Hunting season officially started for me September 1st.
On September 1st I was not hunting I was standing at an elevation of 14100+ ft on top of Pikes peak near Colorado Springs. I think it was the 1st. That doesnt matter. Dates do not matter I know that hunting season started on the first and I was not hunting.
Though the site was magnificant and the air was thin my one track mind was caught up into hunting season.
I will say that Pikes peak is really bitchen.
The Colorado trip was fun and it was great to catch up with our friends Jeremy and Heidi.
Now that I am back in Sheridan my mind has taken me into the hunting season anti-socialite mode.
That kind of sounds messed up, but I am messed up.
I don't know what hunting season does to me but my neck flares up and instead of complete sentences in conversation my talk has transformed into grunts and knods.
I have turned my treadmill from facing the television to facing the large window that looks out into the pasture so that when I run in the mornings I can watch deer.
This morning while running I thought it would be a good idea to shave my head bald so I wouldn't have to worry about using scent removing shampoo.
After I completed my fourth mile I went in to the bathroom and shaved my head.
My wife woke up only to shake her head in dis-approval of my newly acquired hair cut. I don't know if the numerous cuts on my head were the culprit in providing her with a look of disgust but something didn't quite make her happy. I personally thought the cut looked pretty sweet.
I thought I looked like a Marine but as I walked out the door my wife told me to stop by the tatoo parlor and get a swastica tatoo to match my cut.
That kind of made me feel bad.
Not that my blogging has been good lately at all but I don't imagine it will get better anytime soon.
I will try to post pitures of kills if you are into that sort of thing.
I tried to post a little video of nice buck that I saw last night but it didn't work and I just didn't feel like messing with it.
I hope everybody knows I love them and though I am not thinking about you, If I were not hunting I would be.
I have got to get back to work so I can get stuff done so I can go hunting.
P.S.
I know there are a few out there that are considering holding an intervention with me, don't do it you will be wasting your time.
That's all Iv'e got today. I am sure that you are dumber today for having read my blog. I'm sorry.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Shazam.
Well, crap.
I haven't blogged for a while and when I blog the blogs have been few and far between.
At one point and time I really enjoyed blogging but as of recent I have found it somewhat of more of hassle to blog than something fun.
I think the blogs that I have thrown out lately have been somewhat boring and have even found myself bored of what I have written.
I don't think it is for lack of inspiration due to the fact that my mind is something of a rubber room full of hyperactive nut jobs just bouncing around and throwing out wild tales of nothingness.
But I guess it is due to almost feeling like I am just wasting my time.
I have found myself just writing things down to have them written just in case I were to loose my mind and forget them.
I don't keep a journal, and when I have kept one in the past I have been glad that I have it.
I guess the blog has been kind of a journal or something. I think if my grand kid's, grand kid's ever read this crap they would positively know of the dementia that I am suffering from.
Something that I have hoped to have shared with my readers.
I know that I have a few faithful readers with and emphasis on the word 'few".
I think as time has passed and my blog has morphed from somewhat entertaining to down right boring my readers have almost become non-existent.
I guess that when a writer becomes non-existent his readers more than likely follow.
When I was in seventh grade, I sat by a red headed kid named Jake. We didn't hate each other, or even not get along.
Jake was bigger than I was, and slightly overweight.
One day, while sitting in class, I was being my usual cocky self, and was explaining to Jake how tough I was.
Jake listened and told me that I may be tough but he was tougher. I kind of laughed and thought he was joking. After a minute I realised that Jake really thought he was tougher than me.
I told Jake that he wouldn't have a chance in a fight with me, and he continued to disagree.
My friend Cory that sat in front of me, turned around and with a smile threw out the suggestion that Jake and I fight in the hall at the next break.
Not to be outdone by each other, Jake and I agreed to fight at the next break, which was in about ten minutes.
I wasn't mad at Jake, and he wasn't mad at me. We were just two boys that felt the need to lock horns and establish dominance.
I watched the clock as it ticked away and didn't feel nervous or scared. I looked over at Jake and could tell that he didn't feel nervous or scared either.
In my mind I thought about what I would do and how I would do it. I thought about where I would punch and how I would punch. I thought about what I was trying to accomplish.
I decided that this was a real fight and anything would go. I also decided that I would direct all punches to Jake's face.
I didn't want to loose, and I wanted to make sure of that.
As the break bell rang, we all got out of our seats and walked out in the hall. I walked to the old stand up drinking fountain and got a drink, only to hear Jake's voice say:"I'm waiting".
I knew that was my cue, and that Jake was serious.
I walked towards Jake, with my adrenalin flowing.
A crowd began to form, and I knew it was business. I thought of other fights that I had in the past, and due to my wrestling nature, a lot of the fights had ended up on the ground. Though I felt that I had dominated the fight, those unfamiliar with wresting sometimes had room to question who won.
I would keep this fight on my feet.
As I walked towards Jake my hands came up in striking position. He took a step forward and decide his first move would be to push me.
Immediately as I felt his push I threw a left jab which landed squarely on his kisser, followed up by a hard right that landed in the same spot.
In his eyes I saw rage flaring up as he recovered and came for me a second time.
He must have felt the push was effective so he tried it again. I followed up with another left to the mouth being chased by a hard right that landed on the soft spot between his nose and upper lip. I knew the right was a great punch because not only did his eyes begin to water but a little blood began to trickle from his mouth.
Jake, in a wild rage came back for another shove only to be answered by another 1-2 punch again hitting his mouth.
I could see the tears in Jake's eyes were becoming more serious and as he tried to smile it away, the spaces in his white teeth were slowly filling with blood.
I was oblivious to the crowd that was around us and strangely enough didn't feel any rage or anger in this fight, just a collected boy doing his business.
Jake came back for one final shove. I remember thinking, why the hell doesn't he punch, doesn't he see that the shoves are doing nothing?
His final shove was answered once again by a well placed left jab to the mouth followed by one hard right punch to the chin.
Following my punch I heard "DAVID RIDDLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
I turned to see my teacher Mrs. Fotheringham walking towards us.
I dropped my hands, and so did Jake.
Mrs. Fotheringham took us both back into the classroom and into her office.
I tried to turn on the best charm that I had, and explained that we just had little fight and that we were sorry.
It must have worked because she gave us a little speech and sent us to our desks. No principal, no trouble, just no breaks for 3 days.
As Jake and I sat down in our desks Jake looked at me and complimented me on my punches, and I complimented him on his shoves and It was over. I told him I was sorry and he said the same.
There was never any bitterness after that.
Later as I thought about the fight, though I had clearly won, and my status was elevated among the other 7th graders, I realised that the fight was rather pointless. There were a few times that I thought of Jake's bleeding mouth and felt bad, and after carefully weighing out the situation, I came to the conclusion that the fight was a waste of my time.
I'm kind of wondering if my blogging is just a waste of my time.
I haven't blogged for a while and when I blog the blogs have been few and far between.
At one point and time I really enjoyed blogging but as of recent I have found it somewhat of more of hassle to blog than something fun.
I think the blogs that I have thrown out lately have been somewhat boring and have even found myself bored of what I have written.
I don't think it is for lack of inspiration due to the fact that my mind is something of a rubber room full of hyperactive nut jobs just bouncing around and throwing out wild tales of nothingness.
But I guess it is due to almost feeling like I am just wasting my time.
I have found myself just writing things down to have them written just in case I were to loose my mind and forget them.
I don't keep a journal, and when I have kept one in the past I have been glad that I have it.
I guess the blog has been kind of a journal or something. I think if my grand kid's, grand kid's ever read this crap they would positively know of the dementia that I am suffering from.
Something that I have hoped to have shared with my readers.
I know that I have a few faithful readers with and emphasis on the word 'few".
I think as time has passed and my blog has morphed from somewhat entertaining to down right boring my readers have almost become non-existent.
I guess that when a writer becomes non-existent his readers more than likely follow.
When I was in seventh grade, I sat by a red headed kid named Jake. We didn't hate each other, or even not get along.
Jake was bigger than I was, and slightly overweight.
One day, while sitting in class, I was being my usual cocky self, and was explaining to Jake how tough I was.
Jake listened and told me that I may be tough but he was tougher. I kind of laughed and thought he was joking. After a minute I realised that Jake really thought he was tougher than me.
I told Jake that he wouldn't have a chance in a fight with me, and he continued to disagree.
My friend Cory that sat in front of me, turned around and with a smile threw out the suggestion that Jake and I fight in the hall at the next break.
Not to be outdone by each other, Jake and I agreed to fight at the next break, which was in about ten minutes.
I wasn't mad at Jake, and he wasn't mad at me. We were just two boys that felt the need to lock horns and establish dominance.
I watched the clock as it ticked away and didn't feel nervous or scared. I looked over at Jake and could tell that he didn't feel nervous or scared either.
In my mind I thought about what I would do and how I would do it. I thought about where I would punch and how I would punch. I thought about what I was trying to accomplish.
I decided that this was a real fight and anything would go. I also decided that I would direct all punches to Jake's face.
I didn't want to loose, and I wanted to make sure of that.
As the break bell rang, we all got out of our seats and walked out in the hall. I walked to the old stand up drinking fountain and got a drink, only to hear Jake's voice say:"I'm waiting".
I knew that was my cue, and that Jake was serious.
I walked towards Jake, with my adrenalin flowing.
A crowd began to form, and I knew it was business. I thought of other fights that I had in the past, and due to my wrestling nature, a lot of the fights had ended up on the ground. Though I felt that I had dominated the fight, those unfamiliar with wresting sometimes had room to question who won.
I would keep this fight on my feet.
As I walked towards Jake my hands came up in striking position. He took a step forward and decide his first move would be to push me.
Immediately as I felt his push I threw a left jab which landed squarely on his kisser, followed up by a hard right that landed in the same spot.
In his eyes I saw rage flaring up as he recovered and came for me a second time.
He must have felt the push was effective so he tried it again. I followed up with another left to the mouth being chased by a hard right that landed on the soft spot between his nose and upper lip. I knew the right was a great punch because not only did his eyes begin to water but a little blood began to trickle from his mouth.
Jake, in a wild rage came back for another shove only to be answered by another 1-2 punch again hitting his mouth.
I could see the tears in Jake's eyes were becoming more serious and as he tried to smile it away, the spaces in his white teeth were slowly filling with blood.
I was oblivious to the crowd that was around us and strangely enough didn't feel any rage or anger in this fight, just a collected boy doing his business.
Jake came back for one final shove. I remember thinking, why the hell doesn't he punch, doesn't he see that the shoves are doing nothing?
His final shove was answered once again by a well placed left jab to the mouth followed by one hard right punch to the chin.
Following my punch I heard "DAVID RIDDLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
I turned to see my teacher Mrs. Fotheringham walking towards us.
I dropped my hands, and so did Jake.
Mrs. Fotheringham took us both back into the classroom and into her office.
I tried to turn on the best charm that I had, and explained that we just had little fight and that we were sorry.
It must have worked because she gave us a little speech and sent us to our desks. No principal, no trouble, just no breaks for 3 days.
As Jake and I sat down in our desks Jake looked at me and complimented me on my punches, and I complimented him on his shoves and It was over. I told him I was sorry and he said the same.
There was never any bitterness after that.
Later as I thought about the fight, though I had clearly won, and my status was elevated among the other 7th graders, I realised that the fight was rather pointless. There were a few times that I thought of Jake's bleeding mouth and felt bad, and after carefully weighing out the situation, I came to the conclusion that the fight was a waste of my time.
I'm kind of wondering if my blogging is just a waste of my time.
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