Friday, May 14, 2010
Contemplating 1, 10, and 41
For one, it marks the first anniversary of this little mishmash of thoughts known as 8 More Miles. A little over a year ago, I promised myself that I'd carve out a little space (and time) for me to write about whatever the hell I wanted to write about, and do it somewhat consistently. By that standard, I think I've succeeded.
Crazy and addicting things, these blogs are. They are no doubt narcissistic -- a wonderful place to contemplate the glory of me. But as much as writing my own posts, I love checking in on an almost daily occurrence to see what others -- yeah, those guys (and gals) to the right -- have on their minds.
And the comments... well, they're what keep me doing this. So thanks to those who have read and actively participated in this little endeavor.
The second 5/14 observance around here is Dottie's 10-year-old birthday (yes, I remember her exact birthdate, for reasons you'll soon learn). She's about the best bird dog and companion that a guy could ever hope for, and traipsing this big country with her in search of birds has been more enjoyable than I could ever imagine. Is she a "finished" bird dog? It depends on your meaning of finished. She's rock-solid on point, but once the gun goes off, she's in search of the next covey. That's not her fault -- I'm no more steady to wing and shot than she is.
And I'm pretty certain she's got a couple more field years left in her, too. She's still got the same drive she's always had -- but her lemon markings are whiting out and her eyes are slowly getting milky and starting to betray her youth. Of course, that's much easier to notice when there's a 15-week-old mini-Dot chomped down on her ear. I know that this fall, she'll provide tranquility in the chaotic midst of breaking in a new pup.
Finally, I'm 41 today (there's that narcissism again). While last year's birthday was a two-day to-do with Reckless Kelly, I'm taking it easy this year. There's not a damn thing I need -- I'm blessed with a fine family, close friends, an incredible job, a free country, and an abiding faith.
So I think I'll just take the afternoon off, pick up my son from school, and hopefully he can shoot the Tom Turkey that's been teasing us all season. Wish us luck.