TGIF

When I was in Grade School, I had a bus driver Named Frank. Frank was an older gentleman with dark hair and spoke with a New York accent coupled with a slight speech impediment. He had a medium build was about 5' 10". When you got onto the bus it sometimes smelled like cigarettes. (I think he had to calm himself before dealing with the rowdy disrespectful bunch that we were.) Some kids were worse than others. Nearly every one was rude and wild and disrespectful to Frank. I don't think every one came at that naturally, I think that it was the end of the day and we were all able to relax. Our bus was the oldest bus in the school district and if you sat on the back seat, you would be launched nearly to the roof at every bump. There was one sharp turn in particular on the way home that was always entertaining. Frank usually hit the turn hard enough that we all thought the bus would tip over. Some days, all of the kids would get on one side of the bus before the turn, and as Frank hit the turn we would simultaneously push all of our weight to the other side of the bus to try and make it tip over. One day I swear we got that thing on two wheels. The bus ride was always an adventure. Every Friday Frank would get on the intercom and say TGIF with his low funny voice. We always got a kick out of it not just because he talked funny but because we knew that he really meant it. We knew that he was sincerely glad it was Friday. Of all the games and the craziness I noticed that my older brother was never in on the fun. He always showed Frank Respect. I don't ever remember my brother getting crazy on the bus, and I don't remember a time that my brother didn't stop and tell Frank thanks for the ride. As small as it was I think that my brother being the way he was, meant something to Frank. I remember one Christmas my brother brought Frank a bag of Oranges. It wasn't much, but by the look on Frank's face and the tear in his eyes it meant something to him. It wasn't the oranges, it was the thought. I remember watching that and feeling a little sadness, and a lot of guilt for being the boy that I had been to Frank.
I'm sitting here, it's close to the end of the day and work week. I have had ups (Cindy getting a deer) and downs (fighting with contractors, that's another long story.) And I can truly sit back and say TGIF and mean it just as much as Frank did.
I crossed people this week that made me really mean TGIF when I said it, and I have crossed people who, with just the little things have made a difference to me weather they knew it or not.
The little things are easy, that's why we call them the little things.

I think that sometimes we forget that the little things are everything to someone who has nothing.

My Wife the Great White Hunter

After 8 years of pestering, last night my wife finally agreed to buy a deer tag and let me take her out to kill a buck. I hunt a lot. I probably hunt more than a man should hunt but I can't help it. I'm addicted. My addiction got worse and out of control when I moved to Wyoming. I think that as my addiction spiraled out of control my pestering and influence for my wife to hunt got worse. Last night she broke. I promised her something big and she bought a tag. I had to make a few shady deals in which if she shot a nice buck I would take a full Saturday and take her to scrapbook stores and spend all day scrap booking, and I would have to make a scrapbook page myself. (I know that is asking a lot but I was desperate.) With all of these big bucks around us, I needed my wife to take advantage of it. So last night we loaded up and went hunting. I took her to my best spot. I wanted so bad for her to kill a nice buck. I knew if I got her onto a buck she would be able to shoot it. My wife surprisingly, is an excellent shot. I don't know why she just comes at shooting naturally.
So we get to the hunting area and right off we were seeing bucks. Nothing up to my wife's standard. After driving around for about an hour we came upon a heard of about 8 deer, mostly bucks. I was spotting, and I saw him about 200 yards away. I could see that he was a big one. Cindy was looking through the scope sizing up the deer. I asked: "do you see that big dawg?" She said: "yeah" I said "take him." She said "he is facing me". I said "wait for him to turn broadside". He turned broadside. I said "TAKE HIM" in a loud whisper. "TAKE HIM" I said again. "TAKE....." BOOOM! I watched the bullet slam right into the heart. The buck dropped like a ton of bricks. I think I started break dancing right there. I pulled off a perfect robot and three cycles of the worm. What a shot! Perfect placement. After she shot him she asked me how big he was, I said "I'm not sure, but I know he is big". My wife said "it better not be a two point". It wasn't a two point. As we walked up on him we realized what a monster she had shot. I was like a little kid in a candy store. I wanted to make out. :) My wife thought giving her five and a hug would be more appropriate. (Sorry I get my feelings a little confused sometimes :)) I guess that was good enough.
Of all the deer that I have killed I don't remember enjoying it as much as enjoyed watching my wife kill that buck last night. I don't know why I got such a kick out of it. I guess you get my two addictions together (Cindy and Deer hunting) anf I get a little out of control. Cindy tried to play it off as cool as she could but I know deep down inside she was excited as I was. She may have not been break dancing but her smile told the story. We guessed the buck had to have weighed over three hundred pounds. We only had to drag it 200 yards but that was a killer. I had to get help from a buddy to load it into the truck. I hung it up in the barn and it broke three ropes. Finally I had to settle for a ratchet strap.

I'm so proud of MY wife, the Great White Hunter.

Also, I hope this is a lesson to everyone who has been invited out to a special "Wild Wyoming Dave Riddle Buck hunt" and didn't accept.

Hard Times But Not Hard Times

I avoid trials and tribulation as much as possible. I do not like hard times. I do not like feeling bad. I do not like sadness, loneliness, or failure. I do not like death, famine or pain. I do everything possible to avoid these things because I really do not enjoy the experience. I do not enjoy watching others experience hard times either. But in reflection I look at my life and realize that experiencing these things (though at the time I hated them)I have realized that the hard times have been the critical in my own personal development.

I thought I would write about a one "hard time" that made a difference in my life.
As a boy, I had a very happy childhood. I had/have excellent parents and a good family. At one point in my childhood we fell on hard times. My dad lost his job with a good company and had to resort to Driving truck all night, pulling weeds and recycling freight pallets during the day. It took about 20 hours out of his day to work so that my mom could stay home and raise us and to put food in the mouths of four hungry boys. My dad didn't believe in handouts so he worked. He was gone a lot. My Poor mother was taxed with possibly a harder responsibility of keeping the peace of four fighting boys. I worried a lot during those times.
I remember one day my older brother and I had 75 cents and we decided to walk to the KOA store by our house to get a treat. We decided to buy two pixie sticks and a flavored Club Soda (we had never had one) to share. I remember walking back to our house laughing and having a good time. We stopped at the ditch behind our house to drink the Club soda and it was terrible. At that moment we both realized that we had wasted 50 cents of needed money. My brother and I talked about how we really shouldn't be wasting money while our dad was working so hard for it. We felt horrible over 50 cents. We played the rest of the day, but it was heavy on my mind. Later that night at a family home evening our family gathered around the piano for a song (none of us could sing very well) and my older brother was playing "the Money Song" as graceful as he could, while we sang along. We sang as a family:

Money can't buy everything
Money will not make you a king
Money will not buy success
Money cant buy happiness.

But one thing that I am sure
Money cannot make you poor
Money will not make you sad
Money cant be all that bad.

We laughed as we sang it over and over again. Later that night we knelt down together as a family and prayed. I don't remember the prayer, but I remember a feeling of peace that came over me. A feeling that told me that everything was going to be OK.
That day I learned something. I learned that money wasn't our source of happiness and it never would be.

In all of my worries, one dwarfed them all. I worried every night as my dad left to drive truck at night that he wouldn't come home. I knew how much he worked during the day, and I knew how little he slept. I knew I couldn't handle the loss of my Dad. Every night, I knelt down by my bed and prayed that my Dad would make it home safe. It wasn't a light hurry and get done prayer. It was sincere, and with all of my heart. I never missed a night. I couldn't miss a night.
My Dad came home every morning.
I learned the most important lesson of all through that hard time. I learned that somewhere, there was a loving Father that loved me, and as insignificant as I was, he listened, he listened every night. I learned that he had the power to take care of my loving Father.
I wouldn't trade that lesson for anything in the world.

Hard times can be our best times if we know where to turn. If we don't turn the right direction then they are just hard times.

Crazy Nights

I really think I am loosing it. I know I say that a lot but I think that I am loosing it for real. Last night, I have this dream that I looked up out of bed and saw a wolf spider hanging over my face. So I wake my wife up to turn the lights on so I can kill it. She tells me that I am asleep. But I am so convinced that it is there that I convince her that it is there. Well she turns the lights on and nothing. So I take a couple of pictures off the wall just to check and lay back down. Still not convinced that it is not there. Now that I am awake it all seems kind of foolish. I really hate listening to other peoples dreams, so I won't bore you with my crazy dreams, but I think lately I have been bombarded with the weirdest dreams possible. While I was hunkered down hunting white tails the other day I fell asleep and went into some crazy dream state. Sometimes I get dreams that have no business being there. Thoughts that I hadn't thought about for 20 years, Characters that I haven't seen for years or even thought about for years just pop in and say hi. It kind of makes me wonder what triggers all of it. Sometimes I go for certain periods without the craziness and others I get pretty active in my sleep. I am pretty sure that my wife thinks I have lost it but she cant say much. Sometimes I wake up and she is hitting me telling me that I stink. Now everyone knows that I don't stink. I think that I am a pretty good smelling guy. I can't figure that one out. I'm just glad that I am not a violent sleeper like my wife.

Monday's

I don't generally consider myself a complainer, or unhappy. But man I really really dislike Mondays. I woke up this morning at 4:30 and just wanted to crawl under my bed and die. I knew I couldn't So I thought about the possibility of calling in sick. I have never used a sick day, and why not today. Well that wouldn't work because I needed to hit my boss up today about leaving early tomorrow to go hunting. Which by the way is in a primo area on the Powder River. I watched a hunting show the other day, that was filmed in the same area that I am going. I am stoked. Opening day of the Rifle season started today. And I am wondering what I am doing at work? I've got a bridge project coming up in the next week or so, and I am worried that it will screw up my plans to go home for the deer hunt. I fricken hope not. If it does, I'm going to Wendy's to work. I'll get my respect.
This morning on my way to the gym I was so "out of it" that instead of driving to the YMCA, I drove to my office. Upon arrival to my office, I realized that I was in my Gym clothes. So I hopped back onto the freeway and drove to the Y. I think that I am loosing my mind. I don't think. I know. I think it was from my deer wound. Yeah, I'm still whining about that. I mean it has been a month and it still hasn't healed. It's not that sore anymore but there is a lump and still a scab. I don't think that I have caught any diseases or anything. Much to the disappointment of my friends and colleagues I haven't acquired lockjaw. I mean sure I have a small case of the worms, but hey I can eat pretty much whatever I want and not put on weight now. I think that the real reason that I hate Monday's is because I have such good weekends. I mean, the weekend was nothing special. Saturday, I hunted all morning back behind the house. It was beautiful out there. Nothing killed but there was a quiet peace out there that is hard to explain. When I got home, my wife had just gotten in from running a 5k and all of her friend's husbands were there to meet them at the finish line. I was the only husband not there. I felt like a deadbeat husband, and maybe I am. Maybe, I let hunting season get the best of me. But crap, how am I supposed to know 5K etiquette? I didn't know that I was supposed to be there. Of course my wife was understanding as usual. Which, I guess you have to be super-understanding when you marry a guy like me. I mean seriously, I can look at a clock and predict that withing a 5 minute timeline, I am going to either do or say something offensive or stupid. I guess it's just my nature. I'm kind of like a home run hitter. Every now and then, I can hit a home run with something I say. But I am swinging for the fence so often that, I find myself striking out most of the time. Anyways, hows that for a tangent. After disappointing my wife, I decided that I better lay some tile. So I layed tile for most of the day Saturday. Saturday night Cindy went to the Relief Society Broadcast, So Zach and I stayed home. Man what a funny baby. He is so happy and easygoing. We played around until Cindy got home. Sunday, Church was good. I love having a little boy to mess around with at church. I don't know who is worse, Me, Cindy or Zach. I can't remember the last talk that I followed church all the way through. I mean seriously. I get to church early because I have meetings. Cindy shows up to Sacrament with a box of Cookies and Zach. So we play with Zach and eat cookies during church. That's another issue. I hope I don't go to hell for eating cookies in church.
Anyways, I had a good weekend. And if you have been able to follow my tangential novel. That's why I hate Mondays. Crap, I think that I forgot to write why I hate Mondays.