Deprived Blog

I know my blog has been lacking blogs lately. I promise to do better as soon as I get over this busy hump.

This is a picture of how the Memorial day weekend went. Cindy, Zach, my friend Brock and I went fishing near Buffalo. I caught this hog. I will not incriminate myself by giving the details of the catch. I will say that the catch was fun and nearly- justifiably legal. I think... And yes the fish is over 19 inches. And yes, I hadn't showered or shaved or changed clothes for over a week when the picture was taken. (ok maybe not that long)

Cops and Chinese food

Last night we went out to dinner with some friends. They were moving away and we wanted to have a nice goodbye dinner. So we went to a nice restaurant in fact down right fancy. I won't say the name of this classy establishment because they aren't paying me to advertise so I won't be their money vehicle. I will just say that the food had something to do with Chinese and a Buffet.
We met our friends at this fancy eatery. Pulled into a parking lot full of people and cars that would give Jeff Foxworthy enough redneck material to retire on. We exited our car and walked into a buffet paradise. I mean we are talking an assortment of magically glazed chicken and pork treats covered in specially aged, red, sticky, sweet and sour sauce. It was like walking into Disneyland, every one was happy. Big people, bigger people and even bigger people. Little dirty kids trying their darnedest to dip the community Ice cream scoop to get the perfect scoop of cream with the most amount of bubble gum or cookie dough only to end their ice cream excavation with a big lick on the community scooper.
I started my meal off with vintage 1994 crab legs caught of the coast of Mexico with a side of Jalapeno chicken flavored feline. That didn't quite hit the spot so I went back for more of the soft-shelled crab mush. This time changing the side dish to General Cho's Hot puppy parts topped off with something that was in a shrimp shape and was called breaded shrimp but one could make the argument that it was something else. After I polished off this tasty plate my stomach gave a warning rumble telling me to stop. I pushed it away and went back for a little desert and (of course) a little more time ripened crab. By the time I finished, my stomach was no longer giving warning rumbles, it submitted itself to a slow bubbling. I knew that I must get home fast. The problem was however, this was a "going away" dinner so we had to say our goodbyes to our friends. The goodbye episode lasted for about 30 minutes in the parking lot. By this time my stomach was at a full boil and I knew that I must get home fast. As we jumped into my wife's SUV, My boy began to cry. He wanted home too. So I practically jumped on the gas. We live about ten miles out of town so I knew that I must hurry. The ride on the paved road went smoothly it was the gravel road that didn't. I normally take the gravel road quite fast so thought nothing of driving the two miles of dirt posted at 30 mph at a brisk 45. As we rounded the turn about mid-way I passed a sheriff who flipped on his lights and pulled us over. About the time that I wanted My boy to start crying to show the cop why I was speeding, my baby fell asleep. The Cop came up to the window I thought of every excuse in the book. But every excuse that I could think of that I had been successful in executing in the past would have been a lie. And as much as I dis-like cops, I didn't feel like lying. So I became the nicest man in Wyoming. The Cop in turn was also rather friendly. I tried to explain that the sleeping baby in back was crying. I almost told him of my over-excited bowels but it was too late. Before I knew it smokey was nicely handing me a 110 dollar ticket. Deep inside I wanted to get out of my car and beat this guy down. But he was too nice and I didn't want to seem phony so I stayed nice. The kicker of all kickers was when he handed me the ticket Sir Francis Bacon said: "well, I hope you have a better night". I, in my thoughtless-need to get home-"crap I got a ticket" mindset. Said "thanks, you have a nice day to sir". Why would I tell him thanks? The guy just gave me a ticket. I am sick to my self, not for the ticket but for the fact that I told the guy thanks. After the ticket incident I did make it home without an automobile accident or an unmentionable accident. So that leads me to the question. Should I have lied to get out of the ticket? I really think that I could have gotten out of the ticket. I know that lying is one of the big ten that I've gotta keep. But Loving my neighbor is a bigger of the big ten. I know that I should do both, but knowing my nature I know that It is hard for me to not dislike a cop for giving me a ticket. That leads me to another question. Is a cop considered my neighbor? Being familiar with the story of the good Samaritan I will have to say that the cop is my neighbor. So copper, if you are reading this. I forgive you for doing your job. I forgive you for choosing a profession that makes you deal a majority of negative aspects. I forgive you for taking food off of my table by writing a pointless ticket. I hope you forgive me for wanting to punch you in the jaw really really hard and then drop elbows repeatedly into your nose. I am sure that you are a nice guy when you are not a cop.

Not Much To Say

I do not have much to say today. Well I guess I always have maybe a little too much to say most of the time. I will post a pic today of the little man. He is a good boy. This pic is in a Utah Jersey. I dont particularly care for U of U. But I am the type that cheers for the team opposite of the team that whomever I am with is cheering for. How messed up is that? So if you were to ask who my favorite team is I would say whoever you hate the most. Why am I like that? Is is because I feed off of conflict? Or is it because I like to see people loose? I think it is because I like to see people humble. It helps them be better people. And I like to see people loose and I like conflict.

Final Spring pic for the day

This is a picture of the Sheridan Water Tank. Over the hill is the city of Sheridan. I will take a few pictures of the town for future blogs. I don't think that there is a place in the world that can compete with Sheridan in the spring as far as beauty goes. As I mentioned earlier, the pictures don't do the place justice. You have to smell the crisp clean morning air, you have to hear the pheasants crowing in the morning and running through ditches. You have to see the paired geese flying overhead and dropping off into ponds. You have to hear the creek bubbling and hear the cows mooing. You have to watch the spring calves running around kicking up turds. You have to see the antelope grazing. (I think it helps the appreciation factor when, for the past 6 months you have had to dig through four feet of snow and experience -30 degree temps.) But still, the winter adds to it. I wish that I could share it more with my family and friends. I'm glad though that I don't have to share it with the rest of the world.

More Spring

This is driving from the house on the way to work this morning.

More Spring

This is the view standing in the front yard.

More Spring

This is looking at the house from the side.

More Spring

This pic is looking north behind the house.

Spring Continued

This is a picture behind the house.

More Spring around the Ranch

Spring Around the Ranch

I thought I would post a few pics of where we live. All of the pics are taken on the ranch. I wish the pictures did it justice. This is the creek flooding after 2.65" its deeper than it looks. there are two 48" culverts under the crossing

My Boy

Well, I wrote a blog earlier today and decided that I had better save the content in my "drafts" folder because, well, I just don't think that the world is ready for it. Truth be told I think that only a select few would appreciate it and when I say select few, I mean the select few with higher than average testosterone. It was good for me to write because I came to 3 conclusions:

1. I have lost my mind.
2. I need to quit watching Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC)
3. I shouldn't drink Diet Dew before bed.

So I will leave it at that. A specific sorry to those with higher than average testosterone who would have appreciated it. I would name names of known readers that would make the high testosterone cut, but I dont want to offend those with lower levels that may think they may make the cut. If you were wondering if you make the cut, post a comment requesting your standing and I will reveal to the world why or why not you make the cut.

In conclusion, I found a pic on my computer of my little boy that has a calming effect on my crazy self so I thought I would post it. I hope this picture does the same for you.

Instincts

On our way home from our honeymoon, my wife and I decided that in order for us to have complete happiness we must purchase a dog. So about midway home we stopped and picked up a newspaper just to temp ourselves with the possibility of a puppy. I had already thought long and hard and studied up on what I wanted. I new that I wanted a Black lab and it had to conform to high standards. It had to have champion blood lines, not just show lines but field trial champion lines. In fact, I had been thinking about what I wanted for about 4 years. I knew what I wanted and I knew that I would know immediately if I had the right dog or not. As we searched the newspaper we found a number of lab puppies for sale, but the only one that jumped out at me was the one that said "Black lab puppies excellent champion blood lines." That was the one for me. So we called the person in the ad. Drove to his house to look at the dogs. At first sight of the black lab puppies My wife was sold. It took her about 15 seconds to say: "lets get one now". I on the other hand needed to ask a few questions and look at the pedigrees, I mean this was to be my hunting buddy for the next 15 years I had to be careful. After looking at the pedigrees I realized what a find we had found. The lines had National field champion after champion. I was impressed and I was sold. It wasn't long before I was handing over the last of my "single life money" to purchase Angus. Labrador Retrievers were bread specifically to retrieve items. Originally out of Newfoundland they were used to retrieve fish and nets for fishermen, but as time went on they were used to retrieve game for hunters. The natural instinct to retrieve was bred deep into the blood of the Lab. The reason that I was so set on Champion field lines was because the instinct to please their master and strict obedience was proven and developed throughout the genes of the specific dog. This was proven to me with my own dog when my wife and I stopped at the first gas station on our way home with our dog. I got out with my 8 week old pup to let him stretch out a little. As I let him out of the car he would not leave my side. He just followed obediently. I thought I would play with him a little so I grabbed a pencil, let him look at it and threw it. As soon as the pencil hit the ground, Angus bounded clumsily after the pencil, picked it up and brought it back to my hand. It that pure retrieving instinct. As time went on I worked with the dog and trained him, but I found that when hunting he trained himself. In fact when the time to hunt came he performed almost flawlessly, (except for the times that I took people hunting with me that I had spent many hours bragging him up.) I am not a professional trainer, a bad trainer at that but because of the instincts of the dog, he became a good hunter. The move to Wyoming helped because he gets a lot more practice.

I titled this blog instincts because last night I noticed another instinct and that is my Wife's instinct as a mother. It amazes me to see how good she is with our little boy. It's kind of like a sixth sense. I could sleep all night and not even hear the boy and she will have been up three or four times all ready. She will wake up out of a dead sleep because she has noticed the baby's breathing is not normal and find that the baby has pulled his blanket over his head. There is all kinds of little stuff like that. It impresses the crap out of me.

When we picked each other out, it was kind of like the dog shopping but opposite. When I met her at the sporting goods store it took me about 15 seconds to say "lets get one now" Cindy was a little more careful and wanted to check out everything. I am constantly amazed at how good of a wife and mother she is. I either got lucky (or am one heck of a salesman) because I couldn't think of another person in the world that would make me as happy as I am (or think of another person patient enough to deal with me). I couldn't think of a better mother for my little boy. I know that I would have messed up that parenting thing a long time ago if she wasn't there. (Hence feeding the 4 month old honey and Diet Dew) I like it shouldn't he?

More Baggage

It is about 10:30Pm and I just got off the treadmill completing my four mile run for the day. I slept in this morning and felt a little guilty as I sat lazily around this evening, so I thought that I would ease my conscience. While I was running another terrible memory from my childhood pulled at the depths of my bowels and I do not think that I can go to bed until I get this off of my chest.

As a boy growing up I was blessed with a wonderful family. My father and mother were more than perfect. Every memorial day we would travel to a town called Antimony, Utah to pay our respects to previously fallen members of the Riddle family. Antimony was where my Father grew up, and about 20 miles away from where my mother grew up. It was and is a place where we all love to get away from the buzz of life. We would fish, hunt and just enjoy each others company. In the early years we would pull a camp trailer over and park at a camp that we called "The willows". It earned it's name because of the large willow trees that created a protective canopy over the camp. We loved the willows. My brothers and I would shoot Magpies from the trees, and climb the trees. We even hung a rope from the top of one of the trees and made a swing. This is where this small piece of baggage was born. One late morning, after riding my Honda Mini trail around (I was ten years old)I decided to jump in the two foot by two foot by five foot shower that the old yellow Prowler trailer was equipped with. It wasn't a fancy shower but it did the job. I think it was customary for my brothers and I to come out of the shower saying "I feel like a new man" because we did. Well, I came out of the shower feeling like a new man. As I got dressed I put on a pair of Rustler jeans and yellow shirt with red lettering that said "Color Country Wrestling" I loved that shirt, and I knew that I looked good, and I felt like a new man. As I exited the trailer I noticed that nobody was around so I decided to take a ride on the willow swing. It wasn't much but it did its job to pass the time and I was too clean for a motorcycle ride. As I began to swing up and down, every time I passed perpendicular to the ground I felt something hit me, it was water, I think it was water. It wasn't rain, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and this was yellow. I remember saying out loud "what the heck" and as I looked up I was horrified to see my older brother Dan urinating and laughing. Urinating all over me, all over my Color Country Wrestling shirt. I was in shock. I think that the shock kept me under the steady stream of yellow death for at least 20 more seconds. The grin on his face was unforgettable. I am sure that the look on my face was even more unforgettable. I think that he stayed up in the tree until my dad got back. I wasn't a tattle tail but this was worthy of it. I told my dad the best that I could and he just laughed. What devastation.

I don't think that my emotions will allow me to write anymore but I think that you get the point to my story.

I need to get this off of my chest:

Dan, I forgive you for being the dirty rotten tree piddler that you were. I forgive you for spraying my favorite shirt with a stinky-yellow-damning mist of urine. I forgive you for sneakily waiting patiently to find the right moment to pee on your little brother. Please forgive me for the last twenty years of me planning my revenge. I love ya bro.


"I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive but of you it is required to forgive every one"

Baggage

I don't hold a lot of grudges, in fact I don't think that there is anyone in particular that I am mad at or really feel offended by. There are only a few things that a person can do that will summons the wrath of Dave. Admittedly in my past I haven't always been as easy going. It didn't take much for me to blow a fuse or add a person to my bad list. I am older now and a little more relaxed. Now don't get me wrong, I am not one of those people that sit around trying to remember people in my past that has done me wrong one way or another. I am grateful and hopeful that there aren't many people out there with a get-back, revenge mentality because I think that I would be in big trouble. I think that I would have my back against the wall most of the time. In fact one of my biggest regrets in life is how I treated a few people. I don't think that I was a terribly mean natured person but I know that there are a few people out there that in my weakness of youth probably inadvertently hurt and for that I am sorry.

Anyways back to my baggage. One person in particular that I thought of this morning that appears every now and then into my cloudy memory is a kid from my early early youth, in fact I don't even remember his name but I remember what he looked like, where he lived and what he was wearing the day he wronged me. Here's the story: When I was five years old I got to experience school for the first time. A part of my school memories that always stands out is riding the bus and hanging out at the bus stop. One particular day after school (remember I was in Kindergarten at the time) I got into a fight with a kid that was older than I was. I don't remember the fight very well but I am sure that it consisted of a few head locks and grass stains. If my recollection is correct I think that the older boy got the upper hand and it was over after a few minutes. I ended up walking with my older brother from the bus stop back up to the top of the culdesac to my home. No big deal right? Right. Fights when you are that age probably happen once a week. Now this is where the baggage come in. The next day after school the kid stopped me as we got off the bus and said, "hey, I'm really sorry about yesterday" and stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I remember feeling good that he was apologising so I reached out my hand and said "that's OK I'm" and WHAM! the kid belted me hard in the stomach. "OOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH". Was all that I could say as he walked off. The wind was knocked completely out of me. I remember walking home crying. I do not have any more memories of this kid. I think he moved away shortly after that. Man what a dirty thing to do. I know that I shouldn't be carrying around baggage like that or even remembering stuff like that. I don't think about this very often maybe every three years it will creep its way back into my memory. Am I messed up because I still remember this? How do I get closure on something like this. I know that he was a little kid when he did this and little kids can be mean sometimes, but man. Maybe this little blog will bring some closure.

To that kid: I forgive you for belting me with a cheap shot, probably the biggest cheap shot a seven year old could dish out. I forgive you for being the dirty rotten fighter that your were when you were seven. Please forgive me for still wanting to beat you down like a rented mule.

OK, well I feel much better. So I guess I have shared with the world my baggage.

"Shall we forgive our neighbor until seven times?" And Jesus answered "Until seventy times seven".