New Dean

     Might lose El Dean this year for the Iowans up north fishing extravaganza/side eight.  Could be he's still rusted from all the rain we had last year.  Understandable.  On day one I recall him standing at the bottom of a hill in what was quickly turning into a river.  Total whiteout downpour in the dark.  I'd abandoned him to go get the truck.  It was a mile long, hill filled trudge.  One of us of necessity got the short end of the stick.  Possibly El Dean thought it was him.  I was thinking it was me.  Honestly, we both wrote it off as good fun, more or less.  Helped to know we had a dry cabin, fireplace and food a half hour away.
     That was the upside of his maybe.  The downside is his wife who is seriously under the weather, as so often happens in a person's mid-sixties.  Not good but could be worse.  So El Dean is a maybe.
     Luckily we've got a backup Dean, J. Dean.  Eight year's old.  Loves to fish but might be a little shy on the paddling side.  Kinda like El.  Probably we'll have to Jon boat it.  Not my cup of tea but, then again, I'm a coffee drinker.
     Then there's the future and how I want to enter it.  Might sell the cabin.  Yup, that's what I said.  Built it, lived in it and got lyme disease there.  And the lyme disease scares me.  Up in that neck of the woods it's no longer a rarity.  Closer to a normalcy.  Don't want it again.  I've no lingering effects from the first dose but a second might prove different.  Simple as that.
     I'm not too old to head in new directions.  The cabin is an anchor with an anchor's up and downsides.  Provides a pivot of knowledge and stability.  Also inhibits moving in different directions where there are no deer ticks such as the Arrowhead of Minnesota and maybe Canada (or, God forbid, Alabama).  Something for me to think about.
     The upshot is an old dog can continue to learn new tricks till he's a dead dog.  Dead ones are a little slow on the uptake.  Besides, where I'm going after I check out, the water has no doubt evaporated from the heat.
     There's a zen like part of me waiting on the third way.  Sixty seven years of stumbling has taught me; when in doubt the right answer is still hiding off in the shadows.  Or it's right in front of me and I'm too damned lazy to focus my eyes.  Forest and trees.
     A for my incident of a half month ago, a good friend said I was pissin' so hard a fuse in my balance mechanism blew out.  That and way too much caffein coupled with way too little water.  Not sure if she's right but I am upping the water and not downing as much caffein.  Old fart problems coupled with old fart grumbling.  Only solution is time on the water.