + duration, we had one waitress named Joanie and she was superb. There was nothing on the menu that she could not explain and it was fairly complex. She was also very charming and she seemed to love her job.

The menu was a meat lovers dream and after much reflection, I think I want to go back, maybe on a Sunday night to try the Sunday supper. It is pricey, but my steak was done perfectly and the experience with my friends was wonderful.

I started with a cup of the lobster bisque. It was excellent, with nice chunks of lobster and a very creamy. It had just enough cayenne to give it some spark. The others had Caesar salad. We shared appetizers of  'Down Home' sauteed shrimp and baked escargot on toast. In retrospect, we probably should have gotten two servings of the shrimp. They were delightful and delightfully huge, but there were only four on the plate. Again, there was a hint of cayenne in the saute mixture with the butter and garlic, none of which overpowered the shear shirmpyness of the shrimp. The baked escargot was served on a metal tray with divots, each containing one escargot in garlic butter and covered with an unidentified cheese that was toasted to a golden brown. They were served with a sour dough toast. Mmmm.

For dinner I had the 16 oz New York Strip with bone marrow butter, some steamed broccoli, grilled asparagus in hollandaise and lobster mashed potatoes. Angel One had fillet Mignon medallions with a mushroom sauce, Angel Two had the rib eye and garlic mashed potatoes. And Angel Three had the prime rib. We all shared the sides of broccoli and asparagus and potatoes.

All the portions were huge and bags were provided to take home leftovers. I had none. The Angels will be enjoying there meal again this week.

Here are some pics from the night.

Again, Happy Birthday to all three of you Angels. Thank You for watching over me. I love you.

Yellow Jackets

You see this little bastard? Him and about 5 of his buddies stung me up real good (9 times) on Wednesday. I still have welts and itching. Hot baths with baking soda and aloe vera gel help, but I have also been advised to take an antihistamine and I may go get some before dinner tonight. Here is an example of what they do to you.

I have one just like that on my back. I have two welts on the underside of my right upper arm, three on the underside of my left, two on my left elbow and one on the inside of my left leg that came awfully close to little Jeffery and the twins if you know what I mean.

They apparently build their nests in the ground. I was pulling weeds in a raised garden plot when I discovered their presence via the sting to the back. And yes, they went right through some fairly heavy clothing. I was not standing still after the first sting. I ran, but to know avail.

The sting is like being stuck with a pin that you can't pull out. That feeling lasts for some time as the welt forms and reddens. The pin stuck sensation has dissipated now to a severe itch that topical treatment only helps for a short time. It's maddening. The other thing that happened immediately after the event was a severe headache. I suppose it was the effects of all the venom entering my body at one time. The little effers poisoned me.

Anyway, after treating my wounds, I grabbed a can of wasp spray in the garage, returned to the sight of the crime and sprayed down their little waspy asses. They are now in wasp hell I hope. I am also now a proud owner of a yellow jacket trap. I would like to send more of them to their eternal, infernal reward.

Done whining now. Back to work.

I Dreamed A Dream

I don't remember much of it, at least not the details, but the images were vivid. I have NEVER dreamed about my Dad before. Not once in my entire life. But last night he was in my head as I slept and I don't know why. He had come back to the house. He was dirty. His face had what appeared to be mud on one side. His clothes were torn. I remember looking at him in the dream and telling him that he was supposed to be dead as I hugged him. I remember thinking, 'how will I explain this to everyone?'.

And the rest of the dream was spent with me trying to avoid him as he cleaned up, put on clean clothes and prepared to leave again. I have no idea where he had been or where he was going, but it was like he had been to hell and back and was now preparing for a new destination.

I do not know that this means anything. I did have a hot sausage sandwich last night, which may have prompted the dreaming. Whatever caused the 'Dad' dream, it stuck in my head until this morning. I might also add that I felt very rested and refreshed when I woke.

Maybe he is finally gone, at least in my mind. I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from me.  

I Have A Complaint

I know, right? Unbelievable. But seriously, while it is not Festivus time yet, I need an early Airing of the Grievances. It's just one thing. It has nagged me for decades. It's something that I get from various members on my father's side of the family. I will say it once to all of you.

I have no brothers and sisters. I am an only child. And please do not refer to me by my Uncle's name.

My grandparents did it when they were alive. As a rule, they would correct themselves, but it happened frequently. My father did it when he was alive. Not sure why. Was he maybe in denial that I was his son? Not sure. I have even heard my Uncle refer to my dad as my brother. And now, just yesterday, I get a thank you card for a graduation gift from a second cousin in Missouri. She addresses me as 'Uncle Jeff'.

For years it has been more like I was the third son of my grandparents. Perhaps it's because I spent so much time with them when I was young, but they all seem to have some confusion about who I really am in the family. Now, I suppose there could be something I don't know about the family history, but I think it's a very unusual phenomenon. There was even some confusion at Christmas among my second cousins about how exactly I was related to them. One of the brighter ones explained to the others that I was their second cousin once removed. I'm not sure that even I understand that, but as long as they know I am not their uncle, I am good with it.

Thanks...I feel better now.

Church Parking Lot Road Rage

OK...just one more...this guy is hilarious...it's a short one. Go for it.

The Millennial Missionaries

Ya, this is what it's coming to right? This is very funny and also close to the mark and kind of scary.

HOW IT'S MADE: Christian Music

I'm sure you've always wondered. Now you know.

Odd Jeff Stuff

All right. I'm having some odd behaviors that might be worth discussion. Perhaps they are not odd, given my current life situation. That remains to be seen I suppose. I am in the place now where I really hate to go home at night. By that, I mean I do not like to be in my Mom and Dad's house. The place creeps me out. It's full of their stuff and rearranging the furniture just ain't cuttin' it.

I get up in the morning and I cannot get out of the house fast enough. I want to go somewhere and be where people are. I do not necessarily want to interact with them, but I want to be where they are and not alone in this house where my parents spent their final days. It is not my home. I could tear the house down and build my own place and their ghosts would still be here, nagging me to mow the lawn or weed the flower beds.

I do not want to live that way. I cannot believe it has taken me this long to figure it out. How did I ever think I wanted to live the way they did? I have never been big on owning property. I always thought it was kind of foolish, despite advice that it was a good investment. Being a slave to the upkeep of a place like this is more than I can handle.  I suppose I could hire it done and the thought of having a 28 year old out working in the yard without his shirt has it's appeal, but seriously, I would have to be delusional to think that would make it all worth the cost of property taxes,.

I have this urge to run away from all this; to hit the road and not come back until I figure out what's next. There are things to see after all and most all of it is outside of Iowa. I love Iowa, but even mild winters here are awful in my opinion. I guess it's good I do not live in Minnesota or North Dakota.

I also told someone on a website I frequent to "suck it up buttercup" when life's tensions start to get you down. The posting was about whether it was OK for men to cry. It was my thought that there was a time and a place for it, but that we shouldn't be crying because we were stressed out by life. I mean life is stressful right? Having a crying jag every time it gets tough will not fix things. Knowing when to cry separates the little boys from the men...in my opinion.

I guess it all means that I am just getting old. I have lived through some tough and stressful times and tears did not help me. We have to gird our loins and get down to the business of living. Emotionality and focus on self prevents that. Am I right? No? Suck it up buttercup :^)

So anyway, I am not welcome there anymore. I have to say that I have just about had it with the special snowflakes of this world that get offended at the drop of a hat. I will not walk on egg shells out of fear that I might make someone feel bad. People make me feel bad frequently. I just deal with it. I'm not sure why everyone else cannot do the same. It's called tolerance, but apparently that's a one way street.

My spiritual issues are still not cleared up. I'm sure it's my fault. Most everything else is.

I also find I am trusting people less and that ain't good given the fact that I did not trust them all that much anyway.

I am in a place where I want to be with people, but I do not want to talk to them or interact with them. I just want to observe them. This may be tied into my personality type or it may be part of some mental disease that I have not yet found a name for.

My personality type, according to the Meyers-Briggs test is INTJ. There is another test call the Enneagram. I do not know a great deal about it other than there are 9 personality types and I am a Type One .  Apparently us Type One's are close to nuts. Here's the breakdown.

Type One—Levels of Development

Healthy Levels

Level 1 (At Their Best): Become extraordinarily wise and discerning. By accepting what is, they become transcendentally realistic, knowing the best action to take in each moment. Humane, inspiring, and hopeful: the truth will be heard.

Level 2: Conscientious with strong personal convictions: they have an intense sense of right and wrong, personal religious and moral values. Wish to be rational, reasonable, self-disciplined, mature, moderate in all things.

Level 3: Extremely principled, always want to be fair, objective, and ethical: truth and justice primary values. Sense of responsibility, personal integrity, and of having a higher purpose often make them teachers and witnesses to the truth.

Average Levels

Level 4: Dissatisfied with reality, they become high-minded idealists, feeling that it is up to them to improve everything: crusaders, advocates, critics. Into "causes" and explaining to others how things "ought" to be.

Level 5: Afraid of making a mistake: everything must be consistent with their ideals. Become orderly and well-organized, but impersonal, puritanical, emotionally constricted, rigidly keeping their feelings and impulses in check. Often workaholics—"anal-compulsive," punctual, pedantic, and fastidious.

Level 6: Highly critical both of self and others: picky, judgmental, perfectionist. Very opinionated about everything: correcting people and badgering them to "do the right thing"—as they see it. Impatient, never satisfied with anything unless it is done according to their prescriptions. Moralizing, scolding, abrasive, and indignantly angry.

Unhealthy Levels

Level 7: Can be highly dogmatic, self-righteous, intolerant, and inflexible. Begin dealing in absolutes: they alone know "The Truth." Everyone else is wrong: very severe in judgments, while rationalizing own actions.

Level 8: Become obsessive about imperfection and the wrongdoing of others, although they may fall into contradictory actions, hypocritically doing  the opposite of what they preach.

Level 9: Become condemnatory toward others, punitive and cruel to rid themselves of wrongdoers. Severe depressions, nervous breakdowns, and suicide attempts are likely. Generally corresponds to the Obsessive-Compulsive and Depressive personality disorders.

I am all over the board here in both healthy and unhealthy development. I will not go into detail, but this list of crap almost depresses me. I am not a 21st century man and seriously bent.

I am going to have to hit the road this winter or I may come unraveled.

Maybe I will feel better tomorrow...or maybe I just need a good cry...or, more likely, the frustration will continue. Suck it up buttercup.

Maybe I should just go to the Iowa State Fair again tomorrow and forget all this, That's probably the answer. How could I be so stupid? (Don't answer or you;re dead meat.)

I Think I'm Becoming a Redneck

I have all the telltale signs; a ball cap with a fish hook clipped to the bill, sunburned neck and face, scarred up hands from being gouged by fish and hooks, an increasing ability to catch catfish regardless of my intentions and an overwhelming need to shoot rodents that invade my property.

Yesterday I was soaking in the bath tub after a long day of river fishing. I looked out the bathroom window and off the east deck in the timber sat a groundhog munching on some clover. He was sitting up like they do on his hind legs and seemed to be looking right at me. It was like he was checking out the deck and thinking he could hibernate underneath it come winter. Strange how I intuit a ground hog's thoughts. Perhaps another sign of my redneck status.

I immediately rose from the tub, wrapped a towel around myself, grabbed the .22 rifle, walked onto the deck and shot him. Later, I moved his carcass into the timber. Oddly, the evidence of my rodenticide disappeared in the night. I've noticed the same thing with the felonious squirrels I have terminated. There is something in the woods that does vermin carcass cleanup for me. Not sure what it is. I would think that a groundhog corpse would be too big for a fox or a cat to move effectively. Maybe a dog could do it or worse, a coyote. They have been reported in the neighborhood. Next time I deposit a rodent cadaver, I will have to stay up and watch to see what happens. As a redneck, I would really like to shoot a coyote. I need to think about that one though. I mean, who will clean up my carnage if I kill the cleaner? These things have to be considered.

Anyhow, as I mentioned earlier, I also seem to be catching an inordinate amount of catfish this year. This is odd, considering that I am fishing for bass and walleye. It may have something to do with the time of year or the drought, but the catfish strike at any shiny object I throw into the water, It could be that their natural foods (shad, minnows, fish fry) are in short supply. Whatever.

Generally when one considers catfishing, one thinks of using live baits or stink baits or even chicken livers. I have proven all these methods unnecessary. In my efforts to catch smallmouth, wiper and walleye, I have been using spinners and a variety of silver spoons. My technique for stream and river fishing is to find a place where the current is fairly swift. I cast the lure upstream and allow it to move downstream with the current, reeling in the lure just fast enough to keep the it off the bottom. The fish will strike as the lure moves downstream.

It's a method that works well and I did catch some walleye and smallmouth, but the biggest fish I caught in the past two weeks have been catfish. I have probably caught 10 maybe? Two were of very nice size, one weighing 7 Lb, 10 oz and the other 9 Lb, 1 oz. When they hit the lure, it nearly jerks the rod out of my hand. The ensuing fight is why I go fishing. It's just fun. I have been enjoying the catfish.

The most productive lure in this regard has proven to be the Mepps Comet #4. It's a spinner with a silver blade, some beads and a rubber minnow with two treble hooks. Make sure you have pliers on hand to remove this sticky lure from the catfish mouth.

I've been throwing the catfish back in the river. If there is an Asian about (and it seems like there always is), I will give them the fish. They seem to eat anything that swims including carp.

I'm not sure what a red neck does in the winter. I may have to take up hunting - or - maybe there will be enough rodentia to keep me occupied without leaving home. We will see

A Legacy of Faith

Evangelicals like to practice what many call Legacy Faith. It's their purposeful intention to raise their children in Christian homes centered around faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, passing a legacy of faith to the next generation. The idea is to keep the kids in the church and in the faith into adulthood where the cycle will begin again with their children. It's some very purposeful parenting. Sometimes it will involve home schooling or attending a Christian school to ensure the children are not polluted by the world at an early age. Christian morality is instilled in the young ones in the hope that they will continue in the faith until they are old.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. Some of the most spiritually and emotionally healthy people I know were raised this way and have grown into successful adults. These same people have also successfully transitioned from their parent's faith to creating their own personal faith in Jesus.
And this is where the whole legacy thing can fall to the ground if it's not done with that intention.

At some point, Christians must come to terms with their own faith. They cannot live off the traditions they grew up with forever. Every human life is unique with it's own challenges in my opinion and that tends to effect how we believers approach God, especially as we transition into adulthood. Things can get twitchy between the ages of 18 and 25. The reality and usefulness of our faith gets tested most at that time. It is in those moments of testing that one develops their own faith and it may be different from what they were taught.

I grew up in a legacy of faith going back at least 3 generations and probably more if I knew more about my ancestors. My legacy had a bit of a legalistic bent. There was no unconditional love in my day. Grace was not taught much. Eternal destinations were determined by behavior. God's forgiveness was limited and some things just could not be fixed.

I spent my early adult years believing that I was damned by things I did not control. It was quite distressing and I eventually spent more than 16 years without a church. Through all that, I still believed the basics. I just did not celebrate it with other Christians. Then something happened in the late 1990's that changed my outlook. I discovered the unconditionality of Christ's love. I learned about His grace and forgiveness and I slowly re-entered the church world. I became an adult teacher at the church I attended, the same one I grew up in. Much had changed there during my absence and I had also changed and began searching for purpose and spiritual relevance.

Today I am almost 60 years old. I'm still teaching and practicing my faith, but since retirement I have begun to question some things again. I have written about this recently in previous posts and I think it might be my last faith hurdle before death. That remains to be seen. Whatever the case, I think part of this springs from the fact that what faith I now have, is all my own to practice. My parents are both dead. I'm an orphan.

I used to be concerned about what they would think about my life choices and how they would react if they knew I felt the Christian liberty to do things that they thought were of questionable morality.

I no longer have that in my life. I no longer have to be good so that Mommy and Daddy will continue to love me. I have to be good and obedient because I love God and I want to serve Him.

Right now, I have to confess that I'm not feeling His presence. I have trouble praying about anything, but the most rudimentary prayers of thanksgiving. I find myself wondering if prayer really works for anything else. I do not sense His Holy Spirit in me or my life. I should be a changed man, but I find I still struggle with the same issues I have always struggled with. And when does that end? Do I have to die to enjoy a moment without temptation?

I need to leave a legacy of faith when I leave this world and I would like to feel, to know His presence before I get to the end of the road. I want some victory in the here and now and not just some pie in the sky hope for a better life after death. Does that happen?

A man at church recently passed away. He had a life history of drunkenness, drugs, violence and jail time. When he came to Jesus, all of that changed for him. He knew the changing power of the faith in a way that I have yet to experience. He was enabled to just let go of it all and live in faith.

I covet his experience. I want these last things (mostly my SSA) gone from my life before I die. Why is that not happening? Is it so much a part of me that only death will kill it? I hate living this way and I always have. To be obedient, I have to go through life without a partner because I can't make it work like straight folks.

Why does God not change this for me? Where's my new life? Is this my cross? I could use some "Comforter" type action here. Just saying.

My legacy is facing some real danger here.  

Fishing Report as of 08/07/2017

It was a good day to go fishing and sort out spiritual matters in my head. The fishing was good. Catfish ruled the day, but there were smallmouth, largemouth and walleye too. Below are pics of the highlights that includes a 9 Lb channel cat.

If you're wondering, I was in the Des Moines River below Saylorville Dam. Goin back tomorrow.  I think I need to think some more.

Lord, your fish are fun. Thanks for making them.

Smallmouth Bass

You know what makes an old man happy? No, not that, you silly rabbit. Smallmouth bass make an old man happy. Well, at least, it makes this old man happy. I think I've found a place where I can get smallmouth with great regularity. They are so much fun. Pound for pound, they outfight largemouth and the fight is also a sight. First they dive to the bottom and it's tough to get them off. And when they see that it's no use, they come flying out of the water and do this tail dance that is to die for. I just love them. I love them so much, I let them go after I catch them. Bass in general taste kind of bad anyway, so why not let them go? Besides, I would like the opportunity to catch them again.

I caught one last Friday and another today. I have pics below. The one today was particularly crabby and he put on quite the show for me. He was about 16 inches long and about 2 lb, which ain't bad for SB's in this neck of the woods.

Friday's fish

Today's fish. Very nice compared to my size 12 shoe.

I'm going back tomorrow morning. I hope to make a fishing report with pics. We will see. If you would like to kiss my bass, you can come along. Little joke there. I am so funny! See ya down at the river. Happy bassin!